Having some time off my bike has been great. It's been a lot of fun to drive a car again, sleeping in a house, in a bed, with blankets even! I've done some surfing, mountain biking, and haven't touched my touring bike since I've been back (kind of a bad thing once I get back onto it). I've had some time to relax, and think to myself, and not feel hurried for once. I've been trying to digest all the new experiences that have happened so far, absorbing them, remembering them, and preparing myself for the next stage of the trip - the real exciting stuff in Latin America. I've been looking forward to traveling in Latin America for as long as I can remember. The extent of my travels so far in spanish speaking countries, only includes northern Baja, on surf and dive trips.
Just last week, I finally had a good opportunity to check out the Occupy San Diego (Occupy Wall Street) protest at the civic center plaza in downtown San Diego. Me, and a few friends, had walked over from a nearby cafe we were at. We arrived to see several officers standing around, harassing some people about some belongings that no one was standing next to (this is not the airport...). I had the chance to speak to several people, including a woman that had been at the protest from the beginning. She explained how one evening, one of the cops actually followed her around, and wouldn't let her sit down and sleep (she seemed frightened by the encounter, not agitated). [Realize that when we walked to check out the protest, there were numerous homeless people, less than 2 blocks away, sleeping on the sidewalk, some of whom, were urinating on the sidewalk].
In just a short while, the cops had come around with a video camera, and video taped people (an indication I heard that they would return shortly for arrests). Afterward, they assembled near their cars, about 4-5 policemen, and donned latex gloves. It was obvious they were coming to arrest people, so I went over and started alerting people that the officers were approaching. (I believe they are arresting people now for sleeping on public property) One man I told laying down in his sleeping bag, seemed awake, and didn't seemed concerned the police were walking his way, they arrested him.
I asked one man, the significance of protesting in this location, he cited several reasons. One is the city attorney's office is in one building. Civic centers are places where people are supposed to be allowed to assemble, and protest (a right provided by the Constitution).
I witnessed the violent, and unnecessary, arrests of several people. Observing police brutality first hand, brings things into an entirely new perspective. In my other, recent post, "Media", you will find a video towards the bottom of the page, that I recorded that evening.
I had my birthday recently. I drove up to the local mountains (2.5 hour drive), with a good friend of mine, Reza, and went snowboarding. I was back by 4:30, in time to cook some delicious food, drink some homebrew (I brewed an oatmeal stout, almost right when I returned), and enjoy some time with friends. We hit the pubs later that evening, and needless to say, I was exhausted, and even into the following day.
I've finally been getting some stuff done since I've been back. I picked up quite a few new bike parts that I'm going to put on. Big thank-you to Keven at Adam's Ave Bikes, for a deal on parts. I'm going to have a whole new drive-train: low and mid chain rings, new chain, new cassette, new rear derailleur, new rear shifter assembly (with new cable). I'm going to put the new shifter and derailleur on, but probably wait and put the other stuff on until it's really worn out (almost there).
I've contacted some companies about sponsorship and am waiting to hear back. After biking down Baja, ferrying to Mazatlan, down the coast of Mexico and Central America (with a detour to Cancun, Belize, and Honduras)I decided long ago, that I want to try and extend my trip. This means biking East from Colombia to see Venezuela (possibly Guyana and Suriname), then back West and down through Ecuador.
If you wish to sponsor me on my ride, email me and we can discuss it further. I can advertise on my blog, and have frequent visitors (at the bottom of the page, I have a stat counter that is over 5,000 page loads now).
[If you were curious about some of the pictures on my previous post, I went back and added captions to a lot of the pictures for clarification]
There's a lot to fill in since my last detailed post in Salt Lake.
Riding from Salt Lake to Provo, I encountered some the most stressful riding of my trip so far. The road was 3 lanes of traffic, each way, no shoulder, and lightly raining. There was no way I was going to ride on the sidewalk, that would have taken much longer. I was honked at so many times, with even one man yelling at me to get on the sidewalk.
By law, cyclists are entitled to a portion of the road, thus the saying, "Share The Road", you might have seen.
It was refreshing leaving Ryan's house in Provo, winding up through the canyon, and dealing with less traffic (but a small shoulder). I reached the open desert for the first time on the trip, and contemplated how far I've traveled so far.
