The What Not Shop

Break TIme

2009-11-15T13:01:00.000-08:00

There is a time and a place for everything. Yup. Sure is.

I'm taking a break from this blog to work on my Apostle Islands Bike Expedition.
This is where the blogging will take place from now until post-expedition as all my adventures now considered "training".
Check it out,

Seldom Seen Ledin

Butt City

2009-10-25T06:21:00.001-07:00

Butt city, that notoriously notorious city if nights and the Senator (Butthole Johnson), is still in shambles. God help us.

Portland

2009-10-22T06:05:00.000-07:00

My buddy Nick found this place out in Portland...

North Shore Loop '09

2009-08-13T06:30:00.001-07:00

My dad and I went out for our annual trip and ended up on the North Shore of Lake Superior once again. This time we got a ride in a boat from Bayfield, WI. to Gran Marais, MN. and rode down to Superior, WI. 120 miles, three days, and two bikes later we had another successful trip in the can. We left Washburn on Friday afternoon and drove the old blue truck to Bayfield where we parked about three miles out and biked into town. We swung by the Bayfield Bike Route on the way through and then...headed for the docks.

We put the Alpacka Rafts aside for this one and hitched a ride on a boat straight across the big lake. Thanks to Randy at C&W trucking for hooking us up with the boat ride. Here is the gargantuan boat we rode in with our bikes strapped to the back.

Thats Oak Island on the right and Manitou on the left, American flag front and center.

Two and a half hours later we approached Lake Superiors' North Shore. It's a grand spectacle. Fog and cliffs. The south shore of Lake Superior is mainly sandstone cliffs and sandy beaches. Once you get north of Duluth it turns to hard granite, cobblestone beaches, and old volcanic rock. It is a site to see and a joy to cyclo-tour.

Gran Marais harbor. What relief this harbor must bring to those seeking shelter from the massive swells and storms that blow across the lake throughout the season.
We quickly docked. My dad and I jumped off the boat, eager to put aside the noisy gas engine, loaded our bikes and pedaled away. We grabbed a bite to eat and soon we were on our way down HWY 61 and south bound. Destination for the night: between Tofte and Shroeder, MN. aka. Temperance river.

Beer can wind screen around Esbit Stove and cast iron fry pan. I was a little skeptical of using the Esbit stove to cook sausage. It worked, but it used about 4 of the fuel tablets. My usual stove of choice for extended trips is my Whisperlite, but it's currently on loan to a friend. Last year we used a two person tent. This year we used two one man shelters. My dad had the Black Diamond Bivy Shelter I used my Hennessy Hammock.

The North Shore is lined with amazing rivers. It seemed every time we passed one, which was about every 7-10 miles, it was a gorgeous gorged out river valley with water falls, whirlpools, and cliffs. I neglected to take any pictures of these though. I am sure there are enough on the Internet already.
Temperance river campground is the most strict campground I have ever been to. I guess it's just a sign of the times, and the location. I am not going to list off everything that irked me but here is a sneak peek: Each campsite was fenced in. Otherwise it was a nice spot. I was told from a local guy that if you biked inland six miles up the Temperance river there was free camping.

Our second day was one of the most intense days of riding I've experienced, as far as head winds go. Our destination was Two Harbors, 60 miles away. This trip was my first single speed tour. I rode my modified Surly 1x1 with an Epic frame bag and gas tank, a lite rear rack, and Surly's Nice front rack. My ratio was 34x18.
I like the Surly Nice racks, especially the front one. It provides many options for lashing bags to it, a high and low spot for panniers, and when you need to remove your front wheel, the rack holds the bike in a firm and stable position, excellent for guying out a tarp. Not to mention the things bomb proof and works on just about any bike.
My dad rode the old Trek 520 as a 1x6 with rear panniers (Ortliebs with Arkel mounting hardware) and a Jim Blackburn front rack.

Father and son at Palisade Head. The road leading up is doozy. After Palisade, we headed off towards Two Harbors. We arrived, exhausted from battling a headwind all day, and the campground was full. We tapped into last years trip knowledge and stealth camped at a super secret location right on the lake.

Early morning departure from stealth campsite in Two Harbors, MN. I did not notice at the time of taking the photo, but take a good look at this one. Peace! Our next stop was to be Grandmas for the annual Bloody Mary in Duluth.

We made great time cruising into Duluth the next day and were soon waiting for the doors to open at Grandmas. We got our bloody's and jetted off towards Superior, WI. Believe it or not, biking from Superior through Duluth is a piece of cake, not to mention the view from the Bong bridge.

This railroad pivot bridge was rather anti-climactic. A siren goes goes off, followed by a huge fog horn, then an announcement to be aware. It makes one expect fucking fire works to go off, sky ablaze with submarines and massive jet powered lift bridges shooting into the air, making way for the Yacht of the Century, possibly even the ghost of the Titanic to come hovering through. And then, ever so painfully slow, the bridge begins to turn, making way for one little power boat and a 30' cruiser.

Figure it out...

Another great trip with my pops and another year gone by. I highly suggest the North Shore for a good short tour. There are a few sections off road paved trail, most of the highway has a wide shoulder, but there are few narrow shouldered spots. If you go, don't be afraid to stealth camp. There are alot of developed spots and people everywhere, but mother nature protects those who protect her!
Salud!

Round two...

2009-08-08T07:47:00.000-07:00

I went out and tried the paddle from
Washburn to the beach, a five mile paddle I had tried earlier this month. Last time, I was turned around by the wind.
I was feeling optimistic about this trip. I thought I might make it to "the beach" early and ride the Pugsley down the 3 miles of loose sandy beach were I was going to camp. My Epic frame bag fits both my 20" Pugsley and my Modified 1x1 so I swapped it over and strapped a dry bag to my custom Pug-sized rear rack. These bags held my camping gear, food, and bike tool kit. My backpack held all the rafting gear: packraft, patchkit, inflation bag, paddles, life jacket, and throwbag.

An old railroad grade leads to a hike in point that I decided would be a bit more adventurous to take. A few locals commute by bike on the trail, so it is in pretty good shape. I cruised at a good clip and reached the giant ravine I was going to hike down in a matter of minutes. Later that day on the ride back, my dry bag came unlashed from my rack and rolled into the bushes. As I unpacked my gear I thought about how I had really gotten this "going light" thing down. Why didn't I just put the raft stuff on the rear rack? It's seems wierd I didn't even use the rack. Oh shit, that's because there was a dry bag there earlier.

My Pugsley awaits me and my backpack at the bottom of the ravine. I had to carry the bike down first and then climb back up to get my backpack.

Clambering over the beautiful sand stone, lichen coated boulders. The small valley was hot and humid and full of mosquitoes. I was being whipped in the face by pine saplings and poked in the eye by sticks. Falling in the mud from slippery rocks, and stepping in stagnant sinkholes. The hike in was taking a lot more effort than I had anticipated.

After about 45 minutes I reached the
put in point. I relaxed for bit, soaking up the scenery and eating some granola. Once the raft was inflated and packed up, I began wading through the inlet towards deeper water.

It was a calm day. Or so I thought. Once again as I rounded the corner the wind was just as intense as before and waves began piling up. "Here we go again". I got the hint, turned around, and headed back. No use beating myself up over something I can bike to in 15 minutes.

The inlet I left from on the way back. I decided to get out at a different spot than I got in. I didn't want to have a repeat bushwhacking session if I didn't have to, and I knew of a point another mile up I could get out at.
Here's where it got interesting. As I approached the rock that was my get out point, totally pooped and hungry as hell, I began to notice there were people on it. As I got closer I recognized the flesh tones of bikini clad women. Yes. 6 of them. I was tired as shit but I managed to straighten up my spine, puff out my chest, and come paddling up to that rock like I was the world champion packraft/ bushwhaking/ bike man from Timbuktu who had everything these chicks wanted, including welts from saplings, mosquitoe bites, and sun/ wind burn. As I climbed up onto the rock I was welcomed with wine and fresh veggies. Was I hallucinating from fatigue and too much sun? I can't quite remember...

