Years ago, in what can now be called youth, my comrade Eliot and I struck out for Alaska one spring as the Sierra melted out. I had an injured ankle but figured that I could stuff the thing into a kayak if nothing else. We worked at a greasy spoon in the Kenai, paddled the local coasts and rivers, clambered around the peaks of the Chugach, and lived off "da fatta da lan". After a few months of smelling like a hamburger, one day the axe just fell and we headed for the great north with scarcely more beta than what could be garnered from a few conversations with a retired long-haul trucker named Norm. Thanks Norm. We took the Haul Road for the Brooks range and climbed the first big, imposing ridge traverse we could ... read more

The thunder clapped like the Ramadan cannon and the rain sounded like hail as it pounded the side of our tent in drops the size of marbles. The cold front had finally arrived and the heat moved out like migratory birds. Good riddance. We were not the only people to breath a sigh of relief as this summer has been the hottest that any in the region can remember. The next day brought us to the end of our Black Sea experiences as we approached a 1500 meter climb into the interior. Clouds veiled the sun´s intensity as we rose with wings into pristine pine forests. Days like this are what cycling is all about and it always makes us homesick. The serenades of the tiny mountain mosques paired with the peaceful greetings of locals ... read more

....by the rivers of Babylon, where we sat down. Ehr we wept, when we remembered Zion..... The train that carried us away from Berlin had a ghostly feel not unlike the chariot that carried Jonathan Harker away from the Bistritsa pass in the opening chapters of "Dracula". Prior to this we had travelled in European luxury in the hands of typical Deutsch Bahn comfort, but the transfer ride from the glassy, modern Berlin central station to the Kiev connection told a different tale. Drunks sat about mumbling to themselves, security was nonexistant and the air around us filled with the unmistakable sound of Slavic tongues. Goodbye Europe, Hello Bloc. The faces of those around us also changed from the virtually post-ethnic intelligentsia of the worlds most developed countries to the pure bred, blue eyed stare of ... read more

The days are brisk with a northwesterly flow carrying a partly cloudy hint of future precip. Morning rides find us wearing jackets as temps drop below freezing. The high country is choked with snow and skiing is butter. Ten days together, at home, so surreal, savor every moment of this sweet place and time... fill our hearts with cool mountain air. No matter how often we pack our stuff into heavy bundles and hop on planes to places seemingly distant, there is always a special allure to being in the Tahoe basin. In recent years where at least one of us has been abroad more often than not, our home has come to seem a whole lot more important. When we roll, we roll with the security of knowing that there is a place that ... read more

Learning to ride with a loaded bike can be humbling. The first time you set out on a tour it is hard to fathom what the bike will feel like under the load of all your gear. The unsteadiness you feel that first time mixed with the thought of the task at hand makes the whole undertaking seem for a moment unimaginable and you are given the opportunity to either quit, go insane, or focus on what you can do for the moment and forget about the future. That process, forgetting about the future, is an ongoing meditation. When you start each new tour the feeling is no less bewildering but you have the confidence that you will again master the feel. A less expected but equally strange feeling is the first ride without panniers following ... read more