post-trip
Life goes on after an adventure. Lessons are learned. Wild times are shared. What follows on this page are thoughts subsequent to the finale of the expedition, written by yours truly, beginning at dear old mom’s high-desert ranch in Apple Valley, California.
This page will be an eclectic array of many topics, from tricycles to social ills, to maximizing one’s life span through thought and action. Although these ramblings, into which you are about to enter, may appear to wander far afield at times, there is always some thread, no matter how thin, that allows me to bring it back to this tricycle journey. Either that, or I’m getting better at rationalized engineering.
Whether you agree with my offerings or not, one thing is certain. There must be something in my one-way discourse that keeps you delving into these pages and reading the next set of nouns, verbs, and adjectives to emerge forth from my mind … the mind of an “old” man who got on a tricycle with the intent to ride across three states and end up at the lowest land in North America.
Life is short. If we don’t do crazy things now, then when? Make the time!! Remember, if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space! And don’t forget what Edward de Bono said: “If you wait for opportunities to occur, you will be one of the crowd.”
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Newest material appears at bottom
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Expedition Aftermath (November 15, 2009)
MUSINGS OF A WILD TRIKER
by Steve Greene,
Trike Pilot – initiated
Seven in the morning of October 01, 2009, and the ensuing 37 days, seem like so long ago, and a diverse world away from the comfortable office chair in front of the Desert Gypsy’s Mac computer. I am presently seated in the climate-controlled home of my mother, located in the high Mojave Desert town of Apple Valley, California, a place of complete rest and relaxation, with no demands or apparent dangers … allowing a brief period of reflection and recuperation from my first overland journey on a tricycle. The sun is shining through the south-facing office window, with the thermometer reading a pleasant 68 degrees Fahrenheit.
My left Achilles tendon appears to be completely healed, with no soreness, stiffness, or swelling of any observable degree. The tendon of my right leg is close behind, with very minimal swelling, and a nearly normal feel. Popular lore from ancient folk tales addresses the Achilles heel, a simple and unexpected nemesis that terminates an otherwise successful endeavor … the one overlooked aspect that could cripple a healthy adventurer. Never would I have believed such a consequence could wrestle control of this expedition from my grasp for a time, but at least the journey of mind and body continued, albeit on a course different than the original plan.
Time and again have I advised explorers of the vast Death Valley territory that the only certainty in Death Valley is uncertainty, a truism that has repeatedly demonstrated itself to me through the decades of my personal involvement here. This expedition unfolded as expected in many ways, of which you can read in this blog, yet in a few notable instances, the course of events took on a unique life of its own, with injury and severe weather dictating the next actions at a couple of key points.
Today, I wish to consider and share a few elements of this odyssey, a life-altering experience that I am pleased to have accomplished. An odyssey may be defined as a journey fraught with numerous challenges and unexpected perils. It is a term often associated with a hero of Greek mythology who overcomes adversity to achieve a noble goal, and in a romantic vision of myself, I suppose the image does fulfill a certain internal and private need to rise above mediocrity. The status quo has rarely been my way, and as I grow older, the thought of doing what everyone else does everyday is not a part of my desired life paradigm.
It may be true that I am a wilderness rogue, intent on writing my own rules.
American tradition virtually demands that I hold a 9 to 5 job for 42 years after a four-year college education, retire with excellent benefits at age 65, live the next ten years in a relaxed manner during a typically escalating time of deteriorating health, and then frailly leave the world of the living three-quarters of a century after I entered it. This is expected reality … for the oblivious masses willing to accept it, a long-established way of life that we have been seduced to believe since childhood. Well, I unthinkingly accepted this routine for a while, as most of us do, wanting to be part of the social norm, before it began to dawn on me that there may be better ways of taking my journey on Earth … ways likely unsuitable for most.
It could be potentially construed that my ramblings here have gone astray temporarily, into an irrelevant rant about the ills of humanity, yet this maverick ideology to which I hold is at the very core of the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition. It may have been apparent that my path was straying back on December 22, 2008, when I relinquished ownership of America’s most essential possession … the automobile. My way demands that fitness and longevity be the guiding forces in all that I do, and dismissing the venerated car from my model of life realized several health goals at once, things considered important to me, such as achieving notable fitness levels with human-powered mobility, and doing what I can to keep the air I breathe pristine. Of course, aspects like not financially supporting the petroleum industry at the gas pump, as well as no semi-annual payments of insurance, and the cessation of tossing money into maintenance and repair shops were also a plus.
There are upsides and downsides to everything. I may be crazy, yet you are reading these words flowing from my mind, so just maybe there is something here of interest to others than myself.
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A few words of appreciation are in order for a select group of folks who have contributed many wonderful things to my efforts with this expedition. They have strengthened the endeavor in a variety of ways, and given me the spunk to carry-on at times when it would have been easier to just throw in the towel. With the written word in our society, order of appearance is often interpreted as level of importance or significance, so to avoid any aura of preference, I’ll simply go with the alphabet. All these folks have gone the extra mile to ensure the success of this journey.
I especially wish to thank David Blacker, Terry Butler, Desert Dune, Jack Freer, Jim Graves, Joan Greene, Matt Jensen, Willow Wolf, and Dave Wright.
David Blacker, Executive Director of the Death Valley Natural History Association, is the fellow who initially suggested to Jim Graves, the Production Director of the Death Valley 49ers encampment, that I be invited to Death Valley as the exclusive speaker for the Author’s Breakfast. Without Dave’s recommendation, this expedition may not have ever materialized. He was the spark that ignited the Death Valley fuse.
Terry Butler, an absolutely brilliant academian and retired university professor, also played a key role in my ability to proceed into an unknown venture. Terry is quite the philosopher, and a friend who loves to walk and bicycle everywhere he goes. On our combined human-powered jaunts around town during the months prior to my departure, this man offered pearls of wisdom that were pivotal in forming a solid mental and emotional foundation in my attempt to execute what many considered a foolish exploit. Terry helped me define how I would know if success had been achieved, regardless of whether it all went off as planned, or somehow changed during the course of the journey. With Terry’s wisdom, it became apparent that failure was not in my future.
Desert Dune, the mysteriously elusive scribe and advocate whose writings appear in this blog, has spent countless hours preparing text documenting the trek for your enjoyment. Emotional support from the Dune grew as the weeks and months counted down to October first. Many cellular telephone calls during the journey allowed the facts to flow into Desert Dune’s notes, and ultimately the computer. This champion of the expedition helped make the blog what it is, along with additional valuable input from Jack Freer and Dave Wright.
Jack Freer, the Chief Deputy for the Carson City Sheriff’s Department in Nevada, was my ace in the hole, the wingman who kept a daily eye on this trike pilot during his first solo flight. As with Desert Dune, Jack was updated regularly by cell phone, and ever ready to depart his home turf in his truck if necessary to make sure I did not perish on some remote paved backroad in America’s western wilderness. Jack’s backup came in handy, as you well know from the posts on this blog, and his camaraderie in Death Valley led to a memorable time there. Many of the photographs on this blog are his handiwork, and his written commentaries have helped put the story together for all to read.
Jim Graves, the Production Director and co-Vice President of the Death Valley 49ers, was in charge of lining up entertainment for the five-day encampment. Jim was the fellow who originally contacted me via email back in April, requesting my appearance to talk about the Death Valley Book Of Knowledge. I responded that I now lived about 900 miles away, no longer owned a car, and had to figure out how to get there. He gave me a few days to consider the proposal, while I built up the courage to trek via trike. Jim, and his wife Nancy, provided me all the help I needed while at Furnace Creek for a couple of weeks, making sure my experience was a positive one.
Joan Greene, also known as the Desert Gypsy or Teakettle Mama, was also instrumental in putting together the package that allowed me to ride a trike south into Death Valley from the Oregon coast. Dear old mom unhesitatingly fronted the necessary funds to enact an immediate purchase of the vehicle I would pilot across the miles and states, American greenbacks that have spoken for my book royalty payments during the foreseeable future. Hopefully my presentation at Stovepipe Wells will shorten this time frame. Mom wanted me to rent a car initially, but stood behind my decision to take the trip under my own power once I informed her of my eccentric desire to pedal a tricycle.
Matt Jensen, a lone rogue who made his fortune in the Alaska oil fields, provided my first hands-on introduction to recumbent tricycles. I had been studying them for months online, and then one day fortuitously met Matt as he was pedaling his Catrike 700 around town. Matt has offered a cornucopia of valuable advice for the months leading up to my departure on the expedition, so I had a very good idea of what to expect. He also brought me up to speed on the mechanics of trikes, how to repair them by myself on the road, and he even performed several preparatory actions on my Q, including changing the rear cassette and properly tightening the spokes to alleviate uneven braking.
Willow Wolf, my sister of over five decades, was enthusiastic from the start, offering words of encouragement and emails of wisdom to prepare my mind for what was out there in the unknown. She also stocked up on necessary food supplies so that when she and my mom met me in Death Valley for my talk, I could replenish my kitchen on wheels for the return trip to Oregon. On my 7+ hour ascent of Towne Pass on November 6th, Willow even walked along behind my trike for approximately 2,000 vertical feet. Not too many people would have gone that far.
David A. Wright, historical researcher for the Great Basin area, is the man responsible for the excellent maps that have appeared on this blog. He has taken quite a bit of time to study my route and map it out so that you would have a visual on exactly where I was going. Being intimately familiar with the landscape for thousands of square miles, Dave also offered advice to Jack and me about potential re-routing when it became necessary mid-trip to alter the original itinerary due to injury and severe weather. This guy is also the jester responsible for many fun comments here and there on the blog, and his knowledge of obscure area facts is absolutely unparalleled.
Thanks all, for everything you have done, and for helping make this expedition the success that it was! I could not have done it without you!
*****
In May 2009, I purchased a sophisticated recumbent tricycle, a device most think rather bizarre looking at first, with two 20-inch wheels in front and one in the rear. I had never ridden one before, and I only had 18 weeks to prepare for a very long cross-country trek, a journey the likes of which I could only imagine at that time. The story of my preparation is told in detail on the Death Valley Journal weblog. The weeks getting ready were so full of hundreds of details that there was little time to question the wisdom of my decision. Up through the final hours of September 30th, it was nose to the grindstone. The flash of panic that swept through me at 7 AM on October 1st just before my first pedal stroke was so fleeting that it had no time to consume any portion of my determination.
