Always the tension between thinking you need and needing, between the grudging acceptance of discomforts and the abstract knowledge that carrying less makes a difference, between not caring that you seem like a disgusting lunatic […]
Reactions ranged from “no, not possible” to “that’s ridiculous” to the charitable assumption that I was joking and an ensuing change of subject. The rising chorus of denials sounded an awful lot like an imperative, naturally.
Riding along the fringe of a jungle, forty hours ago as trembling cold as I’ve been, now sweating motionless, listening to whirs, hoots and clicks of outlandishly plummed birds. And a plume of a different sort, the volcano Sangay above the treetops, puffing from its apex, I can’t stop looking at it. Gravity and desire to be near the Amazon dropped me from the soaring Andean ridge, and I can’t stop looking back up. Small village roads parallel to the new highway, I receive waves and good wishes, sometimes teens ride alongside on their bicycles, we’re all of us defined, defied by the need to achieve only the most efficient motions in thick clouding heat, though these may be in the spirit of sociality, of effortful connection. Eighty five miles, finally headlamp against the gnats and ink.
End of the day, descending into the town square next to the basilica, I am on a one-way street going in the correct direction, motorcycle red blue red lights coming towards me. Pull over, there […]
Wonted fuckedtacular inaugural pedaling day, I just get exuberant and silly. Exiting Quito embarrassingly easy, what with detailed MotionX iPhone maps and GPS, should have suspected karmic treachery. Aimed for the volcano via the little […]
Foolish to try to mark the precise start, but there is the descent into yellow streetlights mist, shatter of engines against buildings leaning against the mid-city airport. Unusually gentle tackle after passing through customs, I […]
Surly Pugsley with Revelate frame bag + Viscacha seat bag + Harness/Pocket + Gas Tank. Sea to Summit eVent dry bag. BikeBuddy bottle carrier with Minoura attachment. Osprey Talon 22 pack. The difficulty and danger […]
Surly Pugsley with Old Man Mountain Cold Springs front and rear racks. Larry tires. Lone Peak Mount Rainier and Ortlieb Sport Packer Plus panniers, Revelate frame bag + Gas Tank. Fuel bottle in Bikebuddy cage secured to seatpost with Minoura bottle cage attachment.
After summertime touring in Alaska last year on the Pugsley, I reported having had an excellent time and that I was very satisfied with the choice of bicycle. I also said that I didn’t imagine myself touring on it again much in the future, unless there was some special reason to be on a fat bike. Evidently I asserted something about preferring fast-and-light. Equally evidently — though I waxed on about how the big tires inspired complete strangers to outlandish declarations of bike lust — I didn’t anticipate just how much the fat tire format would capture my imagination. So, going round and round in that this is really important but it couldn’t possibly matter much sort of way, I’ve tested my packing and gear with an eye toward five months on the trail in South America. MC spoke with the convictional voice of reason: “There’s no issue, the bouncy bike is completely out. Ride the bike that makes the most sense for covering distance, take the Long Haul Trucker.” To a normal person she would have been completely persuasive. By way of antidote and encouragement, AE said, “…besides the fact that everything will be rideable, you’re going to make more friends. If we were into not being miserable then we’d go to the beach and have umbrella drinks.” This sort of quip ought to have set off all kinds of alarm bells. Here’s the deal: The Pugs is about 10 pounds heavier than my Trucker, and about 14 pounds heavier than the English Folding 2-9. I shudder at those differences, though, really, the English is out since the wheel format can create headaches if something goes wrong. (True, the Pugsley wheels are also not standard, but there’s a reasonably straightforward plan against catastrophe in that case.) For the broken road jungle walk dirt track mountain trekking path trip that I envision, the bikes are probably nearly a wash. Each is superior to the other at the extremes of a spectrum from asphalt to singletrack. I would hope that the Pugsley can make short work of Bolivian sandy roads, but that’s only a small fraction of the journey. In all, the Trucker ought to be the default, easier to repair, ridable anywhere. But I’m just so damned stupidly enamored of the Pugs. Here’s the thought that makes the fat bike so blindingly seductive: For any terrain ahead of you, if a bike can go there at all, a fat bike can go there. I’m sure I’ll be angrily repeating that to myself like a mantra as I beg for help hoisting the thing on to a bus roof. The total base weight — bike, bags, all gear except minimal clothing worn, but no food or water — is 72 lbs. (~32 kg’s). Not overly heavy by the standards of some cyclotourists, but unusual for me.
Envisioning volcanoes, jungle tracks, salt flats and glaciers. Altitude and crater lakes and sawtooth crags, hypoxic dirt routes (if I’m not careful, tourist nonsense pan flutes). For me, South America is to Asia like ground is […]