Hollie Ernest, Author at Adventure Cycling Association

Redwood National Park: Local Adventures Can be Grand Adventures

Hollie Ernest — Tue, 02 Jul 2024 20:57:43 +0000

This is a ride report for the Short Route: Eureka, CA: Redwood Coast Loop while the author and her husband were developing the route. Sweat dripped down my nose and landed on my handlebars. Gnats whirred in my ears, determined to steal my sanity. By slapping them, I slapped my own face, and when I slapped my ear too hard my hand got tangled in my helmet strap. I cursed the added weight of the bottle of wine and steak in my pannier. Won’t steak be fun, I had thought. Won’t that be romantic. It was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I questioned why we weren’t swimming and grilling out on the long weekend, like normal people. Instead, I was huffing and puffing and checking the map every tenth of a mile to see if we were at the top of the long, steep gravel climb. We had left our house near the breezy Pacific Ocean in Arcata, California, and pedaled 35 miles over two watersheds, inland to the mountains and the heat. I used to think there was no point cycling roads I drove all the time. For years, I planned cycling trips in other states or countries and neglected the roads around me. Groups of us would mountain bike on our local forest trails, but local overnights seemed either too close or too much hassle. But my partner Tom and I had decided to change it up, mapping this loop and riding it over the long weekend. En route up this hill I had driven dozens of times, I saw clusters of trees I never noticed before, including a few particularly large Douglas firs and madrones. There were also scattered acres that had been harvested for timber, a large boulder shaped like a dog, and the beginning of royal purple larkspur flowers. “Was that there last time we were here?” I asked Tom as we pedaled past a small DIY shooting range just over the BLM boundary. He said that it was. Despite appreciating the novel observations, I was tired and kept asking myself, Where am I? Did we miss the turn? Missing the turn to Lacks Creek is impossible. We would never miss the turn. Tom had driven up to Lacks Creek close to a hundred times during the building of the trail system. We had actually met on that drive years before when I volunteered for a trail-building day. I should have known that his up-for-anything attitude and my motivation for adventurous weekends would lead to this masochistic Friday afternoon. I wiped my sweaty hands on my saturated shorts and kept pedaling. We finally reached the unmissable turn, pedaled another mile, and set up camp overlooking the fog covering the ocean to the west. Horse Mountain sat to the southeast of us, and rays of sunset danced around the clouds. The arduous climb became a distant memory and we felt somewhat smug about our weekend getaway out of the fog and into the warm spring air. Congratulating ourselves with steaks over the fire, we drank wine from the bottle and I went over all the flowers I had seen on the ride, including ones I hadn’t noticed on other trips by car. We were already excited for the next two days of pedaling. The next day we woke up foggy in our heads and legs, but after strong black coffee and tortillas filled with Nutella, we carefully descended corrugated gravel towards the Hoopa Valley to the east. We saw a bear, a fox, and osprey, marveling at the geology of the cliffs and bluffs along State Highway 96, as we cycled north along the Trinity River. The Trinity River merges with the Klamath River, known for its legendary salmon runs. We crossed the bridge at the confluence and refilled our snack supply at the newly renovated Weitchpec store. After crossing the bridge over the wide, murky water, we turned left on the 169, then crossed back over the Klamath and climbed up switchbacks on Bald Hills Road, cycling west. Over the next day and a half, we crossed the ancestral lands of Hupa and Yurok Tribes, up and over Bald Hills Road, and into Redwood National Park. Before crossing into the park, there is a very elaborate Yurok Veterans Cemetery, with somewhat overbuilt concrete buildings, ramps and railings. We paid our appropriate respects over the Memorial Day weekend. The smell of bigleaf maple blossoms sat heavily in the fog as bird calls echoed in the steeper parts of the valley. The pain from Friday had dissolved and we glided along, happy to be pedaling through the mist that covered the golden meadows and purple lupine lining the road. Two years before, I had worked a summer in the Bald Hills on a project to restore habitat for native grasses. Even though I had hiked for more than 100 hours over the oak woodlands and prairies, I hadn’t felt the rolling hills as intimately as that day. This time, on bikes, each meadow and each hill etched into my mind like a nail scratching into an aluminum tree tag, recorded for later. As the road leaves the ridge, potholed hairpin turns lead back to the coast and Highway 101. We descended quickly, seeing 1,00o-year-old redwood trees and outpacing the cars. From the intersection of Bald Hills and Highway 101, you can turn right to go north for more redwood glory via Newton B Drury Scenic Parkway, or turn south and ride through the town of Orick. There is a well-known burger and shake stand in Orick, and I felt like I had earned a meal there. We attacked the elk burgers, fries, and milkshakes like we hadn’t eaten in weeks. I wiped ketchup from my chin and stared at the redwood burls across the highway. Sitting on our stools next to the two-lane highway across the street from a run-down motel, we deemed this was the best Memorial Day weekend. We were on a local adventure, absorbing the hills we call home. The section along the 101 was the most familiar to me, since I drove it often for work. But again, I got to see what I had been missing. A short walk along the beach near Freshwater Lagoon left sand in our cycling shoes, and the waves were deafening, rising close to shore before crashing onto the hard-packed sand. Continuing south along the coast, we passed Big Lagoon and Stone Lagoon, pedaling slow enough to note the level of vegetation in their brackish waters. Otters poked their heads out and gulls crowded the shores. Cormorants glided low over the choppy water. The sky was overcast when we arrived home on Monday afternoon. Instead of punching the weekend to the last minute like usual, we had time to unpack, clean gear, and get ready for work the next day. Despite this moment of responsible behavior, we felt like we had gotten away with something. We’d had an epic weekend and felt like we’d gone far away and seen things no one else had. Since that memorable trip years ago, I’ve cycled various parts of this route on different rides. Each time, I feel a deeper sense of connection and familiarity with the place I call home. Instead of regarding these places as mundane or boring, I see them as more special. Each small hill, each large mountain, each watershed, or smooth-barked trees… are all special. This particular weekend reminded me that adventure is a mindset, and the ‘grand’ part of grand adventures is up to us.

Find the route here

Nuts and Bolts

This is a loop route with a start / finish in Eureka, California.
It is 185 miles with 16,167 feet of climbing and can be cycled in either direction.
There is not much resupply, so take most of what you’ll need and top up on snacks accordingly.
Depending on the time of year, you’ll want to be strategic about water. After a rainy winter, there will likely be more springs, but these dry up in the fall or during low-precipitation summers. There are several waterless sections as well.
You can shorten or lengthen this route according to your timeframe. There are several out-and-backs included in the route, in order to factor in spaced-out campgrounds. The road is mostly paved roads with a few short gravel sections.

Highlights

Ecosystem variety! You’ll see Humboldt Bay, inland conifer forests, steep river valleys, oak forests, and prairies before returning to the Pacific Coast.
Seeing several watersheds
Redwood trees
Mountain views
If you do this route in the summer you’ll have campgrounds with riverfront spots

While dominant winds on the coast are typically from the west and/or north, it’s worth checking the wind direction on an app like Windy before choosing which direction to ride. The route is designed to leave from Eureka, the population center for Humboldt County, but you could easily start from Arcata, McKinleyville, or another nearby community. Eureka and Arcata have plenty of shops and accomodations, but once you get pedaling, resupply is limited to convenience stores in Weitchpec and Orick. Campsites near the route are marked on the Ride with GPS route, and you can divide the days however you like. People who want to speed through it could do it in two or three days, while sightseers could turn it into a five-day tour. This route has a lot of climbing, as well as some short sections with high traffic, so it is not recommended for families or kids. This route takes place on the ancestral lands of the Hupa, Karuk, Yurok, and Wiyot peoples.

The post Redwood National Park: Local Adventures Can be Grand Adventures appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

The Power of Food as a Cultural Connection

Hollie Ernest — Tue, 14 Nov 2023 22:42:41 +0000

“A white man eating nsima! Yeah! That’s good, that’s good!” the Zambian man shouted at us as he walked down the dusty road.

My husband Tom and I were sitting at a rough-cut table and chairs on the side of the road at a restaurant, the first eating establishment we had seen in weeks. Our fingertips were covered in the sticky cornmeal dish that is the staple of Zambia and surrounding nations. Each country has distinct techniques for the dish and a different name, but you always eat it with your hands. First you form a ball, then make a thumb-indention in the ball, and use that to scoop up meat, beans and stewed pumpkin leaves. The locals around our route in Africa seemed surprised we ate local fare day after day, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. When you eat what the locals eat, it’s a way to say, “I am here with you and I want to be here with you.”

Hollie Ernest

In April 2019, I was two months into my round-the-world cycling trip when my husband flew to Oaxaca, Mexico, to ride with me for a few weeks. We took a cooking class where we got to stir and taste a variety of molés, grinding corn kernels and flattening blue corn tortillas by hand. Cactus was roasted and we melted quesilla — a semi-hard cheese that tastes like salty mozzarella — over beans. Our teacher’s stories involved not only ingredients and her love of cooking, but also her family and friends. The connection between community and food are often inseparable, especially in Latin America. During our days in Oaxaca, we reconnected with each other after two months apart. Over rooftop beers we talked about anything and everything while also sampling chapulines (roasted grasshoppers), mezcal margaritas, and every type of hot pepper we could handle. I had come from cycling the Baja Divide, a rugged and remote route where I was lucky to find salty tortillas and occasional bit of cheese. This level of immersion through meals was new to me, but I was up for it. Once I arrived on mainland Mexico, if I didn’t know what something on the menu was, I ordered it. I will admit, success was mixed. One afternoon, after several days of consistently available pineapple, mango, and coconuts, we found ourselves riding over densely vegetated hills with no signs of human life besides narrow asphalt lanes. My blood sugar was getting low, but kept thinking, “the next spot, the next spot.” Suddenly we were both bonking and I kicked myself for this rookie mistake. After months of bike touring, how could I run out of snacks? After what felt like hours (but was probably 45 minutes) of dizzy pedaling over rolling hills, we turned a corner and a sign read, “¡Tlayudas Aquí!” I had no idea what they were, but I didn’t care.