Learning Curve

2009-08-08T07:01:00.000-07:00

I took the Alpacka Raft out on the Big Lake for the first time a couple a weeks ago.
This was the first of three attempts to paddle a five mile distance along the shoreline. My destination being a beach were I was going to camp, and then pedal the 10 miles to work the next day.
I used my modified Surly 1x1 for the trip this first time. I've found that singlespeeds and packrafts go hand in hand. The more gear I am hauling around with me the simpler the bike setup needs to be. That's a wetsuit hanging from the seat...

I reached the lake and I should have known better already. My direction of travel once on the water was to be East out of Chequamegon Bay and once around the corner of Houghton Point I would be traveling Northeast.
The NOAA called for northeast winds. The lake was already a bit choppy. I thought if I stayed near the shore, I could paddle with less effort by using the land as a wind block. This worked until I rounded Houghton Point. The waves then increased to about 2-3 feet and I was a human bobber in a little blue raft... with a bike.
Here you see Houghton Point. Once around here it was fighting gusts of wind on open water. The raft doesn't sit low in the water, the wind likes to push it around. Every 10 feet of travel a gust would blow strong and I was pushed back 5 feet or so.

This continued for another twenty minutes. I passed an on looker standing on a dock. They seemed a bit concerned, yet totally amused. I waved to say "I'm fine".
Now I was feeling the earliest stages of fatigue and knew that must turn around and head back. The rising moon re-charged my spirit and I cruised with a tail wind back around Houghton point and to the beach were I had started. I packed up and rode on home, contemplating my next move, taking mental notes on packing, mistakes made, and paddling techniques used.

Water Retain-ology techniques...

2009-07-14T13:13:00.001-07:00

Living on the worlds second largest freshwater lake, Lake Superior, can get a person thinking about water. Amongst the other things that we are addicted to here in the western world, water ranks up there with all the rest. There is no denying our need for the H20, we must have water to survive. Whether it's through direct consumption of liquid H20, eating fruits and vegetables, or drinking beer, we need it.
When your riding your bike, or paddling on a lake, or running, etc. you usually carry around a water bottle with you. You exert yourself, you become thirsty. Maybe your not even thirsty. Maybe you just have that cotton mouth feeling and need to pacify it with a nice cool gulp of water. You reach for your conveniently placed water bottle and take a swig of that lovely liquid gold. mmm...
But what do you do when you don't have much water left? Or you don't have any water? Or when the next town is still 60 miles away? Why not make what you've already got in you last the whole way? Yeh, it's possible. We all know that. But just because your out of water that doesn't mean you need to make the next 60 miles a cottonmouth induced dry throat choke fest. (even worse in the Mexican back country)
Most of us breath through our mouths all the time. Our mouths are always slightly open. This is even more common when riding a bikes or during physical activity. Shut your mouth. That will help keep your mouth moist. Better yet, find a smooth small rock to clean off and put in your mouth. You don't even have to suck on it, just have it in your mouth. You'll salivate as your body tries to digest the rock, keeping your mouth moist and you'll still be able to breath. If your working so hard that you just can not handle breathing through those tiny holes called nostrils for just another second:
Let the rock sit on your tongue in the middle of your mouth. Now, when you breath through your mouth the air your breathing out will have to squeeze through the gap between your mouth and the rock, forcing the air and the moisture in it (the air) to condense in your mouth.
This technique has worked for me numerous times while back country riding and hiking. Although your not adding more moisture to your body, you'll be retaining a whole lot more than you normally would when your huffing and puffing with your mouth wide open.
Oh yeh, careful not to swallow the rock...

Ye Mighty St. Croix River By Tandem

2009-05-12T17:29:00.000-07:00

On this last weekend, we piled the tandem high with gear and a positive attitude and rode east to the St. Croix river valley. Wet clothed, 1 busted bottom bracket, and 100 miles later we returned to our humble abodes, dreaming of going back out again...

We left the house, after frantically packing all our gear, for northeast Minneapolis to meet Trevor for a harp choir that was to be performing that day at 11:00am. A small island at the bottom of a huge railroad bridge in the St. Croix river valley was our ultimate destination. Right now we were just trying to meet Trevor.

Upon meeting at 10:59 it was told to us that the harp choir was not performing that day, not that week, not that time, and not that month. Oh well, outwards and onwards.
The ride out, at usual, was amazing. I have never ridden in tandem before so this was a great opportunity to get a feel for what an extended tour might feel like. We both agreed that a short 3 day trip is possible, but we like the idea of being able to go our separate ways if we need to. Needless to say with a tandem you can really cruise. We made it to Stillwater, 30 miles approx., in under two hours.

We reached the point at which we planned to leave the road and hike the 100 yards of railroad track to a trail leading down into the river valley. We hiked those railroad tracks indeed. Trevor stayed and smokes a cig, Neeen and I walked out onto the bridge a little ways.

We soon found out that it's now considered a gross misdemeanor to be caught anywhere on railroad tracks in the state of Minnesota. We had no idea they were watching us. Kinda fucked up, huh? Oh well, we snagged a few photos before that info was passed along to us...

Getting the tandem down the treacherous trail involved the work of all three of us, one scout, one at the front of the tandem on brakes and handlebars, and one at the rear of the tandem with a rope attached to it. Our bag of Earls Cheesed Puffs that was dangling off the side of our rear pannier was soon ripped open and strewn about the forest floor. A little grit never hurt anybody, but it sure sounds like it from inside your skull.

Here is the High Bridge. It's very tall. We ferried our gear over to the small island in the middle of the river, near one of the pilings for the bridge. Camping is free and allowed only on the small islands of the St.Croix river. These camp sites are marked on the maps you get when you obtain the free permit.

The Alpacka raft worked like a charm. We did three trips, one with gear, one with a bike and Neeena, and one with Trevor.

It was the last trip across, with Trevor, when we almost tipped the raft: " We swayed and slowly tilted to one side. Trevor pulling back the paddle against water, and myself readjusting my position at the same time, lead us into a slow dip into the Ye mighty St. Croix. Water poured into the raft. I thought that was it. In a minute we would both be bobbing down the river, kicking our legs and holding onto the raft as we navigated our way to a passing log, or the shore. But no. After about a gallon of water rushed in over the side, the rafts buoyancy prevailed and we were pushed up through the surface and remained upright, a little wet, and afloat. Trevors cigarette continued to burn...

The night passed quickly. At one point I awoke to a huge rumbling sound. I pulled my survival knife from it's sheath and jumped out of my sleeping bag hot for action and ready to slice an opening in the side of the tent, awake my comrades, and dodge the impending wall of water that was thundering towards us. We would clamber up into trees and bust out the rope and PFD's. Flash flood. But wait.
I'm half asleep, and the sound of the flood is coming from downstream. What? I crawled back into my bag, put my knife away, and listened to
the eerie sounding, and rather short, train finish passing over the bridge 600 feet above our sleepy heads.

In the morning, it was gorgeous. A blanket of fog
thickly covered the river valley. We got up and ate.
We boiled river water and made oatmeal and spam goodness. Oh yeh, tea too. Oh what a day. An hour later we had everything packed and ferried everything back across the river, sin tipping, and loaded the bikes back up. We pushed and pulled our double sized steed up and out of the river valley, avoiding the railroad tracks, and eventually reached the road.

There was a click, clack, pop, clink, and all of a sudden Trevors pedals were suspended in air. Held up mearly by the super steady pedalling of his legs and feet. He stopped, kicked it. The bottom bracket, cranks, and pedals flopped and came to rest in a sideways, crooked position.

Trevors bottom bracket was totalled. He dropped his bike, walked over to a tree, dropped his pants, and crouched down. He sat there, apparently deep in thought, smoking a cig, still in spandex underwear, for a few minutes. We towed his ass into Stillwater only to find that the one shop was closed on Mondays...

