Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Framebag goodness!

So about three years ago, I ran into a guy named Joe in Rawlins, WY while biking across the US.  He and his girlfriend were biking the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route at the time.  Joe had made the framebags for their bikes and was considering making them for sale once back home.  I took his email address and duly emailed him a few months later to order a framebag for my Surly Long Haul Trucker.  Joe never emailed me back.  Jerk.

Pam's custom framebag
Naturally I thought to myself, "Heck, I can do that."  Two years passed.  Whoops.  Then Pam and I began to plan our own trip of the GDMBR.  Of course you need to carry all sorts of various stuff to stay alive and comfortable whilst biking through the middle of nowhere for months.  Framebags are a pretty handy way to do this.  I already had one for my bike made by Revelate Designs but Pam needed one.  Pam didn't relish the thought of paying a couple hundred dollars for one in the face of not receiving a paycheck for a few months.  I had no experience using zippers and began to hypothesize about a roll top closure instead.  Lo and behold, a week or two later I saw an early review of the Orbiter framebag made by Porcelain Rocket.  Rather than reinvent the wheel, I studied the pictures in the review and made my own, mimicking the design.  Utilizing old nylon fabric from a boat cover, I laminated that with Tyvek and used assorted buckles and Velcro I acquired.  It probably cost $15.  The bag has lasted several thousand miles of riding.  Pam was pleased.


Now I am setting out to make more custom framebags and other outdoor equipment solutions.  First up, was a Cordura framebag for my road bike.  Of course I have some improvements to make to the design and improve my interior seam finishing work, but it turned out quite nicely if I may say so.


It is a single compartment, single zipper design.  A big honking #10 zipper allows access to the interior.


It is lined with coated nylon which makes it pretty water resistant, but not waterproof.  The interior is a lighter color, red, which allows you to spot things like Snickers bars, bear spray or whatever you're rummaging for.


The points where the bag contacts the frame consists of ballistics nylon and are foam padded.  There is a port along the downtube where a hydration tube can snake out of the bag.


It is wide enough to carry more stuff than necessary within the diamond of your bicycle frame, but narrow enough to not inhibit your feet and legs and give plenty of chainring clearance.

Look at those purty seams and corners!

My plan is to make a few more prototypes to work out any design flaws, but then I will begin accepting inquiries for custom work.  I have access to all of the high falutin' fabrics and materials that all of the other bag manufacturers do so I am looking forward to making some sweet bags and accessories to help folks go have some adventures.

Thanks for looking and let me know what you think!






Sunday, January 10, 2016

Oh hail!

In the summer of 2015, Pam and I bicycled from Banff, AB to Steamboat Springs, CO along the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.  I wrote about the beginning of the trip up until Whitefish, MT and then failed to write anything else.  I'm going to post some small scenes from the trip to catch up.  I am working off of memory so of course it will be entirely factual with no embellishment whatsoever (I also have a journal that we kept at the time).  To be honest, I also just made a pot of espresso with our recently acquired $6 thrift store espresso pot so that may affect my memory too...
--

The highs and lows of bicycle travel can be truly schizophrenic, changing rapidly from one extreme to the other in short order.  And situations that you (or a more sane person) might otherwise find discomfiting are "THE BEST THING EVER" in the moment and cannot be reasonably explained.  If you're telling a story and your listener's eyebrows keep arching up and up or they look queasy like there may be immediate need of a trashcan, you wrap it up with the quintessential storyteller's line: "You had to be there."  In a period of 24 hours in southern Montana, Pam and I had one such experience.


July 14th, 2015

At some point during the day, Pam's odometer read 900 miles of cycling so far on the trip.  We had been riding now for one month exactly.  The route had thrown plenty at us thus far, but today's ride just slowly sapped our strength.  45 miles of rolling hills gained us 2000' of elevation gain from our starting point, but with all of the ups and downs, we actually climbed considerably more.  A note from my journal reads, "good gravel turned to hard dirt to shitty, rocky washboard, and eventually it just turned into rutted mud".  Additionally, the last mile of climbing to top of the watershed divide was considerably steeper, nothing that a topographical relief map does justice.  We just pushed the bikes up the last half mile of mud and loose rocks to be greeted by whipping winds and what appeared to be a building storm.  