Hollie Ernest

The tlayudas had a large tortilla as a base that the woman charred over an open fire. She spread refried beans on the tortilla, with some kind of fat (it turned out to be asiento, unrefined pork lard), crumbled quesilla, shredded cabbage, avocado, and chorizo for me and tasajo (dried beef) for Tom. With stuffed cheeks, Tom exclaimed, “This is the best thing I have ever eaten!” The woman running the place seemed somewhat stern (and surprised to see us) at first, but she softened as she saw us stuffing our faces. I was too self-absorbed at that moment to ask her how she made them, or what her life was like on that remote mountainside. She pointed at our bikes and smiled, so we were still able to connect in our own ways. From there, I kept riding south for more than a year, and I have 1) never again run out of snacks and 2) never hesitated to ask someone how they make a dish.

Hollie Ernest

Tom flew home while I continued into Central and South America. In Colombia I decided that it was my duty to try everything, making it my scientific responsibility to gather data (i.e. sample prolifically from a wide assortment of fare). More fried things? Yes please! I loaded my handlebar bag and snacked while I rode. Street food was everywhere in Colombia, and I talked to many people in my broken Spanish. Sometimes a simple, “¿Como?” and pointing to the fried item in my hand, maybe half of it in my mouth, opened up a door of hand gestures and enough explanations for me to get the gist. My curiosity opened up more layers of local cuisine information. Not only did people write down their recipes for pastilles, arepas, and buñuelos, but they told me about their lives, their valley, their village, their children, and relatives they had loved and lost. As I continued south through the Americas I got to sample more dishes than I could possibly list here. My palate changed to crave more of the local fare, morphing with each region. And my ideas of what constitutes ‘breakfast’ or a ‘main dish’ went out the window. Caldo de Gallina, a chicken broth with noodles, served frequently in Peru, is still one of my favorite breakfasts. Just thinking about the seafood empanadas of southern Chile makes my mouth water.

Hollie enjoying a refreshing coconut

Hollie Ernest

After a pandemic pause, I finished cycling to the tip of South America in early 2023. I then continued to South Africa, joined by Tom and planning to head north through the continent. Women in Botswana opened up when we asked them how they prepared their goat meat, cooked in large Dutch ovens on the side of the road. They called it “seswaa,” indicating that the meat is torn. It was flavorful and salty, paired with pap (the cornmeal staple dish) and steamed rape leaves. We went back the next day for more and they treated us like old friends. In Zimbabwe we ate thick, caterpillar-like mopane worms, charred and rubbery. The woman serving them said, “They’re good, right?!” with so much enthusiasm we couldn’t say otherwise. She told us how they are harvested from the mopane trees, and smiled at us when we went back for seconds of rice, though we declined more worms. We eat a lot on bike tours, but it’s not only about the food. Ask someone about a recipe, and you are asking them about their lives. In a way, you are asking them how they got to where they are now. Food is not simply our fuel, just like bicycles are not only our mode of transport. Both are a way to appreciate and truly get to know the place we are working so hard to travel through in the first place.

Tom enjoying a well-earned meal

Credit: Hollie Ernest

No matter where you travel, between the layers of tlayudas, tortillas, croissants, or lasagna, lies a connection. We don’t travel by bike to see things from a safe bubble, a gondola, or a popemobile. Histories, traditions and familial ties can be found in the gluten binding pasta or the creamy, silky rivulets in potato soup. Bike touring is a way to immerse ourselves between these layers and soak up all the sauce. In March of 2023, when Tom was hesitant to leave his community of friends and life behind to join me on this round-the-word cycling odyssey, I reassured him, “Think of all the food you will get to try! All the recipes you will gather. And as far as friends go, don’t worry. All the strangers are just future friends, waiting to share their stories with you.”

The post The Power of Food as a Cultural Connection appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Is Swimming Good Cross-Training for Cycling?

Hollie Ernest — Thu, 10 Aug 2023 17:48:17 +0000

“My shoulders are going to give out,” I thought as I wrestled my loaded bike over tan, fist-sized rocks up another steep slope. I reminded myself to engage my core and took deep breaths, resting my head on my handlebars. I was hiking my bike around Lago Desierto, north of El Chalten in Argentina, with two German cyclists I had befriended a few days before. We could have waited 36 hours at the north side of the lake for the ferry to arrive, but patience has never been a virtue I possessed in large quantities. Apparently my new friends were similar.

It took us ten hours over a day and a half to cover 12 kilometers (seven miles). There were 45-degree slopes with loose rocks and large roots, occasionally requiring us to remove our panniers, hike the bike up the hill, then return for the bags. It was hard as hell, and an adventure I will never forget. But we had a near-constant view of the sapphire lake to our right, and the mountain and glaciers above. It was definitely worth it. Somewhere in this nonsense, I realized that my background in swimming played a huge role in my ability to keep up, albeit with a lot of help from my friends. Without upper body strength from swimming, I probably wouldn’t have attempted this feat.

Hollie Ernest

In the past, I treated my body like I treat computers. I just wanted it to work, and I didn’t care about the inner workings. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned more about the human body—mostly out of necessity for physical therapy and injury rehab and prevention. In an effort to dive deeper into this idea, I decided to interview an expert to discuss the overlap and benefits of swimming and cycling. I talked with* Laura McNulty, a personal trainer and accomplished athlete who holds several records across different disciplines, including cycling, running, swimming, and horseback riding. She has overcome many obstacles, including injury, disease and overuse. Laura has been professionally training clients in Northern California for 18 years, and is constantly deepening her extensive knowledge of the human body. Laura’s training methods focus on functional fitness and training the mind along with the body. We finally managed to talk over a tenuous connection while I was in Queenstown, South Africa and she was in Arcata, California.

***

The author rides through Portugal on a previous cycling tour

Hollie Ernest

*Responses have been lightly edited for clarity Hollie: How did your interest in anatomy and kinesiology begin? Did you study formally or are you mostly self taught? Laura: I started out as a runner, and getting to know how the body worked helped me run faster. I love the functional aspect of how integrated the body is, like the hip affects the heel, and so on. I studied Biology and Anatomy in college, and afterward took a course on Personal Training. I shy away from the term “personal trainer” to describe myself. I try to stay clear of fad workout programs. While they can benefit some people, they can break others. I say I “professionally train” people, and I work with a variety of clients, from young athletes to people 80 years old, all with a wide range of goals. After college, I dove in deep, doing my own research and teaching myself. There are so many studies being done all the time! I will never be finished learning about the mechanisms and interconnectedness of the human body. I am just as fascinated now, at 55 years old, as I was at 20 years old. Hollie: I know you as more of a cyclist, but you started as runner, then took up cycling, and then swimming? Laura: Cycling was a natural progression.As most of us know, running can be hard on the body, especially joints. Tendons and ligaments get strong and tight from repeated ground reaction force (i.e. pounding the ground with our feet), but you have to be more flexible in those areas to be a good cyclist and swimmer. Running definitely helped me be a strong cyclist. Hollie: Let’s talk about muscle groups. I know that swimming uses more upper body muscles than cycling does, but both are whole body workouts. Is swimming a good way to cross training for cyclists?

The author on a previous cycling tour

Hollie Ernest

Laura: Both disciplines move in the sagittal plane (forward and backward), instead of side to side (with maybe the exception of the breast stroke kick). They also overlap in some of the muscle groups they use, like glutes, quads, and triceps. Both cycling and front crawl can be quad-dominant, while backstroke utilizes more of the hamstring. Swimming is a great way to develop your upper body muscles, while cycling focuses more on the legs.The real benefit comes from the integrated movement you learn from swimming—moving your whole body efficiently, and integrating the top half and bottom half. If you can move your body fluidly in the pool, integrating across your midline from your pointed toes to your outstretched arms and twisted torso, you can move more efficiently and intuitively on the bike. Another huge benefit to swimming is the cardiovascular benefits, which directly translate to the bike and most other sports. And, if you need a mental break from cycling, swimming is such a beautiful thing. Laura: The mental break that you get from swimming can be meditative in a way that cycling rarely is, since we always have to think about road or trail conditions. But in a pool, or even in open water, all you have to think about is your form and breathing, and moving your body as one cohesive, efficient unit. Swimming is like moving yoga, stretching and reaching and pulling, motions you don’t normally do on the bike. Hollie: Do swimming and cycling balance each other out well? Or do you think there are better cross-training methods for cyclists? Laura: If you don’t need a mental break from the bike, and cycling is your main focus or you want to compete in a race, the best way to complement cycling is to do a 30-40 minute weight workout three times a week. Incorporate what you’re missing into your workouts. Put a band around the knees, squat and step side-to-side to engage the gluteus medium. Get some lateral movement in! Kettlebell workouts also help strengthen the back and other stabilizer muscles. Lifting weights is a great way to keep bones strong while keeping the rest of you — especially your mind — in top form.

***

Next time you have the chance to get in the water, go for it! make a splash. Let yourself float and move your arms around, let your mind wander. Whether you’re excited about your next bike tour, or feeling overwhelmed with life, swimming can be both invigorating and calming. The other day, the sun came out while I was in the water and I could see my shadow on the bottom of the pool.I felt like a kid again. I felt connected to my surroundings and in touch with the twisting, reaching, and stretching of my body. This aspect of weightlessness helps me slow down and meditate on the moment. And strangely enough, I feel the same way when I am slowly going uphill on my loaded bike, surrounded by mountains, completely absorbed in the slow-moving present moment. By doing both, there is more balance to my movements, and both my mind and body feel stronger.

How Exercise Keeps You Healthy

The post Is Swimming Good Cross-Training for Cycling? appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Gravel Bike Geometry

Hollie Ernest — Fri, 02 Jun 2023 21:38:45 +0000

When people ask me about cycling gear, I generally say that if I’m not thinking about it (brake levers, sleeping pad, etc.), then it’s working perfectly. I used to ride a stiff aluminum cyclocross bike for everything: short bikepacking trips, cyclocross races, road rides, and randonneuring rides (extra-long unsupported road rides that guarantee a sore bum). This bike’s gearing and cantilever brakes – the weakest of brake systems – were definitely not meant for steep hills, and the tire clearance maxed out at just 32mm. But none of this stopped me from taking it out for 2o or 120 miles. I didn’t have room in my garage or my bank account for another bike, so I chose not to think about the options in the marketplace.

