This Guy Loves To Party

I spent the month of August this year on a bicycle trip down the Pacific Coast.  Now I’m going to spend the next 30 minutes writing about it.  This write-up is intended for anyone interested in doing a bike tour themselves, since I found bike tour write-ups really helpful when I was preparing.

Sometime in March 2009, I came back to my apartment in Medellin, Colombia to find my good buddy and roommate, Derek, psyched about something.  “I’m riding my bike across the USA, dude,” he exclaimed amid frantic typing on his laptop.  “I ran across some guy’s web site about it and it sounds awesome.”

“Can I come?” I asked.

And thus was born The Tour de Force 2009: The Pacific Coast.

The back story

I’m generally in pretty good shape, but that shape was never a product of bicycling.  In fact, I had never biked more than about 5 miles at once in my life when I agreed to a bike trip across the United States.  Double fact, I didn’t even own a bike.

In our Medellin apartment that day, Derek and I quickly agreed to do some kind of cross-country bike trip before summer was over.  We would research the details of the trip shortly before leaving for the trip.  That way we had a rough plan of action, but wouldn’t psych ourselves out over the details for months before leaving.

Flash forward a little more than two months later, to early June.  Derek has just purchased a bike from craigslist for $350, and I’ve taken my dad’s extra mountain bike for a couple of 10 mile spins.  After a bit of research, we find that the best route for us, time-wise and health-wise, is the Pacific Coast route, from Vancouver, Canada to the Mexican border in San Diego, California.  We don’t set a specific date until mid-July, when we decide to just go for it and book plane tickets to Seattle 10 days away.

Preparation

This should help out anyone who’s looking to do a bike tour themselves and don’t know what it takes.

Like I said, I had never ridden a bike more than 5 miles at a time in my entire life.  I don’t think I had ridden a bike at all more than 10 times in the last 15 years of my life.

For about two months before leaving on my trip, I rode every other day for about 15 miles.  About three times I threw in a 30 mile ride, but I generally stuck to the shorter 15 mile trip.  The 30 mile ride was hard and I didn’t want to do it too much.

In late June, I sprained my ankle pretty badly playing basketball.  (My ankle was still pretty badly sprained throughout our trip, but it didn’t affect my riding at all.)  I didn’t ride at all for about a week and a half after that, and had to work up to my usual 15 mile rides over about an extra week or two.  This meant that, in the month before leaving for my trip, I wasn’t on my bike much at all.  I didn’t do a single 30 mile ride this month because of my injury and because I didn’t want to.

In other words, I wasn’t biking very much at all before our 2,000 mile trip.  Did my lack of preparation make the trip more difficult?  I don’t think so.

Gear

Amazing technology 40 years ago.

I didn’t want to spend a lot of money for this trip.  I found out my dad still had his old touring bike torn apart and in boxes, and a friend of his was willing to put it together and refurbish it a bit so I could ride it; this meant a nearly-free bike.  I should mention that when I say “old” touring bike, I mean “old as shit”.  It was originally built and purchased in 1969, and it still had most of its original parts.  When I pulled out its hideous, worn-out strapped pedals in front of Derek for the first time, he laughed and said, “Hey, the junk yard called.  It wants its pedals back.”  I responded with, “1998 called. It wants its cliche back.”  I think in reality I botched the delivery, though, plus my pedals were still crap, so Derek won that round.

My bike didn’t use clips, and I figured it was best to avoid installing clips and buying the proper shoes for them shortly before leaving.  I think my rationale behind this is that I didn’t want to spend more money.  My biking shoes ended up being a pair of Puma sneakers I bought in Colombia about six months before, and which about two weeks before leaving were my only pair of shoes.

Solid biking shoes.

Originally I stored all my stuff in a raggedy, dying red sack strapped to my bike’s racks with shoelace (I wish I was kidding), but after the shoelaces snapped and the bag broke a spoke in my back wheel, I decided it was time to invest in new panniers.  I went with the cheapest, smallest panniers they had at my local Performance Bikes, which were TransIt bags.