Puppet Farm Arts

2009-05-03T18:05:00.000-07:00

I participated in the May Day Parade today, in the "walk in section" (not part of the overall Heart of The Beast Concept), with Christopher Lutter Gardella of Puppet Farm Arts. It was, as usual, one of the most amazing experiences.

Everytime I've had the opportunity to operate and become one of Chris' animals it's humbling. I consistently see adults become kids again, their eyes wide, there hearts beating through their chests, jaw dropped, and that look that tells one yes, they get it. Of course there are some who chose to completely ignore the 7 foot tall black bear (or wolf, polar bear, 16 foot tall stag) standing right in front of them. They are saying, "nope, not me, that's kids stuff, not for me, I am an adult and have no imagination...at all!" There the ones that get a licking (literally) or bumped, howled at, and sniffed. Within seconds they break, and reveal there heart. No one can resist.

And then there is the punk kids who push, punch, and say, "there's people in there!" As if they are revealing some hidden secret. We simply ram the little bastards and send them onto their ass. Serves em' right. Young'ins.

I met Christopher at a puppet workshop in Washburn, WI. I had seen the poster portraying bikes with fish built around them. Natch, I showed up. And low and behold the tall bike fish bike, complete with googly eyes, a brake lever operated mouth, and suckers on the sides and ass.

Chris has been making his living building puppets and teaching arts that use recycled materials his entire life. He does political works as well.

And finally my favourite and what seems to be just short of a miracle to have pulled off. This is a peace dove made out of people shot from an airplane on the frozen surface of Lake Superior. Chris ran an ad in the local newspaper saying to show up if interested. Well, people showed up and they pulled it off great! Some snowmobilers showed up as well just as the air plane was about to fly over. They did a few close drive by's, apparently trying to scare up the people, but that did not work. Peace and happiness will prevail, as it always does.

Minnesota River Raftng

2009-04-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

I rode the Greenway west to the LRT trail and went out to Chaska, then cut across the Minnesota River on HWY 101. Right beneath an old abandoned bridge I packed the raft and entered the swirling, muddy, and slightly smelly Minnesota River for a 2 day trip...

I left Midtown MPLS at about 4:00 pm and pedaled west for about 2 hours. It was a beautiful ride. It was a relatively warm day and there were a bunch of babes on the trail so within the first hour the ride had already been deemed "worth it." I even had the wind at my back, who could of asked for more? knowing that even if I got to my predetermined rafting point and the wind was against me, the river current would still push me forward, towards my destination, was a bonus. I arrived at Bluff Creek road, hung a left, and crossed the river on HWY 101. 2 hours later, 6:00pm

The sun was supposed to set around 8:08 so I hung out for a moment and then packed my gear onto the Alpacka Raft and pushed off. Dry bags are must and I would recommend carrying something along in the raft to piss in, I found a cottage cheese container floating in the river, since urinating off the side of the raft is
pretty difficult and needless to say a
little unsafe.
The river currents run strong this time of year, very strong, and to be separated from your raft would not only mean almost certain destruction of your gear, but possible death. I wear a PFD, I carry a throw bag with 77' of 950 pound test rope, carry a first aid kit, chemical heat packs, have a knife strapped to my chest, and carry "stormproof" matches in my pockets. These things are all attached to me, just in case. The seat and back rest in the Alpacka raft inflate separatly from the outer tubes of the raft, allowing them to act as a back up floatation device.

After paddling down river for about an hour I passed a couple walking along it, obviously quite in love, or something like that. We chatted abit from shore to raft and we both agreed that yes, this is living. "Enjoy Indian Country!" He yelled as we parted ways. Another hour later the sun was setting and I pulled into a small cove to make camp. I could see the Valleyfair sign glowing though the trees about 3 miles away. That was kind of weird, but I made the best of it.
The shore was quicksand. I quickly sank up to my ankles in less then a second and struggled for a couple minutes to to pull the bike laden packraft and myself through the Never-Ending-Story esque roots, quicksand, and onlooking turkeys. There were turkeys everywhere, not to mention tons of assorted waterfowl. These kept my mind going all night long. At night, I think it was the turkeys, there were some of the most crazy sounds I've ever heard in the out of doors. I wasn't freaked out, but they had me going for a little bit. Eventually I dozed off. I woke up a bit chilled in the night. I thin this could have been prevented by slinging an extra tarp

In the morning I was greeted by a thick vale of fog sweeping through the river valley. I set up my Esbit stove and went to make my oatmeal and tea and realized I hadn't brought enough water, or a purification device. The thought of boiling and drinking water from the Minnesota river made me nervous. I scooped up a pot of water from what looked like a "clean" spot and boiled it for about 15 minutes. The recommended time for treating water by boiling is only around five, but I didn't want to take any chances. Soon I was drinking tea and munching my oatmeal down. I pre-make my oatmeal mix so all I have to do is boil water and then add my clump to the hot water, put the lid on, and voila! Here it is:
1/2 cup oatmeal
Dash of Vanilla extract
1 heaping spoon of Peanut butter
1/4 cup cashews
and a bit of Raw cane sugar
in the winter months I add a big chunk of butter and double the ration.

I packed my hammock, stove, sleeping bag, and book (Running The Amazon by Joe Kane) up and clambered into the packraft. Pushing off of shore has become one of my new favorite sensations. Your in the river, you've studied the map, yet you still have no idea whats really waiting around the bend. It's unexplainable really. All these half submerged still standing trees are neat too.

Eventually I reached a point that I thought was good to get out at. After clambering through the Tolkien-esque quick sand and muck, re-assembling my rig, and looking about, I realized I was at the western edge of the River Bottoms bike trails. What luck. There was only one thing I could do... ride!

This was one of my best days out. Biking, paddling, trail riding, coffee. I've got nothing to complain about.

Camping.

2009-04-29T16:51:00.000-07:00

I was not able to take any pictures, I had other things on my mind, but if you like to read stories, here is a little camping story…