As the years passed, I started to feel the differences between my old aluminum road/everything bike and my mountain bike, with its stability and strong brakes. When my trusty aluminum was about 10 years old and had seen thousands of miles, I rode it down a notoriously steep descent near my house in foggy mist. The brakes took ages to slow me down, using every ounce of my grip strength. Every tiny bump was jarring. My neck ached at the end of the ride – and it started to swivel towards gravel bikes. Even though I was still skeptical of the difference between gravel bikes and what I already had, I arrived home that day and asked my husband what he thought about selling my old faithful and getting something that could better handle the mix of terrain near our house. Luckily he’s also a cyclist, so before I knew it he was scrolling the web with me, and we quickly found a barely-used, affordable (but still not cheap) carbon gravel bike online. After my first long ride on my new steed, I was fully convinced. My body didn’t ache. I was left wanting more miles and found myself already formulating bikepacking plans. I’m not here to tell anyone they need a certain type of bike to have fun – far from it. I certainly had a blast before I changed up my stable. Decent tire clearance and a bike that fits are all you need to comfortably explore unpaved terrain. But if you’ve been cycling for a while and are curious about what is out there, I encourage you to see for yourself. First, let’s ask: what is it that makes a gravel bike different? In the past, when people referred to the geometry of a bicycle, I just nodded and agreed, knowing that it referred to the angles between the frame tubes. But a larger definition of bike geometry not only includes the angles of the frame, but also design elements that distinguish one type of bike from another, optimizing it for certain terrain and riding styles. These differences may seem small, but the more you ride, the more you notice them. I wish someone had explained some of these to me before I rode so many tense miles on my old bike. So here are some of the specifics of gravel steeds, in full bike geek detail.

Chainstays

Chainstays can only get so short while maintaining operational tire clearance. So once a bike manufacturer or builder decides what the maximum tire size should be, they then build the chainstays long enough. Shorter stays generally mean snappier handling; longer stays increase stability. For touring bikes, where stability at speed is preferred, long chainstays (430 mm or longer) contribute to a longer overall wheelbase, making the bike more stable. Gravel bike chainstays tend to range from 420 to 435 mm. But long chainstays are not the only way to increase stability.

Wheelbase

The distance between the tires’ point of contact with the ground. The longer the wheelbase, the more stable a bike handles at speed. The wheelbase on gravel bikes is usually longer than road bikes but shorter than mountain bikes. This middle ground gives gravel bikes a combination of stability on rougher roads and at least some agility for the occasional tight turn. A short wheelbase bike won’t track as well on loose surfaces as a longer wheelbase bike. This is why full suspension mountain bikes have gotten progressively longer over the years. You don’t really need to study wheelbase on geometry charts, but this can still go into your base of knowledge (no pun intended).

Head Tube Angle

This refers to the angle of the head tube when compared to a horizontal axis. In basic terms, the slacker the head tube angle, the more stable the ride, especially at speed on loose surfaces. A head tube angle of 69 degrees is considered very slack, while one of 74 degrees, like those found on road bikes, would be considered steep. Gravel bike head angles are usually 70-72 degrees.

Head Tube Length

Generally speaking, the longer the head tube, the more upright the riding position. Road bikes have the shortest head tubes, facilitating an aerodynamic position at road speeds. A gravel bike head tube might be an inch or two longer, resulting in a more upright position that is more comfortable and helps with control on loose terrain.

Bottom Bracket Height

This affects center of gravity. The lower it is, the more stable the bike will feel, which is generally what we want on gravel roads, loaded touring, or both. A low center of gravity helps us get our weight back when descending on rougher terrain, but it also means the pedals have less clearance for pedaling through rocky terrain. Most of the time, we aren’t pedaling through technical or off-camber terrain, so this is not a major concern with gravel bikes. A bottom bracket height of 260-280mm, including the volume of your tires, will put you where you want to be. For contrast, traditional cyclocross bikes, designed to bunny hop barriers and pedal through hairpin turns, have high bottom brackets (280-310 mm).

Top Tube and Stem Length

The length of the top tube should coincide with your correct bike size and is one the more important considerations when choosing a bike. Once you have the right bike size, you can easily exchange the stem to dial your position even more, depending on if more of your height is in your torso or your legs. The proper top tube/stem length will prevent you from stretching out too much, so you can keep your elbows bent and shoulders relaxed. Your arms (and legs) are like shock absorbers, and you’ll feel much more in control if they are bent and ready to absorb whatever comes your way, rather than stretched out and rigid.

Tire Clearance

Gravel bikes come with ample tire clearance for 40mm or larger tires. I love wide tires so much that I get a warm, fuzzy feeling when I look at mine! The rougher a route is, the wider the recommended tire is, within the limits of the frame design. With wide tires, there is more surface area and volume to absorb the bumps of the road. You could also consider using smaller 650b wheels to get even more tire volume if you want it.

Components

Lower gearing, meaning easy gears for going up steep hills with weight
Wider or flared drop bars, for increased stability
Disc brakes apply braking force to a rotor mounted near the middle of the wheel instead of directly on the rim, and are increasingly common on gravel bikes. I personally love this trend. Rim brakes, which are another name for cantilever brakes, are certainly capable of stopping you, but disc brakes come with some huge advantages, including:
- Far more braking power.
- Disc brakes perform far better in wet terrain. (Rim brakes must first displace water from the rim before biting on the surface, hence my many harrowing descents on my old bike.)
- The power delivered by disc brakes is more consistent and predictable.
- Since disc brakes are not in direct contact with the wheel, they work fine even if the wheel is slightly out of true and won’t wear down the surface of the rim.
- Disc brakes also allow for better tire clearance (Yay! Wide tires!).
Despite these benefits, some cyclists still prefer traditional cantilever brakes because of the disadvantages of disc brakes:
- They typically weigh more, cost more, and take more effort to adjust.
- Maintenance depends on whether you have hydraulic or mechanical disc brakes.
- Hydraulic disc brakes shouldn’t need much daily maintenance because they are sealed, but when something does go wrong, it’s not an easy field fix. If there is an air bubble trapped in the line, hydraulic disc brakes won’t work properly and must be flushed out, or “bled,” which isn’t as simple as adjusting a caliper on mechanical disc brakes or rim brakes.

Frame Material

Today, gravel bikes are built out of carbon, aluminum, steel, and titanium, so you have choices! To read more about the differences between materials, check out this Adventure Cycling blog post. The good news is that gravel bikes of all materials are reinforced to be stronger in certain places and are often designed with loaded touring in mind. Some even have strategically squared tubes to accommodate serious bikepacking gear.

Bikepacking Considerations

More and more gravel bikes are coming with mounts for front or rear racks or cages and with weight-bearing in mind. But if the one you are eyeing doesn’t, don’t worry! There are bag and rack manufacturers out there making gear for bikes with no mounting points, and there are also plenty of DIY mounting techniques. A good overview of bikepacking bags is here and a list of gear manufacturers can be found on here. After thousands of miles on my carbon gravel bike, I can confidently say it has been a fabulous bike for a variety of situations – dirt, pavement, gravel, loaded and unloaded. It performed on the most extreme terrain I dared to take it, including rugged singletrack and a month-long bikepacking trip through Spain and France. But though I love my carbon gravel whip, I’m still a believer in “ride what you have.” Don’t turn down an adventure because you don’t have the “right bike.” Does it have two wheels and no serious mechanical issues? Great, go for it. Remember, people were riding penny farthings around the world before any of us were born. But now, hopefully, you know more about what’s out there and can make an informed decision to upgrade in the future. If you’ve read this far, you’ve already got the most important ingredient for any bike trip: a sense of curiosity and adventure.

The Basics of Gravel Riding

The post Gravel Bike Geometry appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Plants of Baja: from A to Z

Hollie Ernest — Thu, 23 Feb 2023 00:09:04 +0000

Staring at the red dirt road stretching to the east, I suddenly realized the vast possibilities of traveling from one town to another off-road. It sank in, like scant rain drops in desert soil – I was really going to travel 1700 miles down the Baja peninsula, barely touching pavement. I had known it was possible in theory, but had never felt it myself. I had just started, and I wanted to send a massive thanks to the creators of this route, Nicholas Carman and Lael Wilcox. That morning, I had crossed into Mexico at Tecate, beginning seven weeks of solo riding on the Baja Divide.

That sudden realization merged with a heightened awareness. The sights, sounds, and smells were more intense without the filter of company. I felt incredibly alone, but not lonely. I opened my arms wide, trying to absorb the coastal sage scrub. As the days went by, I learned a lot about Baja, bikepacking, and myself. I learned about the unique peninsula and its history, the plate tectonics that shape it, and the cultures residing in its hills and on its coasts. In the north are the traditional lands of the Kumeyaay to the west, and the Cocopa to the east. The PaiPai lands are just a little further south, including Uruapan and San Vicente, and stretch from one coast to the other. The Cochimí lands cover the middle of the peninsula; the lands of the Guaycura surround modern-day Ciudad Constitución, and the Pericú’s lands are where cyclists now ride the Cape Loop, at the southern tip of the peninsula, beginning in La Paz. Most importantly to me, I learned about its plants. The mesmerizing story of each root-bound resident of this peninsula motivated me to pedal every day. The pine forests in the north, the coastal sage and succulent scrub, the subtropical desert in the middle, all led me ever south to the Magdalena Plains and Cape Mountains. I knew I would see more plants than I could manage to hold in my mind, but I tried to learn them all anyway.

Poppies galore, just passed Ojos Negros.

