Cycling Sojourner

Fat biking will titillate fans of the bicycle. What I associate with fat biking: snow floating, smiling despite cold teeth, envious snowmobilers, national forest, winter quiet, mountain shenanigans. We hit Wanoga Sno-Park with two Fatback bikes while I was in Bend researching an article (to which I will post a link later). These gnarly-wheeled bikes on steroids are so fun.

There are a couple of companies who make a line of fat bikes, like Surly and Salsa. Fatback Bikes, an Alaskan company who have a headquarters in Bend, make a small-batch line of fat bikes. There are about 10,000 fat bikes in circulation in the world…and that number is growing big time.

The folks at Fatback were nice enough to let us borrow these bikes for the day (thanks, Nick!). I thought I’d include a couple of bike-geeky shots from their awesome warehouse. They are near the bottom of the post.

I thought I’d also include some shots from Chuck Hood, a QBP sales rep, who uses his fat bike for bikepacking. Those pics are at the bottom of the post. These photos get my creative touring juices flowing…bike touring to a fire tower in the winter? Hut to hut bike touring?

Enjoy the photos!

I realized what makes the project of creating and promoting Cycling Sojourner worth it to me.

You, the readers.

Steph and Ed on the Hells Canyon, Hells Yes tour. Aren’t they adorable??

Steph and Ed’s bikes on the Hells Canyon, Hells Yes tour. Also adorable.

At Bike Craft this December, many people came up to my table to tell me that they had already purchased Cycling Sojourner. One couple said that they had done their first tour because they had the guide. Another woman doted on the glorious time she had in the Cascades. Other folks talked about their excitement to do a second tour from the book.

My Bike Craft table mates: April Streeter from Women on Wheels, Elly Blue from Taking the Lane Media and Caroline P from Little Package

Bike Craft!

This is exactly what I had in mind when I decided to grab my sparkling, perfect guidebook idea out of the sky and drag it into the hard copy world of deadlines, arduous hours, design debacles, scope creep, politics, and invoices. Not only did I want to inspire readers to try cycle touring, I wanted to make it easy for people to venture out on their loaded steeds because bicycle touring makes the world a better place.

Josh and Tanya’s coastal tour outside of Astoria

Cycle touring brings significant, stand-alone benefits to local economies, mind/body wellness, and the pursuit of sustainability. Beyond that, at the heart of it, I wish for my cycling touring readers happiness and discovery.

Susan on her longest ride to date on the Banks Vernonia Trail (part of the Get out of Town! Vernonia Tour, which is free on this website)

For me, I’ve ridden out grief on tour as if anguish was the chunky chip seal disappearing under my tires and endlessly unfolding ahead me. I’ve meandered through natural places – like the Redwoods National Forest in California, Colle di Sampeyre in northern Italy, and Hells Canyon in Oregon – which transform pedaling into something more like praying. I’ve finished long cycling days that turned my eyes into weights inside my skull and rendered my guts hollow and body shucked. In exchange, I received tiny bread crumbs of self-knowledge (and good muscles).

Barbara on her first tour (at my personal cajoling) and loving it

Hearing folks talk about their experiences with the book at Bike Craft brought home to me that this project has been successful. As author and publisher, the day-to-day untangling of problems and solutions feels like the big picture. But it’s not. There are people out there actually going on bike adventures in Oregon, and that fills me to the brim with warm fuzzies.

That is worth it.

And thousands of people, many from the Pacific Northwest but also folks from all over the country and world, have purchased Cycling Sojourner. All the while, Travel Oregon and Oregon State Parks and Rec are going above and beyond to build and promote Oregon as a cycling destination. It’s movement in the right direction (all arrows to Oregon).

That is exciting.

But there is so much more to do. Oh, the possibilities. My next project itches on my typing fingers and makes my quads contract. Stay tuned.

So I’ll continue to pursue cycle touring/writing/publishing.  You, readers, have pushed me over the edge. As your stories trickle in, they inspire me and feed my (sometimes) Golden Retreiver-esque enthusiasm.

Thanks for a powerful 2012.

2013 is going to be a good one.

I hope you hop on for the ride! Subscribe – Facebook – Twitter

And please send me your stories and photos. Love it!

Imagine me, a woman wearing bike cleats (elf bells dangling on toe tips) and green and red lycra, tap dancing wildly for you with flailing, sonorous foot stamping. Not to mention my jazz hands that occasionally juggle dreidels.

