Day Four: rest and rehydration day

I woke up with the sunrise. Mornings are really pleasant here. I slept very comfortably on top of my sleeping pad and sleeping bag, using my sleeping bag liner for a sheet. I didn't need a tent because there were no bugs.

I blogged a while, then walked over to the bait shop where Wayne was visiting with a friend of his, Steve.

Steve and Wayne are in the process of starting a recycling business and they discussed some of the hurdles.

I STILL had no cash and needed to go to the bank. When Wayne found out he offered me a ride since he was going to the bank anyway.

One would think a bank would cash a traveler's check. One would be wrong if one thought so.

Even the bank....

When Wayne found out they wouldn't cash my checks he asked the banker if I could sign them over to him, then he could just give me the money. The cashier, a friend of his, glanced very quickly in my direction then said to Wayne in a slightly softer voice, "You know you're liable if something happens."

He hardly missed a beat. "Aw... He's a friend of mine," he replied.

And the $400.00 transaction was completed.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa, and his name is Wayne Pinkerton.

Back in the truck, I insisted on taking him and his girlfriend out for supper. He'd been so helpful, you know, practically saving my life and all, that I really wanted to do SOMETHING for him.

He said that sounds good. Then, after a pause, "Or maybe I'll have you over for some barbecue tonight."

Sigh....

Heather persuaded me to take today off (it wasn't a hard sell) so I pedaled the three miles into town and rented a cheap hotel at about 10:30. It was already in the low 90's, and by the time I got checked in I was dripping with sweat. After turning the AC on high, I took a shower and settled in.

Later, I walked across the street to the Sizzler restaurant for some lunch but there were two full buses of people in front of me so I went back to the room, got my bike and slowy pedaled down the street to a Mexican food place.

After that I went to the library where I needed to do some things for my future employer, then went back to the room and blogged the rest of the afternoon.

At one point during the afternoon I turned on the TV to see what the temperature was (106 degrees).

Wayne called at 6:40 to say he wasn't going to be able to make it to supper because his girlfriend wasn't feeling well, but wished me the best of luck on my trip.

The rest of the evening consisted of washing and drying a load of laundry, walking across the street to eat at Sizzler, and talking to Heather.

Problem solving: It's too freakin' hot to ride after noon, so I decided to start waking up early and riding until 10:00 or 12:00, then check into a hotel. My plan tomorrow is to ride the 42 miles to Brenda, AZ, and stay at the Black Rock Motel.

Just to make sure things went smoothly I called the motel to make a reservation. No one answered so I just left a message with my name and number. A couple of hours later I tried again.

I packed, set the alarm for 4:45 and went to bed.

5.79 distance
21.2 max
12.3 avg
28:13 time

Day Three: my worst day of touring. Ever.

I had the air conditioner on Hi Cool all night and slept really great. Because I wanted to get in some miles before it got too hot, I woke up early and was rolling by 8AM. It was still pleasantly cool when I left.

I stopped at a Circle K on the way out of town and bought three energy bars and 2 liters of Gatorade. That should be enough to get me to Glamis where I'll eat a quick lunch and climb over the hill to Palo Verde.

When I tried to pay for the energy bars and Gatorade with a traveler's check the guy looked at it like it was a precious historic artifact. He held it gingerly between his index fingers and thumbs and said, "Wow. I've never seen one of these before." Then he added, "Sorry. We don't take checks." "But it's a TRAVELER'S CHECK. Everyone takes them," I rebutted as people began stacking up behind me. That was the extent of my debating skills and he countered with, "Sorry," thus ending the discussion. I used my credit card and left with no more cash than I had walked in with.

I shouldn't have been surprised. When I was at the bank the teller told me they only had five sets left and he didn't think they'd be getting any more. I guess people just don't use them.

I rode the fourteen miles to Brawley (pop. 22,052) and refilled my water bottles at a convenience store on the east side of town, my last outpost. While I was there I asked the cashier if they take traveler's checks. He didn't seem to know what they were, either. I should've tried the brilliant debating skills I'd used on the last guy. Maybe it would've worked with this guy - he didn't look as smart as the other guy. But was he dumb enough to give money to a guy dripping with sweat, wearing funny clothes, and trying to spend a type of currency he's never seen before? Probably not.