Hollie Ernest

The Baja Divide route criss-crosses the peninsula, west coast to east coast and back again, all in an effort to avoid the highway. The route is rough, rocky, and slow in spots. But as the weeks went on, despite a few setbacks, I wanted to hug the expansive sky and the cacti silhouetted against hot pink sunsets. Kind and generous people helped me do my laundry, and I learned that my laundry could not dry on my rear rack without getting dusty. But I was in awe. Actually, this might be an understatement. I was in love, swooning with the desert’s clean, bright light and prickly, thorny landscapes. I sang songs out of tune, sometimes smiling and sometimes cussing, because amidst my awe, there were still hardships and challenges. I ran out of water, my rear brake failed, I got stabbed by Yucca, and let fear occasionally get the best of me. But the feelings of joy remained, if occasionally sub-surface. Coming from the cool and wet redwood forests of Northern California, the desert was a novelty. There is a rich diversity of ecosystems throughout the route: mountains run down the spine of the peninsula, and the desert is ever-present, stretching right up to the coasts, with fragrant California sagebrush and chaparral in between the spines of bizarre cactus. With no cell service for my entire time in Baja (I hadn’t yet figured out SIM cards), I felt especially isolated, like I had launched myself with a slingshot to these rocky hills and sandy roads. Often feeling vulnerable, I took solace in plants. They were my companions, from the bright orange poppies to the spiny barrel cacti. I took thousands of plant photos during my weeks in Baja. Some of them I identified later, and some of them, I’m embarrassed to say, are still unidentified. Plant lovers have a hard time narrowing things down to our favorites, and I am no exception. To limit myself from turning this article into a book (which other, more qualified botanists have already done), I chose the 26-letter English alphabet as a parameter. From A-Z we’ll go in depth on a few plants, and look at others with a broad stroke of botanical knowledge. You don’t have to be a plant lover to delve in. Baja, and its gems, are for everyone.

Agave

Succulent leaf base of Agave

Hollie Ernest

The wild Agave have flower stalks that grow over 10 feet tall from a succulent base of leaves, and branch out to hold clusters of yellow flowers that resemble tufted crowns. An agave only flowers once in its life, usually after 8-30 years of growth, and dies immediately after. For one Agave species in particular, Agave tequiliana, the heart of the plant is harvested by cutting off the fleshy leaves, which leaves the chunky stem, called the piña. The piña is comparable to an artichoke heart, and the harvesting happens right before the flower stalk emerges, when the plant has its highest sugar content. The piña is then steamed in an oven, crushed, fermented and distilled to make tequila.

Blue Hesper Palm

I first noticed these silver and blue-hued palms the day after a particularly rough section, where I had foolishly run out of water since a sandy section of the route south of el Caracol had taken me longer than planned. There is an option to stay on the road here, but I was being stubborn. I had ridden into the night with hopes of making it into San Ignacio, but called it quits and set up camp once I reached a stream just short of town. I filled my bottles in the dark and waited agonizing hours with a parched throat for my water purifying tablets to work. But the next day was a reward of the highest degree. I drank the delicious water then I hiked my bike the remaining two miles on a rocky track in the golden morning light. I saw these unique palms at the southern end of their endemic range. The blue palm’s unique color distinguishes it from other palms, even as they mingle with the more common date palms brought by Spanish missionaries, as was the case with the mission at San Ignacio. Their tough, stringy leaves can be used as roofing materials, and the trunks may also be used in construction.

Cirios Trees

Cirios

Hollie Ernest

Before I reached Cataviña, I was zoning out a little, listening to my headphones to keep my mind off the endless rocky ascent heading southeast. Then I reached the top of that particular climb and literally gasped out loud, yanking my headphones out. The Cirios trees stretched across the valley. Almost exclusively found in Baja, they are like something Dr. Suess invented. Whimsical and welcoming with many wild, curving stems at the top, they resemble towering, spiraling cacti from a distance. The tiny leaves help retain water, a serious task for perennial plants in this environment, and the trunks taper, hence the name ‘cirio,’ Spanish for candle. I didn’t see or hear another soul for almost three days in this section, except at a small truck stop where I filled my water bladders.

Dodder

Dodder is a very strange plant.

Hollie Ernest

It took me a minute to realize that this plant was not desiccated twine carried by the breeze and snagged on a bush. This parasitic plant is made up of thread-like orange tendrils, and it tangles itself to attach to its host. There are 14 species found in Baja!

Elephant Cactus

Elephant cactus and bike

Hollie Ernest

Also commonly called Cardón, their Spanish name. There are one hundred and twenty species of cactus in Baja, but the Elephant Cactus, Pachycereus pringlei, is the largest and most well-known. With its huge size (it can reach up to 65 feet tall and weigh up to ten tonnes), and gnarled exterior, it’s easy to see how it earned its name. Imagine a Saguaro cactus the size of a small building. Most interestingly, it has a symbiotic relationship with the bacteria and fungi on its roots that help break up rocks so that the roots have somewhere to go. They are literally rock-busting plants! When Elephant Cactus reproduces, it stores the symbiotic bacteria in its seeds. So. Cool.

Fairy Duster

Flower of the Fairy Duster

Jessica Tezak

The Baja fairy duster is a native shrub, and the flowers have unique clusters of red stamens that look like feather plumes, hence its name. I saw this one quite a bit, since it loves sun and heat, and flowers from spring to fall. One particular morning I watched a hummingbird frolic around one, just outside of La Paz, as I began the Cape Loop.

Gumweed

The sticky green bracts at the base of the flower head are what gives these yellow beauties their common name, and yes, they can be chewed like gum! The gumweed I saw was Grindelia camporum, the Great Valley Gumplant, in the sage scrub area outside of San Diego, just after the official start of the Baja Divide route.

Hibiscus

There is a deep red cultivated variety of Hibiscus called “Baja Breeze,” which thrives in pots and gardens on the peninsula and beyond.

Ivyleaf Morning Glory

I mostly saw these enduring purple trumpets along roadsides. Like other aggressive morning glory vines, this one can spread pretty quickly. While it originates from tropical parts of the Americas, it is not in the ‘invasive’ category (usually reserved for plants that out-compete natives to a threatening degree).

Jojoba

A native shrub in Baja, its foliage provides food year round for deer, and its nuts are eaten by rabbits and larger birds. The oil inside the nut is also used in many cosmetic products.

Kingcup Cactus

Echinocereus coccineus. This red bloom with round petals emerging from green, spiny cacti is quite a delight in the desert!

Lupine

There are many lovely lupine species in Baja, but one commonly known as stinging lupine was memorable. The stem and leaves of Lupinus hirsutissimus have long, stiff hairs that sting skin when touched. I saw this prickly little beast as I climbed from Ojos Negros towards the Pacific Coast. The track in that section is rocky and steep as it nears the coast, making me wish I had a full suspension bike, if only for a moment. Because I promised my husband I would stay safe, I walked my rigid off-road touring bike down the slope, reveling in the Pacific Ocean views. It worked out, because when I walk I see even more plants.

Mallows

Mallows, globe mallows in the elevated meadow above Vicente Guerrero

Hollie Ernest

The cheery coral-orange heads of the globe mallow (genus Sphaeralcea) bobbed in meadows, and what delight they brought me! These little friends brought relief to an otherwise stressful day descending from El Coyote Ranch in the mountains into Vicente Guerrero. My brakes were malfunctioning and I was desperate to reach the bike shop in town after some scary descents. These little flowers reminded me that everything was going to be okay.

Narrowleaf Goldenbush

This shrub has bright yellow, showy flowers at the end of its stalks, and again accompanied me in the remote days before Cataviña, where rainbows of wildflowers bloom from March to May. Plants in this genus, Ericameria, are important for wildlife. The larvae of some butterfly species feed on them, as do rabbits, birds, and small mammals.

Ocotillo

Flower of the ocotillo

Hollie Ernest

A mess of spindly, gothic, gray-green branches emanate from the base of these plants, and do not branch a second time. They are covered in massive triangular sharp spines and narrow oval leaves. They may lose and regrow leaves several times a year, depending on rainfall. When leafless, ocotillos rely on chlorophyll in their stems for photosynthesis. I saw their clusters of bright red flowers at all elevations within Baja, reminding me each time that “ocotillo” stems from the Náhuatl word ocotl, which means torch. They bloom from March to June, then might bloom again depending on rainfall.

Parry’s Phacelia

Deep purple of Parry’s Phacelia

Hollie Ernest

A tiny dot of rich royal purple stopped me mid-pedal stroke on my fourth day on the Baja Divide just outside of Uruapan, I believe in the traditional lands of the Pai Pai. It really stands out in the desert. Nestled in its native range of coastal and inland mountains and deserts, this hardy gem of purple thrives in a variety of habitats including coastal sage scrub, chaparral, and roadsides.

Quail Plant

There are many common names for Heliotropium curassavicum, probably because it grows from Canada to Argentina. Quail plant is also called salt heliotrope, which makes sense, since I saw it briefly in the salt flats east of San Quintín where I caught amazing tailwinds!

Rabbitbush

Native and very very abundant in Baja, if you see a bush with triangle-shaped leaves, it is likely Rabbitbush. Latin name: Ambrosia deltoidea.

Seaside Fiddleneck

Hollie Ernest

After a drizzly, sleepless night on a seaside cliff north of Erendira, I rolled into town and wolfed down the best chorizo, fresh salsa, potatoes, and eggs I have ever tasted. I went through my plant photos while Elvira, the incredible chef, insisted I take her photo with my bike. Five species of fiddleneck (genus Amsinckia) are found in Baja, and without a microscope, it’s hard to tell which one I saw just north of the small town. But given the sandy and rocky soil perched just above the Pacific, I’m willing to take a guess. The curling stems supported yellow flowers, and I’d say it’s likely the seaside fiddleneck, Amsinckia spectabilis.

Elvira, the chef in Erendira.

Hollie Ernest

Torote Blanco

The Spanish name for Elephant Tree. In the hills surrounding Cataviña, I dismounted my bike to investigate these trees shaped like swollen gourds. I learned that their thick, rounded trunks store water and resemble an elephant trunk, giving the plant its common name. There are actually two “elephant trees” endemic to Baja. One of them, Pachycormus discolor in the cashew family, has bark that becomes papery as it ages, falling off to reveal greenish photosynthetic tissues underneath. The other, more common Bursera microphylla is in the torchwood family, and is dormant in the winter. The sap of the Bursera also smells incredible, a mix between cedar, orange peels and pine.

Unicorn Plant

This magical sounding plant has pink and yellow flowers which bloom later in the year (April-October), so I didn’t get to see them on my March-April Baja foray. But I read about their “Double Claw,” seed pods, which split into two and curl into thin hooks, an adaptation that helps them disperse on the backs of passing animals, and on the socks of passing humans. In case you’re wondering, their Latin name is Proboscidea parviflora, which is pleasantly descriptive.