Traveling on a trike keeps one in the here and now. There is really no time to wallow in the past or worry about the future. Each curve has its challenges and rewards. Every mile is one hard earned. All the wonders of the natural world are fully appreciated with sensations never possible while traveling in a steel and glass box at 65 miles per hour. It’s a world that I could never adequately explain to anyone who has not experienced it first hand, yet I will try in the coming months as I author a book about the complete odyssey. It will be my way of memorializing for myself and others just what was involved in tricycling to Death Valley.
The day before I was to present at the Author’s Breakfast, a lady walked over to me as I was sitting on the Q writing in my journal, and asked me what the nature of my disability was. Matt Jensen had told me on several occasions this past summer that it will not be uncommon for people to view me as physically disabled when they see me in the trike. I guess it must cause some to think wheelchair, or that I would be on a bicycle if I could. He also said that cars will give me a wide margin as they pass on the road, also believing that something is wrong with me (physically, not mentally). He was correct on both accounts. To the lady who outright asked the question, I smiled, immediately arose from the low-slung trike, and jumped high into the air, while stating that nothing was wrong with me. We had a good laugh, and she went away realizing that, while trikers may be nuts in the head, they certainly are strong in body.
Extremes have been the hallmark of the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition. Over the course of this journey, I have encountered rain, wet forests, ice, snow, sub-freezing temperatures, frozen water and food, hypothermia, sun, dust, triple-digit temperatures, hot water, high winds, dirt storms, overheating, and vast deserts. My hands have been so cold breaking down the tent that I had to do it in short bursts to allow my hands to re-warm enough to have another go at it, while at other times, the campsite was so comfortable that I didn’t want to even break camp. I have seen geese flying along side me on the Umpqua River, horses running along side in northern California as the stallion was excited about my passing, coyotes furtively looking for food, rattlesnakes and tarantulas crossing the road, and deer curious about what I was. And dogs, the bane of regular bicyclists, refused to get close to me, as my image was not in their understanding – simply heading in their direction sent them packing.
I have met interesting people along the way, like the fellow who was riding a bicycle and trailer from Fairbanks, Alaska to Tierra del Fuego at the southern tip of Argentina, a 15,000 mile overland trek that hit the 5,000 mile mark at Badwater. He stayed two nights at my camp in Furnace Creek, and we shared the joys of solo cycling. I met the man who founded an extreme cycling organization that organizes and promotes long distance endurance events in Death Valley, one of which raises money for diabetes research for children. A lady made my acquaintance who had cancer, and walked a daunting distance in Death Valley by herself to strengthen her own resolve to beat it. Her solo walk has now morphed into a yearly event attended by others to help cancer victims. I met a former psychologist who determined he had made enough money in his practice and didn’t need anymore, so he gave it all up and walked across America. Now, he is a ranger for the National Park Service. I met two gals who had been backpacking for 5 months straight, from their home in Nelson, British Columbia, with the goal to walk the Pacific Crest Trail. One of the ladies had an injury that terminated her trip in southern Oregon. The other continued on alone. These folks inspired me, and I wish to have them all tell about their endeavors in my next book.
*****
I have learned that venturing out where the masses fear to tread brings special rewards, and puts one in touch with other adventurous people. I have learned that when two extreme explorers meet in the wilds, there is an immediate and powerful kinship, based on an unspoken understanding of what each is experiencing alone on the journey. I have learned that it takes just as much mental and emotional strength to carry out these extended overland trips as it does physical ability. I have learned that incredible memories are formed each new day, and any normal folks who I happen to encounter are eager to hear all about what it’s like.
I have learned that living outside the box is like being in a parallel universe, where I see the same things as those around me, yet my vision is a world apart. How I interact with this planet, other humans, and the wild creatures about me is on another level that most do not experience. This reminds me of John Muir’s statement of so long ago: “Most people are on the world, not in it – have no conscious sympathy or relationship to anything about them – undiffused, separate, and rigidly alone like marbles of polished stone, touching, but separate.”
I have learned that my journey of life is the reward itself, that no single place or destination is what I seek. The satisfaction of living comes from my daily experiences, from appreciating the natural world, from bringing a smile to my fellow human, and from my ability to remain a positive and uplifting force regardless of what seems to be happening inside the box of traditional reality. I have learned that keeping life simple, free from the imagined complexities of society, is what works for me. I have learned that opting out of the almighty status quo is the best way to find the new path to freedom and happiness.
I have learned that there is yet much more for me to learn, and my path to this enlightenment is ever a beckoning call. I have learned that questioning even the most sacred of supposed cultural truths may open doors heretofore unimagined. Most importantly, I have learned to follow my own instincts, even when they transport me into remote places that are not on the map of traditional existence.
I have learned that there is a lot to be learned while riding a tricycle to Death Valley … that a whole new world can present itself between sea level at the Pacific Ocean and 282 feet below sea level at Badwater. Whether atop a dark and frozen snow-bound mountain pass or cradled in a hot sun-baked salt playa, there are secrets to be learned. It has been one hell of a ride!
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The original itinerary of the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition called for a return trike trip to Oregon’s Pacific shores, which would have put the total mileage between 2,000 to 2,500 miles. That seemed daunting to me at first before I left, but I figured barring an injury, it was realistic. And, after learning more about my new friends who have traveled and are traveling distances of anywhere between 1,000 to 15,000 miles, my goals seemed pretty mild by comparison. Well folks, changes did come about en route, like my Achilles issues and the severe life-threatening weather events. Adaptations were made, and yet that is all right with me. I had no goal to simply impress anyone, although the male psyche tends to persevere in that regard. My goals included changing my mode of transport to non-petroleum avenues, further increasing my physical fitness levels, giving a presentation in Death Valley, and meeting a few exceptional people while engaged in these activities. I have met with success in all these objectives, and I am well satisfied.
My decision to end the trike journey in southern California came about for two primary reasons: 1) I am not so bent on the return trip that I am willing to risk rupture or permanent injury of the Achilles tendons. I want to be able to ride on other trips, and continue to walk everywhere else. My tendons are just now looking and feeling fairly normal. 2) After encountering the snowstorm that dumped white stuff all over the Cascade Range during the first days of October, and realizing that I had gotten in over my head on that traverse, it became clear that attempting mountain crossings in late November or early December would be unwise, especially if my Achilles tendons became re-inflamed and made travel unbearable. I believe that my body will continue to adapt to tricycling, and that ultimately my Achilles tendons will no longer be problematic on extended overland journeys.
Why did the right Achilles have greater problems than the left? I believe that it was because my right leg is slightly shorter than my left, an anomaly that has always caused my left leg to be slightly more muscular than my right, due to it having to take up the extra effort when extending during exercise. The shorter right leg required that my right foot flex more onto the ball of the foot each revolution of the pedals, therefore bringing more stress upon that tendon. My ideal setup may be a right-hand crank arm that is customized to a shorter length. I will have to see how things go. This is only supposition at this point, but it seems logical to me. In Death Valley, there is a saying that goes: “Adapt or perish.” I am readily adaptable, and in search of the solution that will allow for unencumbered travel, as I have no desire to stop triking … it’s just too much darn fun!
Here at mom’s in southern California’s Mojave Desert, my itch to get back into the cockpit of the Q is simply overwhelming each day. I have taken a number of short rides around the immediate neighborhood, and I love every minute of it. Here, the streets are all level, so I can cruise along at 15 to 20 miles per hour in high gear with nominal effort. My sister Willow is impressed with how fast the trike allows me to travel, and thinks that it might be a fine transportation mode for her to make trips to the local grocery store, which is about two miles distant – too far to comfortably carry groceries, although she has no problem walking the distances without a heavy load. A trike would let her put groceries in the panniers for easy and fast transport.
One other adjustment I have not yet perfected is the tension on the mesh seat straps. I have one vertebra that has been rubbed excessively by the mesh, and it is somewhat unpleasant depending on how I sit. There are adjustable straps on the rear of the mesh seat cover every few inches, so I continue to play with the straps, seeking that perfect place where there is no pressure anywhere on the spine.
*****
I think I will end this post now, as I want to get out of this office for a while. Thanks for keeping up with all that has been transpiring since I first got the bug to ride a tricycle to Death Valley. Here are some links that you may enjoy, from folks who gave me their business cards along the way:
(Canada to California by foot)
http://www.PanAmericanTour.net
(Alaska to Argentina by bicycle)
(Death Valley tours in a big pink Dodge)
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Take care my friends … talk to you later!
– Steve
the crazy guy on a trike
REMEMBER:
Only those who risk going too far will discover how far they can go!
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TRIKE TECH TALK (November 17, 2009)
What Worked – What Didn’t
(for my fellow tricyclists)
Scribbled here by Steve Greene
The Death Valley Tricycle Expedition was comprised of several strategic components, each building a foundational aspect upon which the overall success of the mission relied. The subtitle of this blog provides good clues in this regard, informing us of three such parts: 1) Death Valley, 2) Tricycle, & 3) Expedition. The main title further presents Badwater as playing a part. And from reading about the journey, the original reason for the endeavor was to give a presentation about a book to a group of people interested in Death Valley.
I will be writing a new book about this expedition, which will clearly be an eclectic array of information and experiences that may be of interest to more than one group of similarly-thinking people. For instance, people fascinated by the Death Valley region may find the book of interest due to my long-standing relationship with this wild territory. Likewise, folks who are into solo overland expeditions without the use of petroleum-powered vehicles could seek a vicarious experience in the writings. Another potential community of readers may be environmentally-inclined individuals who support clean-air alternatives to the ubiquitous car. And, as I have learned from my weblogs, a significant number of cyclists are now coming to the blogs to learn what is was like to ride a tricycle to and through Death Valley.