The temperature rose rapidly on the way to Glamis. As I was riding I began seriously wondering whether I was going to be able to make it to Palo Verde. By 10:30 it was in the mid- to upper 90s. I was already burning up, stopping anywhere I could find even a small patch of shade, even a ditch.

From mark on a bike 08

After a while I stopped wondering about whether it WOULD or WOULDN'T be dangerous and began wondering just HOW dangerous it would be for me to ride the rest of the way. An additional factor to consider is that there would be 1500 feet of climbing. Still, I would think about over a long cool lunch in Glamis and decide at that time.

From mark on a bike 08

When I arrived in Glamis shortly before noon I was very relieved when I walked into the air-conditioned store. I grabbed an ice-cold Coke and asked if they take traveler's checks.

The man behind the counter looked to be around 65. He was obese and sweating in his overalls, even in the cool air. When I interrupted his concentration of Judge Judy on the TV behind me he was visibly unhappy but never glanced my way.

"He wants to know if we take traveler's checks," he announced to the room, then emitted a wheezy laugh. Then, just to make sure I didn't misunderstand him, he firmly added, "No." He did, fortunately, take credit cards, so I asked him if I could wait and pay for everything I wanted at once. The only other person in the building was also behind the counter and gave me a nod.

The cafe is only open from October to May, so I was limited to the grocery store items. The MAIN thing I wanted was to cool off so I found the only chair in the store and plopped down onto it. Now that I was in the cool air I REALLY began sweating. I was just starting to feel a difference when the owner/cashier saw me and said, "This ain't no cafe where you come in and sit down. You buy something.... Then LEAVE." This time he was looking directly at me.

I was dumbfounded. I honestly didn't have a response so I gathered up my stuff and walked over to pay for my drink.

When I tried to use my debit card so I could get some cash it said "system error," even after two tries so I gave the assistant my credit card to pay for my Coke. He told me there was a $10.00 minimum, but by that time I just wanted to leave. I said I didn't care. I also added that I just wanted to leave because that other guy is being a real bastard. I was pretty unhappy.

Great. Now I'm outside at a picnic table, thinking. And sweating. Boy, did I show him.

Bicycle touring, like everything else in life, is about problem solving. Of course, this is a completely different set of problems than the ones you encounter at work or sailing a boat or choosing where to get a haircut.

My current problem: I'm at a picnic table outside the only building in Glamis. I haven't eaten anything but a couple of energy bars this morning. I don't have any food, nor do I have any money to buy food. It's at least 105 degrees, and I have over 30 miles of riding, most of which is uphill.

Broken down, it's: Do I stay here, or Do I keep going. That seems pretty simple. I CAN'T stay here with no food or water.

So, I need to leave. Do I ride or get to Palo Verde some other way. I have no illusions about what I can and can't do. If I ride, I'll end up in the ER. That means I need to find another way to get there.

I decide to hitchhike, so I rolled my bike to the road and stick out my thumb. Hitchhiking isn't something I really want to do, and was embarassed that I'm having to "cheat." In all my years of bicycle touring I've only hitchhiked one other time, during my 1982 trip, and it was only about 400 yeards over a dangerous bridge, and only so I could say I hitchhiked. This is different - it feels more like failure. Still, if not wise enough, I'm at least old and experienced enough to know when I should NOT be riding.

A guy with a loaded touring bike is somewhat of a curiosity so I didn't think I'd have much trouble catching a ride, especially since about three fourths of the passing vehicles were trucks.

Apparently, I wasn't that much of a curiosity because three hours later I was still standing there.

Oh, and did I mention it was hot?

During that time I asked a couple of Border Patrol if they knew anyone I could pay to take me to Palo Verde. (Since I had no money my plan was to have them drop me off at the bank) They didn't know of anyone and they themselves were going in the opposite direction.