Verbena

Verbena, in the hills between Vicente Guerrero and San Quintin

Hollie Ernest

I saw these clusters of pink-purple flowers as I was grinding through mud from Vicente Guerrero to San Quintín. It is only 25 miles, but it took me all day, since I had to stop every 100 yards or so to clear out my drivetrain in order to move forward again. Despite the hardships, I appreciated the previous days’ rains, since it meant that the verbena (Abronia villosa, Desert Sand Verbena) had the plentiful winter rains needed to produce the carpet of flowers I was enjoying.

Walkingstick Cactus

This tangle of spines and branches is common, and is more representative of what to expect in Baja. This one is part of a group of cacti commonly referred to as chollas (pronounced “choy-ya”). This group is known for their cylindrical branches and spines that can tenaciously attach to your skin. Some cyclists carry extra strong tweezers in order to address an encounter with the spines, but I was lucky enough to pedal through unscathed.

Xanthisma spinulosum

More commonly known as the Lacy Tansyaster, their flowers with yellow center and yellow petals have proved to be confusing for botanists trying to classify them. There is no exception for this botanist, and among all the yellow Asteraceae flowers I did see over many hills and ridges and exhausted leg muscles, I am not sure if I saw these or not. But as far as I know, they do exist in Baja.

Yucca valida

Yucca

Hollie Ernest

More commonly called datilillo, it is often confused with the Joshua Tree. But Yucca valida is endemic to the peninsula, whereas Joshua Trees don’t live in Baja. Despite appearances, the Yuccas are not trees at all, and have trunks made of stringy fibers instead of wood. My early March arrival in Baja was perfect for the cream-colored blooms of the Yucca, which are arranged like elegant floral chandeliers in the middle of linear, sharp leaves splayed out.

Zauschneria

Zauschneria is one of the common names of Hummingbird Trumpet, Epilobium canum. I was too early for the long, narrow, bright orange-red blooms, which emerge in late summer, at the right time to provide nectar for migrating hummingbirds.

Nuts and Bolts

For the best up-to-date information on the Baja Divide, check out the route on bikepacking.com. There is a link to a folder containing the GPX of the route, waypoints, and other important information. I recommend joining the Facebook group, where folks share information in real time, such as recently-built fences, restaurant recommendations, dried up wells, or locked gates. It’s also nice to connect with others who might be on the route when you are. There are sections that require you to carry ample water, so pack accordingly. The route is rugged and remote, so take spare parts, and be well-versed in fixing flats, or other mechanical issues particular to your bike. I would not recommend doing this route on tires with tubes or on a gravel bike, due to all the thorns, cactus, and sand. I pulled dozens of thorns out of my wide, tubeless tires, and never got a flat. There is ample information on the website about which bike is best to take, but I recommend one with as wide of tires as you can get, close to 3”. A hardtail with bikepacking bags is ideal, but that might not be an option for you (It was not an option for me, since I had a lot of pavement miles after this section). I had a rigid Salsa Fargo which handled great, though the weight of my panniers sometimes pulled in unexpected directions on rough, rocky sections. The more weight you can have up front, and the closer you can put it to your frame, the better. Take a plant field guide if you can! The Baja Plant Field Guide by Rebman and Roberts is fabulous.

Botany from a Bike

The post Plants of Baja: from A to Z appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Epic Planning

Hollie Ernest — Mon, 16 Jan 2023 16:31:00 +0000

My boss’s thick white mustache twitched nervously under fluorescent lights in the tiny office. Outside, the stars still shone bright in a navy blue sky of frozen predawn. I told him I was quitting after two years with the company, to bicycle around the world. His eyes widened. He was known for being very dedicated, and worked for the same timber company for 40 years. Sweat emanated from my armpits on that frigid December day, and I was sure he would call me crazy and yell at me to get out of his office. Instead, he shocked me by saying, “Wow, that sounds wonderful. You know, you should do this now, while you’re young, don’t wait to retire like me. Send us a postcard.”

Everyone is capable of going on an epic adventure. I am neither brave nor strong, yet here I am, having traveled through 15 countries and many regions in the U.S. on various trips. I am just a normal person. I still get scared sleeping in my tent alone, and have embarrassingly little upper body strength. You do not need anything special to embark on an epic adventure, just the desire and drive to do so.

People often tell me that they want to do a big bike tour, but they do not have enough time. Or enough money. Or they have children. Or their significant other/spouse does not ride bikes. Or they can’t leave their jobs. Or they’re too old. But! There is always a way. People bike tour with kids, or follow animal migrations, travel on a shoestring, or take envelope-pushing weekend trips in order to meet other obligations.

Tom Phillips crests the Portachuelo de Llanganuco pass in the Cordillera Blanca of Peru.

Hollie Ernest

I am about to re-embark on a Round-The-World bicycle tour that I began in 2019. After 14 months on the road, a pandemic-induced disruption has kept me and so many others at home since March 2020. ("COVID Cutoff: An Unexpected Hiatus." Adventure Cyclist Magazine, June 2020). It is finally time to start again. I’ll be gone for another two to three years. Despite being a planner, there have been many sleepless nights, the hamsters of my mind running on wheels of endless to-do lists. There are important things that I’ve somehow forgotten to do (get new tires), and things that are completely arbitrary (repainting the bathroom). But just like everything else in life, we can prioritize and break it all down into manageable chunks. I remind myself of this with deep breaths at all hours of the day and night. But how did I get to this enviable spot, in the final stages of planning and departing to travel for so long? More importantly, how can YOU find a way to plan your own epic bicycle adventure?

Time

Time is the base of our planning pyramid, because it defines where we go and how we go. It is also a precious commodity we can never get back, and it is slipping through our hands every day. First, figure out when you can take time off work, and how much time. Don’t pick a place and then say, “I can never bike tour in Canada because I only have time off in the winter. Poor me!” Use your time off to guide the rest of your decisions. Look at your chunk of time – hopefully months – and guard it. Write it in your calendar. Talk to your boss about it.

Conversely, decide if you want to take a pause in your career. This worked out well for me, and sometimes this is easier to do in the beginning of your career than later. People also switch companies all the time, so if you think of it as a pause between jobs, it is much less daunting. Many companies will see your diverse travel experiences as a plus, and you can resume your career when you return. If you are older, maybe an early retirement is in the cards. Ask yourself, “Do I want to adventure or not?” Take the necessary steps in life to make it happen.

If you have children, how long can you be apart from them? Or can you take them with you? How long will your significant other let you leave and still welcome you back? The more time you have the better, since we are indeed talking big adventures here!

All smiles at the base of Cotopaxi volcano in Ecuador, on the Trans Ecuador Mountain Bike Route (TEMBR).

Hollie Ernest

Once you know how much time you have and what part of the year it falls in, then look at the seasons. Is it summer or winter in the northern hemisphere? Unless you’re a masochist, time off in winter might rule out much of the U.S. But years ago, a friend and I worked in bike shops and couldn’t take time off until October, so we rode the Southern Tier Bicycle Route and had a ball. It snowed on us in Arizona, and it was beautiful. Bike touring in the southern states of the U.S., Central America, Baja, and Mexico are also options for the winter. If you’re up for off-road cycling, bikepacking.com contains a plethora of resources for routes all over the globe. Go BIG! It’s never the perfect time, so just go. If you have ample funds for a plane ticket, think about the Southern Hemisphere. You can also sign up for a newsletters that notifies you of cheap flights (Pomelo, Scott’s).

It is surprising how quickly you can narrow your scope when you simply ask, “When can I be gone for the most amount of time?” then, “Where can I go?”, and finally asking “where do I want to go?” Think about your other parameters thirdly. Do you want desolate dirt roads? Museums? Good food? Good art? Jungles or deserts?

If you don’t have unlimited time, decide if you want to cover a lot of ground quickly, weaving in some type 2 fun, or if you want to relax and pedal leisurely. That will help you narrow down the route and location. What can you do in 2-3 weeks?

Circumnavigate a peninsula in Costa Rica? Bike as fast as possible along the Northern Tier and take a bus home? Choose a reasonable amount of miles to cover, and have a bailout plan (bus, train, hitch hike) in case you can’t make it due to some unforeseeable delay (rainstorm, illness, one million flat tires).

Money

For many of us, our budget will act like a seesaw with our time. If money is your limiting factor, figure out how many weeks or months or years you can stretch your funds. This will depend on where you are going, and what level of discomfort you are willing to endure. I prefer to sleep outside and eat beans and rice (or whatever the cheapest thing to eat is where I am), in order to be gone as long as possible. But if you want to sleep in hotels every night, your money will not stretch as far. Money can inform your destination choice; some places are cheaper (Colombia, Guatemala) than others (Switzerland, Norway).

Finalizing details.

Hollie Ernest

If you have indeed quit your job and have somewhat unlimited time, you are really able to fling yourself out there. Congratulations. Plane tickets will obviously cut into your budget, but this new locale may have noodles for $1, so things might balance out. A lot of solid adventures can be had with less than what we spend on housing each month, or every couple of months – around $1500 can get you rather far. There are certainly people out there who are better qualified to advise you on how to strategically save money, and probably have spreadsheets to make things more complicated than they need to be. But my advice is: pare down, and don’t buy things. Every time I decide to not buy something I want (a concert ticket, a fancy coffee, a cool dress), I consciously think about how long that money will last me on a trip, especially in another country with a favorable exchange rate. Do I want the dress or do I want the adventure? I want the adventure. And if you’ve read this far, you do too.

Loved Ones

If your limiting factor is other people (kids and partners)

Kids

If you’re going solo, talk with whoever is taking care of your kids while you’re gone, and come to an agreement on the number of days you’ll be gone. While cycling in Patagonia, I met a French woman who sent videos or skyped with her 8-yr-old daughter every day. She said they were quite close and her daughter loved following the adventure. You don’t have to be unavailable just because you’re not physically there. A touring musician I met said she could only be gone for two weeks, or else she missed the smell of her two-year-old, and felt she missed too much of his growth. There is an old adage that says, “Kids don’t listen to what you say, but they watch everything you do.” I believe that by going on big adventures, we are empowering our kids to do the same.

I have been overwhelmingly impressed by stories of folks taking their kids on trips. By showing their kids a different way of life, they are opening them up to so much. The group might pedal 20 miles a day then play frisbee for the afternoon. They modify miles and itineraries to fit the kids’ needs, while maintaining the status of Epic Adventure for everyone. Some tote toddlers in trailers on Rails-to-Trails routes, while others take kids on tandems. There are plenty of resources to help plan a trip involving kiddos: from Adventure Cyclist, from Outside Magazine, and from REI. There are also many blogs about traveling with kids.