For camping, I had a Big Bertha insulated air mattress, an REI compact sleeping bag, and an old bivy shelter.  All three were chosen because they were small, compact, and either cheap or free for me to borrow from family.

Clothes-wise, I had two biking shirts — and just one after I lost one in a spill two thirds through the trip — that I alternated every day.  I wore some cheap “century” biking shorts with extra padding every single day that I picked up on sale.  When off the bike, I had one pair of thin pants and one Icebreaker shirt.  I also only had one pair of socks that I washed every night in sinks.  They were dress socks I stole from my dad’s closet that I think he originally got in a bulk pack for about three dollars; specialized bike socks are expensive and unnecessary, in my opinion.  Surprisingly, Derek reported I only really smelled bad on one day.  That’s the magic of good clothing selection and being me.

For water, I had a Camelbak that, as you may have guessed, I got on sale at a bike shop.

All our food was bought at grocery stores along the way, and I usually just bungy-corded extra food to the top of my rear rack.

That’s really all the gear I had.  Beyond that, I had my iPhone, a pair of headphones, and my digital camera which, I regret to say, was stolen just a week before our trip was up.

Both Derek and I packed very lightly.  Most people who saw us asked where the rest of our stuff was, since it all neatly fit in just two small rear panniers.  We often wanted to ask other cyclists — some with four or five large panniers filled with stuff — why they had so much.  We never did, though, because that seems passive aggressive and weird.

For Derek’s packing list, check out what he wrote up on his blog.

Lodging

I slept in the green mansion, Derek slept in the red cocoon

We stayed at state campgrounds every night.  Many camp sites have hiker/biker space, which does not require a reservation and costs less than $10.  Almost all of these sites had showers, too, usually costing about 50 cents for a little less than ten minutes.

The only exceptions were when we found ourselves in a town at the end of the day that didn’t have anywhere to camp nearby and a nice family ended up letting us camp on their lawn, and when we stayed with friends and family for two days in San Francisco.

Food

I ate it all in one sitting. You can see the passion on my face.

We had no cooking gear, and bought the majority of our food at supermarkets throughout the day.

I tried eating healthier on our first day — relying mostly on protein bars, fruits, almonds/almond butter, and other “smarter” choices — and felt like I was going to die.  By about the 40th mile, I was dizzy, had little energy, and by the last two hours of our day I had developed a horrible cough.  I really felt more physically ill and weak than I’d felt in years.  At first I thought it was maybe because I hadn’t prepared physically enough for the trip, and thought that my food choices weren’t the cause since I was getting enough calories.

But after we stopped at a supermarket near our campsite for the night, I caved and indulged in a big bag of candy corn, a couple sugary drinks, and some candy bars.  Literally within minutes I felt amazing and full of energy; just minutes before, we had been sitting outside the supermarket and passers-by had commented that I looked like I was about to die.  Fueled by crap food, I was rejuvenated and could have biked an extra few hours if the sun hadn’t been setting.

After this experience, I never looked back and I thrived off junk food the entire trip.  While I struggled to pull off about 50 miles on the first day, our second day was an effortless 80 miles thanks to my new diet.  I was probably getting in about 5,000 calories minimum a day, and most likely more normally.  Every day I put back three or four donuts, one or two cinnamon rolls, humongous 14″+ deli sandwiches, an assortment of fruits, a few peanut butter sandwiches, some kind of meat or other protein source, candy bars, and much more.

For the first two weeks of the trip, I lost weight while eating this way.  Derek and I learned that the secret to weight loss is simple: bike six to eight hours a day.  You can send me donations through PayPal for that tip.

I was dropping more money than I expected on food, though.  I probably spent about $30 a day or so to eat the way I was.  But I got to eat all kinds of foods I love and don’t normally get to eat without the hassle of putting on weight.  I’m sure my insides were dying, but I still looked great so I was ecstatic.