My Adventure Cycling maps have emergency numbers for the sheriff. I decided that this was at least semi-urgent. After I explained my situation to the dispatcher, that is, that if I keep riding I'll be going to to the hospital, she let me know that "We're not a transportation service. You might try calling a taxi service." She was kind enough, however, to provide me with the number to a taxi service which, when called, connected me with a five-and-dime store in Blythe.

After some initial confusion on both our parts, the lady there gave me the correct number for the only local cab company: Reliable Transportation.

Reliable Transportation may be reliable, but at $300.00 I would have to think about it.

Problem solving.... I was running out of ideas.

At that point, I decided to go back into the store and buy a bunch of food in spite of the jerk who was running it. Just suck it up and go get some stuff.

When I walked back to the door it was locked. They closed at 3:30, fifteen minutes ago.

I went back out to the road and stuck my thumb out.

By now I was starting to feel despondent.

I ate my last energy bar, a melted confusion of chocolate, nuts, and caramel, and started thinking.

Back to problem solving. Do I keep riding or do I stay there. I can't stay. I have no food, and I drank most of my water while trying to hitchhike.

That means I start riding. By now it was nearing 5:00. I'll eventually be riding in the dark, but at least I'll be moving.

It's hard to convey how hot it is using words. People say, "It's like an oven." But, what you don't understand is that IT'S LIKE AN OVEN. Preheat your oven to 120 degrees and stick your hand in. Or your head. There is no breeze. There is no shade anywhere in sight. Glamis is where the Star Wars desert scenes were filmed. No matter how much water or Gatorade I drank it just wasn't cooling me down. My heart rate, even after I'd stopped riding for a while, continued to hover around 100 beats per minute (borderline too high). And, underlying it all, was a mild nausea which had begun in the morning and remained with me all day.

Before I left Glamis I called Heather. While talking to her I did think of one other possibility. If you read last year's blog you know about warmshowers.org. It's an organization where you can sign up to let people pitch a tent in your back yard while they bicycle across the country. Many people also offer a shower.

While I was riding, Heather looked up the closest guy on the list, called him, and explained my situation. Three long, searing, dizzying miles from Glamis I got a call from a guy named Wayne Pinkerton. He talked to me and quickly realized I was in no shape to ride so he closed his store 45 minutes early and drove AN HOUR to pick me up.

This is where I waited for Wayne.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

Wayne doesn't bicycle; he just heard about warmshowers and thought it sounded like a fun way to meet some interesting people so he signed up a couple of months ago.

"Interesting." Huh. I guess that's supposed to be me. The dumb, sweaty guy.

He picked me up on the side of the road at dusk with a cooler full of soft drinks, Gatorade, and beer. I guzzled a couple of the Gatorades right away, then started on the water.

On the ride back I saw the terrain over which I would've been riding. Rolling hills with no shoulder. Invisible in the troughs until the last second. Not the best place to be riding after dark.

We stopped at a fast food place and Wayne bought me some food, then took me out to his bait shop where I set up camp on a pier. It was too warm for a tent so I just used my sleeping bag. I took a shower and felt a lot better.

These pictures were taken the next morning.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

At the end of my day Heather frequently asks, "Are you having fun?" Today could only be described as "fun" if I were the sort of person who enjoyed sticking a fork deep into my thigh, snipping off my fingers with a set of pruning shears, or giving myself multiple papercuts on my eyes.

No. Today was NOT a fun day.

However, it wasn't necessarily a BAD day. I'm not so naive or inexperienced to believe that all days are going to be fun. However, I'm not dead or in a hospital, I have a new friend, and today WAS an adventure. Not one I'd care to repeat, but an adventure.

45.22 miles
12.3 average
3:41:19 time
The cumulative odometer somehow reset itself

Day Two: salsa, quick calculations, safety first!!!

I woke up early (for me) and, after a breakfast of coffee cake and chocolate milk, left the campsite at 8:00.

This sign is on the door of the campground's grocery store.

