Lessons Learned

We each want to progress, to learn and improve.  Each generation is not only lucky enough to build upon the efforts of those before us, but we too act, practice and refine our thoughts, our crafts, and our lives to be more in line with an evolving world view.  As climbers and adventurers we strike off, in an effort to learn more about life by experiencing it in extremes.  As we scratch the surface, the experiences call us back again and again, and soon we become more proficient and comfortable with the logistics, trouble, and physical hardship that often go along with these trips.  We learn from friends and relatives, books and movies, and of course our own personal adventures.  Certain disciplines call us, whether it be bouldering or alpine climbing, creek-boating or surfing, as the specialists we are we devour this lifestyle completely, striving to understand every angle and aspect of it's execution.  Along the way we come to understand more about ourselves and the world, and subsequently the relationship between each.

This concept of bicycle-powered adventure is not new, and there are seemingly more and more resources appearing every day on it's subject.  While I do not claim much experience from my limited adventures, from the meager amount I’ve learned along the way, I do wish to add my voice to the chorus of encouragement.  Truth is this is all still so new to me, and although we’ve been living the bicycle-life for about two and a half years, I constantly find myself exploring new aspects that keep it fresh, challenging, and exciting.  This was the first trip I’ve ever done that involved skis, only the second that involved snow, and the first that involved multiple stages of shipping gear.  In an effort to clear away some of the confusion, and help with the logistics of your own ride, I wanted to share as much of this knowledge as I can, in hopes that you’ll be able to take it one step farther, while doing it easier.  While in no way comprehensive, chronological, or even ordered, what’s below is one part trip report, one part advice, and three parts rambling rhetoric, enjoy.

The Sawtooth Scenic Byway

I've been sitting here for too long already.  I want to tell you the story, but this one's not easy, and more to the point, it's not yet over.  The adventure continues to expand, and exceed all expectations. No words are doing justice to the feelings we've had, it seems I'll have to let the photo's do the talking this time.  What is the message?  It is not about the no-car, it is not about the bike.  It isn't even about the mountains or the adventure, although that's getting closer to the source.  You can live any way you choose: dream big, do good, be kind.  Do Epic Shit.  Live with passion and be the force for positive change.  Create the world, the reality you want to inhabit. Live your Dreams.

Riding north from Ketchum. Cold but fast we made our way towards the mountains.

Unfolding on its own.

I can't believe we've made it to the mountains.  Before leaving Alta, this all seemed like such a dream, and indeed it was, but we've been figuring it out and slowly making it a reality.

A Grand Failure

Each day I wake up, unable to sleep, yet hesitant to leave the warmth, I lay and recall my dreams until I cannot see any more.  Shuffling down the hallway, cracks of light escape from beneath a few doors, the rest lie dark and silent.  Outside, I step along the balcony to the small room with the large mirror.  On my mat I stand, and bend, and lie in awkward positions as my muscles slowly lengthen.  Beads of sweat break out on my forehead despite my lack of movement, my breath courses slow and deep through my nose.  I am alone, my mind is never silent unless I find it that way, when again it is surprised into thought.  Each day is lived as it comes, not necessarily in the moment but without thinking much of the before or after.  My forecast is a look out the window, feeling the air on my face.  My schedule is always the same; work, ski, at once.  When I come here, or to the pages in my journal, my mind wanders, looking at pictures of my own I am taken back, memories and emotions tingle at the base of my spine.  Talking with friends, scheming, planning, I look forward and see the future, not as it is or as it will be, but how it exists now in my mind.  Ideas are coming to life once more as the sun returns and the reality of melting snow, warm stone, and open roads grows closer.  The words are on the tip of my tongue, the spark of creativity once more slowly catching hold of the connections that have been made over the last few months.  

I'm looking ahead more often these days, as the time returns for me to leave.  Maps and mountain ranges spread out on the desk before me.  But before I start sharing my picture of the road ahead, or the musings of all I've learned, experienced and seen over the last months, for myself, and you, I'd like to look back once more, on the last adventure I had.  It seems, anyway, as the most appropriate way to begin.  