In this post today, I would like to chat a while about the mode of transportation, as its uniqueness has quite a bit to do with the interest that surrounded the trek through three western states. This was not an exceptionally long cycling journey when compared to the many other adventurers out there who ride thousands of miles on a trek, some over the course of many months or years. It was long enough however to teach yours truly the ins and outs of human-powered travel, giving me a fair amount of insight about what works and what doesn’t when it comes to trekking on a trike. I still have more to learn, yet for my first-ever such odyssey, the successes of this expedition have afforded me a base of experience from which I may now pass on my ideas to those who might find them useful.
Take what you wish from this tricycle tech post, and leave the rest. What works for one doesn’t necessarily work for others. I was advised by my friend Matt Jensen about many things, and on hindsight, realize that his thoughts were right-on much of the time. Some things I learned the easy way from Matt and other adventurers, while some things I learned through the school of hard knocks, thinking I knew better (on a couple of points however, I actually did know better, for my particular situation). This is the joy of life though, gaining new experiences and wisdom in a variety of ways.
This post will likely present the highest amount of interest to people who actually own tadpole trikes, folks who are considering taking a long trip on their trikes, and those who are pondering whether they should purchase one in the first place. Prior to my preparations on this tricycle expedition, I had never owned or ridden a trike myself. I only knew that I wanted to get one as my long-distance transport to replace my car. I rode it four months to learn all I could about it before I departed for Death Valley, and to give my body a chance to adapt to its unique characteristics. It was the fast-track course: Tricycling 101.
Car manufacturers, such as BMW, come to Death Valley every year to secretly test new models in a place everyone thinks is the ultimate proving ground due to its extreme weather and terrain conditions. If an engine is ever going to blow up, Towne Pass is the place to make it happen. If it’s ever going to overheat, Badwater Basin is the place to bring it on. Well, I pedaled my tricycle instead, rode it about 180 miles throughout Death Valley National Park, and learned that the British have mastered the production of reliable trikes. I even had numerous people photographing me on the road and at rest stops, although they weren’t competitors out to see the latest model as in the world of automobiles. I felt like a celebrity. By the way, I did see a corps of BMWs during my time at Furnace Creek, with one wrapped in the tell-tale vinyl to hide the new model lines from competing automobile manufacturer’s eyes, as well as those guys who snap photos for the newspapers.
Okay, let’s move on …
I will discuss here some technical facets that may prove helpful to you and your own tricycling endeavors. This is not high-tech stuff like what the engineers who design these rigs talk about, but rather just a layman’s commentary of the trike based on my personal observations. There is no particular order to things; they appear here just as they come out of my brain, translate through my arms and fingers into the keyboard, and into the electronic wizardry of today that allows us to communicate so easily via the internet.
VEHICLE: 2007 tadpole tricycle, manufactured by Inspired Cycle Engineering of England (ICE, also known as Trice) – specifically, a Q nt model, which is low-slung for good aerodynamics, and narrow-track for maneuvering in tight spaces. The tadpole design, with two wheels in front, allows for aggressive cornering with minimal risk of rollover (as compared to the delta design, with one wheel in front, which is more susceptible to rollover in sharp curves).
Let’s start with the most basic of items that keep our trikes rolling down the road: the tires and associated particulars. The last thing I wanted out on some busy Oregon, California, or Nevada highway with no shoulder was to have a flat tire. Not only would it waste my travel time, it would prove an unpleasant experience changing a tube under these circumstances. Could you imagine what it would have been like had a tire gone flat during my Cascade Range ascent at 2:00 AM, where my very survival was in question?
So, I did what many advised me was overboard and totally unnecessary! I tripled my tire protection on the trike to eliminate the worry of this happening. I was intent on keeping the 70 pounds per square inch inside the tube rather than allowing it to escape into the air I was breathing. This involved purchasing what I determined was the best puncture resistant tire available today, even though each of the 4 tires cost me $56 (3 on the trike, with one spare under the trailer … just in case they really weren’t invincible). Schwalbe Marathon-Plus tires have an extra thick tread area that a thorn, or even a thumbtack cannot penetrate. They are touted as puncture proof, and I was advised that was all that was needed to keep my aluminum wheels elevated from the asphalt. This tire is one step better than the Schwalbe Marathon.
Next, I lined each tire with EarthGuard tire liners. These are inserted prior to the tube, and provide yet another layer of thick and tough material that stands between the tube and the thorn, glass, metal, or whatever else lurks out there along side the automobile highways to stop cyclists (such as thin strands of steel from trucker’s tires that have exploded at 60 miles per hour – nasty things – stay away). Despite advice that I needn’t do more, I did anyway, by using Q-Tubes instead of standard bicycle tubes. These Q-Tubes are super thick and very durable compared to the flimsy tubes that come standard on most cycles. At this point, each wheel/tire combo weighed in heavier than what most road cyclists would want to have (weight is considered the enemy to cycling travel by many enthusiasts). For my needs however, I sacrificed the lighter weight for the bullet-proof setup that would get me through without any flats.
My intuition paid off! The trike, which is currently sitting in mom’s garage in Apple Valley, still remains at normal height because all three tires are still fully inflated. None of them had a flat the entire trip. Every week or two, I checked them by feel and with a gauge to verify, and topped off the air if it had slowly crept down to around 65 (still acceptable). All tires lose air over periods of weeks and months naturally. At 65 pounds, the ride would have been softer, but since I was hauling so much weight on this journey, I kept them at the maximum rating to make my rolling resistance as little as possible. Based on this experience, I would recommend a similar setup to anyone contemplating a long distance cross country trip. Peace of mind is worth a lot.
To contrast the tires on the trike and give you an idea of manufacturing differences, I’ll describe the two tires on my trailer. The Burley trailer came supplied with Kenda tires and normal tubes. I did not have the funds to outfit it with Schwalbe Marathon-Plus tires, but I wanted a little extra protection that would hopefully do the trick. I installed EarthGuards in each tire, which was my only modification. All was fine until I drove through that thicket of goatheads in Canby, California late one afternoon on Day 9. Goatheads are the nightmare thorns that will flatten just about any tire and tube combination. I had hundreds of these things literally covering every square inch of tread on all five tires. It took about half an hour to extract every last one. The next morning, all five tires were still holding.
Well, over the course of the next day, it became apparent that the Kendas and the standard tubes of the trailer setup had been damaged. Both were losing air each day, enough so that it required monitoring and inflating. The right tire was doing better than the left. A few days later, the left wouldn’t even hold air for a few hours. I had two spare Q-Tubes in my possession just in case this happened, so I inserted one and was back in business for the remainder of the trip.
One thing I noticed while changing the tube is the dramatic difference between the Kenda tire and the Schwalbe Marathon-Plus. The Kenda I could easily change out with just my hands because it was so thin, light, and flexible. The Schwalbe, on the other hand, is just the opposite (thick, heavy, inflexible, and a real bear to change), but the good news is that you would rarely, if ever, need to change the Marathon-Plus due to a puncture situation. During this changing of the trailer tire, I also noticed the huge difference between the standard inner tube and the Q-Tube: There simply is no comparison, other than they both hold air! The Q-Tube is thick and heavy by comparison, but when you’re out in the hinterlands of nowhere, it’s sure a great feeling to know your tires and tubes won’t let you down!
Lesson learned? Do it right at home the first time! Don’t skimp. I should have bitten the bullet and equipped the trailer like I had the trike, but I figured I’d take the chance. I figured wrong. The right trailer tire loses its air over the course of a week, so I will eventually put my remaining Q-Tube in it. This tire/tube scenario is one of those things one really doesn’t learn except on a long overland trek. It made a believer out of me.
The three wheels on my trike are all the same size, 20 inches, which works well for my needs. The smaller rear wheel adds to the trike’s hill climbing capability. High speed road trikes sometimes have 700C rear wheels, which helps the top-end speed, but since I was going to ascend many long and steep mountain passes on this expedition with a heavy load, I am happy to have had the 20 inch rear. Another plus is that I only had to carry one size of spare tube, tire, and liner. If anything went wrong with any of the five tires, I had what I needed. By way of comparison, a person riding a trike with 20 inch fronts, a 700C rear, and pulling a BOB trailer with a 16 inch wheel has to carry 3 sizes of spare tire, tube, and liner to be fully covered. I am a simple guy, so I like to keep things simple!
The stock gearing on my Q was not the best for my needs. It was geared more for high speed and moderate hills. The front chain rings that came with the trike originally were 30-42-52, the 30 being fine for hill climbing with just the rider and the rig … no trailer or heavy panniers. I installed a crankset with 24-36-50 chain rings instead, the 24 being much better for climbing the passes with a heavy load, and the 50 being okay still for decent top-end speed on the flat. What I found surprising with the new setup is the middle chain ring of 36 teeth. This turned out to be just what I needed for moderate hills, as I could often remain in the midgear front, and by shifting down the rear cassette to low, it was possible to climb quite a few long, but moderate, grades without downshifting the front to the 24. In fact, the first few miles leaving Stovepipe Wells heading up notorious Towne Pass, my eyes told me 24, but reality turned out 36, all the way to the big sweeping curve that takes the road in a generally southern direction. From there on up, it was mostly the 24 however.
With the new front crankset, came shorter cranks: 152 millimeters instead of 170 on the Campagnolo I removed. Matt wonders if the shorter arms led to my Achilles overstress issues. I suppose that may be possible, as I was turning more revolutions per minute (RPM) and had less torque each stroke. Clearly, the fewer strokes over the course of a long trip, the less chance for a repetitive stress injury, as the rider is literally cranking out hundreds of thousands of revolutions each week. And with a shorter cranks, the RPM are higher. I will have to give this further thought. At the time I was looking into a new crankset, I could not find any with 165 to 170 mm arms that had a 22 or 24 small chain ring. I could have gone to a mountain bike crankset, which I almost did, but decided against it because the large chain ring was only 46 teeth if I remember correctly, which would not allow me enough top-end speed on the flat stretches.