That’s me participating in the American Holiday Promotional Shuffle, for you. That’s right; during the Holidaze, there is a special from Into Action Publications for Cycling Sojourner and Hop in the Saddle.

I engage in the American Holiday Promotional Shuffle not only because I’m a business owner, these books make killer stocking stuffers, and I like tap dancing. Purchasing these books is good juju! You support local small businesses, bicycle tourism, the craft brew industry, and Oregon. Plus, a portion of Cycling Sojourner’s profit goes to the Community Cycling Center, a non-profit that aims to make cycling an option for everyone. Pass it on ; )

Melbourne, FL through Portland-colored glasses

What do you do when your family decides it’s a great idea to have a week-long reunion in the high tech industry, senior medical services community of friendly Melbourne, Florida? You utilize the couplers on your bike and drag it on the airplane with you. And you convince your father to do the same.

I came downstairs the first morning to find my assembly team already in action.

Even after scouring the interwebs for cycling info about Melbourne, I really didn’t know what was in store for us and our bikes. I thought you might be interested in what I found.

Road construction means cyclo-cross training for those on bikes in Melbourne

Even though this strip mauled, car-centric place hasn’t put much energy into the cycling/pedestrian infrastructure, there are a couple of awesome features in town. The causeway that connects Melbourne Beach to Melbourne has a separated track for cyclists and pedestrians. The terrain is flat, so there are lots of wide sidewalks which could be turned into a network for active transportation.

My dad and our bikes on a quieter back road by the ocean

On our first day we made some erroneous choices, like taking Hwy A1A (with Vanilla Ice’s hallmark song stuck in my head) where there was sometimes a shoulder and plenty of traffic. After talking to a lovely local guy at Infinity Bike Shop, we headed for S. Tropical Trail.

S Tropical Trail

This road is on a thin finger of land in the ocean, where you can peer at the sea on either side with a turn of your head. On the wider sections, houses can fit on both sides of the road. The introduced speed impediments make this residential road unappealing to car traffic, and simultaneously serve as easy fodder for seventh grade humor.

No comment

However, to get to this idyllic road, there was no option but to navigate through a transportation landscape that has little concern for cyclists. That means we were relegated to sidewalks much of the time, a perfect recipe for making a Portlander indignant.

Concrete pillar in the sidewalk, the only place for bikes and people to safely travel.

Melbourne isn’t a particularly thriving place; tourism in this seaside town has dropped. Looking at the city through Portland goggles and the bike tourism lens, it seems like a shame they haven’t invested in alternative transportation infrastructure.

Melbourne Beach

As a guidebook author, I see potential. There are already a couple of really nice bike/ped features in the area, it’s pancake-flat with good weather, plus there’s a cute little downtown and easy access to beaches. With some investment in infrastructure and marketing, I think a place like Melbourne would find hefty payback, both from the perspective of tourism development and benefit from active transportation (increased healthiness, less spending on gas and more spending at local businesses, livability points).

During my time in Melbourne on a bicycle, one of my favorite parts was the way cyclists and pedestrians always said hello to each other. Unlike Portland where they are a dime a dozen, those who walk and pedal are more of a rarity in Melbourne and therefore enjoy a strong camaraderie.

At the bike shop, we heard plans that the cycling club in Melbourne was trying to put together a cycling map for the area. Spearheaded by hobbyists, it is taking a while to get done. But it shows that the cycling enthusiasts in Melbourne are scrappy. It would be fun to see the area live up to its potential. Go Melbourne!

As a distant second cousin to Cycling Sojourner, the newly released book Everyday Bicycling: How to ride a bike for transportation (whatever your lifestyle) by Elly Blue isn’t about journeying by bike into the wild blue yonder; rather it’s a pragmatic guide to incorporating bicycling into everyday life as a means of transportation…and embracing the daily adventures that arise from using a bike to get around.

People all over the US and the world are picking up their new copies Everyday Bicycling, and they are considering. That is pretty darn cool, and by cool, I mean powerful.

Why someone hasn’t written a book like this before is beyond me. Good thing that Blue does a deft job. Devoid of lofty rants (thanks be!), this book is full of useful tools to help a non-bike commuter become a bike commuter.

Blue briefly points to economic and health benefits, as well as to joy, as reasons to take up two-wheeled, human powered transportation. However, the meat of the book is all about the information: how to ride a bike, how to tote kids on bikes, how to carry stuff on bikes, how to dress for bike commuting.

I will say that my dog Winston and I do wish there was a “hauling your animal” chapter. That will be next edition, I’m sure.