From mark on a bike 08

Here are a few other pictures taken along the road.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

I climbed all morning, a steady and not necessarily unpleasant grinding up the mountain, passing through Pine Valley, over the Tecate Divide, and through Live Oak Springs. I had a headwind the whole way, but it wasn't too bad. Even though the temperature this morning was only in the low- to mid-80's I still drank three water bottles.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

In Boulevard (pop. 415) I stopped at the Salsa Lynda Cafe and ordered huevos rancheros. At the opposite end of the spectrum from Ramona's, these huevos rancheros were ranked as second best (and possibly the best) I've ever eaten.

The owner/cook, Armando, noticed the empty water bottles on my table and offered to fill them for me with "the best well water in the area. It's still got all the minerals in it," he proudly announced. "Very sweet."

The sign in the bathroom read:

From mark on a bike 08

I haven't figured out the meaning yet, and I'm sort of afraid to.

Armando and I chatted a while longer and I learned that he makes 18 different kinds of salsa. The salsa for the huevos rancheros, for example, is different from the salsa for the dip. Not bad for a guy who used to be a construction worker, a cement worker, a roofer, and a few other things before opening a cafe. And the water WAS sweet.

From mark on a bike 08

Leaving Boulevard I had a brief climb, then coasted into Jacumba (pop. 400). Jacumba is less than half a mile from the Mexican border. Out of the first ten vehicles that passed only one wasn't Border Patrol. Off to my right you could see a huge fence going up. Even without the huge barricade I don't see how something even as small as a chihuahua could get past.

From mark on a bike 08

I kept hearing noises that sounded like gunshots but it was probably just noise from the construction and my overactive imagination. Probably.

From Jacumba I had another brief climb, then plummeted almost 3000 feet into the valley below. For this section, because there IS no other way, bicyclists travel on Interstate-8 along with 18-wheelers and RVs. The shoulder is very wide, though there is a lot of debris. As long as I didn't see any debris from bicycles or bicyclists I didn't get too worried.

The temperature began to rise dramatically during the descent.

Ocotillo is my "point of no return." If I keep going, I need to make it all the way to El Centro - there's nothing in between but twenty miles of heat. When I arrived it was a few minutes before 5:00.

I did some quick calculations... 20 miles to El Centro at a pace of 10 mph (slow enough to ensure I don't overheat)... that would put me there right around 7:00 when it's dark. That's doable.

I stopped at the bar/grocery store in Ocotillo just long enough to refill my water bottles and answer a few Frequently Asked Questions. On my way out I asked the cashier how far it was to El Centro.

The problem with quick calculations is that you sometimes leave out an important element - like accuracy. Three minutes later it registered, "Did he say THIRTY miles? I think he did."

Okay, so I'm a little slow. According to my quick calculations, now I actually have to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike.

My ACA map said this section of the road is rough. When it's bad enough for them to warn you, it's going to be REALLY bad.

From mark on a bike 08

So I actually have to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike. Over a road that makes my handlebars feel like a jackhammer.

The heat is oppressive. That sounds so trite, but it it was horrifically hot and I could feel my core temperature rising.

So I actually have to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike. Over a road that makes my handlebars feel like a jackhammer. In the heat.

Oh, and factual tidbit from the slow guy on a bike: as darkness was descending, I realized that being on the EAST side of a mountain range causes it to get darker earlier.

Which means... I was having to ride fifteen mph. On a loaded touring bike. Over a road that makes my handlebars feel like a jackhammer. In the heat. In the dark.

Could it get worse? Yes, but I'll stop adding to the list.

I went through Plaster City, which isn't really a city. It's just a giant manufacturing plant... of plastic, I presume.

About a third of the way between Ocotillo and El Centro, tooling along at a pace which would hopefully balance my time constraints and my rising core temperature, I realized that the scale was tipping.... I was overheating. Even at a pace well below 15mph I was still getting too hot. After thinking about it for a minute, I considered taking off my helmet. I read that a person loses 40% of their body heat from the head and neck areas so I wondered whether, in spite of my helmet's advertising claim of having "SIXTEEN MASSIVE AIR SUCKING VENTS," I might be cooler if I rode without it. What would be safer? Riding with it or riding without it?

Okay kids, remember: SAFETY FIRST! Don't wear your helmet!