No chance to appreciate the view from the top of the divide crossing, we rode two or three more miles to our planned camp.  Essentially, Pam and I found ourselves in a several mile wide grassy river valley.  Much of it is private ranch land that you can travel through by road, but not camp on legally.  To camp, we needed to figure out what was public land.  It turned out public land was 1/4 mile up a rocky path, through a gate in one of the ubiquitous barbed wire fences, and in a grassy field that looked identical to the hundreds of square miles surrounding us.  Our water source for the night was another 1/4 mile away: a "stream" no wider than my hand, hidden below the aforementioned grass and so full of sediment and cow shit that it clogged our water filter to a standstill.

We slept pretty soundly that night.

July 15, 2015

The day dawned clear and sunny and cool amongst the grass and sagebrush.  Both of us were looking forward to riding into Lima (pronounced LIE-muh like the bean not LEE-muh like Peru) which was about 35 mostly downhill miles away.  We didn't know much about the town beyond the fact that there was an Exxon station there which spawned our rallying cry of "DR. PEPPERS! AND GATORADES! AT THE EXXON GAS STATION!!" that carried us through the day.  Come to think of it, that became our rallying cry for the rest of the trip.  All packed up, we descended through the river valley on ever improving dirt roads.  After a bit, the valley abruptly narrowed to a tight canyon.  Neither the guidebook nor other travelers had given us any expectation of this.  The next ten miles were some of our favorite of the trip.  The road paralleled a beautiful trout stream.  High, soaring rock walls hemmed us in.  The road squiggled back and forth like a mess of spaghetti.  And tucked here and there amongst the rocks were small, ruggedly built cabins, any of which Pam and I would have gladly adopted.  At some point we stopped at a small BLM campground in the canyon for lunch.

The storm is moving left to right.  Fortunately/unfortunately, we are about to turn right in a mile or two.

We have only ridden for several minutes after lunch when the canyon starts widening a bit to where we can see more of the sky.  It's turning grey and there is a bit of wind picking up.  The distinctive smell of rain greets my nostrils.  Both of us don our rain jackets expecting just a little passing shower like what we've ridden in previously on the trip.

I believe Pam was saying something to the effect of "Bicycle touring is so stupid.  And I love it!"

The canyon finally gave out entirely and we could see for miles and miles out in front of us.  What greeted us was a wall of black clouds dropping sheets of rain and sprouting occasional lightning bolts to the north and moving south at a fast clip.  There is nowhere to take shelter for miles and we have to travel ten more miles south to get to Lima.  Shit.  This clearly feels like one of those scenarios in a wilderness first aid class or outdoor leadership course where you analyze what people did wrong.  The storm catches us right as we reach a paved frontage road that parallels Interstate 15 into town.  We've got 8 miles to go.

Pretty soon we get waaaaaay apart from one another.

At first it's just a steady rain.  But the storm clouds behind us are increasingly darker and angrier.  And they're catching up.  Pam shouts to me that it's best if we ride 50-100 feet apart from one another.  Why?  If one of us gets struck by lightning, hopefully the other will be out of range and can administer to the other.  Hey, if you're gonna be dumb and ride around in thunderstorms, you better be smart about it!  The two of us are biking about as fast as we can maintain comfortably, knowing that we have about 8 miles left.  And that's when the hail starts.


It begins as pea sized hail, just lightly here and there.  The hail gains intensity.  Pam is laughing at the ridiculousness of our situation.  There's not much else we can do at this point as we haven't seen any form of shelter for miles.  This goes on for many minutes.  Then the storm rapidly gains strength and the hail falls even faster.  The spheres of ice increase to about an inch in diameter.  Both of us instinctively attempt to make our entire bodies shrink beneath our bike helmets, the only source of protection.  The problem is, one still needs to have a hand on the handlebars of the bike.  I can still hear Pam laughing interspersed with a surprise yelp as another big hail chunk hits the back of her unprotected hands.  It sounds like someone is dumping buckets of marbles onto the road from great height whilst someone else is throwing gravel at you.  Over the din, we communicate that we must find some shelter and at long last spot an abandoned feed shed off the side of the frontage road.

Hail and cowshit.