On the windy Tres Volcanoes route in the Ecuador highlands. I made friends with Matt ad Madeline.

Hollie Ernest

Spouses/Significant Others

This seems to mostly fall into three categories, and Alastair Humphreys’ book, Grand Adventures, helped me dissect these situations before my own departure(s). Hats off to Humphreys, who has given many of us, including myself, the extra push to chase our dreams, especially the big ones.

Situation 1: They can and want to go with you.

Hooray! Make sure they know what to expect, so there’s no tears in the rain.

Plan accordingly, and discuss time, money, and acceptable levels of comfort/discomfort to make sure you’re on the same page. The longer the trip, the more important planning together is.
Travel can be stressful on relationships, so make sure your communication is good and both of you are equally contributing to the trip, so one does not feel like they are dragging the other along, or vice versa. Be flexible and open to compromise. Discuss what might go wrong, and how you will deal with it.
A little alone time can help maintain the relationship (and sanity for my fellow introverts). Bring all the patience you can muster, because you will get annoyed with each other at some point, and that is okay. You might want to do different things when you reach a town, and that could be a good time to give each other space.

Situation 2: They can’t go with you, but are supportive.

Also hooray, with the most honeymoon-like, cuddly reunion. This was the case with me and my husband. I left before our first wedding anniversary, and he was my number one cheerleader. In fact, he still is!

Plan how you will communicate while you’re gone, and talk about what fears or worries they might have. Try your best to alleviate these concerns.
Test out your chosen method of communication (SPOT device, Whatsapp, etc.).
Give your family your tentative itinerary, and show them the other people who are doing this ‘crazy’ thing. When I left for my round-the-world trip, I set up an Instagram account for my mom and inundated her and my sister with posts and accounts of other women traveling solo. It worked! They no longer think I am completely nuts.

Situation 3: They don’t want to go, and they don’t want you to go.

Ask why they don’t want you to go, and see if you can compromise on these aspects. Is it the time, the money, the chores or childcare they will be left to tackle solo? Are you going with an attractive travel companion? Do they think it is too dangerous? Is it too dangerous? See if you can talk it out and alleviate their concerns. Can you hire help for children or housework? Can you get a friend or relative to help? Maybe your partner is saying now is not the time to go, especially if you have small children. Keep planning though, because “not now,” is not the same as “not ever.” I planned for seven years for my long tour, mainly because I needed to finish a masters degree then save up money, which took a long time. Hold fast to the dream!

If your partner is worried about the danger, remind them that most of the time, people perceive unknown situations to be much more dangerous than they actually are. Gather evidence and make your case for your location. (If you can’t, that might be a sign you should choose a different place.) When I cycled through Mexico and Central America, I checked in as often as possible with my husband, and stayed in more hotels instead of camping. It wasn’t always what I wanted to do, but it put him at ease, and that was important to me. Sometimes our lives are not only our own, and we need to consider our parents, partners, friends, and kids. These considerations might alter our adventures, but it doesn’t have to end them.

Lists and Plans

Checklist

Hollie Ernest

Make a massive to-do list on a poster board or butcher paper. Share this with a friend who might have helpful suggestions. Then make a smaller one with the things that actually, really do have to get done before you leave. Prioritize the shorter list. Accept that you will not get everything on the list done, but prioritize what’s necessary. Some important things are type 2 fun (not fun to do, but once on the road, you’ll be glad you did them).

Make all bills/house payments/kids allowances automatic. Streamline your finances so that you can meet your obligations without futzing around with online banking while you’re gone. Have one account responsible for bills, etc. and leave that card at home if you can. This way, if a card gets stolen or hacked while you’re traveling, you’ll have less to reset. Divide your traveling spending money into a few accounts, and set up some automatic transfers. This might sound like a headache now, but it’s much less work than dealing with a replacement card somewhere remote where you don’t speak the language. Use one main card while you’re gone, and hide 1-2 others in hidden pannier pockets.

Get your gear list together. This can be very fun! If you need to buy gear, look at eBay and Craigslist often, because new things pop up every day. I have found a good amount of quality, barely-used things through these sites. This relates to the money part – be thrifty. Don’t postpone your trip because you spent too much on gear. It’s better to go with what you already have than not go at all.

Nuts and Bolts

Calculate mileage, days needed, and rest days. Try not to be overly ambitious, and remember to enjoy yourself. If you can, don’t worry about your return trip. Just go. If you really must be back by a certain date, have a back up plan in case things go awry, and discuss this backup plan with loved ones.

Get a book or several from the library or bookstore, and read about the places you’ll be going. Learn about the culture and the food. Don’t just read the news, because that really should be titled, “bad stuff that happened today.” Instead, talk to people who have been there before, especially on bikes. Look at other people’s routes and do the same route, or alter it and make your own. Study maps, because it is quite fun. Ask questions, and reach out to friends of friends who might live there.

Finally, Pack your bags, and go now. Go far. Do not wait for something to happen to you, or for the ‘right time’ to magically appear. Let 2023 be the year you grab life by the horns and hop on. Then come back and tell us all about it.

This Winter, Plan Your Dream Bike Trip

The post Epic Planning appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Pee in Style

Hollie Ernest — Tue, 13 Dec 2022 12:07:00 +0000

Twelve years ago, I worked in a bike shop with all men and raced mountain bikes on a team with only three other females. My fellow women racers were wonderful riding partners, but my work schedule usually matched the boys’, so I rode with them. Morning rides before work and weekend trips to races were my life. Bikes, bikes, bikes, all day every day. Me and the boys. They were a great group for the most part, cheering me on at races, helping me get tougher and faster on the mountain bike. When they jokingly told me about a funnel type thing made for women to be able to pee standing up, I was offended. I didn’t even look into it. “I’ll pee how I pee, thank you very much.” I thought, Just because I’m ‘one of the guys’ doesn’t mean I want to pee like a guy.

Fast forward to November 2021, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. It was 20°F, and the sun was setting fast, the cold sinking into my bones, slithering between my skin and my clothes. My all-female work crew was camping for 10 days, working on a forestry project measuring trees. The weather forecast called for more freezing temperatures, rain, and possibly snow. As we were considering starting a fire, my coworker and longtime friend Claire handed me a ‘present’ wrapped in cloth. It wasn’t Christmas or my birthday. I hesitantly unraveled the cloth to find an odd-shaped plastic thing.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s a pStyle! So you can pee without having to take off all your warm clothes and rain gear! Because you are so cold-natured! I got myself one too.”

Skeptical, I tucked it away while smiling politely, wondering if it would fit in my vest pocket along with a thermos of tea.

The next day, I used my pStyle for the first time, wearing long underwear, bib overalls, bib rain gear, wool sweater, thick rain jacket, and forestry vest. I peed standing up, it was smooth and easy, and my worries that I would get urine everywhere proved to be unfounded. Best of all, I didn’t have to freeze my butt off, huddled behind a huckleberry bush, getting rained on. It doesn’t have to be about peeing like a guy unless you want it to be. For me, it was about peeing standing up and remaining comfortable. I yelled out, “Claire! This thing is awesome!”

No undressing and freezing with the pStyle.

Hollie Ernest

According to their website, the pStyle is a Personal Urination Device (PUD) that “allows women, nonbinary folks, and trans men to stand and pee while fully clothed.” The design is simple: it’s about the size of a stapler and weighs only 0.8 ounces. It’s made of rigid plastic, and now there’s one made of recycled ocean plastic! Even with my stiff, thick rain gear, it was easy to move it into position, and the funnel is shaped so it’s easy to direct the pee away from you. The rounded edge acts like a squeegee, meaning that there are no drips. This was impressive to me; after 10 days in the backcountry, there were no mild pee-like smells on leggings or underwear.

I used it that whole winter on all our work trips, without having to remove my double layers of overalls or any other layers. I then started taking it on camping trips and cycling trips. When it fell out of my pocket somewhere in a swath of steep creek drainages, I immediately ordered a new one from my phone, right there in the woods. I knew it was now a crucial piece of gear for me.

Just for fun, I looked into who else uses pStyles. The list is long. Not only people in the woods with a ridiculous amount of clothes on like me, but people anywhere who want to pee without removing a backpack, a climbing harness, chaps, or waders. A researcher in Antarctica, people on a salmon fishing boat, a rope-access welder, and those with physical restrictions that make squatting difficult. And now I’ll add traveling cyclists to the list.

pStyle is fairly small and compact.

Hollie Ernest

They are easy to clean, and with a good shake, most of the urine simply comes off. You can rinse it with water and wait to wash it with soap and water when convenient. They are also dishwasher safe. There are custom carrying cases sold from the website, but you can carry yours in any small bag, preferably with Velcro.

Now pStyles come in a rainbow of colors, and a range of skin tone shades too. At only $12 each, I highly recommend adding this to your packing list for your next bike tour. With the holidays around the corner, go ahead and get one for a friend too.

The post Pee in Style appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

In the Shadow of Mount Shasta

Hollie Ernest — Thu, 10 Nov 2022 12:54:45 +0000

Every year in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I waffle on whether to host a meal with friends or take off on an adventure. I’ve done both and enjoyed both immensely, but somehow, every year I seesaw on what to do with my all-too-precious days off work.

Back in 2016, I had another set of days off, this time in the summer. I emphatically decided I would take my then-boyfriend Tom on his first-ever bike tour. He had ridden and raced road bikes and mountain bikes for years but had never traveled by bike. To top it off, he was about to turn 50 years old, and he said it was something he had always wanted to do. I helped him pack and decided I would oversee food. I would ride my classic four-pannier setup on a Surly Long-Haul Trucker, and he insisted on pulling a BOB trailer with suspension behind an aluminum touring bike he had just bought.

We came up with a loose route on a paper map, covering about 180 miles in five days. Still ignorant of the ease of digital maps, our AAA map left a lot of detail to be desired and was about 10 years out of date. Instead of finding a better map, I focused on cleaning out the fridge to bring everything that might go bad while we were gone. I packed more food and more produce than usual, and it would be a fortuitous decision.