The closer I got to Moab, the more mountain bikes I saw in the back of trucks, I started getting more excited. I have wanted to go to Moab for as long as I can remember, and ride the famous "slick rock", that is quite sticky for bikes.
I reached Moab in a few days, and spent the next four days having an incredible time. My first day in town, I hiked up to a popular local spot for a swim (it was another hot day), and never could have predicted what would happen...
"Imagine This:
You've been waiting all month to take a few days off. To spend time with a few friends after the crowds have died down from the long hot summer in Moab. Your backpacks are filled with beer as you head up a local water trail. No one's around and all the while you're thinking to yourself, we've timed it again so perfectly. Reaching the last bend of the hike you're sweaty from the persistent hot sun. Cant wait to soak in the deep pools of the river at the top. You look forward to being a bit rowdy with the guys and just hang for a couple of hours. You approach the pools and see someone there, you're slightly bummed because you'll have to keep your 'party' to a respectable tone. As you always do with the first sight of water that's deep enough, you 'baptize' yourself in natures element. When re-emerged you can't help but hoot and holler from the refreshing cold water. As you get handed a beer you hear an unfamiliar voice saying, "The pools over there are deeper." Everyone turns to say, "Oh, yea, its just we didn't want to barge in on ya while you were over there." Offering a beer to the single man, he introduces himself as Devin and everyone talks for a while. You come to find out he's from out of state, biking from North America to South America. A vagabond, if you will. 100% freedom from all things material. Jealousy sets in as you listen to all of his adventures, wishing you could do the same. Devin continues with his stories informing everyone he's had no problems on the road so far, except...he needs to get a new tent.
Everything stops.
Everyone looks at each other and bursts out laughing.
Devin, a little confused, not understanding how that was so funny, waits for an explanation. "Well, It looks like you ran into the right people cause we're the guys from Outdoor Sleep Systems.'
Excited for the opportunity to finally give an OSSbag away to any random adventurer this summer,the guys invite him to their campsite and give him the directions. Devin had a map on him.
Separating after an awesome time, all they could do was hope he makes it 30 miles away into the backcountry. (Yes, he was offered to come with but he insisted he would get there, for sure, on his own.)
The night sky was visible and it wasn't till around 9:00 that headlights are seen in the distance. He's arrived, via hitchhiking from the main road with a lady that works as a backcountry firefighter from Colorado. She's welcomed to stay, and does so. She hits it off with Cory, who's another firefighter as well.
Music, with many more home brews, and more great conversations last till the early hours of night. Everyone eventually hits the sack and wakes up to the early morning sun shinning on the unbelievable red rock scenery.
Coffee and the usual hangover cure is injected so yoga can be accomplished.
This is the last day of the 2 day escape, everyone parts their ways to wander around the vast landscape. Devin tries to convince everyone to stay another day but life is waiting for everyone back home. He's completely appreciative for the new tent and gives everyone his card with his blog site to track his journey.
I'm not writing this to boast about the handout, but instead for the recognition of the free nature'd individual that joined Shawn, Peter, Daryl, and Cory's outing. An incredible coincidence that will be a connection they'll all have for the rest of their lives."
- Heather at OSS (OSSbag.com)
Shawn and Peter, started their own company to make tents (OSS).
The following day, I paid the money, and rented a solid bike, and rode the Slickrock. Jodi joined me from the previous evening, before she had to head back to Colorado. While on the ride, I met four fun guys from Kamploops. They were sitting at the top of one of the hills. I scrambled up it, barely making it in some sections. I think I was described as a mountain goat or something, climbing up the hill, when I started talking with them. We all rode back to the parking lot, and when I mentioned I didn't know where I was camping that night, Kevin invited me to their camp just down the river.
I said bye to Jodi, and rode 10 miles out to their camp, in the dark. I spent the next couple days hanging out with them, including one, when we went to Arches. I hadn't planned on going to Arches, and really had no desire to visit another "park", but they offered me a ride, and I couldn't refuse. I was glad that I went. We had a hearty hike, and enjoyed some incredible, natural, beauty.
It was tough the day I was leaving Moab, but reminded myself I HAD to return and do much more mountain biking. My time there was one of the best times of my trip. That was the longest I stayed in a area since Anchorage.
Riding South again, I met several different touring cyclists, in one day. One of them was a young guy, just returning from biking through Guatemala and Mexico. He described a little of his experience, and overall, enjoyed it.