We try as fast as we can to get off of the road, find a break in the fence and navigate a yard of tall grass, haphazard coils of barbed wire and indistinguishable abandoned metal parts in order to take refuge under the sheet metal shed.  It only affords us about a four foot overhang and hail is still blowing up under, but it's much better that being out in the midst of the storm.  The clanging of the ice falling on the sheet metal roof is a dull roar.  And after ten minutes of waiting, the storm moves on and the hail and the rain and the winds let up.

Snow in July?

Pam and I drag our bike out from under the feed barn and pedal back to the frontage road.  We have only about 4 miles of riding left to Lima.  As we ride through actual snowdrifts of hail collected on the road, we can help but smile and laugh and appreciate what an odd and beautiful day it has been.  We roll into Lima which is no more than a motel, a restaurant and a gas station offering an exit to motorists on I-15.  To us it is a bonanza.  We rent a room at the Mountain View Motel and immediately take hot showers and put on what dry clothes we have left.  Next stop is Jan's Cafe where we get cowboy burgers (beef patty with ham, bacon and cheddar on top) with fries and a side of gravy.  Over our sumptuous meal, Pam and I rejoice over the highs and lows of the past day.  It has felt like a whirlwind.

Then we go to Ralph's Exxon station and get our Dr. Peppers and Gatorades. 











Saturday, June 27, 2015

Here fishy, (White)fishy!

Greetings from Whitefish, Montana!  Pam and I are currently hogging a couple of computers in the public library to catch up on two weeks worth of electronic communications.  Two weeks of incommunicado in the Information Age?  We may as well not exist anymore!!  Best rest assured, we are alive and well and having the trip of a lifetime.

The bus ride from Richmond, VA to Banff, AB took over three days.  We both felt like it would never end but at last it did, depositing us at the train station.  It took us a couple of hours to debox our bikes and reassemble them, pack up and figure out where the heck we were in town.  Pam and I spent a day wandering about only to develop a slight claustrophobia and itchy feet, so it was terrific to hit the road/trail on Sunday morning.  Although we started in the wrong place, rode around confused for a half an hour, and then linked together a couple additional trails to get us onto the correct one.  But hey, we got there!  "Town" followed us for the first ten miles of trail with day bikers and hikers riding all about us.  It was a relief to get further away and the crowds dissipated to replaced with bear poop.  Yes, we knew to watch out for bears, but now we kept extra alert singing random tunes and talking extra loud.  (Ask one of us to do a rendition of "The Star Spangled Bear" which is the national anthem with "bear" liberally peppered into the lyrics).  Quite tired, but overwhelmingly happy with our beautiful surroundings, we camped on the edge of Spray Lake.

The following day was even more riding along the edge of Spray Lake with more bear (and moose!) poop littering the way.  Leaving the lake, we found ourselves pushing the bikes up some short but incredibly steep rocky inclines and then rocketing down through the woods on old logging roads.  Eventually 20 miles along a dusty gravel road brought us to our next campground.  Note: Rednecks in pickup trucks on gravel roads respond identically to cyclists in Canada as in the US.

The third day brought our first crossing of the Continental Divide!  Ten miles of climbing on dirt roads took us up to the top of Elk Pass and into British Columbia.  The payoff for our early labors was another ten miles of downhill on dirt roads.  We occasionally stopped to cross small streams or rutted sections formed by runoff.  Here we also saw our first grizzly bear track, which is humbling to say the least!  Another twenty miles of the gravel Elk River Rd to the Blue Lake campsite.  There our tranquil settings were interrupted by a dozen trucks full of folks in the twenties arriving to have a raucous party until the wee hours of the morning.  Fortunately we were so tired that even their thumping bass couldn't deny us sleep.  Waking up in the morning, we saw the last partyers drag themselves to their vehicles and depart.  Then it rained.  And kept raining.  And it was chilly.  Which made even the dozen miles into Elkford suck.  We arrived soaked, cold and hungry to the motel where a local commented in the most Canadian of accents, "Bit of a rainy day for biking, eh?"  Yes, brilliant observation.  We retired to the motel, jacked up the heat in our room, did laundry, pillaged their restaurant, and slept so well.