Looking back, I'm kind of glad that statistic said "head and neck" instead of "groin and butt."

Just past Plaster City the elevation dropped below sea level. I'm now in the Mojave Desert, and it's over a hundred degrees even at dusk. I drank three liters of water before lunch and four liters of water after lunch, plus one liter of Gatorade. Even so, I didn't urinate a single time all day. Not that you want to hear about my urinary habits - it's just to say I was pretty dehydrated.

I have a small battery-powered red flashing light which I clipped onto the back of my bike as dusk descended.

I arrived in El Centro after dark and checked into a motel. It was much too hot to camp, and besides, the nearest campground is five miles off my route.

I was EXUDING heat, and even a cold shower only helped a little.

Too tired to go out for supper, I ordered a pizza delivered to my room. They didn't accept traveler's checks so I used my last bit of cash. I'll need to get some more cash tomorrow.

Just like during last year's trip, my right index fingertip has gone numb.

Shortly before going to bed I looked at the map and my heart sank. Brawley is fourteen miles down the road. There's a small note on the map, which I should've seen earlier, that says, "SERVICES ARE EXTREMELY LIMITED BETWEEN BRAWLEY AND PALO VERDE. PLAN ACCORDINGLY AND CARRY FOOD AND WATER."

Palo Verde is 84 miles from here. That means, unless I camp on the side of the road in the heat, I'll need to ride either 14 or 84 miles. Today's ride, half of which was through temperatures below 90 degrees, just about wiped me out. I really don't know if I can make it.

88.177 distance
34 max speed
11.4 average
7:43:00 time
120.68 cumulative

Day One: the first day of Autumn, Jack, and the World's Worst Burrito

This morning I said good-bye to Cathy and Greg and pedaled down the street away from their house.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

Now, riding down the street, one mile into my 3,100-mile trip, the thought floats to the surface of my consciousness: WHAT WAS I THINKING????????

It happens at the beginning of every trip. The Voice of Reason: "You're xxxx miles from home... On a BICYCLE??? You can't do this!!!!!!" Then, after a few more turns of the crank, another voice speaks up, this one sounding more like a little boy: "You're xxxx miles from home... On a BICYCLE!!! YEEEHAAAAW!!!!" So much for the Voice of Reason.

The map at the top of the page isn't just for decoration. It shows the topography of my route from San Diego to Phoenix. As you can see, there's a steep ascent starting on Day One. Last year, if you remember, I was so excited on my first day that I pushed harder then I should have and only ended up making it up the first set of mountains with the help of the manufacturer of ibuprofen, some excellent music, and by traveling at a tortoise's pace. This year I'm determined not to make the same mistake.

Five minutes into my trip a guy on a bike pulled up beside me. He looked about 70 and was wearing a brace on his left knee. I thought, "Old? Near death? Bad knee? Now HERE'S a guy I can keep up with!" Of course, I was wrong. He passed me but with my riding skills I eventually caught up with him - as he was coming out of a Porta-Potty along the bike trail.

From mark on a bike 08

He was kind enough to ride a little slower and we traveled together for 22 miles. I learned that his name is Jack, a native San Diegan who retired ten years ago from working in the UCSD lab.

As we were talking he suggested I turn onto the Father Junipero Trail (pictured below), which is where I was supposed to have turned had I been paying attention. So, when he later suggested an alternate route which had less traffic, I thought it would be a good idea. "It's a little rougher, but there won't be any cars." When we got there, I understood why - there were only PIECES of cars that had fallen off.

From mark on a bike 08

We missed a turn because he was talking, then missed another one shortly after that for the same reason. I didn't mind, though. It's the first day of Autumn, the weather is a perfect 70 degrees, and it's going to be a short day anyway. Besides, I was intrigued by the tour guide information: "A man was shot and killed right here at this corner a few months ago," "An 8-year-old boy was hit by a car and killed last year.... riiiiiight about here," and "My sister lives just down that road." Eventually, he turned south and I continued east. All in all, he made the 22 miles fly by, and I'm glad our paths crossed.