The rear of the Q received an 11 to 34 mountain bike cassette, which proved to be just right. The range allowed for low-end pulling power for the steep grades with my load. Matt installed the cassette for me, back when I was still in my initial learning phases. I also lengthened the chain a little, because Norm Nieberlein, the original owner of the trike, had shorter legs, which necessitated me lengthening the boom a fair amount. Essentially, these changes front and rear were akin to putting a new transmission and drive train in an automobile, the differences being that I could perform all this in my own garage for very little money and no labor. Once a person comes up to speed on doing these modifications, it becomes apparent that no longer does being chained to a auto repair business have to be a part of life. How refreshing, and easy on the pocketbook!
My pedals are dual-sided, with SPD attachment points on one side, and nothing but a regular flat pedal on the other. They came off a Catrike. Initially, I was going to use my Shimano SPD sandals as my main footgear on this expedition, but chose otherwise at the eleventh hour. The decision was a good one, as it was nice to use just one pair of shoes, rather than having to change if I wanted to hike or walk around, and I also learned that my feet would have been way too cold if I had gone with sandals. This necessitated me having to install some type of foot retention device to the non-SPD side of the pedals, because if your foot slips off the pedal while in a fast downhill descent, your leg will be slammed into the cross-frame of the trike, which could break the bone.
I used a product called Power Grips, a flexible and ultra sturdy strap that “locks” the foot to the pedal, only requiring a simple twist to get out. Unlike a bicycle, where the feet are above the pedal, on a trike, the feet are behind the pedal … there is no support to counteract the pull of gravity. The Power Grips took care of that little issue perfectly.
I placed a rearview mirror on each handlebar end, which allowed me to see what was coming from behind. The panniers required me to turn the mirrors out a little more to see around them, and the trailer, which was offset to the left, required yet more tweaking of the left mirror. Mirrors are essential gear out on the road, and I highly recommend one for each side. It’s nice to see what is about to overtake you, especially when a shoulder-less bridge is coming up, or a blind right-hand curve. I don’t like surprises when it comes to 3,000+ pound automobiles whizzing by me unannounced.
The shifters on my Q are the twist grip variety. Most experienced cyclists that I have run across to date seem to prefer the bar-end shifters over twist grip, however, I found no fault with what I have. I enjoyed them for a strange reason: the handlebars are longer than I would like, a condition that I believe is necessitated due to the fact that this is the narrow track design, and if they were shorter, they would interfere with the front fenders and tires when turning sharply. So, I often keep my hands down low on the grips, with my thumb and forefinger gripping the bottom of the rubber and the rest of my hand just hanging off below. With the twist grip shifter, I can still shift without having to move my hands up to where a bar-end shifter would be. Having never had bar-end shifters, I cannot speak from experience about them, but I can say here that I like the twist grips just fine for my application
Fenders adorn my front tires. I would not be without fenders on a trike. For one thing, my hands are pretty darn close to the front tires during travel, and occasionally, a hand can come in contact with a tire without a fender, which is not a good thing if speed is up. For another, when going through water or road gunk, it sure is nice not to have it thrown onto pant legs or elsewhere. I also have a rear fender, built into the rear luggage rack. Okay, the right fender rattles at speed on some roads, something I have yet to track down and eliminate, but hey, I’ll take that rattle for the benefits of the fender.
The mesh seat is a wonderful invention, and lets me travel for days in comfort. It does take some adjusting of the rear tension straps however to get it just right. I have it mostly perfected, but still have to figure out how to relieve some tension on one of my mid-back vertebra, which is a little sore from the long haul. Fortunately, I had just enough rest days here and there that the rubbing did not develop into a full blown sore area that caused any unbearable pain, like a blister in a hiking boot might. I think that if I tighten the straps above and below the vertebra, and loosen the one immediately under the vertebra, it might be just the ticket. I plan on doing that this week while relaxing in the high desert
Another highly recommended item is the headrest! Although much of the time I prefer to keep my head in a vertical position, there are times that resting it is mighty fine and relaxing. This sometimes occurs on long tedious uphills, where hours may go by at a snail’s pace. On a really steep hill, leaning the head back is very comfortable. On steep descents, on the other hand, I prefer to not use the headrest. Also, if the roadbed is rough, using the headrest jars the brain too much for comfort. It’s just nice to know it’s there when I want it.
Speaking of long steep ascents up mountain passes, my view of hills has changed over the course of the past weeks. Being a normal fun-loving adrenaline junkie, I wanted the downhills for the sheer excitement of the ride (40+ MPH is a real kick on a trike), and uphills … well, they are something that many cyclists would rather do without. Then, on my seemingly endless traverse of the Panamint Range on November 6th, my modest brain had a light illuminate an important, but overlooked, point …
One of the main reasons I transitioned from a car to a trike was to add functional years to my life through ramping up my fitness endeavors. I realized that cruising downhill at high speed, only 9 inches off the asphalt, and with the wind whipping through my clothes, I was having a positive emotional surge, but what was I accomplishing for my body? Nothing, really! I was just sitting there … might as well be in a car, right? Clearly, uphills are my friends! I know, you’re saying that this guy has really lost it now. Who wants to spend all day pedaling up a killer grade? Well, for my life goals, these challenging ascents are precisely what I want, for the work involved in getting to the top is what works my heart, lungs, and determination.
These things make me stronger and more fit … physically and mentally. My friends (the hills and mountain passes) will keep me alive and youthful when my contemporaries are suffering from atherosclerosis, heart attacks, and strokes. When others are being shoveled six feet under, I hope to still be disappearing over the crest of yet one more pass. If I have to go, let it be in the great outdoors with the freedom of my trike, rather than in an assisted living facility in front of a television, lacking the memory to recall my days on the Q.
The trike and trailer were beacons visible from afar, whether the sun was up, or the night was dark as a cave. I had two flagpoles that topped out at 8 feet, one located on the trike, and one on the trailer. They were day glow green, somewhat faded now, but still visible. I had traditional day glow orange flags on each pole. I also had one large bright yellow flag on the trike pole, as a color blind friend of mine said that it is not uncommon for many color blind people to see day glow orange as just a muddy brown color, an object that would simply get lost in their visible spectrum. He told me that yellow is something he can readily see, and that it stands out clearly above any other color. So, I covered my bases and included both colors, as well as some day glow orange and pink surveyor’s ribbon on the trailer pole.
I also had expensive reflective tapes adhered to the trailer and trike, which were like super bright lights for cars coming from behind at night. Several drivers said I was visible from far away at night when their lights struck my many reflectors. I also had a pricey 10-LED flashing red light array for the rear, and a marine rescue strobe, visible for miles in a dark sky. My front headlight was so bright that I could easily navigate with it in pitch dark, but of course, it went through batteries pretty fast, as it is on constantly. My tail light, which I kept in flashing mode, is still on its first set of batteries. The marine strobe is on its second battery.
Day or night, I never had any issues with cars or trucks seeing my odd 10-foot long rig anywhere. Even in the heavy rush-hour traffic of Klamath Falls, Oregon (hit that just right, ha ha), I was given the utmost respect and afforded courtesies that I would not have received had I been in a car. I was a real sight, something that folks are not used to, a fellow that a fair number of people thought was disabled. Whatever they thought, my experience of this trip tells me that fearing traffic is not what one might suspect prior to venturing out on an overland trek of several weeks.
In Death Valley, I even dispensed with wearing my helmet most of the time. The spaces are so wide open, and I was clearly visible day or night for a half mile or more, that I just stopped worrying about it finally. If you check out some of the photographs, you’ll see a tan baseball-type cap on my head, with flowing cotton sides that protect me from the sun. It’s a desert hat, designed by a company called Sequel for folks in hot and sunny climates. It was more comfortable than the helmet, and afforded excellent sun shade protection (I don’t use chemical sunblocks of any kind). The helmet I primarily wore in the event that I would accidentally put a wheel over the side of one of the many mountain passes I traversed, or if I had a blowout at speed.
In the national park, the roads I took were open with no steep drop-offs, so by wearing the hat, I could get off, take a walk, or talk with people and not have to change headgear. I did wear the helmet over Towne Pass, during the final hours of this expedition, not out of worry due to motorized traffic, but rather because of my planned descent from the summit into the Panamint Valley. The descent, of about 10 miles, is exceptionally steep, and with speeds of 40 to 50 miles per hour, I felt a helmet would be a wise head-topper. Having a trike accident at those speeds, while unlikely, is not something that a soft cap would handle too well when it comes to protecting my gray matter.
The aluminum tube that I had fabricated to hold my headlight and tail light next to my head worked perfectly. I wanted to be able to turn each on or off by simply reaching up to the left side of my head while riding. I did not want to stop to do these things. On my planned night moonlight rides, this was great, as I kept the headlight off until an oncoming car was about a quarter mile away, and then I easily switched it on (the switch was not far from my left ear). I wanted my visibility lights to be near my head, to let motorists at night know a person was somewhere close by. Riding at night with the moon as my only illumination was a memorable experience I wouldn’t trade for anything. You just can’t feel this in a car under any circumstances. Only inches off the ground, at the level of plants and animals, it’s quite a rush getting to know the natural world as only a triker can.
Each night, I removed my panniers from the trike, and placed them in my tent. Some friends of mine on a trike trip prior to mine did not do this, and they had one pannier eaten through by a squirrel one night. I learned that the easy way. I also had a large bell on the trike luggage rack, and one on the trailer. They are typically called bear bells, but that was not why I used them. Initially, my reason for placing them on my rig was to alert me at night if some thief were rumbling about my gear, or if some animal were to mount my rig in search of food or nesting material. The slightest movement of trike or trailer would cause the bells to emit a pleasant and soft jingle. I learned on this trip that any fears of this nature that I had were largely unfounded, as the bells never sounded at night.
But an unexpected joy came from them! Traveling along the roads of rural America, out where my only company was the natural world, these bells would sing a merry tune when the roads became rough surfaced. I actually grew to enjoy this sound, and it became part of my expected daily sensory delights.