From here, we decided on a detour from the Great Divide route to head over to Waterton and Glacier International Peace Park.  We biked over the Continental Divide again over Crowsnest Pass and back into Alberta and in Coleman we had one of the best bacon mushroom cheeseburgers ever.  Ever.  Also, gravy on fries, poutine, whatever you want to call it, is awesome.  While Pam and I regretted being on pavement along with all of the cars and trucks, the next route served up a truly memorable day after that.  Finally a sunny day, we biked about 15 miles pleasantly.  Then the crosswinds and headwinds began that made us work for the rest of the day!  On one uphill section, a passing truck stopped to warn us of a bear ahead.  Right and that moment, we saw a quite large grizzly gallop across the road 100 yards ahead of us.  Close enough for me!  Several miles further along, we saw what looked like a riderless horse herding cattle.  Instead it was a cow moose scaring cattle and running in circles in a field looking for an escape.  Coming into Pincher Creek, tailwinds from a storm got us up to about 30 mph (I dunno, my computer is broken...) only to be frighteningly hit with crosswind gusts.  That can tire your arms out trying to stay straight.  Thoroughly frazzled, we stopped at a grocery store for supplies and directions to the campground.  A kindly customer gave us directions only to end up meeting us twenty minutes later at the campground to invite us to her house.  Sally and Brent (who happens to be a minister) gave us a warm welcome into their home letting us shower, do laundry, and preparing a delicious dinner.  They regaled us with stories of their own trips and then we left to watch Brent referee a kids' soccer game nearby.  The night was capped with a driving tour of town and the wind turbine fields (Pincher Creek is pretty windy) and ice cream.  Thanks guys!

Heat and headwinds and consistent uphills combined for an energy sapping ride into Waterton Lakes park, but once there it was gorgeous!  We took a day there to relax and explore and for me to strip part of Pam's crankset in an attempt to fix it.  Whoops.  We also saw a red fox on one of our walks.  The next day we left the park and did several steep long climbs in the rising temperatures that eventually brought us back into the USA.  Thankfully we were able to refill our water partway through from the Belly River.  Later on we entered open range.  Imagine two hot, tired cyclists yelling at a group of cows to try and move them off the road.  It's funny if you're not one of the cyclists.  It's funny if you're one of the cyclists too, I guess.  More headwinds and more people who should have their licenses revoked livened up the last miles into Babb, MT.  (Cue another cheeseburger and a cheesesteak and cold soda.)  The next day was a short one taking us into Glacier National Park (Pam's first time there) and the Rising Sun Campground.  There we psyched ourselves up with gin rummy, burritoes, and an early bed time for the next day's riding: Going to the Sun Road.

The day that Pam and I rode Going to the Sun Road through Glacier ranks as one of the best days of biking ever.  We woke at 4 am with the first hint of dawn and were on the road at a little after five.  We had the road to ourselves as we biked steadily uphill gawking at the mountains around us awash in a reddish orange glow of the rising sun.  It was magical.  We eventually gained Logan Pass only having been passed by a handful of cars.  After a second breakfast at the pass and watching the parking lot explode with cars, we boogied.  Going to the Sun Road is literally cut into the faces of mountains and only a two foot high stone wall separates the road from a plunging drop of thousands of feet.  On a bike, you glide effortlessly down from the pass through hairpin turns around which is another breathtaking view of natural splendor.  It truly defies written explanation.  Along the way we passed several bicycle tourists laboring uphill.  Pam and I mistook a hoary marmot for a rock on the road and Pam narrowly skimmed past it.  We stopped to see a pair of mountain goats grazing.  Just marvelous!  All good things don't have to end because we biked to Apgar Village and at the campground, we met Ben, Naomi, Josh and Becca, fellow cyclists.  We spent two evenings there having broad ranging discussions over dinner with Ben and Naomi who are Australians.

Yesterday, we pried ourselves away from the park and made our way to Whitefish, MT.  There a new crankset awaited us to remedy my earlier mistake.  Also, our friends Bill and Kathy welcomed us into their beautiful log house (so jealous) with a majestic view of Whitefish Lake.  It has been a pleasure to spend time with them talking about their travels, fixing bikes and admiring life in Whitefish.  It will be a shame to leave tomorrow, but the trip must continue!