I stopped in Alpine to eat lunch at The Bread Basket. While there, I called the public library. I'm not exactly sure how it happens, but almost every time I'm in a town and want to go to the libray, I'm there on a day they happen to be closed. If I'm in town on a Wednesday, the library will be closed Sundays and Wednesdays. Today is Monday. The Alpine library isclosed on Sundays and Mondays. I also called the campground (to make sure they're open), and the hotel in Pine Village, just in case I'm feeling ambitious later in the day. After finding out a room was more than I wanted to spend, I decided I would NOT be ambitious. (Pine Village is farther up the road, and it doesn't have a campground, so I would HAVE to rent a hotel)

After eating and resting a while I started riding again but only made it a half mile before being drawn to an old-fashioned diner, Fred's, which had homemade chocolate shakes for half off on Mondays. That'll make up for a closed library anytime. Twenty minutes later I was on the road again.

This is a picture os an unusual-looking house along the way.

From mark on a bike 08

I stopped for the day at Ma-Tar-Awa RV Park for the night. It's on the Viejas Indian Reservation, a couple of miles off the route. The campsite was nice and the manager even gave me a site with electricity for no extra charge.

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

There's no cafe there, only a small store with a few microwaveable items. In this unlikely place I discovered.... the World's Worst Burrito. I've eaten bad food before. After all, I AM a guy. ("Huh? A house shoe? Not a waffle? Oh.") I've even eaten the famous "Gut Bomb" from the Mexican food place in Mill Valley, and I've intentionally done it more than once. But a Ramoana's (I may have accidentally spelled it with an extra "A") bean and cheese burrito exceeded all expectations.

I carefully followed the directions, wrapping it in a paper towel, heating it, turning it over and heating it some more. When I unwrapped it the paper towel was stuck to the burrito, which was actually a good thing, considering the taste and texture of the tortilla. You have to give it to them for truth in advertising, though... It doesn't say "beans and cheese burrito," just "bean and cheese burrito."

From mark on a bike 08

From mark on a bike 08

The people who work there are really nice, and if Betty is reading this I hope she realizes that it's no reflection on her. I was happy to be able to get anything to eat, and what should a person expect to find in an RV park?

It's kind of weird taking a trip this late in the year because it gets dark so early. Last year I remember still seeing light in the sky at 10:00. Now, it's dark by 7:00.

32.503 distance
54.9 max speed (obviously, this is incorrect - some type of errant electronic wave is causing it)
8.9 average speed
3:38.12 time (on the bike)
32.503 cumulative odometer

nice relatives, great pizza

I've seen my cousin, Cathy, and her husband, Greg, four times in the last thirty years. Additionally, I've seen my cousin, Cathy, and her husband, Greg, four times in the last four years. It seems like I've traveled to San Diego a lot recently, every time I go I'm calling them up and asking for a place to stay. I'm not sure if it's because they feel compelled to put me up because I'm family or because they're just nice people. I suspect it's the latter. Regardless, it's always greatto see them. They own their own business, a graphic design company called Greg Lloyd Studios.

I arrived in San Diego too late this evening to be able to watch Breaking Away, my traditional night-before-I-leave movie, but I was able to stuff myself with pizza for supper. Er, I mean I was able to"carb load" before my trip. Greg and Cathy picked me and my bike up from the airport, then we went to a GREAT pizza place where I had a prosciutto, pear, and arugala pizza. Sounds weird, but it tasted wonderful.

I went to sleep fairly early for Pacific time but pretty late for having gone to sleep at 3AM the night before.

Big day tomorrow.

stuff I'm taking this year

Most of the things I'm taking on this trip are the same ones I took last year. The gear gets tweaked with each trip, but in general it remains basically the same. There's a good reason for that - you just don't have much space. So, you only take the basics... clothing,tools, tent, sleeping bag, bike.