I rode about 10 miles up river of Stillwater, about 40 miles from MPLS, and then rode to the St. Croix river on some railroad tracks around Arcola. I loaded my packraft with my gear and plans to camp on a a little island about 2 miles down river. I figured I could wake up around 5am and paddle to Stillwater, re-pack everything, bike back to MPLS and be to work at 11:00am. The paddle to the island was beautiful. The setting sun, the icy river. Often I found myself breaking ice, portaging, or scooting up onto sheets if ice, pulling my paddles in two, and scooting across to the other side of the ice sheet. In the night the sounds of geese, small waves, and an eerie, seemingly endless train echoed off the valley walls. Not much sleep was had, the natural orchestra kept me amused till dawn. Around 12:00 I started to recognize the sounds of sheets of ice moving about. The wind was picking up from the north and pushing the flows and sheets from up stream. I turned on my headlamp and read my map. I knew that the ice was getting funneled into the narrow spot in the river ahead of my camp and that this would add considerable amounts of time to paddling to Stillwater, if not walking the shore, in the morning. I finally dozed off and awoke around 4:00am. Shivering, I frantically bustled about packing my shelter, cooking, eating, and stuffing my thermarest into the floor of the packraft. My bicycle was coated in a thick layer of ice. The temperature must have dropped to about 0 farenheit in the night. I was using a layering technique with a 55 degree bag and a 30 degree bag to save me from bringing my massive -20 bag along. This worked well until the wee hours of the morning when my body was low on fuel.
Soon I was paddling down the St. Croix through massive flows and sheets of ice. Still and dark, the icy currents and eddies swirled around my tiny little raft. My paddles struck the ice and broke through with a glass like shattering sound. I was pushed and pulled about by the ice. Reaching a certain point, I realized I could go no futher. Miles of sketchy ice lay between me and my destinaion. I thought I might take a photo, but this thought made me analyze my situation. On either side of the river there was about 30 yards of thick, down tree laden shoreline. Beyond that, sheer cliff. I remembered seeing people walking on a beach from the wayside earlier and decided a healthy buhwacking session down the shoreline would lead me to Stillwater. Looks like I am gonna be late for work. Boss man’s gonna tear me a new asshole. No. No he’s not. He’s only gonna tear me a new asshole if I get out of here without freezing, falling, and/or drowning to death. Things just became critical. No photos now. Only pure concentration.
I reached the shore and assembled my bike and gear. Fucking gears, what was I thinking? Everything was frozen solid. I bushwaked. I scouted without my bike, then came back and got my bike and trudged on. Climbing over huge downed trees, brought from up stream by some ancient flood waters. My feet were soaked and cold. I stepped in springs and sink holes. (it was still only 5:00 am after all and dark as ever) I got poked in the eye. My hands were numb, gloves soaked. I wasn’t wet from the river, but from falling and walking through streams and sinkholes I could not see in the early morning darkness. At least I didn’t have to worry about bees. Upon reaching a certain point I realized I would have to backtrack for an hour and go around a big pond. I imagined if there was a downed tree across it. Wait. Would I really walk across a tree with my bike? Low and behold a downed tree lay across the pond right in front of me. This would surely take at least 45 minutes off my backtrack…
Soon I was on the other side of the pond and staring up another big cliff with a small stream carved right down the middle.To my left was pure cliff, no walking around that. I guess I could use the raft but I don’t even know when the cliff side ends. I began to scout out a path and decided it would be wise to call Nina and let her know everything was OK, other than the fact. We talked a bit and soon the sun had rizen slightly above the river valleys edge, beaming light on the path ahead of me… as well as on a staircase to my left. I had not seen It in the darkness, yet it was mearly 50 yards away. I threw my bike over the rail and climbed the stairs to the top. Lately I have been expeirimenting with these MKS EZY quick release pedals and I love them, but I need to make a cover for when there aren’t any pedals in. The coupler was caked in ice on one side. Only one thing to do here. As I was urinating on my crank arm, soaking wet, cold, dreaming of the pie sitting at my house, I looked up and noticed a man drinking coffee in his home just a couple hundred feet away. He noticed me and soon I was biking back to MPLS.

Cheers!

Marlin

Arrowhead 135

2009-04-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

This past half-week I participated in the Arrowhead 135. It’s an endurance race that starts in International Falls, MN. and ends in Tower, MN. 135 miles of self supported snow cycling. This was my first time participating in the event and regardless of my outcome I had a blast and can’t wait for next year! Here’s my account.

I left monday morning at 7:11 am. The first section is an “out and back” to make up for a few miles. It was a staggered start so you could leave anytime between 7:00-8:30am. I was the second biker to leave just behind Mike Reimer. We chatted a bit and would proceed to play leapfrog for the next ten miles. Not long after that a couple of guys with arrow-bars on pug style bikes blew pass me. It was a strange sight indeed. I reached the checkpoint, then eventually the starting point from which I left.My first mistake and ultimately what did me in was just surfacing at this point. The excitement (I have been waiting two years to partake in this event) and the surroundings had me so encompassed that I soon realized I was pushing to high of a gear. My knees were beginning to ache.

I stopped and ate. It was so quiet. Dave Gray caught up to me. We chatted abit, both mentioning that we were feeling alright, and he left towards the first checkpoint. I reached the first checkpoint at 2:03 pm. 35 miles in 7 hours. I felt pretty good at this point, but my knees were beginning to hurt pretty badly, especially when I had to dismount and push my bike (70pounds) up the hills. I took some ibroprufen and pressed on towards the halfway checkpoint Melgeorges Resort. I decided to just keep it in low gear and spin, like I should have from the beginning, to put off the knee pain for as long as I could. Soon the pain grew into a steady pulsing pain. At random moments a sharp and intense spike of pins and needles would shoot out my knees in all directions and force me to grunt and vocalize. I would have to say the knee pain was a result of my 4 days of almost zero miles due to a sickness leading up to the Arrowhead.

As the night fell the tempeature dropped and things became intensely surreal and beautiful. The sky was clear and the moon was very bright. I barely needed my headlamp. My jacket zipper began to cause me problems. I was keeping my food and water in a fishing vest under my coat to keep the food and water from freezing. This worked very well, but soon I was forced to remove my gloves every time I had to get food, because I couldn’t zip the broken zipper with them on. This meant that everytime I ate I had to rewarm my hands.
My layering techniques worked almost flawlessly. I was hardly sweating at all, and yet I was warm.
I figured I had gone 20 miles since the last checkpoint. A snowmobile pulled over and told me I had 28 miles to the next checkpoint, Melgoeorges Resort. That meant I had only gone 6 miles. I couldn’t believe it. I was excited and satisfied with newly presented challenge ahead of me. I was warm, had energy, and was happy. All I needed to do was endure the stupendous knee pain. Needless to say it was a very long 6 more hours of pedalling, walking, random bits of pain, and beautiful scenery engulfed in complete silence and solitude. This is why I had signed up, for adventure and a humbling challenge, and this is what I was getting.

The darkness grew thick and I began to feel a bit detached. Not delirious, just “in the zone”. The downhill sections were amazing. I would like to think I hit 30 miles an hour on some of them. I hardly used my brakes at all. Speaking of brakes…

Before the race I had completley removed my front brake. I decided I wouldn’t need it. My bike was set up with hydraulic disc brakes. I had gone through two winters with them without a single problem. In the last moment I decided to put the brake back on. A good decision indeed. Shortly into the night I was barreling down one of the hills hooting with joy. “Perhaps I should slow down” I thought as a sharp corner and a bunch of reflectors marking a bridge came into view. I reached for the rear brake. Nothing. Nada. Zip, zero, zilch. I was goin way to fast to even think about using the front brake so I just held on tight to my bar end, gave a loud woop of excitement, and leaned into the corner. A few seconds later I was calmly pedalling on the flats once again. Pugsley, your a damn fine machine.

I had originally planned on actually utilizing my bivy, sleeping bag, and stove/ extra supplies. This was, after all, my vacation and I was gonna treat it like one. Around 8:00pm I put those plans aside. My knees were fucked and I did not want to admit it to myself but I was probably going to drop out at Melgeorges. I only commute by bicycle. I don’t own a car. To completely destroy my knees and possibly cause permanent damage did not interest me at all, nor did taking the bus to work once I was back in MPLS. Nor did not riding my bike.

It was 9:00pm when I reached the second checkpoint, Melgeorges Resort.
I reached Melgeorges and walked inside. There was a few people at a table. I was offered grilled cheese and soup, hot coco and water. I said I felt good and planned on sleeping for an hour and going back out. Fucking liar. Dave was there and mentioned he was out. He had the flue. Mike had also dropped. Others would also continue to show up in either state of clarity and confidence, or stumble in shivering and staring.
I ate some soup and sat. I went up stairs to sleep and soon found myself sweating in bed and then shivering all of a sudden. I went in the bathroom and vomited up all the food I had ate while I was riding earlier. I went back and drank some water and laid down again. Soon I went downstairs and watched people come in. It was 11:00pm.
Suddenly I awoke behind the couch. I stood up and asked what time it was. I quickly sat down again. My knees felt like pin cushions. It was 6 am. I popped some more ibuprofen. The pain persisted. I stretched but still the pain. I thought about if I wasn’t in a warm cabin with support. What would I do in this same situation if I was on a self supported bike tour across some desolate region? I would be fool to press on, decreasing my chances of survival by destroying my self one painful step at a time. The riding and walking/ pushing would turn to walking and crawling, crawling and sitting. Sitting and dieing. Eventually I would become a hopeless, naked, hypothermic curled up human being. Cold as the frozen forests and iced over swamps around me. The soil would take me back in the spring. Defeated by my own stupidity and impatience.