I have to thank the nice, older, gentleman (that has back trouble and a recent surgery) that works at the visitor center in Blanding. I don't think I even gave him my card, and so probably has no idea my blog exists, but the information he provided, really enhanced my trip. I had planned on riding along the 191, through White Mesa, on to Bluff, and South. He mentioned I would really be missing a lot to see, and encouraged me to take the 95, then the 261, and connect to the 163 through Monument Valley. The only downside was a gnarly climb from Comb Ridge, but 'what the hell'? I've ridden the entire Rocky mountain range, gone over more than a dozen passes/mountain grades, what's another hill, in order to see some beautiful sights? The detour was worth it.
I passed through Comb Ridge, met and camped with 3 great people, had a staggering climb that resulted in brilliant views, had nearly zero traffic on the 261, got to ride the "Moki Dugway" (and was videotaped by the county to use me as a platform to encourage cyclists to ride the Dugway), and even rode through the beautiful Monument Valley, observing the very place Forrest Gump ended his running adventure.
In a few days, I reached Flagstaff, just in time for Halloween. I stayed with a Couchsurfer, Allyce, and me, her, and her friend Sophia, drove to Prescott to celebrate and watch the band "Mexicali" play in an outdoor venue. It was a good show, and a goodtime, that even included some hula-hooping. I stayed with Allyce a few days, and only partially updated my blog (I at least put captions on the previous photos if you want to go back and check them).
I left Flag, and was back in familiar Prescott within a couple days. I passed through Sedona, and had a long struggle up the hill to Jerome and past. I was looking forward to reaching Prescott, because I knew the descent to the desert was shortly after. I reached Yarnell, and had an exhilarating plummet, thousands of feet to the desert floor.
It felt good to be in the lower desert, and not have to worry about snow anymore. I observed the different flora and fauna that had dramatically changed, from forests of pine, now I was looking at ocotillos, saguaros, and joshua trees.
I knew the 10 freeway was not going to be fun to ride on, and when the 60 merged with the 10, I confirmed the idea of skipping Coachella/Joshua Tree, and riding down the 78 through Glamis, instead.
When I reached Blythe and took a break at a coffee shop, to figure out where I was going to camp, and get something to eat. I was approached by a fellow that introduced himself as Riko, and was curious about my trip. He explained that him and his friend are walking from L.A. to Florida. He mentioned that he was staying with a warmshowers host in Palo Verde, and that I might be able to stay there.
After camping by the river that night, I contacted Nancy in Palo Verde, and she invited me to stay with her. She cooked some fantastic, healthy food, and showed me some excellent stretches for my neck and shoulders (so stiff from riding, not to mention injuring it numerous times, including breaking my neck once). I enjoyed the scenic ride through Glamis, and in a couple days, made it to Slab City where I was to meet my friend Eddie from back home.
When I arrived at Slab City, it was getting close to sunset, and I realized quickly that it may be difficult to find where my friend Eddie was camped. I had double checked with him the day before, and he said he was still going. After briefly checking out Salvation Mountain, I rode into the "city", and stopped to talk to a fellow at one of the slabs, then suddenly heard the violently loud familiar sound of a Cummins 12 valve diesel engine (what I owned, converted to vegetable oil, then sold to help fund this trip). It was Eddie.
Him and I hung out for a few days, enjoyed some great conversation, threw the frisbee, checked out the Salton Sea, and a few other sights in the area, then he headed back to town for work. I decided to stick around for a few more days, especially to see a show at "The Range" (a local stage that has artists play every Saturday night). I met a nice young couple, one German, one Canadian, and the three of us spent a wonderful day together. We drove to the grocery store in Brawley, and checked out the hot springs I had camped at near Glamis, then went to the hot springs near the slabs (the first time I had been to two entirely different hot springs in one day - cool).
While I was at Slab City, I got a good handle on what it's like there. I recall thinking about how I was going to try and explain what Slab City is like, to people I know, and even on the blog. I first heard about it, from watching the film, "Into The Wild", that is based on the tragic story of Chris McCandless.