Finally, off of the bus!

Tunnel Mountain CG, Banff.  Don't like the weather?  Wait two seconds.

Wait.  Where are we?  Lost before the first mile...

A beautiful lunch spot on the first day of riding.

First bear poo sighting.

The first of 1001 ways to prepare tuna.  Remember the shrimp dialogue from "Forrest Gump"?

Spray Lakes West Road- Day Two

We definitely have a bear fetish.

Rightly, so.  Coming off of Elk Pass.

We also have a cabin fetish, but this one was creepy and mouse infested so we didn't stay here in the Elk River Valley.

Bagel with peanut butter, honey, and crushed salt & vinegar chips.  Yep, it's a thing.

Elk River Road.  It goes for a ways.  Watch for logging trucks.  And bears.

Who likes biking in 50 degrees and rain?  This girl!

This is the biggest dump truck I have ever seen.  Sparwood, BC

Rocky Mountain Sheep in Crowsnest Pass.

Coleman, AB

Entering Waterton Lakes National Park

Somehow, my pictures from Glacier didn't upload correctly.  Since, it took me about a half an hour to get these to upload and I have twice exceeded my 1 hour time limit at the library, I may have to stop short and post those pictures next time.  Sorry!






















Sunday, June 7, 2015

The Dork Rides Again!

Your trusty field correspondent, the Wild Dork.
IN less than 48 hours, Pam and I board a bus for a three day bus ride to Banff, Alberta in order to go ride the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (GDMBR).  When I tell people this they are typically more taken aback that we're riding Greyhound for three days than by the idea of biking 2700 miles through the Rockies.  Either way I guess we sound dumb.

BUT you dear reader have already heard of my long love affair with bus travel and bicycle touring, so this comes as no surprise.  Please follow along on our three month odyssey as we poke along the tracks and trails of the Continental Divide.  Our cameras will be coming along and hopefully we can post updates complete with pictures.  I have been led to believe that the route we're taking gets a little... remote, so that might not happen too readily.   Although at odds with my staunch Luddite values (I am not kidding, ask to see my $10 cell phone and my paper maps), we will be making at least one attempt at reason and carry a SPOT personal locator beacon.  Of course we hope to never utilize its emergency services feature, but it should allow you to follow our progress.  On the right sidebar of this page you should see a map which is a link to another map.  The first map is just something I stole from elsewhere.  The map you link to shows where we are, updated something like every 60 minutes.  Bike touring is a slow means of travel.  The only way to possibly make it look slower is to chart your position every hour...  (Editor's note: We'll actually only be updating about once a day.  It turns out you have to pay another $50-100 to update every 60 minutes.  $50-100 can buys lots of ramen and gummi bears.)

RIGHT now, Pam and I are checking through our bags and making sure everything is packed.  We just finished cramming the bikes into cardboard boxes for the bus trip.  (Did I mention that boxed bikes ride FREE on Greyhound?)  We've got our loonies (Canadian funny money), maps, camping reservations in Banff, and a vague schedule for the months ahead.  Any seasoned traveler knows that the moment that you make a really detailed plan and itinerary there are two outcomes.  You either avoid spontaneity (which is where the best stories come from) or that carefully assembled agenda gets shot to hell.   So we went ahead and avoided that.  At some point we will make it to the Mexican border (hopefully not a Tijuanan jail).  It's gonna be an awesome ride!

AND AWAY WE GO!


Wednesday, January 28, 2015

The Dork Speaketh

No.  I am not dead, confined to a cell, or living completely off the grid a la Dick Proenneke (but wouldn't that be nice?).  I'm just lazy.  That's why I haven't updated this blog in over a year.  Or I've been really busy.  Sometimes I confuse the two.

So why blow the dust off of this site and begin assailing you, dear reader, once again?  A few of my more loyal vistors may remember a couple of years ago when I said I was going to ride the Tour Divide.  These same readers may also remember that I in no way did that.  A few things came up such as making money again after not working for a year and/or the realization that I didn't want to attempt racing 2700 miles but instead enjoy myself.  Either way, it never happened.