I dropped out of the race at 8:30 am Tues. morning. at Melgeorges checkpoint.
I am looking forward to coming back next year with stronger knees, a few small gear changes, and more knowledge of what to expect. It was by far the hardest ride of my life so far, but surely not the last.

utilitaiaN Transports

2009-01-25T15:48:00.000-08:00

UTILITARIANTRANSPORTS.COM

utilitariaN Tansports

2009-01-25T15:46:00.000-08:00

UTILITARIANTRANSPORTS.COM

Just a Pleasant Reminder

2008-12-10T16:40:00.000-08:00

Be Careful.

I was doing some work on my fixed-gear Pugsley the other day, when gruesome visions of amputation entered my mind. I then proceeded to be careful.

Sweet Dreams!

In The Bowels of The Beast

2008-12-09T14:58:00.000-08:00

On December first, far below the surface of Minneapolis, MN. Two cats rode those stinky sewers on their two wheelers. From Pugspedition 12/1/08

Pugspedition 12/6/08

2008-12-08T08:59:00.000-08:00

Heres some photos from the latest ride. John
recently got a new Pugsley built up, and hasn't yet gotten a good burner in. So, we went to

Carver park on Saturday morning.

It was a gusty and cold morning, but by midday the clouds opened up and gave us some light. We pulled over at a park about 15 minutes before Carver, busted out the boomerangs and had at it for about an hour. A fire kept us warm for a bit once at the park, and we rode about the frozen park on our two wheelers for sometime. You can see more photos here. John also has some photos of a previous Pugspedition here.

Until next time,
Peas.

Cowbros 'n Indians on pennyfarthings...

2008-12-07T08:59:00.000-08:00

Watch at about 1:34, hell, watch the entire thing. It's good for you and, it's a history lesson.

The Cargo Bike Phenomenon

2008-12-07T08:50:00.001-08:00

These things are beginning to be everywhere these days. Here's my take. It was blogged on Calhoun Cycles Shopcast, check it out here. Find more information at Utilitarian Transports.

Co2 Cartridges

2008-12-03T12:04:00.000-08:00

Custy: "Do you guys sell those Co2 cartridges? There just so convenient.

Me: "Yeh, You mean these ones?"

"Discharging a normal Co2 cartridge produces the same amount of Greenhouse gasses as driving a car 100 miles" -1992 Bridgestone Catalogue

A quick summary of the last season.

2008-12-01T20:18:00.000-08:00

Man, this last summer was nutso.

I haven't blogged for quite some time. Some people would apologize, but I could give a shit. I obviously had better things to do. Like take photos, Camp, RIDE, and Eat. As well as live on B-Roses porch.

This summer I:
Rode this great ride.
View Larger Map

Was taught how to braze by some really good friends, mainly Luke from Calhoun Cycle, and Mark Stonich of Bike Smith Design. Thanks guys. It's nice to have this skill in my selection of tools. I like sitting down, designing something, and then actually building it. To be able to braze metal is another tool in my box. I really enjoy those repairs that are truly repairs, not just tuning up a derailleur or adjusting a brake. Here is a rack I built for my Pugsley. It's only requirement was to be able to sport a fender and hold my 5 pound -20 sleeping bag, so it's built pretty light.

As far as other things go I recently started myself a Flickr account. I have been posting pictures from my various rides I have done, as well as my many Pugspeditons.

The photo below is of me and a dog. His name is Parker, we lived together for a year.

This one is me and my nephew, keagan.

This was remodeling Penn Cycle Lake Street in the winter of '07, those are my real arms. No shit.

Finally, I will leave you with this photo of me riding atop a giant tropical fish. This was a piece I made for a parade with Puppet Farm Arts. Underneath the skin is a two framed tall bike. The entire project was made from recycled materials, the head turned with the bars, the eyes were googly, and the mouth opened and closed when I pulled a brake lever. Mid parade a HUGE gust of wind pushed me through about 13 No Parking signs and left me dangling from a stop sign. A group of people got up, came over, lifted the bike, and helped get me rolling again.. It was awesome.

Paragliding at 34,500ft

2008-08-17T21:34:00.000-07:00

Click below and read on......

Paragliding at 34,500ft...

this too...

Xichu- Conca- Xichu

2008-08-11T06:43:00.000-07:00

I was in Mexico this last winter for a few months. Dante, Taylor, and I went on a bike trip. It was based on a motorcycle trip that Taylor had taken a few months before. His directions and details were unclear, half forgotten, and probably wrong... but close enough.

On the first day we left Guanajuato in Taylors sweet van and drove the 5 hour drive to the mountain village of Xichu. Being the resident mechanic that I was I sat in the back of the van fixing the flats and torn tires of our previous ride while bouncing and rolling on the floor with the bikes and tools as we cruised down the pot holed, curvy Mexican mountain highways.

We arrived in Xichu at about 6 pm? We stopped and ate some dinner at a place where Taylor knew the owner. They chatted a bit and it was agreed that we would keep the van at her house while we biked in to the mountains. A moment later we were handing off the keys to her 13 yo son and getting our gear ready. In an earlier powow we decided to leave Xichu and ride through the first night to avoid the arid desert heat. We guessed that the first 75 miles would be through this arid desert landscapes, and after that we would be into the mountain rainforests were it would be hot, yet would at least have a shade cover. The whole trip was about 200 miles.

This photo is what we woke up to the first morning. It was so beautiful I almost cried. When we left Xichu everything was dry as all hell and rough and dead, brown. So that was the image that was still in my mind all night. But to awake to this.

One of the main reasons we left in the onight was to avoid the heat, witch we did for the most part. that Taylor had kept speaking of a giant "hill" we(It was still hot) The other reason was would have to climb. We rode for about 8 hours that first night, about 6 of it was spent riding up Taylors "hill" hm. It was more like a mountain to me, and upon asking Dante about it the next day we agreed it was a mountain. We guestimated somewhere around 25 switchbacks. (The photo at the very top right is from the top of the "hill" on the way back to Xichu.) The photo to the right is of Taylor and I leaving the first official morning of riding. Thats Taylors Leader with Mavic wheels, Reba fork, and camelback, thermarest pad. Thats me with my (borrowed) GT Agressor, RST fork, cannondale seat bag, sleeping bag, and chuck t's. I have them off in the photo, but while riding I had 3 water bottles streapped to my frame with tubes.

The climax of our expedition was that we were pedalling to water. Thats how dry it was. To ride to swimmable, cool ground water. Here is the river just outside of Conca.

This is from our second day and one of my favorite photos of the trip.
It was taken right before desnding into another mountain village.

Our backpacks contained, Sardines, Granola, and crackers.

Water. Me. Dante. Taylor. There were some older men kind of wading up and down the river with their sons. They would reach under rocks and if they got bit it was a crawfish and if they could grab what ever it was it was a fish. They were fishin.

After reaching the water and chilling out for a while we bummed around by bus alittle bit and eventually headed back to were we came from. It was an amazing journey with two of my best friends. It changed my life and has inspired me for many things after. The world is big and we are small creatures capable of great things, but limited in the same ways we excel. We are stupid afterall. Peas.

The Bicycle as an Instrument. Fr.ank' zaPp;a

2008-08-06T09:49:00.000-07:00

Part 1

Part 2

Coffee And Kiva Loans

2008-08-06T09:30:00.001-07:00

I love coffee and I know you do too. I recently donated 20.50 to Project Rwanda and got this fantastic runners cap in the mail about 2 weeks later. You sport the Rwanda colors and it's light, airy, and bright colored for visibility at the same time. Go to http://projectrwanda.org/ to find out more about what Project Rwanda is all about.