Blue’s authorial voice doesn’t wield bravado or assume the reader is a specific kind of person with certain goals. Instead, and above all, she is clear and comprehensive. Blue breaks down the process of bike commuting into simple terms and advice, which applies to everyone from the mom of two working part-time at a coffee shop to the financial manager with a penchant for looking dapper.

With her well laid-out book (that has a catchy design), Blue slightly advances a larger-picture task of shifting the transportation paradigm in a healthier, more sustainable and smile-inducing direction.

Unlike any book before it, Everyday Bicycling crisply and succinctly outlines options and debunks the conjecture that bicycling for transportation is for someone else.

Buy it here! Dude, it’s only $9.95. Great gift.

Going to be in Portland this Thursday, November 29th at 6pm? Check out the Everyday Bicycling book release at Clever Cycles.

I’ll be there from 6-6:30pm then will ride from the book release to the event at Powell’s downtown for Hop in the Saddle: A Guide to Portland’s Craft Beer Scene, by Bike  that starts at 7:30pm. You are invited to ride with me!

**Disclosure: Elly and I both are independent bike book publishers who co-founded the Portland Society and share the perfect first name. And our partners are both named Joe. We live next to each other. Welcome to the twilight zone.

I dig Ward Griffiths. She’s a rad cycle tourist. And she’s kind of a hero. Rarely do people like Ward get acknowledged amid the hubbub of spotlight scrambles, Twitterfests, and PR jazz hands. And these under-radar folks probably like it that way (thanks for doing the interview anyway, Ward!).

Ward’s response to my request for an interview:

“Seriously??  Awww, crap…  Are you that desperate for topics??  Maybe I can think of some other ones for you…”

After persistent harassment, I finally was able to nail Ward down.

She is one of those people who quietly slinks behind the scenes being epic without anyone noticing. I’m drawn to her story because, like most things having to do with cycle touring, the content isn’t glossy like a magazine feature flaunting people with bleached teeth in Photoshoplanida. The substance is more earthy, like a freshly-prepared raised garden bed in your backyard.

As a long time bike fitter at River City Bicycles, Ward listens to her clients, and because of that, she does a damned good job of helping people be more stoked on their bikes. In her free time, she rides her butt off all over the state and beyond. Because Ward sniffs out far-flung ribbons of gravel and pavement which weave through gorgeous, unknown places, she was a valuable resource when I was researching Cycling Sojourner.

“Touring is a great way to see things you wouldn’t normally see via some other way of travel. I like going where people aren’t.”

I pried it out of her that she’s also a freelance drummer for bands around town. No prying necessary to know that Ward loves her dogs. And she loves my dog, Winston, who attends the yoga class we do together. He loves her, too.

Ward and Winston

But back to bikes. In her late twenties, Ward was top ten in Road Nationals three times. However, in 1998 she found herself in a hard fight against cancer. Ward won, of course. Afterwards, she wasn’t strong enough to ride with racers with whom she used to cycle.

Ward's Gentlemen's Race team

“So I rode by myself, and I wanted to do something besides road rides. I explored back roads that were off the beaten path.”

By “exploring” she means 100-mile+ days in the middle of nowhere. Ward’s beefy cycling touring resume includes longer trips, like spending five months touring through the US and Canada, and shorter trips, like doing high-mileage, long weekend treks in the Cascades with only a rack trunk.

I asked her what she liked about endurance riding.

“I don’t know. Why do you like it?” I wait for it. Silence gets longer.  “I just like being outside. I like that good tired where I can eat something delicious and feel like I deserved it.”

I also I asked her what she values in a touring partner.

Ira and Ward

“Riding by myself,” she laughs, “But I do like touring with Rachel [Bagley] and Ira [Ryan].  They can do long days, and they don’t whine. Plus, they like to watch cheesy cable TV at the end of the day.”

Finally, I ask her how much she attributes her success to our yoga class of slackers. She responded, “It’s all about the Namaste…and Winston.”

As we were walking downstairs at River City after the interview, I suspect I caught one of Ward’s guiding philosophies when she chuckled and said, “Everyone always talks about what they do. Blah blah blah. Just do what you do, and shut your trap about it.”

*photos credit: Rachel Bagley

My mother would pitch a conniption fit if she was forced to plan her vacation like Joe and I planned our bike tour…and not just because cycling dominated our agenda. She role-modeled a trip planning methodology that involved neat, labeled manila folders filled with travel documents and agenda items. Appropriate time was spent researching area attractions and scribbling in a dog-eared Fodor’s guide.