The pace

We finished the entire 2,000 mile trip in a little less than four weeks.  We averaged a bit over 80 miles a day, and had two “century” days, our highest mileage being about 120.

We took three days off to rest, one of which was forced on us due to broken bikes and closed bike shops.

I don’t know what our average pace was on the road, but we only ever got passed by one other bike tourer (tourist?), and often were moving faster than people just out for rides around the town.  We know how bad ass we are, and you don’t have to comment on it, but you can leave me PayPal donations in recognition of it.

The physical side of it

Yes I knew the dinosaur was there.

For the first week or so of the trip, my lower back was killing me.  It would get very sore very fast, and I had to stop to stretch (and crack) it every couple of miles.  After that first week, though, I adapted to it.

But then my focus was on my butt.  Man my butt was sore.  I adapted to the sore butt after about two and a half weeks.

Beyond that, I didn’t really have any discomforts.  Like I mentioned before, with hardly any biking experience under my belt, I was able to crank out at least 80 miles a day by the second day.  This meant we had to bike all day with maybe two and a half hours of rest interspersed throughout the day, but it was still done pretty comfortably.

Would I do it again?

I would do a trip like this again, and in fact will likely do a true across-the-USA trip in the near future.  It is the best way for me to justify a diet of donuts and cinnamon rolls.  I wish I were kidding about that but it is honestly one of the best motivators for me, especially the “fancy” cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting on top.  Absolutely fantastic.

I’m ready to hit the road again.

In the past couple weeks, I’ve run across some amazing airfare deals. I found a flight to Buenos Aires for $300 round trip and a number of flights to various Caribbean destinations for about $200 to $300 round trip.

But those didn’t really interest me. Actually, they really interested me, but I’ve been wanting to explore the United States a bit this summer.

So instead I’ve booked a plane ticket to Seattle for Monday, July 27. From there I’ll be meeting up with my good buddy Derek and heading to Vancouver, equipped with some camping gear and a road bike. From Vancouver, we’ll be biking about 1,900 miles down the Pacific Coast, through Washington, Oregon, and California, all the way to the Mexican border.

A rough idea of our route

Although we’re going to camp the whole way down, I’ll have a Dell Mini netbook with me and will be posting updates as I go, as will Derek. Coming soon, before we head out, will be my gear list.

In preparation, I’ve hardly biked more than 35 miles at a time over the past month and have taken one bike repair class, which happened to also be my first ever. Before deciding to do this, neither Derek nor I had ridden a bike more than twice in a few years. I haven’t camped outside in about 10 years.

This’ll be fun.

You can learn a new language at any point in life, and relatively fast.  Especially if the language is similar to your native tongue, you can be talking comfortably pretty fast.

Well, I’ve got a fire hot language learning tip for you today.  Do you want to drastically elongate your language learning time?  Develop horrible grammar, poor pronunciation, and embarrassing speaking skills?

Well, then you should avoid real language classes at all costs.

I spent about six months in Latin America trying to teach myself Spanish.  I never took classes, and instead opted for every self-learning course I could find.

And after six months, I could talk like a retarded four year old.  (I would say a regular four year old, but I met a few of them in my travels and they spoke and understood way better than I did.)  Six months is a lot of time, and now I know that had I taken real classes, I would have been near fluent in that time.

Out of frustration, I flew to Ecuador and took five weeks of one-on-one Spanish classes.  And in those five weeks, I improved my Spanish many times over.  I was having comfortable, coherent conversations with adults for the first time ever, and after only five weeks.

In fact, one week of my classes was dedicated solely to unlearning a lot of the stuff I had taught myself.  I had unwittingly taught myself nothing but bad grammar and poor speaking skills, but everyone in South America was too nice to correct me.  (Think about it — do you correct non-native English speakers when you run into them in everyday life?  And do you make fun of their horrible broken English afterward?  Exactly.)  In my day-to-day activities, I was able to bumble out enough broken Spanish to get my basic needs across, and no one ever said a word to correct me, so I had a false sense of Spanish ability.  While spending time with my Spanish teacher, I typically committed one or two grammar errors in every single sentence I spoke, and she was not quite as forgiving.