Much like everything we experience first hand, the "slabs", is so much more than I thought it would be. Good and bad. There are so many facets to the place, and it's very dynamic. There are the year-round residents, people who are homeless, receiving enough money just to get by (most of whom I met, are incredibly hospitable, courteous, and some of the nicest souls I've encountered). There are the "snowbirds", the people with RV's of all shapes, and sizes, that come out to the slabs to live for the winter. There are users of hard drugs (so I've heard, never met any that I was aware of). The county won't let the residents of Slab City use the dump that is nearby. Builder Bill, a local resident, had actually acquired a truck, and was trying to run a business taking trash to the dump, but it wasn't economically feasible apparently. Now the trash piles up in areas, an image I'm sure the officials want to promote.
There is a network of people that help each other, one person telling me "we don't let people go hungry here". Where in a neighborhood in the States, do people regularly spend time with each other, and help one another?
One evening, while hanging out at the local "internet cafe", a fellow stumbled in, was clearly inebriated, and explained that he got into a fight with a man he believes has HIV. He illustrated his concern when he pulled up his sleeve and furnished a bite mark from the man, and asked for advice. The general consensus was that the man should go to the police and explain what happened. Interesting as chance and timing happens, later as I walked to a bonfire where people were hanging out, playing music fireside, I passed the young man as he spoke to police. I realized then, that we should have to told him to wait until the morning to contact the police, because it was obvious they weren't taking him seriously.
A few days later, they found his lifeless, floating, body in the hot pool. The cause of death was unknown from what I understood, but I can speculate what it may be. We were at the pool earlier in the evening, and he must have shown up some point later in the night (his car was also at the hot spring in the morning).
That same evening we were at the pool, we arrived to see a young homeless couple that were so drunk, they were barely coherent. At one point, the girl tried to enter the water, fell, and nearly knocked herself out. I had to help her, and take both her, and her friend, back to the slabs.
It was amazing to see some of the younger people's inability to abstain from drinking, even just for a day. More than once, there were a few people, that consumed so much vodka, they were stumbling, and slurring their speech, by 9am. One of the first things I did when I got home, was thank my parents for providing me with a good upbringing.
After a while, it was stimulus-overload, and I was more than ready to leave. I was so close to home now, that I knew I should get back.
I left Slab City, rode back to Brawley, on to El Centro, and West. Reaching the town of Ocotillo, was the first point on the entire trip, that was very familiar (I've camped at a spot near Ocotillo with my family since I was a child). I enjoyed the quiet road on S2, making my way to Julian. For the first time on the trip, I finally started having bike problems on the road (besides flats of course).
My cable housing, out of my rear derailleur shifter, makes an abrupt bend out of the shifter. I've had several mechanics point it out, and mention how it could be a problem shifting, and I even bought a new housing and cable a few days previous, but never got around to installing it (would take a little bit of time). The cable had begun to cut into the housing, and I hypothesize that it was hanging up, so the tension wasn't letting out, and letting the derailleur upshift. So all the way back to town, when I had to upshift, I shifted gears, but then would have to grab the cable, and yank on it a few times, to let the tension out.
I could have made it easy on myself, and continued on the 76 West, but in the interest of always making things challenging, I decided to ride to the top of Palomar Mountain. I had only planned on riding to Escondido, a shorter stretch, and figured there'd be plenty of light. It was a long, gradual climb, with little traffic. I reached the top, and could see down to Lake Henshaw, where I came from. It's such an incredible feeling to fight through a brutal climb, with a 160lb bike, and look down, thousands of feet below, and observe where I started.
Who would have thought where a bicycle could take you?
I rode down the mountain - such an exciting descent, I was even keeping up with cars. I arrived in Escondido, and rode from there to San Marcos, and all things familiar, reaching my Mom and step-Dad's place, in the dark.
As I prepare to leave San Diego for an indefinite amount of time, my mind is full of thoughts. I am excited, nervous, anxious, happy, sad... a melting pot of feelings. I know I will return for a visit, I do not know when.
There is still so much I need to do in preparation for the next leg.
There are only a few things I'll miss about this town, and they're mainly some of the people I know.
You spend so much time anxiously awaiting the departure, then you find something that's worth staying for.
I remember before I got back into town, saying to myself :
"I feel like I'm saying goodbye, when I haven't even said hello".
A modified version of a quote from a personal favorite movie of mine:
For someone who was never meant for this city, I must confess, I'm suddenly having a hard time leaving it.
Some Thoughts While Riding:
It's real funny that right when I hit the Salt Lake area, I started getting asked almost regularly, "you're traveling without a phone?". Then I'm told how brave I am, or I get a worried look from somebody. (Then I try and avoid the conversation of where I'm riding to...)