Mom participating in unscheduled vacation activity

Our approach differed from Barbara’s. After squaring away time off months in advance, Joe and I decided on our destination just a couple of days before our trip.

Our late September bikecation was utterly beholden to the weather gods. We offered our nine-days at their feet and let them determine our fate.  In the end, our front wheels pointed towards Central Oregon peaks and sunshine.

Tumalo Lake - Photo cred Dakota Gale

There’s something magical about dragging a loaded bike down your front steps and shoving off for a week. That fantastic feeling might be based in a sense of freedom or in the fact that cycling embodies the active metaphor of moving forward no matter what.

Sweet alternative back road off Hwy 97

On our first day, we headed over Lolo Pass to hang out with friends in Parkdale.

Barb, Eric and Baz outside the double-wide

Sneaking up to Mt. Hood National Forest via back roads on that sparkly early fall day inspired Italian-style gesticulation. Think teeth sinking into the most buttery-perfect bowl of homemade pasta. Kissing finger tips, muahh!

Top of Lolo Pass

The next day welcomed us with a 23-mile climb on our way to Dufur. The subsequent unfettered descent on the creamy pavement was worth all the visits to Three-mph-landia: a benign place where wild animals lose their natural fear. Deer stare sympathetically at you and your sluggish fight with inertia from the bushes.

After that pass, the day presented two more up-and-overs on the way to Maupin, where we unapologetically stuffed our faces at the Oasis Restaurant by the river. By the way, there is a BLM road along the Deschutes River heading south from Maupin. The road was beautifully paved, seemingly due to rafting companies. It’s on the to-cycle list.

Firmly planted in the middle of high desert, we climbed our way to the ever-welcoming city of Madras.

Madras welcomes bikers!

We took awesome, forgotten secondary roads into and out of Madras. That was a highlight.

Forgotten old highway

Forgotten old highway 2

On our way to Bend, we hit the Sisters to Smith Rock Scenic Bikeway. Highly suggested. You go, Oregon State Parks and Rec!

Sisters to Smith Rock Scenic Bikeway

In Bend, our friends Chelsea and Dakota met us and brought us our mountain bikes for a long weekend of shredding the gnar.

Heading home from Phil's Trails

I know. Tough vacation.

The whole time I never cued a direction or noted an establishment. Instead, I read. I rode. I ate. I slept. I harassed my husband about how incorrigibly good he looks in cycling shorts.

Joe in cycling shorts

In the last year, my fledgling company Into Action Publications had the fabulous opportunity to bring two books to press, the most recent being Hop in the Saddle: A Guide to Portland’s Craft Beer Scene, by Bike.  What complex, challenging, and rewarding ride that was, as well as an all-encompassing, adios-to-weekends endeavor.

Leaving an intense work schedule and entering an easy equation of road + honey baby + bike + food + sleep rejiggered my perspective. Or rather, it reminded me of what is most important and reconnected me to the luxurious textures of deep joy.

Joy / ridiculocity

With eyes alight, my dear friend Lucy had said to me after her vacation, “I realized that I am not my work.” I nodded politely, though I didn’t really understand.

Wishing for three hands

Over this trip, I quickly understood what she meant. Somewhere between a 23-mile mind-clearing climb and hobbling post-ride exhaustion (plus helmet ventilation slots sunburned into my forehead), I totally got it.

Hey y’all!

I wanted to pass along this post I’m a Cheater: How I Became Seduced by Beer from the website of my latest project, Hop in the Saddle: A Guide to Portland’s Craft Beer Scene, by Bike. Awesome, right?

Please consider buying a copy of Hop in the Saddle from our Kickstarter project which just launched. I need your support! So if you want a copy, right now would be the most fabulous and helpful time get one. The other rewards are pretty rock star, too. Beer pannier from Queen Bee Creations or custom Pereira Cycles Beer Bike, anyone?

At the least, the Kickstarter project video is pretty awesome. I would love if you passed the project along to your people: http://bit.ly/BEER-n-BIKES

Thanks much!

oxEllee

“He’ll have to stop to take care of his mangina,” Dan commented about a cyclist in the next hotel room who he jokingly perceived as a very likely DNF (Did Not Finish) candidate.

My natural inclination was to hurl whatever was in my hand (a chunk of bread) at Dan’s head. And I indulged myself.  My glutenous missile hit target with a satisfying plunk. Unfortunately, the two subsequent launches were batted away.