But now, in the summer of 2015, my girlfriend, Pam, and I are planning to ride the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route!  The GDMBR is a bike route that follows trails and forest roads along the Continental Divide from Banff, Alberta to the Mexican border.  We have already begun reading through books and websites, cringing at topographical maps of the route, gathering bits of gear and taking rides.  But as anyone who has prepared for a trip such as this knows, there's plenty more to do!  Moving forward, I will share more of our plans as well as the "shakedown" trips that we take to prepare.  Then I will make my best effort to bring you along for our ~2.5 month trip along the Great Divide.

So yeah.  There it is.  Oh man I am so excited!

But what would be a blog post without some pictures?  So here's a couple from 2014 that I dug up.

In the middle of the summer, I visited Pam out near Seattle, WA and we packed up a rental car to spend a week out on the San Juan Islands.
Pam and I went sea kayaking off of San Juan Island to go look for orcas ("killer whales").  We saw a pod while we were out there.  This was the first time I paddled a tandem and first time I paddled in the ocean so I was trying really hard not to screw up.
The San Juan Islands from the top of Mount Constitution on Orcas Island.  Of course I referred to it as Mount Constipation the entire time.
I visited State College, PA again for my friends', Clay and Britt, wedding.  While there I took a few days to tour the back roads of Rothrock State Forest and ride trails with Eric and Jeef.
You can never have enough campfires.
I bought a Surly ECR for extended shenanigans and it will accompany me on the Great Divide.  Here it is with a beautiful Rothrock vista behind it.
Pam and I took a road trip of nearly the entire Outer Banks of North Carolina.  At one point, we paddled out to Cape Lookout.  Let's just say I was slightly intimidated at this point.
Camping for the evening on Cape Lookout with Pam.
Pam bought a Surly Troll for the Divide!
Although the Triangle is a busy place, there are still adventures to be found.  And hermits.

Oh yeah.  Something else I forgot to mention.  I started making caps in order to combat my seasonal affective disorder.  I was gonna start out and make myself a pair of pants or a shirt, but then my mom reminded me that a) those garments are really hard to make and b) I hadn't touched a sewing machine in a decade.  Moms are always so smart.  At her suggestion, I started off with a hat and so I have made a couple of cycling caps.  My first few are definitely a large/x-large right now to fit my large Mrotek head.  I will soon scale it down for normal people.  Besides providing me with encouragement, my mother, Dolores, is also supplying me with reclaimed wool fabric in a vast assortment of patterns, plaids and different colors.  Below is one of the first I made out of reclaimed wool with a brim made of plastic from a popcorn tub.  Stay tuned if you are interested in one.


Saturday, November 16, 2013

Bike Camping Durm-style

Sometimes (read that as "always") I tend to get caught up a little too much in my day to day activities.  You lose track of any larger picture, going about your daily routine and before you know it, a day/month/decade has passed you by.  That's when it's nice to interject a small interlude into your week.  And that's where a bike camping overnight comes in.  I won't waste my finger strength blathering about why you should ride a bike, etc. because it's self explanatory.  What I would like to do is showcase an overnight bike camping trip my friend, Jon, and I took in the Durham, NC (pronounced "Durm") area yesterday in hopes that others will be inspired.

If there ever was a dependable and eternally enthusiastic friend, Jon is it.  I have frozen my ass off on subzero ice climbing trips with him, shared a tent for a month during which neither of us showered, and tied into the same climbing rope innumerable times.  We shared a whole lot of other times together that I will abstain from entering into the written record for fear of later legal ramifications.  Jon can be bleeding profusely from both shins due to ill fitting mountaineering boots, be looking at the kiddie box of raisins that constitutes his day's rations and flinching at the sound of bus sized seracs falling off a mountain and he'll still muster a big smile and say "Let's do this".

Of course when I mentioned to Jon on Wednesday that I was planning to bike from Durham to Jordan Lake the next day and spend the night, he was immediately on board.  Sometimes I have to be skeptical about Jon's enthusiasm because he currently works the third shift on some odd rotating schedule.  It would render almost anyone continually sleep deprived.  Jon can sometimes appear zombie-like in his motions after long work stints.  (And he usually smells like rotting flesh just as a zombie would, but that's an entirely different matter)  We both needed to work Friday afternoon, so Thursday evening was prime pickins for a camp out.