Lately, however, it seems like "the basics" includes an increasing number of electronics. This year, in addition to my Pocket PC (as well as two spare batteries and a charger), I'm also taking an iPod Shuffle and a camera (plus the chargers for both). If you remember last year's trip, Heather promised to buy me a Blackberry if more than a few people followed my blog. (excluding my mother) She was as good as her word, so now I have a new cell phone (though we decided to get something other than a Blackberry). Consequently, I also have a charger and an extra battery for that as well.

My final piece of electronics was given to me by my father-in-law. He saw it advertised as "a cool toy for your cool toys" and, although that's a pretty accurate description, he really bought it for more practical reasons. It's a compact solar-powered battery recharger.With it, I hope to be able to charge my electronics while pedaling down the road.

I bought some new pannier bags this year as well. Last year I had a little trouble in the rain, and my new bags are advertised as being"submersible," though I would REALLY hate to find out if they're telling the truth. Similarly, I bought a new rain jacket. I had a ceremonial burning of last year's ''rain jacket." I tested this one in the shower before I left and it worked great.

An almost complete list of the stuff I'm taking is listed below. I still can't believe it all fits into my bags.

As I do each year, I weighed my gear before leaving. Anything that's going in or on a bag, bike, or body got weighed, and the total came 39.4 pounds. It sure feels like a lot more when you're dragging it up the side of a mountain. I weighed my bike for the first time. It weighs 29.0 pounds. I weigh 168.2 pounds.

By the time I got all my gear together and boxed my bike up tonight itwas 2:30 AM. I wonder what I forgot this time.

BICYCLE
rear rack
rear panniers (2)
handlebar bag
hb bag organizer
cyclometer
water bottle cages (3)
water bottles (3)
tire pump
straps with buckles

combination lock

CAMPING
tent/rain fly/poles
stakes
sleeping bag
compression bag
sleeping pad/bag
sleeping bag liner
flashlight with chain +
batteries
inflatable pillow

CLOTHING
cycling gloves
cycling shoes
flip-flops
hat
helmet
bandana (2)
t-shirts (5)
long sleeve shirt (2)
head cover
headband
underwear (1)
cycling shorts (5)
socks (5 pair)
jeans
lounge pants
rain jacket
sweatshirt
sunglasses
watch

wrist braces

TOOLS/SPARE PARTS
25-in-1 tool
pliers
tire tools
pedal wrenches
lubricant
patch kit
spare tire
spare tube
spare chain links
3 spare cables:
1)rear brake
2)rear derailleur
3)transverse cable
spare spokes
cleaning cloth

ELECTRONICS
computer +
tethering cable
cellphone +
recharger
iPod Shuffle +
recharger
ear buds
camera +
recharger
extra SD cards

solar charger

SD card reader

HYGIENE/TOILETRIES
bandaids
antibacterial cream
ibuprofen
acetaminophen
Skelaxin
dental floss
tweezers
toothbrush
toothpaste
detergent
insect repellent
sunscreen
chapstick
soap
toilet paper
camp towel
razor blades
shaving cream
mirror
skin lotion(s)
Handiwipes

MISCELLANEOUS
passport card
stamps for postcards
emergency card
maps
money
travelers checks
notebook
pen
swiss army knife
wallet
ziploc bags
hand cleaner
garbage bags
earplugs
sewing kit
playing cards
energy bars
wrist braces

bar-end shifters

These days, bicycles are becoming more and more complex. My wife's bicycle has shifters on the brake calipers, those things you squeeze to make the bike stop. If you want to change gears you just push them to the left or to the right, depending if you want to shift up or down.

I'm still pretty low-tech when it comes to bikes. My shifters are on the ends of the handlebars, thus the name: bar-end shifters. I also use toe clips instead of the newer clipless pedals. The idea, at least for me, is that the fewer parts there are, the less likely something will break. Or so I hope.

Today, while out riding my bike in an attempt to get into shape for my trip, a guy passed me. As you can see, this is not an uncommon occurrence. Luckily for him, my allergies weren't bothering me. From behind me I heard him pipe, "Bar-end shifters??? They still make those??" As it was slowly dawning on me that I might've just been slighted, he glided past me. There was a sly grin on his face and it was only when I noticed his bike that I realized why.... he had bar-end shifters.

From mark on a bike 08