For the frustration and annoyance of wasting 6 months trying to teach myself Spanish, the cost of 5 weeks of private classes was more than worth it.  I just regret not doing it way earlier in my travels.  I’ll be taking this approach for any future trips I make.

There’s one item that I always have in my backpack.  I go nuts when I don’t have it with me.  I could lose most of the other things I have, but I’d be a manic mess without this little necessity.

I’m talking about my tennis ball.

In case you forgot what a tennis ball is. Fucking idiot.

I shouldn’t have called it my tennis ball.  I don’t have an emotional attachment to any one tennis ball.  I like almost all of them equally.

That’s because, as long as it hasn’t been molested by an attention-deprived dog or left out to bake and decompose in the sun for months, any tennis ball is the ultimate self-massage tool.

How To Use A Tennis Ball For Self Massage

I have two horrible, chronically-tight spots on my body: in the muscles near my shoulder blades, and my virgin pink asshole.  Just kidding, let me start that sentence over again.

I have two horrible, chronically-tight spots on my body: in the muscles near my shoulder blades, and in my hip muscles.  On any given day my entire upper back region feels like it’s a bunched up, tight mess, and my hip muscles especially bother me when I’m sitting in a relatively cramped spot, like the muscles connecting my legs and my back are about to snap.  This is because I’m always developing knots in these muscles.

It wasn’t until I started applying pressure to these spots with a tennis ball that I had any kind of relief.  I just place the tennis ball on a wall at the level of the affected muscle, and then rubbed away with as much pressure as I could stand.

A couple good resources for self-massage with a tennis ball:

Soft Tissue Work For Tough Guys – great explanations for why soft tissue work with a tennis ball is so important.  This article recommends massaging yourself laying down, but I find it more effective standing up against a wall.

Just fucking massaging yourself with a tennis ball – they’re super cheap. Buy one and just try it out.  That link doesn’t go anywhere, by the way.

I Would Be A Whiny Mess If I Left Home Without It

No matter where I’m traveling, a tennis ball always comes with me.  If I lose it, I drop a dollar on a new one.  Along with my pirated DVDs of the High School Musical series, it ranks as probably the most important thing I carry around with me at all times.

If you don’t plan right, eating on a road trip is expensive and nasty.  Restaurants are way too costly and not very good on your stomach or your health.  Both my opening sentence and the sentence that follow it are almost literally the same thing.

I’d love to write a detailed article on this, but there are really only two tips I need to give you:

1. Buy snacks that don’t expire easily at the supermarket before you leave.  Protein powder, mixed nuts, fruits, and dried meats like beef jerky are the best.  Don’t argue with me on this.  That’s a mistake.
2. Buy pre-prepared meals at supermarkets instead of eating at restaurants whenever possible, since meals at supermarkets are always cheaper.  Again, you’re making a mistake if you argue this.

If you take anything from this article, it’s that you don’t fucking argue with me.

I got a hot deal on a rental car that I’m keeping for two weeks.  In New Jersey, after taxes, I’m paying roughly $27 a day to have a fire-hot, sought-after Chevy Cobalt.  The pussy I pull with this bad boy doesn’t cost any extra.

Even the guy at the rental pick-up place seemed surprised at the deal I got on the car.  So, by popular demand (my mom suggested I write a blog post), here is how I got it.

1. First check expedia.com or kayak.com and do a search in your local area for deals on car rentals.  I went for a compact car because I don’t need anything more than that.  Find the cheapest and best deal and take note with which rental agency you’d get it.
2. Next, go to this thread over at the FatWallet Travel Deals forum.  Locate the “overall top five” portion for your rental agency.
3. Enter a few of the listed codes into the appropriate field at Expedia, Kayak, or directly at the dealer’s web site (this will likely be halfway through the checkout process).  See which one gets you the best deal.