A Word on Gear

I’m not really one to write about gear.  Talk about it, obsess over it, over-analyze it, yes, but there’s something about personal blogs that feature gear reviews and gear talk that makes me nauseas.  I didn’t start this to get free gear, free trips, whore myself or promote the continuation of our material culture that is leading to the degradation of our environment.  Lest you believe I’m a total cynic about this sort of thing have yourself a read of Craig Childs' piece of the “Buying and Selling of Nature”, and Dane’s piece about the “Elite” attitude of sporting becoming the norm.  Although these pieces might not actually say much it is a pretty good jumping off point for the conversation of the amazing duality that exists between outdoor enthusiasts and the material “gear” culture that we’re so entwined with.  We rely on our gear, it’s a huge part of what is enabling us to push our boundaries and find new limits.  You’ll not be finding a thousand-word blow-fest about a mid-layer polartec hoody here, we can leave that for the “athletes” with pretty faces who’s job it is to sell things. Mostly themselves.  What I do want to offer you is a glimpse at the gear I use, how normal and average it is, how it fits on the bike, and how easy it is for you to make the transformation yourself.

The impetus for this post is a recently published write-up of our Zion trip to my friend Ed’s site VerticalMinded.com.  If you haven’t yet, check it out, it’s mostly a bunch of pictures but there’s a little bit of the insight and reflections that went into (and came out of) that trip.  I don’t plan on re-posting it here but I thought I would instead include few things that I left out of that posting, mainly, a look into the gear we use, what we brought, and how you can do it too.  In the hopes that others might follow suit, here’s a quick look into our panniers, our minds, our bags of gear, and why packing all of the same stuff into your car is weak sauce.  Enjoy.

Quietly Crushing

I met Amos during the summer of 2009 while I was working at a small farm outside Palmer Alaska.  I'd caught a ride up to Anchorage with my friend Rich, who had work lined up as a sea kayak guide out of Whittier.  Rich was gracious enough to let me throw my bike on his roof and stuff my bicycle trailer and gear in his trunk.  My original plan was to spend a few weeks seeing the state before riding back down to the states later that summer, but after our road trip through southern Utah and up to Alaska, I found that the meager savings of a ski bum really didn't go that far.  So faced with a little new found perspective I spent some hours surfing the web and the WWOOF directory trying to line up some work-trade jobs and possibly something with some pay or stipend that could see me through the fall.  After cycling about 1000 miles back and forth from Anchorage to Fairbanks, catching a ride down to Homer, I managed to find some paying work with this small farm located in the Matanuska Susitna Valley.  When I wasn't pulling weeds or washing vegetables, I hiked the nearby mountains, went for some bike rides, and sampled some of the traditional local harvest, Matanuska Thunderfuck.  That is, until I met Amos.

An Interview with Kyle Dempster

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of speaking with Kyle Dempster about his 2011 trip to Kygyzstan and the resulting film, The Road from Karakol.  In 2011 Kyle took his bicycle and cycled around the mountains of Kyrgyzsan climbing and adventuring, eventually riding through China and into Pakistan to climb some more.  Kyle is an award winning alpinist who’s at the leading edge of modern climbing.  It was a treat to get to talk to him about his experiences in Kyrgistan and what he thinks about the environment’s role in the evolution of alpinism and the incredible miracle of Cycling Alpinism!  Enjoy!

Bicycle Travel. Commuting and Consideration.

This is what’s up. 

Life on a bike is full of adventure.  No matter what’s thrown your way, if you’re flexible and adaptive, you can always make it work.  This time last year we were riding into the mountains loaded down with food and climbing gear, tackling summits and remote climbs in the wildernesses of the Washington Cascades.  We spent our downtime relaxing and riding around a small town.  Now, shifting gears and taking a little break, we’re relaxing with family and riding a little over 20 miles a day commuting to and from work on our bikes. 

Sherpa Peak

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Finding an "off the beaten track" adventure in the Stuart Mountains can be a challenging experience.  The popularity and history of this small range have worked to make for an accessible, well known group of mountains.  There are, however, a few areas that receive little attention and fewer people then the well known basins and crags of this classic alpine paradise.  The drainage of the east fork of mountaineer creek, between Argonaut and Sherpa peaks is one of these places.  Combine this with the challenge of a completely human powered approach and you've got yourself a weekend.  Liz and i set out with a few scraps of route info and headed into this lesser known corner of our backyard.

Prusik Peak

Bike, Hike, Climb.  A short trip report from another human powered adventure into the heart of the Stuart Range.

Backbone Ridge

Our fist human powered trip from town to climb an alpine route in the Stuart Range.

After a couple of months of cragging, and only getting our toes wet in the mountains, Liz and I were ready to try what we came here to do, high alpine climbing.