If you have yet to bike or walk on the American Tobacco Trail, then you are certainly missing out.  It served as a comfortable and convenient route out of downtown Durham for us.  The trail begins adjacent to the Durham Bulls baseball park (no... not the original of movie fame, but that one still stands fairly close by) and runs through urban neighborhoods about 7 miles south to where Interstate 40 currently interrupts it.  A dedicated overpass for pedestrians and cyclists is under construction and should hopefully be complete sometime this spring.  With all of the construction delays that have happened in the past though, we may be seeing winged bacon before we see the overpass.  Fayetteville Rd parallels the ATT and so you can ride on it for a couple of miles to cross I-40, but keep in mind that you're going through several stoplights with on/off ramps and passing Southpoint Mall.  Not impossible, just be careful.  From there you can reconnect with the ATT and ride another 13 miles south to where it ends.  There we switched over to very quiet country roads that wind their way west to the man made Jordan Lake.

Being model citizens for once, Jon and I elected to camp in a designated campground of which there are about 6 or so circling the lake.  Some shut down for the colder months, but two are open year-round.  Of course the campground was a ghost town this late in the year, but the hot water was still running in the bathrooms so who cares?  We were able to scrounge some free firewood abandoned by a previous camper and build a cheery fire to combat the low of 32 degrees that night.  Most folks that we talked to in the area considered it stupid or suicidal to camp out in such temperatures since it doesn't get much colder than that this far south.  (My friends in Pennsylvania are currently laughing...)

The night passed quietly and we both slept soundly despite everyone's concerns.  The brisk morning air called for a quick breakdown of camp so that we could start moving about and riding however.  One gas station on US 64 advertised breakfast starting at 5:30 am and that was a siren song to our wind nipped ears.  After a few breakfast sandwiches, Jon and I decided to go our separate ways.  He would retrace our route back up the ATT to Durham and I would take Fearrington/Farrington/etc. Rd across the lake and back up to Chapel Hill, NC to work later in the day.

This trip is a great ride for anyone living in the Triangle.  Once the overpass for the American Tobacco trail is completed, I think that even a novice cyclist would feel comfortable riding the 30 mile stretch that we did.  There are plenty more opportunities for overnight bike camping trips in the area and I'll continue to post them as well as the biking friendly routes that I take.

It being his first bike tour of any kind, Jon is double checking the list outside his apartment.  Gummi bears?  Check.  By the way, he lives in a renovated toy factory.  I'd say that suits him.

The American Tobacco Trail starts as a paved trail in downtown Durham and includes several bridges over busy streets.

Once you cross Interstate 40, it gets a little bit more rural and has an unpaved shoulder as well which is presumably for horses.

The southernmost 7 or so miles of the ATT are not paved but are so firmly packed that any road bike can still easily travel on it.

Jon is smiling even though his Brooks leather saddle is still hard as a rock.

We arrive with even some daylight to spare... but not much.

With all of the leaves having fallen, some beautiful views of Jordan Lake are available from the campsites.

Jon has just finished telling me that his touring bike is now "one of the five best purchasing decisions" he's made in life.  Even I am afraid to inquire as to the other four.

The water in the bathrooms is absolutely scaldingly hot.  I guess to handle peak tourist season when it gets diluted.  Instead of going to the trouble of boiling another pot of water, we get the bright idea of just making tea with the water straight out of the tap.  It is hereafter referred to as "sink tea".

The men's bathroom in Loop A of Crosswinds Campground has some pretty sweet murals in it.  Yes, I checked the women's too.  It was a deer.  And an owl.

I admire their detail.

I didn't happen to see any windsurfers out on the lake that day.

Jon taught me how to play gin rummy then promptly kicked my ass.  What a friend.  Incidentally, all of these photos were either taken with an iPod Touch or a smartphone so I apologize if their not up to your standards.  This one was taken with the iPod and a headlamp held aloft for a "flash".

The following morning, hot breakfast sandwiches were indeed welcomed.  For those of you who have yet to sample "country style ham" in the South, you are missing out.  It contains approximately 1000% of your daily recommended sodium intake and would balance any electrolyte/salt deficiency on the hottest of days.