I also recently signed up for Kiva, an international microloan poverty fighting program. Currently I am loaning $25 to a woman who wishes to purchase a motorbike to transport her goods to the farmers market in Cambodia:

"Thun Pou, 37, lives in Kampong Cham with her husband, Eam Koy, and their five children. She works out in the fields, growing rice and vegetables for US $1 each day, while her husband works in construction, making US $2.50 each day. Two of their children are employed, and one is still a student.
All of the children are still living in the home and dependent upon their parents’ income. Thun Pou has asked for a loan of US $600 to purchase a motorbike to transport crops to sell at the market. Current public transportation costs have risen rapidly along with gasoline prices and she feels that she can cut down on some unnecessary expenses through this purchase.
With her extra savings, in the future, she would like to raise pigs."

You can find out more about Kiva Loans here: http://www.kiva.org/about

Enjoy your day.

MPLS-Watertown-MPLS

2008-07-30T16:41:00.000-07:00

The other night I left Shockspital a little early (aprox. 6:00pm) and left straight for an unknown destination, witch coincidentally is my favorite destination for an overnight. Perhaps a stealth campsite amongst highly paid suburbanites, or maybe a trip to a near by and much more "legit" campground. Extreme fun and wanderings ensued...

I pre-packed my gear the night before so I could leave straight from the day gig:

1 Hennessy Hammock
1 pad
1 summer rated sleeping bag
2 water bottles
1 light jacket
1 wool hat
tools, tube, and patch kit
and one of those twin cities bike maps, if you don't own one you owe it to yourself to get one.

View Larger Map

It's approx. 37 miles to where I camped. I left at about 6:00pm and stopped and ate in Watertown at a great pizza place, the name of witch I can't remember, but I marked it on the map. For the carnivores (myself included) keep your eyes peeled as you pass over Pioneer creek. If you look to your right just after the bridge there is a sheep farm offering lamb for sale. If you wanna take a dip, the locals tell me the east side of Oak lake is great swimming.

The photo to the right is not the swimming hole. That would be nasty and bilthy to have swamed inside of it/ that. anyways. Thats a bike down there, in da water der'. I stood upon the bridge staring about to take this photo and two youg lads rolled up on there BMX bikes, so naturally I queastioned them with much authority:
M= me
YL1= 13 year old skinny kid with a long face and chrome bmx. Very serious. Bad humor.
YL2= also 13, yet pudgy, zitted with glasses. Cool.

M: Whats up with that bike downnair?
YL1: Hu...Theres quite a few down there, it happens alot.
YL2: Yeh...hmm..hehe.

M:Kind of a tradition or somethin'?
YL1:Uh...yeh, you could say that. (both of them burst into loud beligerant laughter)

M:How many are down there? (expecting an answer of maybe 10, remembering when I did the same shit.)
YL1: Idonno. Maybe like 3.
YL2: YEH! all from...
YL1: Dood!
YL2: WHat?!
YL1:man...

M: All the same person or what, was it you guys?
YL1:No (they exchange glances, unspoken eye contact approval was in the air)
in unison "Derick Taylor! Oooooooooooh!" more beligerant laughter.

M: Sweet. So weres a good place to swim, you guys are crazy.
Then then told me the Oak lake location, I bade them a well worthy "take it easy" and we parted ways.

The sun was setting and I was full from the delicous food at the local Pizza joint. I grew lethargic as I passed through town and out to set up camp for the night. Twilight can be one of the most beautiful yet ominous times of day. Door to the nightlife, both for us and the natural world around us.
I lay in rest and pondered questions asked, tried to come up with answers, and grew tired once again.

music.

RAGBRAI=BILTHY

2008-07-27T20:17:00.000-07:00

Little did I know what I was getting into. I had heard of RAGBRAI (Registers Annual Great Ride Across Iowa) before, about a year ago, but underestimated it's importance and overall fun factor. I had a great time pedaling across Iowa with a bunch of friends this past week, about 440 miles from Missouri Valley to Leclaire, over 7 days with about 20,000 other assholes on bikes, myself and close friends included. Here's a bit...

We left for Missouri Valley Iowa Saturday morning around 1:00 pm after loading our gear and bikes into the trailer on the back of our driver Ross' white Jeep Cherokee. Hit the road and drove down 35 through Iowa and through some nasty weather as well, the kind of weather that makes you think twice about screaming “Bring that shit on bitch!!” into the swirly black clouds that seem to be just 1 step ahead of you. We reached town late in the evening and quickly met up with some of the cats from Team Marley and Evil, along with Carters RV appropriately dubbed Honey. After setting up camp and putin afew down I called it a night and retreated to m hammock, only to be awoken a few hours later by the scratchy voice of fella I would later be introduced to, his name being Bilthy. (The spell checker does not approve of this word, bilthy. It offers me only Filthy or Bil-thy.)

DAY 1 of Actual "Riding".

The first day brought us leaving Missouri Valley around 12:00 pm and eating mini-donuts and drinking coffee roadside 20 minutes into the ride. Met up with a few friends, Bilthy included, and rode on. We put in 59 miles that first day, ending in Harlan later that evening. I rolled in at about 5:30 and mulled about town until I got word of Honey (the rv) and proceeded to meet up with the rest of the crew. By this time I had already set up camp in the city park, so I figured I'd be back shortly. Later in the evening I awake to the gentle sound of my rain fly flapping in the gentle breeze. I lay there in my hammock, swaying back in forth in thoughts of the beauty of it all. Biking, people, camping, the wind. I am headed straight back to sleep with happy thoughts only to be ripped out of my slumber to the sounds of the loudest bull horn in the Midwest and a giant spotlight announcing "flaa flaa flaa, SHELTER. Flaa Fla fla Fla! Immediately! bnla crackling bull horn, shit sound blown speaker Tornado Warning...HAIL." What exactly was said, I have not the slightest clue, but I decide if am going to die in a mighty storm may it be en' route to my friends or with them. I secure my belongings inside the hammock, both weighting it down, and staking in to the ground more, and bike off towards the Honey. Some of us go inside the hosts house and sit it out. "It" never came though. The wind got heavy, real heavy, but it never came. We all awoke to sunshine, a fresh cooked breakfast, and another day of beautiful riding that lay ahead of us.

DAY 2 of actual "riding"

83 miles. Today was a long day. I have been carrying my bags with me, aka. Bagging, and this adds some what more of a challenge to your daily ride. Wind resistance, more weight, more fun. (more time) It is my preferred method of bicycle travel. Self sustained, nobodies-fault-but-your-own mentality. Freedom.
Lots of hills lead to homemade ice cream. I woke up this morning and found my chainring bolts missing from my little ring. Hm. It's gonna be a tough day in the saddle. Duct taped my chainring to my crank, had some coffee and granola, and left that morning feeling slightly challenged, yet motivated. Half way through the route storms rolled across the horizon and I got to enjoy the distant bolts of lightning reaching down to the earth through the warm wind and rain. Life is Good. Met up with some of the crew and left for the remainder of the ride with Cyril on his white Osell. After a short climb out of town we cruised to the second to last stop town, enjoyed the company of a train, and bolted to the last town to cap off the night, Jefferson, 83 miles later.

DAY 3 of actual "Riding"

Day three was an easy 57 miles compared to the day before. We'll end this night in Ames. (aim-es)
Today is the day when everything starts to blend together. I'll do my best to distinguish. We had already established a sleeping, eating, showering quarter for the evening thanks to the Corsan family. Muchas Gracias Carnales. Nice mellow ride, Great soap, good music, brats, beer. Damn what a good day! Here we added and RAGBRAI vet to the crew, and two newbies. (this was my first year as well.) The next day we were to head into flood country and to the overnight town of Tama/ Toledo.

DAY 4 of actual "Riding"

Going from town to town, there are vendors everywhere. From kids selling lemonade, to full on roadside stores. I tied as much as I could, my favorites being the "Draft ROOT BEER" and later in the week "Mr. Porkchop". If you ever decide to do the ride, don't resist buying these roadside goodies, as most of it will be homemade and what the hell, your gettin' rite back on the saddle anyway. The National Guard was giving out free water a couple times. Gatorade is about a buck a bottle, the same price as water, its so abundant that it makes you think twice about quoting lines from "Idiocracy", but shit...it's got electrolytes, right?
Today's ride went through a few towns that had obviously been hit by the floods. I overheard some one saying this As I was riding into the over night town, "hmmmm....the beautiful wetlands of Iowa." 78 miles later we rested up in Toledo.