It was the night before the 330-mile gravel road Trans Iowa race, and Dan, Joe, and I were drinking IPA’s, slouching on hotel furniture, doing Hulk Hogan impressions, futzing with bikes, and giving each other crap at any given chance.

Even though I was enjoying my participation the pre-game brodeo, a line was crossed. Since, on this particular night, I was employing my best sailor mouth, I could tell that Dan was confused with my bread attack.

Saying that a man has a vagina, or mangina, is a nonsensical manner of attributing weakness. In this case, at an endurance gravel road race event, it especially struck me as incongruent.  A couple of years ago, I raced the 200-mile gravel road race Dirty Kanza with a sausage party of 175. Only 40% of the field finished, and I was a finisher.  I completed the race due to strategy, tenacity, and fitness. What do you think of my vagina now?

I have to give Dan a lot of credit. It seemed that he had never really thought about the term “mangina,” and actually understood my explanation (after I stopped throwing bread). Taking in consideration that his wife can put the smack down when they road bike together, it didn’t take long for the light to go on.

The rest of the weekend was marked by comments like, “Man, that guy must have hella labia.” And so on. Yes, the follow-up commentary was funny and a bit tongue in cheek, but underneath I knew that my point had hit target, just like my flying bread chunk.

I have come to find out that this interesting phenomenon of associating vaginas with weakness/physical failure is actually quite common among male cyclists and mountain bikers, even in “progressive” Portland circles (though usually not in front of women—akin to saying the f-word behind your parent’s back). While on a mountain bike ride, I overheard these guys, who were not especially fast, characterizing each other as having vaginas as a way of calling each other pansies, in typical dude banter.

This was particularly hilarious to me because I incidentally met their wives at a BBQ afterwards. One of these guys is supported almost entirely by his wife’s high-power lawyer job. The other guy would never have the labia to ridicule another guy as having a vagina in front of his wife…because she would hand him his ass clear and true.

So why this need to call other guys weak by saying they have a vagina? It’s apparent that women can kill it on a bike (hello, Reve Tour!). And any given man who says another man has a mangina can most likely be whooped by a female cyclist somewhere.

Some might say, “Dude, it’s just funny.”

I would respond that, no, it’s not. It doesn’t make sense and is disconcerting to me, owner of a very powerful vagina. By all means, I’m not a fan of standing on some self-righteous box and ordering folks what or what not to say. Yuck. Lord knows that doesn’t work on me. But, I will say that the practical effect of using the turn of phrase “mangina” is making the speaker look like a complete ass, in my opinion.

When men make mangina comments to each other, in little whispers so their wives and girlfriends can’t hear, it seems to me a clear indicator that something is lacking in that man’s true confidence in his own manhood. A man telling another man that he has a vagina as a tactic of degradation is a weak, flaccid, and transitory way of trying to prove manliness, as opposed to actually being a man and comfortably, unconsciously displaying man-status where the rubber hits the road.

Grow some labia, boys. Be man enough to stop proving you don’t have a vagina by saying that someone else does. Or, at the least, clit up and continue ridiculing each other as having manginas in front of your partners and females friends if you feel it’s truly right. You might be sad when you look up and find you are only in the company of bonafide dicks.

PS Mangina-themed soap advert capitalizing on insecure men.

My very close friend and avid paddler, Mary Beth (MB) Wyne, took a bike tour after years of harassment and cajoling from me. Here is her first-time experience. MB, I can’t wait to go touring with you!

Mary Beth paddling in the Boundary Waters

Long before I knew that a bicycle seat was supposed to be called a saddle, my friend Ellee (author extraordinaire of Cycling Sojourner: A Guide to the Best Multi-day Tours in Oregon) was planning bike tours all over the world.  In place of scheming cycle tours, which I thought would be a lonely and saddle-soar endeavor, I wanted to paddle my canoe wherever and whenever I could.

In one of our long, grass-twirling discussions, I would tell Ellee how I loved the art of traveling by canoe.  How the world slowed down, how you could carry everything you needed right in your boat for weeks at a time, how you met wonderful people and how paddling and portaging was really an act of meditation.

All Ellee could do was nod and say to me (for years) that I needed to try cycling because I’d find the same joy as I do paddling. Well, I resisted for too many years, and now, after my first bike tour, I wish I had listened to my good friend’s wisdom sooner.

My husband Keith and I just completed our first bike tour in May. Early one Saturday morning, we walked out our front door and began pedaling.  We biked from our hometown of Minneapolis, MN to Madison, WI.