Tagging along behind the Q every day was a flatbed trailer, loaded with a Rubbermaid 35 gallon Action Packer storage trunk. I chose to pull a trailer because of the extremely remote roadways that I had planned to travel, especially through the Nevada and California desert regions. This cargo area allowed me to be totally self-sufficient for long periods of time, which meant that if I didn’t find a store from which to purchase food, it was no big deal. Of course, the downside of pulling a trailer is the weight, which translates in slower mountain pass ascents, more stress on joints, and problematic situations when riding on non-paved surfaces. The upside is that on mountain descents, I picked up speed quicker due to the weight … more rolling mass kept things going well.
I estimate that the trailer, Rubbermaid cargo trunk, and my food supply added up to roughly 130 pounds or more. I also carried 5 extra liters of water in the trailer. For me, it is a good feeling to know that I can pitch camp anywhere and have the supplies I need to eat, drink, and survive. I may seek ways to minimize the weight next journey, for I doubt I could do without a trailer on a really long haul through remote territory. Shorter trips, where towns are abundant, may not require a trailer. Let’s put it this way: If I could do without one, I would, as I prefer the speed and mobility of the trike unencumbered.
When I first bought the trike, with its undersized Kenda road tires, and I looked down at the vehicle, my mind pondered what I was about to do. I was planning on riding this machine hundreds of miles, through three states, on the most secluded roads I could find … all this with no chase crew or backup close at hand. I must admit that after spending 43 years driving cars, and feeling secure in the fast-moving steel boxes, the thought of being so exposed on a tricycle, so low to the ground, with no heavy frame protecting my body was tweaking my mind in odd ways. Would this small vehicle actually get me where I wanted to go? Sure, it was made by the trike company that has been doing this for over 20 years, I told myself. They must know what they’re doing!
Still, a low-level apprehension existed in my psyche at the onset. As the days rolled by however, and moved into weeks, it became very clear to me that the ICE Q nt was not going to fall apart or leave me stranded. Every day, it performed flawlessly, no matter the weather or road conditions. It got wet, frozen, dusty, and dirty, yet it still kept me mobile. Dirt got on the chain, dérailleurs, and sprockets, yet it all still functioned. The only problem I experienced was that I applied the parking brakes when I got to the Diamond Lake Lodge in the Cascade Range at four in the morning while I warmed up and ate breakfast … and when I came out in the frigid air, found that the cables were frozen in place. Lesson: Don’t apply parking brakes in sub-freezing weather! This was my mistake, not a flaw in the trike.
I most assuredly endorse the trikes made by Inspired Cycle Engineering, and would not hesitate taking my Q on another expedition! In fact, that is what I hope to do in 2011, perhaps touring Oregon’s outback, a region seen by few of the state’s residents due to it wide and remote expanses in the southeastern quadrant of the state. I also think that a trip to Alaska would be quite the adventure. On a recumbent trike, only one’s imagination and determination set the boundaries of where travel is possible. There are so many upsides to trekking on a trike that it has me hooked. The ICE Q nt is quite a ride, totally capable of transporting me anywhere I want to go. The boys in Britain know their stuff, and do a great job in designing and building their trikes.
Talking about ICE, in the early days of the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition, my ICE Q was truly iced up, with temperatures sometimes dropping well below freezing … I guess I could call it an ICED Q!
Well folks, my time on the computer today is coming to an end, so I will bid you a happy goodbye. Until next time, keep smiling as you cover the miles on one of the world’s most unusual transportation devices. Be an ambassador of good will for all cyclists … and thanks for keeping our air cleaner with every mile you ride! Take care my friends …
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DISTANCE, TIME, & DOORS (November 19, 2009)
“In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.” – William Blake
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Miles of Opportunity
by Steve Greene
Many folks seem interested in things like how far I traveled on the tricycle, how long it took me to get there, and the time disparity between a trike and a car. It’s fun to figure this stuff out, so I spent yet a little more time this morning referring to my journal, consulting online mapping services, and converting numbers from the English manner of measurement into what the rest of the humans on Planet Earth use, the metric system. This will give you a basic idea of the distance and time aspects of the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition (DVTE).
The conversion of distance between English and metric is as follows (rounded to the nearest hundredth for all you precise mathematicians out there):
1 mile = 1.61 kilometers (km)
1 kilometer = 0.62 miles (mi)
From my point of origin on the central Oregon coast to the Badwater parking area on Highway 178 in Death Valley, the distance is just over 900 miles, or 1,448 kilometers. Traveling legal speeds in a petroleum-powered automobile, this drive would consume roughly 15.5 hours, not counting stops for uploading additional gallons of fuel into the car, and downloading processed amber water from the body.
On a tricycle, with a daily average of 50 miles (80 km), this same trip would require 18 days, counting time for meals, bathrooms, and camping. Fifty-mile days occurred on this journey, yet due to the heavily loaded trailer that was ever following my Q, that number sometimes fell into the 40s and even the 30s (as few as 50 kilometers on the Cascade Range traverse).
As a side note, for those unfamiliar with such things, unlike a car where water offloading generally occurs in toilets at gasoline stations, this task for a triker comes where a convenient tree or large assemblage of vegetation offers concealment from passing autos. Or, if the road is an endless stretch of straight desert highway with no shrubbery or nearby hills, a triker must patiently wait until no cars are observable in either direction for at least a half mile (the greater the distance the better, as one’s mental block further relaxes if visibility is a mile or more – 1.61 km).
And of course, keep in mind that such hopefully-private interludes are more numerous for a triker than an automobile operator, as a triker is continually consuming water due to the nonstop physical effort needed to keep the tricycle moving forward, especially up hills. If the day is sunny and warm, then it seems like one is forever seeking two dense creosote bushes (one for concealment in each direction). Night rides are a definite plus, as the cover of darkness and lack of traffic make things more relaxing.
The Badwater or Bust portion of the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition turned out to also include miles traveled in a truck, with the trike in the rear. Injury and extreme weather led to Jack transporting me from north of Susanville, California, to Gardnerville, Nevada for partial recuperation and storm avoidance, and then on south to Scotty’s Junction on Highway 95 in western Nevada to resume the trike journey. Nearly 400 miles (644 km) were spent in his Chevy pickup, with my vehicle in the bed of his. So, the Badwater or Bust segment finished with just over 500 miles (805 km) of trekking on the trike.
That is not the total distance covered by tricycle however, as one of the initial objectives of this journey was to tour selected portions of Death Valley National Park in addition to reaching Badwater. My time in the cockpit of the Q included about 610 miles of pedaling along the remote highways of western America (982 kilometers).
Gee, from a male machismo perspective, I think I prefer kilometers over miles. With the metric system, I triked nearly 1,000 kilometers, whereas with the English system, I triked just over 600 miles. The former sure sounds like more of an accomplishment than the latter. Oh well, that’s just ego talking! Enough of that false pride nonsense.
The largest chunk of my total time was spent in Death Valley National Park, as that was the core of this odyssey from the start, but the largest chunk of my mileage was spent outside the park in my attempt to get there. Within the national park, roughly 180 miles (290 km) were covered by trike. This includes parts of the Badwater or Bust portion, as well as touring of selected locales, side trips, and leaving after the Stovepipe Wells presentation.
More human-powered travel did occur however, as I spent quite a bit of my non-triking and idle time on foot, both walking all over the Furnace Creek area, and walking here and there while out Jeeping with Jack (hey, that would make a great name for a new half-hour TV travelogue series: Jeeping with Jack). In any event, I figure that my feet transported me over 30 miles (48 km) during my time on the expedition.
I walked through Titus Canyon, which was about 7 miles (11 km), took off on a little hike in Monarch Canyon, and also walked countless times from my Furnace Creek camp area to such places like the Timbisha Shoshone tribal village, the general store, showers, laundry, and solar array facility that Xanterra Resorts operate in the date groves. According to my rough reckoning, which is actually fairly accurate, my body covered close to 640 miles (1,030 kilometers) with my own calories supplying the movement during the 37 day period.
If we average all this out mathematically, I covered a daily average of 17 miles (28 km), including trike and foot travel. Of course, this is just playing with numbers, because some days saw very low numbers, while others saw relatively high numbers. Lots of people like numbers though, so there you have it, for whatever it’s worth. Whether these numbers are impressive, simply lukewarm, or leave someone saying “What a wimp!” is not of much concern to me though, as other aspects of this expedition hold true meaning for me …
Like setting several ambitious goals that many said were unattainable, and then moving forward with my vision and accomplishing them. Like spending many days alone, traveling through wild country, and keeping myself alive to tell about it. Like significantly increasing my fitness level, while ramping up my efforts to extend my functional years of life. Like moving away from spending large amounts of money for cars, and moving into a transportation mode that is inexpensive, non-toxic, and fun. Like deciding to no longer support the world’s petroleum-producing mega-firms, and spending the money instead on aspects of simple living with genuine significance. Like having the opportunity to spread the good word about the magnificent Death Valley territory to an interested audience at Stovepipe Wells, thereby supporting both the park and my future income. Like experiencing the personal joy that comes from many curious folks asking me about every little detail of this expedition.
As my mind continues to savor the weeks involved in my journey, I realize what a fortunate man I am to have had this opportunity to establish a meaningful personal vision entirely on my own, and then see it through to completion. From beginning my first book about Death Valley in 2005, to authoring what some now see as the definitive volume about the region, to having the high honor of being asked to speak at an event that draws thousands of enthusiasts each year, the odyssey leads me in directions I would not have formerly thought possible.
Endeavors like the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition change a person. At times, it clearly wasn’t easy, but that’s all a part of what made it so fantastic. The mind becomes stronger, as does the body, and the dreams for the future take off on a whole new path. A door opened in my life this year, and I chose to walk through it. What I now see on the other side of the door holds my imagination captive. I cannot return from whence I came, nor would I want to, as the “now” is so promising.
Transitions frighten most folks. For me, transitions keep my mind fully engaged in the awe of how the journey tells life’s tale, not the destination! Who knows what the future holds? Whatever it is, my wish is to live it simply and fully, while bringing happiness and a smile to all who find time in my company worthwhile.