I rented my car with Hertz, and one of the listed codes ended up giving me 20% off in the New Jersey area.

The other hurdle I ran into was at the actual rental location.  I haven’t driven a car for about 10 months, and for that reason, am not insured.  Insurance from Hertz cost more than the car itself every day.  However, I found out that if you rent your car using an American Express credit card, you get insurance from American Express themselves and it’s free.  If you don’t have an American Express credit card, this will still work if you rent the car under someone else’s name and list yourself as a secondary driver, as verified by a charming American Express phone rep.  Just find someone nice enough to rent the car on their credit card.  A family member is usually a good choice, and what I opted for.

If anyone has any tips on getting bullet holes out of rental cars or if this is covered by my insurance, hit me up on the comments.  It was my fault, if that’s relevant at all.

I’ve been back in the USA for about a week now, in widely-talked-about and very popular New Jersey.

A couple days ago, Derek and I decided to rent a car so we could get around a little bit easier.  (It came out to $377 for two weeks total.  We are very successful so this expense is OK.)  Shortly after having rented the car, we realized we could leave the state and explore with it.

So we are, for a couple days.  Ah, the beauty of having absolutely no responsibilities.

Right now I’m writing this from Brooklyn, New York.  Tonight or tomorrow we’ll figure out the rest of our route, and when we’re returning to New Jersey.

More updates on impromptu USA road trips coming soon.

I’m in Bogota, Colombia right now, about to go back to the USA in a couple days.

But the truth is, I want to be back in the USA now.  All my goals are very USA-centric, and staying in international hostels doesn’t make me very productive.  I feel like I’m not really doing much here.  Being a tourist doesn’t excite me much.  I’m South America’d out, for now.

The problem, though, is that I booked my plane ticket a month and a half ago, and it costs $100 to change it.  Not worth it.  I’d rather spend that money intelligently on H&B (hookers & beer).

When out of curiosity I hopped onto JetBlue’s web site to see how much a plane ticket leaving tomorrow would cost, I discovered it was the exact same price as the plane ticket I bought a month and a half ago.  Son of a bitch.

And almost every other search I’ve done in the past has brought up the same results: a lot of airlines charge the same at the last minute that they charge months in advance.  Often, the last minute tickets are even cheaper.

This isn’t always the case, but it is often enough to have made me realize: buying a plane ticket even a month in advance is pointless, and I always regret it.  I hate limiting my time somewhere, or keeping myself trapped somewhere I don’t want to be.

From now on, I am only buying plane tickets at the last minute, when I know I’m ready to leave.

NOTE: updates on here are a little sparse right now because of my travel schedule.  I have a couple big updates planned for this site, and will be putting everything into action in the next week.  I recommend subscribing to my RSS feed to be automatically notified of my updates.

I’ve spotted them in every country I’ve been in.

Kicking around their hacky-sack, dancing mindlessly to any live music that might be playing, devouring weed in public parks, braiding their unwashed hair.

It was the same group of hippies.  They followed me from home, and now were everywhere I went.

OK, I admit I’m not retarded enough to think that.  But a surprisingly comforting feeling has come from the realization that — no matter where you are, or what the societal norms are — all hippies are the same, everywhere.

Of course, there’s a wonderful irony in the idea that, worldwide, the people who go out of their way to be different and break the status quo are, in fact, all exactly the same.  But it’s true.

I haven’t suffered from home sickness really at all in my trip, and I credit a lot of that to the universality of hippies.  It’s a great feeling to be able to walk down to just about any big city’s local park and see basically the exact same people I’d see in my home town’s park.

And, usually, they’re all really nice people, even if they don’t speak your native language.  So if you’re both lonely and home sick, you kill two birds with one stone.

Have a bad case of home sickness?  Go on a hunt for some hippies.  They’ll transport you right back home — if not for just one night.

I’ve been on the road for about 8 months at this point.  The whole time, I’ve never had more than one small 35-liter backpack, and I’ve never been inconvenienced by a lack of stuff.