Waking up at dawn, we loaded quickly and drove four hours from our house on the North Coast of California to Mount Shasta, an idyllic mountain town at the base of its namesake. We parked my hatchback at a friend’s house and took off on our kidney-bean shaped loop to the east, through the ancestral lands of the Shasta Tribe, toward the ancestral lands of the Modoc and Achomawi Tribes. Bumbling our way out of town, we ended up on Highway 89, the only road that connected. Its high-speed traffic was terrifying, but I saw no other option. I could tell Tom was nervous. I shakily promised him it wouldn’t always be like this. But in truth, I had no idea what the road conditions would be like. Gravel? Paved? Dirt?

Pines give way to sagebrush.

Tom Phillips

From Highway 89, we went north on a road labeled Modoc Volcanic Scenic Byway. Scenic meant fewer cars. Fewer cars meant fabulous. Over the next four days, the route would weave east and around, across several large and small watersheds and through multiple ecosystems to bring us back to where we had started.

As we pedaled on the scenic road, the familiar butterscotch smell of Jeffrey pine trees welcomed us, and the whole landscape seemed to sigh with relief. The curious deer faces replaced the stressful shhhhhhhh vrroooshhhh of the traffic, and our shoulders relaxed from their hunched, tense positions. Turkey vultures soared above us. That first night, we camped at the edge of a picturesque meadow within the Shasta-Trinity National Forest. Mount Shasta was to the west now, and after a long day full of logistics, we felt like we had made progress and found a rhythm.

The second morning, long hard climbs on pavement through rows of pines led us up to Medicine Lake Volcano, which sits just under 7,000 feet. Medicine Lake at the top is a caldera, a bowl-like depression that formed after many volcanic eruptions. I tried to imagine the hidden magma chambers below me emptying, and the surrounding rock slowly caving in over the years. The volcano has been active for over 500,000 years, plenty of time to enlarge Medicine Lake with many small eruptions. As it sits now, the lake is about four miles across and seven and a half miles lengthwise.

Sweaty from the long climb, I immediately stripped and dove into the clear water, just as a dark rain cloud and cold wind capped the lake and surrounding peaks like a lid. My hands immediately went numb, and I felt foolish, barely able to feed myself the lunch we had been greatly anticipating: a smorgasbord of berries, cucumbers, sardines, and cheese and crackers. In the meantime, Tom struggled with a flat tire caused by a defective rim strip. The sun came out, Tom improvised a fix, and we were off.

From the high lake, a long descent went by all too quickly. Expansive, sweeping views stretched from one ridge to the next as the ecosystem changed from high elevation pines to woody shrubs and rock. The gray-green sagebrush was clumped between swathes of black volcanic rubble, and we went through the edge of the Modoc National Forest. Tionesta was a tiny, semi-abandoned town reminiscent of Wild West movies, with a prefabricated shed as a store. However, the “store” catered to the nearby campground and sold mainly marshmallows and pancake mix, of which I stubbornly declined to buy.

Rough roads indeed.

Tom Phillips

I was still getting to know my new travel companion and readily accepted his overly optimistic reassurances. “There has to be another store on the route!” he said. Swept up in his false optimism, I thought, Sure, I bet we will find some canned goods somewhere. That night we rode until near sunset and set up camp just outside Lava Beds National Monument. Dehydrated beans with peppers made for a good-enough dinner for us, while bats swooped around us for their dinner of insects. Small hares frolicked between bushes, and I checked our food inventory. I tend to overpack food for trips, and since I had cleaned out the fridge, this time was extra extra. However, I had not planned on being gone for five days with no resupply. I calculated that we had enough for another two days. But I didn’t say anything.

The morning spread soft sunlight on the scrubby desert plants surrounding our tent. Sagebrush, bitterbrush, rabbitbrush, and juniper scratched at our calves as we packed up and started to sweat in the dry summer morning. Around noon, just as the day started to become unbearably hot, we stumbled upon the underground lava tubes the area is known for. We descended into the cool dark — nature’s air conditioning and a welcome relief from the harsh heat outside. There were several spots lit up with informational signs, and we learned that the lava tubes are part of an expansive, connected network.

Local knowledge of this web was key to the Modoc Tribe’s ability to evade and hold off the U.S. Army during the Modoc War in the 1870s, when a band of tribe members returned to their ancestral lands after being forced onto a reservation in Oregon. A band of 60 Modoc warriors fought for over a year for their right to remain in the Lost River area, holding off up to 600 U.S. troops. However, their request for a reservation on their homeland was denied and defeat came cruelly, as with so many other tribal histories.

Continuing north on our loop, we realized we would return to the car “too early,” because our original route was “too easy,” continuing on paved and possibly high-traffic roads. Together, we studied the map for alternatives. There were dotted lines representing roads that seemed to connect and take us deeper into the wilderness. Let’s do it, we agreed. Three huge bucks suddenly appeared out of the brush, surely a good omen.

The dotted lines turned out to represent not roads but barely there sandy tracks. It was a full-on adventure now. For hours, we crossed what we now know as the land of the Modoc and the Achomawi. Up and over low hills we pedaled, matted grass slowly replacing the sagebrush and rock. Gravediggers Pass, an encouraging name, came and went. We perched on the side of a cowpie-covered dirt road, studying the map, unsure of our exact location. Cell service was zilch. We smiled and laughed and grunted when we had to walk. Occasionally we fell off our bikes into the sand.

After the novelty of our new route wore off, my mind got stuck on the idea of a cold Coca Cola, and I just stared at the grassy, untraveled road beneath my front wheel. When the remote road intersected a paved road without cars, we could solidly orient ourselves on the map. Joyous to know where we were again, I did a little dance in my spandex. The town of Tennant lay 15 more miles down the road, and we were sure they would have a store.

The route turned to sandy two track.

Tom Phillips

Tennant is an abandoned logging town where the only store had either just closed or closed a long time ago; it was hard to tell. It had a somewhat creepy vibe to it, but we camped by the creek anyway, now rationing lentils and sardines. From Tennant, gravel Forest Service roads led us around, up, and over the eastern flanks of Mount Shasta. A thick fog rolled in and socked in what I had thought would be great views. By late afternoon, I was riding ahead of Tom when I came to a recently installed Road Closed sign. Our last fork in the road (i.e., possible detour), had been about 15 miles before this sign.

Thirty feet beyond the sign, there was a gaping hole where the road was supposed to cross the muddy, deep, and fast-flowing water.

We later learned that the road had been swept away by a massive debris flow in 2014, when the tip of a glacier on Mount Shasta broke off. Our options were limited. For half an hour, we paced up and down the stream, trying to find a safe place to cross. I pointed out the small waterfall downstream that was obviously dangerous if either of us fell. We decided to take the bags off the bikes and portage the gear, then ourselves. I would portage gear to the middle of the raging creek, then Tom would take it to the far bank. Adrenaline was high, the water was freezing, and the current was fast. We worked out an emergency rescue plan for one or the other, like we had been thinking it up all along. I put my hiking sandals on, and we did it, heart racing, mind alert for any hazards floating towards us.

We sprawled out on the far side when our mini mission was complete, relieved. A few more miles past the debris flow, we set up camp on a patch of U.S. Forest Service land, in an area where ownership lies in a checkerboard pattern, interspersed with a private timber company. The drizzle continued, and we set up camp too near to a ground-nesting bird. She feigned injury to try and lure us away from her nest, so we calmly moved our cooking setup away from her. She still chirped and stared at us, but eventually relaxed and fed her young as we prepared our dinner. For our last supper, we rationed the last of our dried lentils, supplemented by spoonfuls of peanut butter. We talked about how we could imagine bike touring for a long time and were not ready to go home yet, though we were ready for a decent meal. We had one more granola bar each and several spoonfuls of peanut butter for our final ride the next day. As Tom and I rode into town, we connected to the community forest trails and ran into people walking their poodles, abruptly welcoming us back to modernity. We asked directions to a diner, sat down, and ordered two entrees each.

If you do choose to use the upcoming holiday as an opportunity for adventure, I recommend overpacking food, especially given the nature of Thanksgiving and the nature of bicycle travel. Also, given the nature of Thanksgiving, I recommend taking the time to research the ancestral lands that you travel through. Get to know the history and make a donation. You can read more about the Modoc Tribe’s history here, more about the Achomawi Tribe here, and more about the Shasta Tribe here.

Nuts and Bolts

While I would in no way recommend following it exactly, here is a Ride with GPS map of our approximate route that I put together after the trip.

The area we visited is in north-central and northeast California, east of Mount Shasta and north of Redding. The area is best accessed from the north or south on Interstate 5. Parts of the region are within the Shasta-Trinity National Forest, which stretches from the Inner Coastal Mountains to the southeastern Klamath Mountains. There is interesting geology, challenging terrain, and open landscapes throughout the approximate two million acres of the National Forest, which includes several wilderness areas (where bikes are not allowed on trails). Many bike routes could be created through this area! There are a variety of recreation opportunities like boating, fishing, climbing, and mountain biking, in case you want to incorporate other modes of exploration into your bike adventure.

Camping

Dispersed camping is allowed outside of developed sites unless otherwise posted. You can see more details here. The Lava Beds Visitor Center is closed as of November 6, 2022, due to a lack of water. For up-to-date information about Lava Beds National Monument, visit their National Park Service page.

Weather

Weather and temperatures can vary greatly throughout the months, even more so with elevation. At lower elevations, winters are somewhat mild, ranging from 30°F to 40–50°F, and summers can be hot, getting in the high 90s and sometimes 100°F in the day, and cooling off to the 70s at night. Rain or snow occurs more in the winter (November–March), and the summers stay dry (May–October). The higher elevations are much cooler in all seasons, just like most places. High elevation can get cold and wet even in summer, so come prepared!

For a more detailed weather forecast within the region, click here.

When to Go

The ideal time to camp is May to October, before winter storms start. There are campgrounds that accept reservations, and others are first come, first served. Most campgrounds fill quickly during summer holiday weekends. To see a listing of campgrounds across the forest and their locations on a map, click here and scroll to the bottom.

Trail and road conditions change depending on the season, and a few places get sticky with mud after spring rains. As always, be mindful of hunting season, prescribed burns, and wildfires in late summer. For up-to-date information, call or check the USFS website. Happy cycling!