Here are three thoughts I have found meritorious. Perhaps they will help you too:
“The freedom to move forward to new opportunities and to produce results comes from living in the present not the past” – Brian Koslow
“Opportunities to find deeper powers within ourselves come when life seems most challenging.” – Joseph Campbell
“If you wait for opportunities to occur, you will be one of the crowd.” – Edward de Bono
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Outside the Box (November 28, 2009)
“It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.” – Aristotle … Greek critic, philosopher, physicist, & zoologist (384 BC – 322 BC)
Triking a Different Path
The continued random ramblings from a grounded trike pilot
My sister is an ultra-fit and healthy woman, one who walks hundreds of miles per year. Not owning an automobile, her feet provide the primary means of transportation. She eats a diet of whole foods that has her on track for a very long and functional life. Her bodyfat measurement is well below any indicators that would even remotely hint at needing medical intervention of any sort. She believes in maintaining an athletic body through natural methods.
So this is why it seems incongruous when in today’s mail a Salem, New Hampshire company called Ultra Lipo Slim, sends her a correspondence with the words “Strictly Confidential For:” in large red bold letters above her address line. Obviously, my sister is one of millions who is targeted by companies that obtained her personal information from the rampant mailing lists that are shared, sold, and freely distributed among businesses looking to extract every possible dollar out of every possible source of revenue. My sister is very slim naturally. My sister is the last person on Earth who would ever use the services of Ultra Lipo Slim, yet the ignorant company wants her money.
How is this relevant to the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition? In my way of thinking, this situation epitomizes the lost directions of our materialistic, consumption-oriented society, one that is hell-bent on existing through a paradigm that is directly at odds with the natural world in which we find ourselves on this planet. Having spent weeks living simply and minimalistically in the natural world during my time on the trike, the disparity between nature in its purest forms, and the extremely unnatural manner of life the masses of our culture now covet, came under an exceptionally bright spotlight.
This has been further reinforced during my time at mom’s home while visiting for her 82nd birthday and Thanksgiving. Watching television every day and night (something I never do at home), drove home yet another aspect of how we are speeding towards a future that is destined for failure. I offer the glaring example of pharmaceutical companies.
As mom and I view the evening TV offerings, I notice that every ten minutes a series of commercial advertisements flash across the screen for three to five minutes, at a volume that is noticeably louder than the regular programming. Paramount among these solicitations that financially support the television station is the pharmaceutical industry. Depressed? No worry there folks! Just medicate your brain with the latest and greatest drugs and you’ll be fine … that is unless you are one of the people who comes under the warnings that are issued, someone who becomes suicidal, who experiences a significant rise in blood pressure, or who falls victim to a myriad of serious potential side-effects that the drug company announces in verbiage that is mentioned in a words-per-minute rate that far exceeds the rest of the advertisement.
Normally, as an author, I have avoided controversial subjects, as to become embroiled in subject matter where people are sharply divided can result in a reduced royalty income. Yet, as I grow older, spend increasingly more time hiking and triking in nature, and view the world through an ever-widening philosophical lens, I realize that to ignore the destruction of human lives through drug use or unnecessary surgeries would be hypocritical on my part.
Large corporations do not have the ultimate welfare of humans as their main goal, but rather the dollar is the focus. On their behalf however, we can also readily see that the majority of our population has little to no desire to maintain a healthy lifestyle naturally; they would rather turn to a pill or surgery so they can eat and lounge to their heart’s content. So, in that light, pharmaceutical companies and liposuction institutions are simply providing the masses with what they want! Can’t blame them for making billions of dollars while at the same time addressing the imagined needs of the people, right? It is indeed a sad but true model of American life.
I believe in living well and long, and I believe in doing this through the exceptional capabilities inherent in my own body. I take no drugs of any kind in my everyday life, although I did turn to a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug during the few days at Jack’s ranch to reduce the swelling in my Achilles tendon after the first eleven days of trike travel (this action was totally out of character for me, but I felt stongly compelled to continue the expedition). Whether that drug did any good is debatable, as only now that I have completely rested the tendons is healing actually occurring. I eat an essentially organic vegan diet, with fish on occasion, exercising every day, with weight resistance training and aerobic exercise. Chosing something more fun than pedaling in front of the television on a stationary recumbent at the gym, I use a real trike in the real world. It’s one heck of a lot more intellectually stimulating, allowing me to think for myself, rather then being mindlessly spoonfed by the sensationalized media!
The Death Valley Tricycle Expedition simply reinforced ideologies that have already existed in my mind for many years. I loved this time on the road, pedaling through the natural world, and enjoying all the flora and fauna that came my way as I quietly drifted along without the noise of an infernal combustion engine or the toxic emissions therefrom. I am not holding myself up as some saintly or hard-core environmentalist, for I have spent 43 years driving cars myself. What I am saying here is that I am now in the midst of significant mental transition, where the absurdities of traditional lifestyles are screaming out at me like never before. I am not out to change anyone, for I have found that largely an unrealistic goal, yet I will do what I personally believe is the best for my longevity and that of my planet, a fleeting world infinitesimally tiny in the infinite sweep of the universe.
We all make our own choices, and we all experience the consequences of those choices, whether negative or positive. I watch loved ones and friends around me die early of poor personal health choices, things that were easily within their reach to change. I watch around me as folks continue to support the coffers of the mega corporations, while hopefully living longer through drug usage and surgery. I watch the masses desperately seek quick-fixes for their uniformed choices. I watch nearly everyone on their frantic journey to acquire financial wealth, with little or no regard for personal or environmental consequences that flow from their choices. I watch millions yelling for improved health care, a term that is popularly defined as artificial medical intervention rather than wise lifestyle choices. If we all exercised and ate in a manner consistent with the most knowledgeable scientific evidence, the “health care” industry as we currently worship it would collapse.
I suppose some folks might be primed to consider today’s post a soapbox presentation, perhaps somewhat peripheral to the trike journey, but I see it as an integral portion thereof. I rode a tricycle to Death Valley to give my presentation because of my powerful beliefs of personal and planetary health and longevity. I grew ideologically in the process, and now appreciate the natural ways of the world even more. Yes, I used petroleum power for parts of this odyssey, yet as my body evolves into one that can successfully tolerate the repetive stresses of pedaling, I hope to make this a thing of the past.
It is all an evolution, one that never ceases in the minds of those who truly think about how they are living, how they are affecting the world around them, and how their lives can be modified to benefit the overall environment in which they live. Ultra Lipo Slim? Not for this fellow! I feel great through exercise, diet, and philosophical foundations that support me and my world in natural ways. Tricycling is but one way to achieve this success, a way that is extremely satisfying, and a way that is so bizarre to the collective mindset that it brings everyone who sees me on the road a moment of internal deliberation. Whether they think I have lost my mind, or support me for being on the right track, at least they are thinking as they drive past my slow diminutive form.
Every change begins with the smallest seeds. I hope to be the change I want to see in my world. I may be small, even insignificant, but at least I am at peace with that which is in my power to change! I am a naturalist, and I place my beliefs in the natural world of which I am part. I do not always seek solutions or answers to my questions and needs in ways culturally expected, nor do I seek natural solutions through supernatural ideologies. The fact that my finite brain cannot understand something in my natural world does not indicate to me that unnatural processes brought it to be.
I am happy with my role as a trike pilot, and with the unique path on which the vehicle has helped me travel. I am happy that you are reading my thoughts here. I am happy that you at least consider what I have to say, for that is truly the mark of an educated mind. I am happy that I have broken out of the box, and while open to harsh criticism from those who perceive my actions as unsound, at least I am regaining the power to chart my own life path, however remote from everyone else’s it may be. The fact that I chose a tricycle to transport me into a physically remote and largely-unpopular realm called Death Valley fittingly symbolizes this break from the norm.
Thanks for your time on this rainy Mojave Desert morning! May the force of life and wisdom be vibrantly with you … wherever you may call home, and whatever stage of life’s journey you may have created for yourself.
1,000 Miles in 15 Hours
(December 05, 2009)
On Wednesday, December 2nd, mom and I headed over to Hertz car rentals, about two miles from her abode. This was the same place where she rented the Ford F-150 pickup truck that she and my sister used for their Death Valley trek to Stovepipe Wells Village. I needed a vehicle to transport the Q and me back to the Pacific Northwest, and the Hertz Corporation was the chosen entity to get my business, for two reasons:
1) There was no comparison between the Hertz rental prices and that of U-Haul for their smallest vehicle
2) The three fellows at Hertz who assisted me were really nice guys, who took an interest in my expedition.
So, over at Hertz, between discussions about which vehicle would best suit my needs, Danny Barton, Mike Hines, and Daniel Jackson were checking out this Badwater weblog and asking many questions about what I did, how I did it, and why I did it. Good thing they weren’t swamped that afternoon!
I was originally going to rent a minivan from them for the one-way trip to Oregon, something like a Honda Odyssey, Toyota Sienna, or Kia Sedona. But then, these fine folks directed my attention to a smaller vehicle, one that would not cost as much, got better gas mileage, and might still hold my gear. It was a Kia Rondo, which, at first glance, looked rather tiny. Yet, after opening it up and putting down the seats, it was apparent that it actually had more usable room than the minivans, due to the design of how the seats folded. Great news.
That evening, after loading all the gear into the Kia, I hit the sack at 6 PM, as I was going to arise at 2 AM to get an early start on the final roads home. Best to leave prior to morning rush hour in the Victorville area, as traffic becomes quite heavy and intense there. By 2:48 AM, I was pulling out of mom’s driveway after our hugs, and I was northbound on Highway 395 fifteen minutes later. Eleven hours and forty-five minutes after leaving, I crossed the Oregon border, and by 6 PM, the Kia’s tires rolled onto my driveway.
The drive was pleasant and uneventful, good things for such a long haul (roughly 1,000 miles in 15 hours). The Kia performed very well, and only required $75 worth of petroleum fuel during my two gasoline stops, one in Merced, California and the other in Mount Shasta, California. I pre-purchased the first tank at Hertz, as they get fleet fuel prices; this meant that I did not have to turn it in full of fuel at the end of my drive. In fact, it was left at the Hertz office of the North Bend airport with just fumes filling the tank.
My thanks go out to Hertz for making the return home an easy experience … and for suggesting that I consider the Kia Rondo, which meant less profit for them! Thanks guys! It was a pleasure doing business with you, although next time I plan on riding the trike back.