Here are some tips you can use to lighten your load.  Use them and then maybe someday you’ll be showing off how small your backpack is to everyone, like I do (a lot).

1. Only pack thin, synthetic jackets.

Why do backpackers insist on wearing thick wool and fleece jackets the size of a small child?  Any kind of non-synthetic jacket is going to end up taking up way too much room in your bag, and they’re not necessary to keep you warm.

I spent two weeks in Ushuaia, Argentina, which is the closest “mainland” city to Antarctica.  It’s cold there.  Here’s what I wore, and I never had any issues, even walking around at night:

Posing in Ushuaia in front of my favorite pile of debris.

2. Bring shirts that are thin and less than 100% cotton.

I wear t-shirts from American Apparel (god they’re comfortable), and merino wool Icebreaker shirts.  Both are thin and fold up very small in my bag.

My American Apparel shirts are 50% cotton/50% polyester, while the Icebreaker shirts are 100% merino wool.

I’ve bought 100% cotton shirts before and they ended up taking up twice as much space in my bag, if not more.

3. Fold and pack your clothes like a pro.

I wrote an article on what I dubbed the “Rational Packing Method” that shows you the best way to fold and pack your clothes.

Basically, put your heaviest, thickest items on the bottom — jeans, in my case — and then pack everything else tightly with rubber bands and ziplock bags, organizing them to all fit together like a puzzle in your bag.

Pack like you’re on a mission and you’ll end up fitting twice as much stuff into the same space.

4. Take advantage of the versatility of your laptop and/or cell phone.

I love my iPhone.  It not only works as a phone, but it also serves as my Spanish-English dictionary (with the help of an application from the App Store) and my music player.

A lot of today’s smart phones can give you all the same benefits.

I lug around a 13″ MacBook but you could get just about all the same advantages with a cheap, tiny netbook.  I read books, watch videos, and do just about everything on my laptop.

5. Re-bottle your toiletries, and toss the unnecessary.

I’m very white.  I need sunscreen.  The problem, though, is that sunscreen consistently comes in comically-sized tubes.

These containers are annoying.

What I recommend is buying smaller plastic containers, and just putting what you need in those.  You can do this with sunscreen, toothpaste, shampoo, or really any toiletry you need.

Or even consider ditching some toiletries.  I haven’t shampooed my hair for months now and am loving it.

6. Bring a maximum of two pairs of jeans.

I like my jeans.  The problem, though, is that they’re thick, heavy, and take up a lot of room when being packed.

If you’re style-conscious, then pack a maximum of two pairs of jeans: one dark pair, and one light pair.  No one will notice.  Wear one of the pairs of jeans every time you’re traveling with your backpack.

7. Question every item you pack.

I have a thing for notebooks.  I don’t know why, but I do.  I hardly even use them.  I always think I’m going to write down amazing thoughts, but I don’t.

I had three in my bag until I really stopped and questioned myself.  “If I didn’t have two of these notebooks, how would it negatively impact my trip?”  The answer: it wouldn’t.  So I’ve tossed two of them.

Do this with everything in your pack, including extra clothes.  You don’t need eight shirts — pack just the few you love.

8. Only bring one pair of shoes, no matter the conditions.

You don’t need both “casual shoes” and “hiking shoes.”

I went on a 5-day trek through the Colombian jungles in November, 2008 with my buddy Derek.  Take a look at the shoes he wore:

Sporty, yet casual.

We hiked through rivers, miles of muddy trails, and uneven rocks.  He did just fine.

And in fact, he still wears those same shoes to this day in the gym, out on the town at night, and really in any situation.

You only need one pair of shoes.

9. Use versatile shorts for everything.

If you bring a good pair of thin, water-resistant shorts, you can use them for working out, swimming, and casual day-to-day activities.  That means you’ll only need one or two pairs of shorts total in your bag.

Anything else?

Leave any other light packing tips in the comments here.