We quickly learned that bike touring, even just from our front door, is akin to canoe travel.  It’s not just a vacation.  Cycle touring offers all the complexity, rewards, and ah-ha moments of a real adventure.  Along the way, we stayed in tiny towns along the Mississippi River that we never would have planned to visit if we had been traveling by car.

And, we met the most kind and wonderful people: the old man drinking coffee on the bench outside the gas station who, later down the road, waved us in to the only diner in town for lunch; Richie, the owner of our new favorite B&B, Turning Waters in Wabasha, MN, who lent us his car so we could have the “best meal around,” which happened to be 15 miles back from where we had pedaled; and Donna at the Parkview B&B who, when we said we would be leaving at five in the morning, said, “I just can’t bear to have people leave my bed & breakfast without breakfast.” She then packed us some hard-boiled eggs, chocolate cake and a thermos of coffee for the road.

 On day three of our six day tour, Keith and I were sitting by the mighty Mississippi drinking a couple of beers in the sun when we realized we had been doing vacations all wrong!  We decided that cycle touring is one of the best forms of travel—ranking equal to canoe expeditions.

And, the best part of touring wasn’t necessarily the people we met along the way, the amazing food we ate or the luxurious places we stayed.  It was the cycling itself. When I am on my bike, that’s the only place I can be—physically and mentally.  My mind is only on the next hill I see on the horizon, or making it past the next mailbox while battling a 30 mph headwind, or watching the next vista unfold.

Cycle touring (as you tried to tell me, Ellee) is truly an act of meditation, joy, companionship and adventure—a gift that Keith and I plan to partake in much more often.  And, now that we have a tour under our belts, all we can do is dream of where the next bike adventure will be.

Ellee and MB while paddling the Boundary Waters together

I can’t help it. The thought being unable to escape the confines of child-proofed conversation topics, ranging from diaper rash to the latest car seat accessory, is terrifying. Also alarming is the idea of trading in the helium-heart feeling of pushing off for an epic bike tour for staying at home and making my own spirulina-kale baby food recipe (I would do that) or chasing a stair-crazed toddler around. Do I want a screaming baby to be the sound-track for two years of my life instead of the Alialujuah Choir and Feist in my headphones while pedaling a long deserted stretch of Eastern Oregon?

Lucy, Tony, and Oscar heading out on a 3-week cycle tour

Enter Portlanders Lucy Burningham, national journalist and beer writer, and Tony Pereira, touted handmade bicycle builder. And little Oscar, their 20-month old baby.

Ready to rock

I feel like I’ve witnessed the evolution of their family since the beginning: from encouraging Lucy to buy a stinkin’ pregnancy test, to massaging Oscar in Lucy’s belly, to observing the highly complex, adaptive, and nuanced juggling act of two independent business owners managing a giggling, inquisitive, way-too-cute-for-his-own-good little boy.

Everyone getting ready

Lucy is like me in that she is an adventurer at heart. She dreams of travelling in places where the food has unpronounceable names and indefinable ingredients. She would hitch a ride on a pick-up bed full of chickens or learn Merengue from Claudio at a beach disco.

Lucy mountain biking (tree hugging?)

So I’ve been watching her reconcile that wind-whipped, hostel-hopping part of herself with early motherhood. Closely.

Safety first

In the end, my helmet goes off to Lucy and Tony. Not considering—or really even referencing—the status quo, they choose to parent differently, and with an awful lot of pizzazz in my opinion. For three weeks, they are bike touring with Oscar in tow down Oregon’s Cascade Range, from their front door to Klamath Falls.

Leaving PDX

They will be mostly camping and aim to average 30 miles per day. Caroline Paquette of Little Package fashioned Oscar a mini-sleeping bag. Diapers and Oscar-food are stuffed into panniers. The family’s itinerary is loose and open to interpretation, ready for a long stop if Oscar has grumpy pants or long ride if he’s napping nicely in the trailer.

Oscar with his riding partner, Monkey

Tony’s bike will draw double takes and “Well, I’ll be’s.” As someone who thinks they’ve toured with a lot of weight, I am but a road racer carbon-fairy in his shadow. He is travelling with a handle bar bag, front and rear panniers, stuff on his rack, and a trailer full of baby Oscar (and Oscar’s monkey, which he doesn’t ride without). Lucy is carrying almost as much, sans trailer. Good thing their bikes were made well.

Tony’s bike

So, this post is a thanks to the Pereira/Burningham crew for inspiring me to ponder adventures equipped with a bike trailer and a stuffed monkey. May the wind be at your back. We are cheering you on from Portland.

Oscar waving “Goodbye”