The post In the Shadow of Mount Shasta appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Botany from the Bike

Hollie Ernest — Mon, 10 Oct 2022 10:41:00 +0000

Despite the heat waves and wildfires smoldering across the country into September, fall is approaching. This past weekend, I found myself shocked to see strips of yellow and orange maple leaves in the middle of still-green leaves while riding in Oregon, a few hundred miles north of where I live. I felt both, “How dare they?! I am NOT done with summer,” and in disbelief, because it is still quite warm outside. Where did the long evening rides go? The ones where you feel like a kid, riding until dark, eating a late dinner, and waking up early only to do it all again the next day? Well, they happened, but something about summer’s warmth made me think it would last forever. Regardless, the leaves will continue to change colors on cue from the diminishing daylight, no matter how I feel about it.

As sunset moves from the dawdling hours of 8:00 or 9:00 PM to something more restrained like 7:00, then 6:00 PM, the swollen, distended days of summer fade away with the fireflies and the warm nights. Sunrise no longer wakes us at the ungodly hour of 5:00 AM, and instead, 6:00 AM still brings stargazing and owl hoots. These shorter days remind me of a button-up shirt or a svelte bicycle. There’s something signaling that the chaotic fun, ice cream cones, and heat of summer are over, and that it’s time to prepare for more serious months, with more time spent inside. Likewise, the shorter days send trees the same signal, and they prepare themselves accordingly. Less light and warmth means less food for the trees, since sunlight and water form the basis of a tree’s sugar diet. All spring and summer, chlorophyll, a natural chemical inside the leaves, transforms sunlight and water into sugar. Chlorophyll is also what makes leaves green.

A few weeks after my initial shock of the ensuing season, a ride through a local valley had me pedaling through a tunnel of yellow, as if I was swaddled in baby chick feathers with sunlight streaming through. The delight traveled from my eyelashes to my legs as I cycled through undulating hills, suddenly wishing for everyone on earth to have this feeling — the experience of being in absolute awe of nature’s splendor, seemingly for our enjoyment. As I cruised through the tunnel of yellow maple leaves, I realized that even though I love the heat of summer, that doesn’t mean I have to trade allegiance once fall arrives. The colors are a gift, swathes of glorious gold and amber across hillsides and down streets. Or maybe, if you bike tour through an area dominated by conifers, the aureolin brilliance is a flash in the pan, a bright relief from an otherwise monotonous green landscape.

Riding through nature’s splendor

Alyssa Troia

Once the leaves get their cue from the shorter days, it is time to stop photosynthesizing and close the sugar-making shop for winter, sort of the opposite of Santa’s workshop. A tree then absorbs as many nutrients as it can from its leaves, and only residues of chlorophyll remain. As the amount of chlorophyll wanes, orange and yellow pigments that were always present are revealed, since they are no longer covered up by the abundance of green. The hues of yellow, orange, and red vary depending on the mixture of these pigments and the amount of leftover chlorophyll. I like to imagine a microscopic ant artist inside each leaf, mixing a palate of leftover chlorophyll and other pigments, saying, “Ah! This is all I have to work with — better make it as brilliant as possible! Laa-dee-dah.”

As you have likely noticed, not all species turn the same color, and some are more prone to certain parts of the color wheel, just like some artists, and some cyclists, tend toward a certain style of riding, dressing, traveling. Sugar maples tend toward orange, red maples turn scarlet, big leaf maples turn bright yellow. Oaks tend toward brown and sometimes red. Hickory and aspen turn a gilded yellow. The little aspen leaf stem (also called a petiole) is flat, allowing it to swivel around even in the tiniest breeze. The Latin name for aspens is Populus tremuloides, reflecting this trembling or waving. I like to think the yellow aspens are cheering me on like spirit fingers, and I wave back. But I digress.

Temperature and rainfall also influence the degree and the duration of fall color.

Daniel Mrgan

For dogwoods and sumacs, an additional chemical reaction takes place — some sugars get trapped in the leaf and produce a red pigment that was not there in the growing season. Imagine a little sugar saying, “Help me! I can’t get out of this leaf! Oh well, I guess I’ll make red.” The pigment is called anthocyanin, and makes the leaves redder, or even red-purple. Temperature and rainfall also influence the degree and the duration of fall color. Low temperatures above freezing will encourage anthocyanin production, resulting in brighter reds. But an early frost can hinder the brilliant red color.

After the tree sucks the nutrients out of the leaves, it starts building a protective seal between its branch and leaves to minimize the loss of resources during the cold months. It is preparing for hibernation, similar to how we don ear warmers, long sleeves, and wool buffs for autumnal rides. With a few exceptions for trees that hang onto their brown leaves through winter, once the leaf is completely sealed off from the branch, it falls to the ground. The trees will feed off nutrients they stored in their trunks, much like we live off the sunny bike rides and memories of summer to get us through the winter. Like the trees, we know that temperatures will warm up again. We just adapt to riding in the fall and winter; then we, like the trees, will begin the cycle — and to cycle — once again.

The post Botany from the Bike appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

The Little General

Hollie Ernest — Mon, 12 Sep 2022 13:58:00 +0000

When I told my mom I was cycling across the U.S. at the age of 24 and that I planned to go solo, she started crying and then got a little mad. My dad just cried and sighed. It seems like a lot of riders get a similar reaction from their parents. To those of you who have parents or kids who are more understanding because they also bike tour: lucky you.

When a friend decided to join me on my cross-country trip, my mom cheered up and called him “an angel.” I didn’t feel like he was an angel when he got drunk and threw up in our tent one night, but that’s another story. I think my mom wanted me to have monogrammed towels, china sets, or a house that looks like a magazine. In her eyes, a “normal life.” Instead, I have lived in shacks, trailers, closets, my car, and my tent.

My mom’s Lebanese heritage gave me my wild-as-hell curly hair. I wake up looking like Medusa. Some people have parents who look like them, and others don’t. Some folks have two dads, two moms, a grandparent, or a chosen family of friends and mentors, which I also have. The thing, to me, that really makes a family is not blood or even history — it’s when you know someone’s got your back. They call you whether you are having great successes or if you’re down on your luck and need a $100 loan. That’s family: the people who support each other through good and bad, despite their particular mix of similarities and differences. Families of all shapes and colors are beautiful, but most seem to have the same, or similar, misgivings about those they love flinging themselves into the unknowns of bike travel.

As a kid, I played all the sports and still do. In contrast, my mother’s main sport is being an incredible chef, cooking food for anyone and everyone, and being a nanny, which requires real muscle. My mom, Teresa, has incredible style, an outfit for every occasion, and bins labeled “blue and green scarves,” not to be confused with the bin of “orange and red scarves.” She is feisty, opinionated, and claims from her five-foot two-inch petite frame, “I am not bossy. I just have the best ideas.”

My mother’s main sport is making food for anyone and everyone and ensuring her huge hats match her purses and shoes.

Hollie Ernest

Without a car in college, I cycled everywhere, and Teresa told me, “Do not bike at night.”

“I have lights,” I said. She persisted until I said, “Okay, I’ll try not to?”

I was 21 and continued to bike everywhere at night, the best time to ride in the eastern Tennessee summers. When I got into mountain bike racing after college, she asked me if it was dangerous. I mentally tallied the friends who had recently broken their collarbones, swallowed my breath and replied, “No, Mom. It’s totally safe. I always wear a helmet.”

“Oh, good,” she uttered with relief.

Fast forward 10 years, and my mom has slowly, haltingly, sort of accepted that I am not going to have matching dishware. Her acceptance first took the form of a calm resignation coupled with frequent prayers for my safety, then later it morphed into something more. When I left to cycle around the world in the winter of 2019, the only truly reassuring words I could give my tearful parents were that I would make good decisions. They stared at me with uptight faces that looked like they had just drank lemon juice. Then I blurted out, “You can come visit me somewhere! You can pick the place!” and their faces relaxed. I didn’t think they actually would — the expense and time off work may or may not be possible — but the idea set them at ease.

The next thing I knew, my mom and sister were meeting me in Costa Rica. Because my mom has nine siblings, she can’t triangulate her position in the world without at least a few of them; Teresa doesn’t do things in normal numbers and still thinks 20 people is a “small group.” She is the eighth of 10, and takes charge in a way that has earned her the title, “Little General.” So she and my sister, three of my aunts, and two of my cousins were all en route to Costa Rica. True to form, they chose an upscale resort where I was utterly out of place with my crisp cycling tan lines and eco-conscious concerns. Couples on their honeymoon drank Mai Tais at the pool bar while our group of eight loud Lebanese women laughed so hard our stomachs hurt and shouted our conversations because the only volume my family operates at is loud and louder.

Mom had gone from “why can’t you stay put” to one of my biggest cheerleaders. She nearly knocked over a waiter in her rush to hug me tightly and said, “I know you are capable of this, but I missed you, and I prayed a lot.”

Hollie and her mom.

Hollie Ernest

She not only bragged to everyone at the resort about my travels but had apparently directed countless people back home to my blog and convinced others I was doing something sane, maybe even something to be celebrated. She had sent me talismans to protect me on my trip, and I showed her how I kept them in my handlebar bag. She had even started bragging to her book club. “Oh, your daughter has three kids and a good job? Well, mine is cycling in Central America!” Her pride is endearing, borderline embarrassing, and completely normal. At 35, I’m now a stepmom myself, and I perfectly understand her protective tendencies and prideful support. I am so proud of my 20-year-old stepdaughter I could burst. I boast about her endlessly. She really is incredibly awesome. The smartest! Most kind! Most athletic!

Some families have an easier time than others accepting each other for who they are. I love my mom, and we do not — do not — discuss politics. But when my aunts and uncles told me not to go on my trip and that I was wrong to leave my husband for so long, the Little General stepped in to defend me. Those who love us might not understand why we endure saddle sores and tired legs for the reward of sleeping on the ground and waking up at dawn. But they don’t have to understand. Adventure cycling almost always involves some version of pursuing dreams big or small, and most families can understand that. If they love hearing your stories (pro tip: keep the scary ones to yourself), seeing your photos, and start bragging about you to their gardening club/book club/drinking buddies, you know that they’ve got your back, and that’s what matters.

The post The Little General appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.