Eclectic Ponderings
(December 07, 2009)
Howdy folks … Steve here. Well, it’s Monday morning, the seventh of December. The sky is clear, the air crispy cold, and the thick green forest outside my window is as beautiful as ever. The sound of the surf is now serenading me to sleep again at night in a heated home. I miss my tent’s raw adventurous feel, the smell of the creosotes, and the sounds of the coyote. Death Valley is again a memory to savor, a wild land of mystery and legend that has left another unforgettable imprint in my mind. All my visits over the years have been extraordinary, but this recent 2009 autumn odyssey will be the most treasured.
The trusty Q is down in the garage, once again clean. The dust and grime has been erased from its shiny exterior, and no one would be any the wiser about where it just journeyed. I have a new respect for this trike, and now realize that it has the power to get me anywhere I have the determination to travel. At the onset of this expedition, some folks wondered if this would be a passing fancy, just a another expensive toy to experience then discard, such as the custom of our society from childhood.
It may work that way for others, yet as I write this post, my zeal for three wheels is only increasing. I couldn’t keep myself off it during the stay at mom’s, a time when I was supposed to be letting the Achilles completely rest for a change. I was rocketing around her subdivision like a little kid, the huge smile on my face only minimally interrupted when I really poured the power to the pedals for that ultimate high of doing 25 miles per hour in a 25 MPH zone, keeping pace with a car or two here and there.
My commitment to making my carbon footprint as minuscule as I can is strong, and the ICE Q allows me to contribute a sizeable gift to the air you and I breathe everyday … an endowment that is defined by what it is not, rather than by what it is. As I silently pass along the roadways, whether it be en route to a local store, or on my next cross-country adventure, I am content knowing that no toxic poisons are being distributed in my wake. After 43 years of cars, I choose to behold life from a new vantage point. I like what I see.
* * * * * * *
This month, I will be starting a new book, one that I originally envisioned would focus on this expedition to Death Valley. I had it all planned out in my mind how it would come together. Then, I walked over to Terry Butler’s home Friday night to say hello after my extended absence, and some promising seeds of change began to take root. Terry is a scholarly man of wisdom and conviction, who has been most helpful to me during the months before my trek to Badwater. He opened my eyes to how success was to be defined in my quest, and has proven ever supportive. As a former university professor, he offered guidance in structuring and writing the book.
Part of the manuscript was going to include the stories of five inspirational people I met during my time pedaling and camping in the wilds of western America, folks who had taken their own daunting journeys of body and mind. He and I agreed that their tales would appear subsequent to my own, perhaps in an appendix. After a couple of hours of passionate and detailed discussion on such things as writing style and audience identification, I walked home in the night air to feed my hungry stomach. Can’t let any more brain cells die for lack of nutrition, after all.
Hours later, in the dreamy depths of darkness that precedes the new sunrise, I slowly came out of a period of REM sleep and began contemplating our discussion and the new book. Sometimes my best thoughts flow during these lightless early morning interludes, a time when it seems the unburdened mind is open to the purest and most productive thoughts. An epiphany struck Saturday morning before first light. Why not shift the focus away from me? How about if I transfer the spotlight onto a concept that would be beneficial to a larger audience? Terry and I had talked about how to benefit others through my writings, but now I wanted to expand on that idea even further.
I have already written two books about Death Valley specifically, and was intent on making this the third, but my desire morphed away from this foundational aspect, and my enthusiasm for the fresh direction has me excited. You likely know from reading this journal that I am bent on doing my part for this planet, however misguided the masses may consider that to be, and if I could get a book out there that would serve my goals in this regard, then so much the better. This cause is immeasurably more important to me than simply tooting my own horn in the pages shipped out from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
So folks, it’s being announced here first:
The new work will showcase the journeys of those who have risked going too far in their personal pursuits of roaming the planet, folks who have made decisions to travel by foot or pedal, intrepid Terrans who discovered how far they could truly go. It will highlight their challenging travels, why they did it, what they learned, and how they are impacting not only their own futures, but those of anyone who finds inspiration in their odysseys. I have found these people a personal encouragement to me, and I believe others will too. In addition to the five I currently plan on including, I will seek others I do not yet know. Of course, the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition will be part of the mix. My story will be told, but rather than an entire book detailing every last event, it will be an abbreviated version in keeping with the flavor of the new brew.
Soon, I will be placing a brief notice on hiking and cycling forums, an offer for people who have personally traversed the countryside using human power to propel them over the miles, who have done what most would consider either impossible or foolhardy, who have come away changed for the better as a result of their travels. If they have an inspiring story to tell, one that will benefit like-minded explorers or would-be adventurers, a story of encouragement during these times of discouragement, it will be considered for potential inclusion in the publication. Anyway, that’s the plan today, so we’ll see how it develops.
* * * * * * *
Regarding my gear and lessons learned, as foretold by friend Matt Jensen, I carried too many supplies on my journey, and found the resulting slow progress over the mountain ranges a hindrance. Only by doing a trip like this does one really learn what is needed and what could have been left behind. Modifications to my mindset and equipment paradigm are currently underway, and will begin with the liquidation of the Burley flatbed trailer and the Rubbermaid Action-Packer cargo trunk. It’s a $300 trailer and a $70 trunk, both with only 37 days of actual use on the road. I will happily part with the setup for the measly sum of 250 George Washingtons. Both are in excellent condition, despite the weather extremes they endured. Oh, and by the way, the trunk is indeed water and dust tight.
The flat space atop the trailer trunk will definitely be missed, of course, because it allowed me a place to use as a table. I could set my bowl of cereal there, or whatever else needed to leave my hands at the moment. That’s the big plus for a trailer, because when primitive camping, handy flat spots are not often anywhere to be found. But on the other hand, the trailer itself (including the two wheels and tires) adds weight to my rig, poundage that I had to haul up every incline and over each seemingly endless mountain pass. Even though it rolled with virtually no noticeable friction along the flat, it is still nice to not have an appendage behind the trike. Not only that, but the trailer has two tires, two more pieces of rubber that must be taken into account when avoiding obstacles, and two more treads that can fill up with thorns (as I learned the hard way).
The trike will be adapted to take up the slack that the trailer leaves with its passing. I already sold the Otivia cargo trunk that sat behind my head, not due to any defect or shortcoming, but because it did not meet a couple of my eccentric needs. First, I didn’t like having to use a key to access its contents. What if I lost the key? I kept a spare, just in case, but still, it’s one more step to get to your stuff. The trunk’s aerodynamic hard-plastic design also made it difficult to attach my Arkel panniers each morning because the front of it stuck out enough to cover the mounting rack, thereby making access problematic. And last but not least, I couldn’t set much on top of it while fixing breakfast or accessing the trailer trunk, due to its sloped design.
My mind is still mulling over the possibilities. Whatever I mount on the trike to replace what I am losing, will be a soft and flexible material, such as Cordura nylon. This I learned when I decided to put all my gear into a small car for transport home. Had I not had the hard-plastic Rubbermaid 35-gallon trunk and the Burley trailer, I could have rented an even less expensive Toyota Prius, and done more of my share of keeping toxins out of the air on the trip north in California’s San Joaquin valley. Soft bags compress as necessary to fill weird little spaces. Fixed size trunks do not. The ICE Q trike will fit in the rear of a Mercedes Smart car if broken down far enough. While I don’t plan on transporting the trike again by car (didn’t plan on it this time either), it’s nice to know that it will fit in any trunk if required out on the road.
I may also go ahead and have my welder fabricate a sun cover as I wanted to do prior to this trip. It would be made of lightweight aluminum tubing, and would attach to the two aluminum tubes of the recumbent seat, similar to where I put the tube that currently holds my tail light, head light, and flagpole. This would have a flat aluminum top, which could double as a small table to set food, or a convenient location to place my bathroom bag while brushing my teeth out in the wilds. This “table” would also keep the sun’s rays from relentlessly bombarding my head during the eight hours on the road each day, or at least when the rays are the strongest while the sun is overhead midday.
Without the trailer, my gross vehicular weight would decline, which is a good thing for long and steep uphills (of which the world is duly covered). One other negative aspect of the trailer is that the tires are slightly offset to the left-hand side (lane side) in order to maximize the turning design. This effectively makes my rig wider by a few inches, so any advantage gained with the Q’s narrow track design of only 27.5 inches is lost. With the trailer, I’m nearly as wide as a Greenspeed tricycle. This will stop me from easily riding through really tight spaces. Essentially, I will be much more maneuverable with just three wheels and the trike, which is about six feet long, instead of trike and trailer with their five wheels combined, which is about ten feet long. I am willing to lose the advantages of the trailer to gain the advantages of just the trike.
* * * * * * *
Oh, I almost forgot to mention a very important improvement! You may recall that I had a mid-back spinal vertebra rub the skin a little raw during this expedition, which was due to how an anomalous ridge in the mesh seat just happened to be against the spine. I was not able to completely adjust this out of the picture during my weeks on the road, but a new product addition to the trike will take care of the problem:
Will Baird, the table-tennis player I met in Apple Valley, had a fantastic little cover on his hardshell trike seat that I knew I would have to get. It is made by a company called Ventisit, and is a recumbent seat pad that is nothing short of phenomenal. It is approximately an inch thick, and sits atop your regular seat, while providing plenty of soft material into which the spine is completely protected from abrasive wear. The company is located overseas in a country they call Nederland, so I plan on calling Dana Lieberman of Bent-Up Cycles in Van Nuys, California to order one state-side (he is a dealer). I will also be able to get his opinion of it prior to purchase. I believe it costs in the neighborhood of $100. Will Baird told me it was very comfortable.
On a humorous note, I have even thought about auctioning off my custom-adapted head dish towel to any souvenir-seeking enthusiast out there. Obviously, this item will be increasingly sought after, and will eventually be considered priceless. Not priceless because of the large monetary sum that could be commanded by it, but priceless in the context of worthless. Hey, it might even make a great product that any cyclist on overland trips could use. The specially sewn Velcro tabs I so craftily affixed worked flawlessly to keep it in place during strong head winds.