DAY 5 of actual "Riding"

Woke up to a gentle rain today. My bike fell on my helmet yesterday and cracked my helmet in half, and my bar tape is starting come off, but I got my little chainring fixed today. I set up the hammock between a tree and my bike, since there was not a spot to properly hang it. I ran 2 fly line from the top tube of the bike and staked them into the ground, then tied the hammock ends one to the top tube of my bike, the other to the tree, put down a foot print and basically used the Hennesy Hammock as a tent, with myself actually resting on the ground last night. There is a photo above.
Rode under an overcast sky for most of the day en route to North Liberty. 76 miles later we arrived in the pirate themed city. Sitting by a corn field, drinking beer and pissing in the corn. We waited for the others to show up, and I was told tales of ass licking corn bears, while I peeled the skin off my ever reddening arm. Apparently I missed about a 2x3 inch patch on my upper right arm.

DAY 6 of actual "Riding"

We received some short cut/ scenic route directions last night from the guy who let us stay in his yard. Deciding it would be more fun to change things up a bit, we rode south out of town visiting the Coralville dam, swimming in the reservoir, getting busted without shorts on, and meeting up with team Marley. My frame bent on the right rear seatstay, so we fixed it by bending it back and hose clamping a peice of steel rod to the tubing. Stopped at a DQ, and rode down a county rode, hopped on a gravel rode for a bout four miles. Stopped in some shade and took a break. Then finished off the day in Tipton, maybe 30 miles later, cutting off half the normal route.

Day 6 and final day of riding.

We rode off route again today. I was told my mud flap was "tasteless" and "lame" by a sixty year old woman, but she "understood". Hm. Stopped and saw the worlds biggest horse (almost) had a rest under a shady tree. Finished off the day in Leclaire and hung out for a while. We all celebrated with huge pizzas and got into our time machines and went back to reality.
Life is Good.

See ya soon,
Marlin

"Business" Cards!

2008-07-10T16:58:00.000-07:00

Just got these hot off the press!

Thanks to Elizabeth at emdesign communications.

Alastair Humphrey Announces his next adventure

2008-06-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

I made a post last season on a cat named Alastair Humphreys. Cycled around the world for four years and did some pretty amazing things along the way. SOUTH will be the first return journey to the South Pole on foot, and the longest unsupported (human-powered) polar journey in history.
This 1800 mile journey will take up to 4 months to complete.
Click Here for the details

Hm.

Getin' stoopid onna the biG dUmmy.

2008-06-24T20:53:00.000-07:00

Engineer M. Emery at the helm, I was stokin the bitch and eye-in us a clear path to glory.

Justification and Reuniting.

2008-06-23T20:48:00.000-07:00

I went to Mexico for about 3 months this past winter. It was pretty cool. 5 day bike trip through the mountains, rock climbing, hiking, creative wrenching, drinking (booze and fruit juices!), hanging out with my brother Dante and his family, walking, speaking, bussing, swimming, eating, playing music, good things, etc.

Prior to my departure I spent some time in my hometown of Washburn, WI. with my family and got to hang with some old pals and cruise around the snowy back country of the Lake Superior region on the Pug. Twas' a swell time indeed this past winter. It's nice to be back in MPLS, wrenchin' with my buds and cruising these city streets.
I'm not one to spend every hour of my waking days on a computer, but in these technological hours it seems silly to try and do an old school style zine, so I see the blog as a sort of e-zine...that's free...and you don't have to read it unless you remember it's there on your own. And anyway the Internet is pretty eff-in sweet. I reposted some of the stuff from last year, there the ones tagged with the original post xx/xx/xx 's . Hm.

I will be updating weekly at first, i'll see how that goes. Look forward to real life accounts of action and adventure, fictional short stories, product reviews, tricks and tips of the bike wrenchin' world, music stuff, and other assorted shits. .
Peas,
Marlin

Alastair Humphreys: A modern day Thomas Stevens

2008-06-23T20:45:00.002-07:00

(Original Post 1/9/08)

Alastair Humphreys circled the globe on a Specialized Stumpjumper. 4 years, 40,000 miles.http://www.alastairhumphreys.com/I have read his book containing the first leg of his journey starting in England and ending in Cape Town South Africa, and have started reading the second half. You can also read both books online at his website. Highly suggested reading for any cycling fan.

The Lovely Lady From Across The Bay...

2008-06-23T20:45:00.001-07:00

(Original Post 12/15/07)

I've been working on new material and so has Dante. Although we are thousands of miles apart sometimes I feel like the buggers right next to me giving me the usual constructive criticisms. Open your throat, don't sing through your nose. You sound like a white boy trying to play like a black guy. Ha! so true.

There was a time when we were practicing "Luz". Maybe it was while we were writing it, I don't know. Previous to this I had borrowed a discontinued Putumayo Records album from a lovely lady across the bay and had been listening to it non-stop for like three day's, so I felt like I was the friggin' world champion of playing latin bass lines just listening to this album on repeat,on my little Sony discman wich was about 5 years old and on it's last limb. The only cd player I had. Anyway, I was working on the bassline wich is this slow bossa nova groove. Hours and hours had passed by were I was just working on the bass line. The tension was rising in the lttle room we had spent so many hours in writing and eating and sleeping in. I ask Dante if it sounds good this time. Finally, Dante releases a little of this tension through a few little words..."You sound like a white boy trying to play like a black guy." Well. That pretty much sent me off the deep end. After all my listening to the putumayo cd and building up my ego it was all shattered in one sentence. My pupils dialated. My skin tensed. My fingers grew long and bony and curled up into tigh red fists. My back arched liked Quasimodo. I was pissed. I honed in on the closest small object to release my ego upon. That object being the 5 year old, on it's last limb, little red sony discman containing the discontinued, borrowed from the lovely lady across the bay Putamayo Records album and hurled it at the wall leaving a hole in the surface of the plaster and bits of red plastic everywhere. I stomped out of the room, leaving the house and going for a walk to let off some steam. Upon my arrival back at our dwelling there is faint music playing. As I climb up the stairs approaching the rehearsal room the music is getting louder. "That's not Dante playing? What could it be?" I ask myself. Thinking that. It couldn't be. It. No. It was in a thousand tiny peices. Shimering as they flew across the room... I entered the room and low and behold Dante has a huge grin on his face, laughing actually, and the cd player is taped together playing a cd. The cd spins exposed to the world around it. I can even see the batteries sort of dangling from the side of the little red sony cd player. Hmm. The music playing is not the putamayo cd though. It is something different. "Were is the cd?" I ask. "Right there... and there... and over there." Dante repiles. I just laughed and learned. I explained to the owner of the rare, discontinued Putamayo records album that it had "some how broken in my backpack" and that "I was sorry". Needless to say I never hung out with the lovely lady from across the bay ever again and I still have a sliver of the album in my old room reminding me of my impulsive stupidty. Laugh and learn and know it's just who we are...

Thomas Stevens: The First Person To Circumnavigate The Globe on a Bicycle

2008-06-23T20:43:00.000-07:00

(Original Post 12/14/07)

The year, 1887,the bike, a penny farthing, otherwise known as an Ordinary, other wise known as one of those old bikes with a big front wheel and small back wheel. Carrying no more than a small ration of food (if any), a little water (if available), and a coat that doubled as a tent he cicled the globe. It took him three years, he encountered things barely known to the western world at the time. Ate what he had to and met new people all the time, some threatened by his bike or "odd horse", and some who marveled at it. You can read his entire 1072 page journal at this link> http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/world/readfile?fk_files=9004&pageno=4
Check it out, just type in any random page number to go to it, and read, your bound to find something interesting...