I noticed how the sun intensity suddenly became much greater in Southern Utah. I had to start using sunscreen more often, or suffered the consequences.
People usually comment about my load on the bike, that I have a lot of stuff. Well in turn, I'd like to ask someone how much stuff they have in their home? Have you ever thought for a moment how difficult it is to get rid of everything you own, take the most important things you value, and try to fit it on a bicycle?
It's real strange sometimes meeting/seeing people that remind of someone I know. I have had it happen a staggering number of times. Some of the people are still alive, some are not, making the sight even more surreal.
I had a side note written in my journal, about a dream that I had that I was laughing hysterically. It made me think how some good laughter is lacking on a trip like this, and at times I really enjoy it with some of the people I meet.
I could never tell if taking a rest day made any noticeable difference, but after carefully observing my strength, before and after, it's clear that even one day off the bike, makes a substantial change in my endurance on the bike, as well as power.
I can never entirely relax when I stay in people's homes, while on the road. I knew it would be nice to get back to my friends and family where I could actually be comfortable, and not stress about pissing somebody off.
Thanks to a generous gift from my mother, she has provided me with a laptop she wasn't using that works great. Now I won't have to rely on people, as much, in order to update my blog and upload pictures (using their computers).
I'm a huge dog person. I've always loved having dogs, and enjoy their company, but things change when they seem aggressive. Recently, I have had so many chase me. It begins when a dog starts barking, and starts running towards me, diagonally to intercept me, that I lose that love for animals. I won't hesitate to kick a dog in the face, or if it seems necessary, pull out my copper kick-stand, and use it in defense, killing the animal if I have to, in order to prevent a bite. I usually lift my leg up, and motion in the direction of the dog's face, to get my point across before the dog will acquiesce. I've been to Baja many times, and always noticed how many wild dogs are running around. An infected dog bite in a third world country, is the last thing I want (besides maybe Malaria, cholera, dysentery, hepatitis B...)
It will be almost a year that one of my best friends committed suicide. It is still very difficult to deal with at times, especially when I have dreams of him still alive, then I wake up, and the reality slams into me like a ton of bricks. Last year just before Thanksgiving, was the last time I saw him alive, when I stayed at his house for almost two weeks. The day I was leaving his house, he wasn't able to see me off. I remember talking to him on the phone shortly after, he apologized for not being able to say goodbye. Maybe, he really meant it.
I have probably mentioned this several times already, but am always astounded when it happens: As I ride through areas, it dawns on me how the landscape has changed. It's always such a gradual change, that I usually don't think of it until it just hits me suddenly, pedaling down the road, and realize how far I've come.
I camped in Wynola for a night because it became dark so quickly. A kind gentleman, Albert, let me camp behind his building, underneath some oak trees. I met his wife (Lidya), and kids, while I pitched my tent. They had an interesting adjective that I wanted to remember: Hippy + Hick = Hickey
Thank you both for letting me stay there!
Make a stop at gas station some time, even if you don't need gas. Buy $0.30 worth of fuel, and see the reaction you get from the attendant. I have to fill up my fuel bottle every few days, and the reaction is always the same.
Some people I meet, act like we live in the Jurassic era or something, "You camp? Aren't you worried about all the animals...?" The cities we live in, were pioneered by people traversing vast areas of mostly uninhabited areas. Not to mention natives, that have lived, and thrived off the land, for thousands of years, and had none of the fancy equipment I possess.
When I hiked up Mill Creek in Moab, I met an interesting fellow, Skip. With his straw hat, sandals, hawaiin shirt, casual demeanor, and a big smile... it was hard not to like him right off-the-bat. The few minutes I spent chatting with him, were truly inspirational. He was impressed with my trip, and gave me such a reassuring vibe, telling me how what I'm doing is incredible. At times that I question what I'm doing, for various reasons, I try to remind myself of people like Skip, that I have met along the way. He had a saying, that he mentioned several times, I wanted to share:
"Be well, be safe, be true, be you."
In it's simplicity, is a profound meaning.
Tally: 6 flats, 2, tires, 1 chain, 1 cassette
Miles ridden so far: 4,789.9
Interactive map of route traveled so far. I encourage you to use the map's features, zoom in and out, move it around, and see where I've covered.
Pink markers indicate approximate camping locations. Blue markers indicate people I stayed with.