What is The What Not Shop?

2008-06-23T20:41:00.000-07:00

(Original Post 12/14/07)

The What Not Shop Bike Co-op was an attempt at starting a bike co-op in a small town (Washburn, WI) in the summer of '05. It was named in memory of my grandmother Joyce Compton, who ran the two storied semi-thrift antique random stuff shop in town. I have fond memories of being scared when I was a youngster while wondering through the dim lit creaky old house it was in. The reasons the reasons the bike co-op did not work are simple: lack of knowledge and a small population... The What Not Shop Bike Co-op has, for now, become an extension of my mind and my bicycle fantasies. Enjoy.

This is an e-mail and my response from when the co-op was operating:

-Hey, I'm really glad to see you making this happen. When I was a kid in Washburn there was a bike shop on the very west end of Bayfield St. It was cool. But not as cool as a co-op. Woo-Hoo!! And also, when I was a kid there was a vintage thrift store run by this ancient woman with red-orange lipstick and it was called the What-not-shop too. Peace, Amelia

M-That "ancient woman with red-orange lipstick" was my grandma, that was her store, "The What Not Shop", the bike co-op, blog, and all the other doings of myself in my life are all named in memory of her. Glad you remembered...

We Don't Need No Education.

2008-06-23T19:24:00.000-07:00

(Original Post 2/9/08)

Back inna day my tech ed teacher would blow a foghorn in the class room to get kids attention. I brought him an "Air Zounds" refillable air horn earlier today. Upon my arrival he asked me if I had "The Bike" there.

Well, I told him I did and the next thing I knew I was giving a lecture to about 30 energy students about the Pugsley. Like most kids, they thought I was crazy and seemed not to have any questions, even when prompted.

Hmm...

Rocket Stove

2008-06-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

(Original Post 2/8/08)

Today we built a rocket stove.
2 coffee cans
3 soup cans
1 can opener
1 hacksaw or nice scissors or tin snips
1 hammer
1 hour.

M a cut in about 1.5 inches in all the way
around: | / \ | / \ | / \ | / \ .
Or you can make up your own pattern, I really don't care. That is just the one Iake cuts in coffee can on top rim, leaving the bottom intact. Cut this pattern used. You probably don't even need a pattern. You could just make them all straight for all I care.

After the cutting procedure, bend down every third tab. Make sure you leave the: / \ shaped tabs as these will hold your cooking vessel above the flames.

Right here we have a flowered out soup can and the
bottom of the other coffee can. Notice the center of the
coffee can bottom is cut out to the outer diameter of the soup can. Then put the soup can into the center of the coffee bottom.

Leaving the cooking vessel holder tabs in place, set your assembled "flowered soup can" and coffee bottom into the top of the coffee can. Set it on top of the tabs and afterwards fold the other tabs over the top, leaving the vessel holder tabs.

Insert a flattened soup can into the last soup can. This is your fuel holder. Air goes underneath the shelf, fuel goes above.

Now that you've got that done you can start making a ole in the side of your coffee can to insert the fuel holder into. This can be tricky. Take your time and do it right the first time, be careful not to slit your wrist or cut the flap of skin between your thumb and pointer finger. Ouch.

Insert the fuel holder into the coffee can and your done! It takes a little time and practice to get good at using it, but once you get comfortable it's pretty useful. You might need one of these hanging around or you might want to learn how to build one for assorted reasons.

Bye.

5:28-7:48 AM

2008-06-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

(Original Post 2/1/08)

Woke up early today to catch the sunrise. Not long after waking up early I realized I did not need to wake up early. The sun rises at 7:30.

6:10 am
I packed the bike and rode down to the bay. No sun yet, just blue and yellow light outlining the shallow bit of clouds on the horizon. It's a warmer morning than the last few, but minus 5 will still bite at your nose and ears after a short while.

6:30am
The first rays of sun are starting to break through the clouds and over the horizon. The bay is large, not to mention the entire lake, and as soon as these first pieces of light hit the surface she immediately starts to crack and moan, thunder and echo beneath my feet. You can hear cracks forming miles away, then quickly the sound travels underneath the ice, through the water and you feel it beneath you. Like a train passing by, you hear it approaching, you feel the ice shake beneath you, and then the drumming continues it's journey around the nooks and crannies of the shoreline. It sounds like thunder. The drums of Lake Superior.

But it comes and goes quickly. By 7:30 the whining of snowmobile and car engines can be heard in the distance as business folk, ice fishers, and dandy people go to work...and everything thing is un-thawing from the dark cold night before. It seems all the thoughts of solitude and independence I had while sitting on the ice, waiting for the sun, feeling like a baboon, was just a dream.

Now I look out my window and see that it's snowing again...

Lake Superior Cold During Winter Months

2008-06-23T19:16:00.000-07:00

(original Post 1/29/08)

It's a fact. The temperature can drop below zero in a matter of minutes in these parts. When subjecting yourself to the vast frozen field of Lake Superior, the effects can be even more dramatic.

When I left to venture onto frozen Lake Superior today, the temperature read 20 degrees Fahrenheit. I always carry an extra jacket with me, a mountaineering coat, just in case. Up until today I have not had to use it. As I was riding along the shore the wind shifted and I nearly fell over while riding. Thinking it was just a pleasant gust I decided to keep going without adding any more layers. A few minutes later I was freezing cold, digging in my pannier for my spare coat, witch I immediately felt the effects of after putting it on. Had I not been carrying this extra coat, I still would have made it back home fine, but not without consequence. I stopped behind a large piece of fallen sandstone to block the prevailing winds while I warmed up.

The spot you see here is the shoreline of Chequamagon Bay in Lake Superior. A little north least lies the Apostle Islands. On the other side of the bay is Ashland, Wi. This bay only reaches about 30-40 feet deep, but once outside of it the lake reaches some impressive depths. The deepest point in Lake Superior is 406 m. (1,332 ft.) It is largest fresh water lake in the world based on surface area and contains about 10 percent of the worlds freshwater. Fresh water just might be the oil of the future.

Pugspedition #1

2008-06-23T19:14:00.001-07:00

(original post 1/28/08)

I recently moved back to my hometown of Washburn Wisconsin, it's way up nort. On da lake (Superior).

The picture is of me eating a cookie that my mom made.

Now that I have some time on my hands, I can take part in all the things I've been wanting to do for the last 12 months.
Some obvious things would be playing music, snowshoeing, and hanging with my family. One of the unforeseen activities I have adopted is that new trendy sport called "Pugspedeering".

I get on my bike and ride it into the frozen boondocks with a few necessities. I carry a light weight stove (courtesy of B-Rose), a pot, a spoon, matches, an extra jacket, snowshoes, a tripod, and some cookies and water.

The bike I am riding is Surly Pugsley. I've got some nice lights on it, a frame pump, and a bag with an extra tube and tools. Most of the trails I ride on are either a foot print from a snowmobile, a snowshoe track, or deer paths. Riding these types of terrain would be nearly impossible on any other bike, especially with any kind of cargo.

I have found that The Pug excels under these conditions, only if you use a good tire pressure. I run the front tire at about 15 psi and the rear tire between 5 and 10 psi.

Where the trails ends, I put on my snowshoes and push. The best of both worlds. When the snow becomes to deep and you have to push the Pug, it's easier than you would think pushing a 60lb bike would be. For the most part The Pug floats right on top the snow, because of the extra wide footprint.

Out of all the bikes I have ever owned, The Pugsley gives me the most satisfaction. The main thing is the Fun. The plumber at Penn Cycle told me it would be way easier to get in shape if riding a bike was always this fun. He then decided to buy one, simply because it was fun and would probably add another 5-13 years to his adult life.

The picture below is the path I rode upon for Pugspedition #1. Many, many years ago this was a main road. These days it is a trail used mainly by members of my family and a few other locals.

Until next time...