I could call my new product the “Death Valley Dish Towel” for unique user-appeal. One thing I know for certain, it kept me from frying my skin from the neck up day in and day out, under the unfiltered rays of the star that sits 93 million miles off the starboard side. So, any entrepreneurial manufacturers out there who think I’m onto something big (or not so big, as the case may be), don’t hesitate for a moment in assisting me in getting the new DVDT into the cycling market!
All right folks, lunchtime is nearing, and I still haven’t worked out today, so I best wrap up this little eclectic post now. I may well sneak back to it later and include some more of my musings, but then again, I may not, as my work is cut out for me in the foreseeable future. You never know though, so check back often to find out (gotta’ keep that stats counter ticking, right?). See you on the road … pedaling or walking of course, as my newly acquired power model doesn’t allow me to have eye contact with automobile drivers (ha ha). Okay, later!
The Triker’s Smile
(December 09, 2009)
Well, here’s the story … such as it is:
Back in late August, during my training for the trip, I began feeling random nerve sensations while eating and drinking. In other words, one of my teeth had a cold sensitivity … the number-two tooth to be precise, which is the upper molar on the right side of the mouth, just in front of the number-one wisdom tooth (I had all my wisdom teeth removed back when I was in junior high school. Perhaps that why I end up doing treks like this one).
In any event, so as not to ramble too much for such a trivial post, my dentist discovered that an old silver filling that I had from about age 12 finally was beginning to break up (breaking up is hard to do). He indicated that the sensitivity would likely disappear, but I should have the filling replaced to avoid decay invading the innards of tooth two. The date to do this was set for late September, just prior to my departure for Death Valley. Glad to get it out of the way!
Well, it dawned on this overworked mind of mine prior to leaving on the trike that just maybe that wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Once, about 5 years ago, I had a crown done on number 15 (left side upper molar), which resulted in nerve damage that sent me into unbelievably intense pain about two weeks later. So, I thought, what if I had been out in the boonies when it happened? What if something similar happened this time? Would I give up my remote primitive journey just to run home to the dentist?
No way!
Therefore, I postponed the 40 minute procedure until my return from the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition. Yesterday, December 08, at 10 AM, I went in to Brian’s office and had him perform some oral magic the tooth docs refer to as a mesial occlusal lingual distal composite bonded filling (or something like that … my apologies to any dentists reading this). After a shot to deaden my talkative mouth, his high speed drill removed the 46 year old toxic silver filling, and in its place he put some of that new white filling material that looks just like the tooth around it. So now, after a lifetime of ugly silver when I smile, #2 looks as pristine as it did when I was a kid.
Taking into account several crowns (one of which is gold … oh yeah) that have necessarily gotten rid of silver fillings over the years, I now only have two molars with old dark silver still remaining (numbers 3 & 4). Hopefully, by the time I hit the grave, I will once again have a mouth full of gleaming white teeth.
The good news was that I was totally asymptomatic during the entire expedition … no cold sensitivity whatsoever. I was able to eat my Grape-Nuts every morning after the water had softened them a bit. The dried plums, raisins, and Clif Bars did not pull any more silver filling material out while I was in the wilds. Apparently, according to Brian, a tiny smidgen of decay had wiggled its way into the crevasse, but it was easily removed by him once the silver was gone.
Now you know more than you wanted to know, what Paul Harvey always referred to as “the rest of the story.”
Still Pedaling
(December 10, 2009)
I forgot to mention that my dentist appointment and errands yesterday found me back on the trike yet again. Seems like I can’t keep myself off it now that I have experienced the thrill of getting from point A to point B in a manner that is much faster than my usual walking. To cover the ground I did yesterday on foot, would have taken hours, but on the tricycle, the time was cut down to just minutes.
You see, it’s all a matter of perspective. If you drive a car, a trike seems like a snail’s pace, but if you walk, a trike seems like a lightning fast bird of prey. It gets in your blood, as they say. On a cold winter’s eve, if it seems chilly in the house, just go stand outside for ten minutes and come back in … won’t be cold any more, right? Yep, it’s all about how you perceive things, how you compare. It’s all in the comparisons. I grew up in cars, so it has taken me years to retool my brain to accept alternative ideas, but success has been achieved at long last. After every ride, I feel exhilarated, refreshed, and vibrantly full of life.
Another great consequence of riding a trike everywhere, and still walking too, is that these activities cause the body to develop quite an appetite. I like to eat, and by burning off so many calories in transporting myself around my world, I can happily eat more and still remain fit. So, you see, I have fun burning calories, get my errands accomplished quickly (compared to walking), and my reward is then a tasty meal. What’s there not to like?
Thank you all
(December 11, 2009)
This particular journey to Badwater from Oregon is now history. I continue to return to this weblog, and persist in posting new entries, in my attempt to keep it alive, for the experience was one of intense satisfaction, and leaving it behind seems inappropriate. I do not wish to abandon what has been so meticulously crafted within these pages, words and photos prepared by a small crew of expedition enthusiasts who made sure that my progress was regularly reported to you.
The good news is that this Badwater or Bust blog will always be here for you and me to access at any time. That is the nice thing about internet sites. And if I analyze these feelings of closure, I realize that I am not walking away from this journey, but merely building upon it the next exploratory adventure that calls to my spirit. This was a door in my universe that I walked through, not knowing what was to be encountered on the other side. By walking through this mysterious portal, I now realize that other opportunities beckon, passages that prior to the ’09 Badwater trek I would not have understood.
Making the decision to embark upon this expedition back in May was both exciting and intimidating, as never before had I done anything quite like it. Solo overland journeys of many days or weeks tests a person’s mettle, even before they begin. Quite simply put, you have to really want it to do it. Two-thousand-nine was my year to finally break out of the box and put my toes into the icy river of living on the edge. Like the river, life flows along quickly, and I had decided that I was no longer content to just accept things because everyone else does them that way. It was time for me to make my own way.
Sure, the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition was relatively mild by comparison to what intrepid folks like Alex Grove, Paul Gareau, or Mark Beaumont have done, where the mileages are recorded in thousands, and the times are recorded in months. Yet, we all must start somewhere, I suppose. This was a grand ride of adventure that was just right for my first time out on a trike. With the annoying Achilles issue, my cycling mileage was cut short, and I opted for auto transport part of the way to Death Valley National Park so that I could spend more time riding free on the trike in my old stompin’ grounds before the tendons gave out for good. Death Valley was my focus, and I am happy to have made the rounds while there.
This expedition forms my entry into future life explorations through the natural world, journeys that I will continue to make because I have learned that I feel at home while on them. Most of us search for who we are, seeking a purpose behind our fleeting time in this life. I believe I have found my path, one that my tricycle helps me travel. I do not fit into traditional cultural norms, so neither does my newly acquired means of transport. By embarking upon challenging physical voyages in the backcountry, my mind is also becoming stronger, and I can look at myself and feel strong in my convictions. And with the rugged explorers I met on this journey, who were also living on the edge and pushing their limits, I found a powerful connection that was instantly sensed, a tie that bonds through unspoken thoughts – this was one of my finest unexpected joys.
Traveling on the ICE Q through three western states opened my eyes to another world. The stable and reliable recumbent trike allows for swift and comfortable travel that is not restricted by the specter of long distances. Leaving no toxins in the wake, my silent passage along the little known byways of the west permitted me to pitch undetected stealth camps in the wilds. It was a feeling of total freedom, not under the control of any petroleum delivery systems … a freedom powered by the trike pilot himself. Hiking and backpacking are also modes of travel I find enjoyable, and will continue to weave into the fabric of my human-powered existence. Get a trike … give a holler … let’s take a trip into a world known by few. I’m always open to new adventures!
I wish to take this time to thank you all for continuing to visit this Badwater weblog during my journey, and even coming back now, after the trek is long over. I hope your readings here have contributed in some small way to a happier life for you. I probably do not know who most of you are, yet it was your visits that contributed to keeping my morale high throughout the expedition. Thank you!
People from my hometown may be visiting here to read about a guy who is their neighbor. People who click through from the ICE site may be visiting to see just how good their tricycles really are. People who have an existing friendship with me may be visiting to see what their crazy buddy is up to now. People who seek health and long life may be visiting to learn about one way I achieve it. People who are physically challenged may be visiting to experience a vicarious adventure through these words. People who have grown weary of the status quo and seek direction for living outside the box may be visiting to find it. Whatever your reason for visiting this weblog, thank you for your support and enthusiasm!
With that, I now lay this blog to rest. Of course, being a writer of sorts, it may be impossible for me to quit typing into this laptop, so I have created yet another threshold through which I may express further thoughts to anyone who finds my musings amusing or meaningful. It will be for those who wish to live on the edge, for folks who are not opposed to alternative thinking. One of my core convictions is expressed in the saying: If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space. This is true for me on several levels of meaning, physical and ideological. The trike is one way to live on the edge … on the new blog, I will be presenting additional outlooks. The link appears to the right.
Take care my friends! Hope to see you on a trike someday …
Peace,
Steve
PS: Badwater it was!
The Agony of De Feet
(January 04, 2010)
Defeat by way of the feet is not an acceptable option for any serious human-powered adventurer. Whether hiking, backpacking, or cycling, long distances can easily take their toll on the intricate and highly articulate structures found at the foot of our legs. So, we search for solutions to those nasty things that would end our explorations.
It is indeed upsetting when the mind and fit body say “go“ but the feet say “no”. Such has been the case for me now and again throughout my life of non-automotive transport. What would stop me on a backpacking trip? Only blisters or foot issues could ever do such a thing. What caused me problems with my Death Valley expedition? The feet!
This is an update on my foot gremlins, for all you who have been following along. As you may recall, both Achilles tendons reached a point of obvious swelling, and eventually, I experienced minor numbness on the inside edges of the two toes next to my big toes on each foot. I have been mulling this over for quite some time now, as I don’t want these problems to occur on the next journey. These issues have continued to remind me of their presence in these weeks subsequent to the end of the trip, but fortunately, their distracting mumbles slowly lessen by the day.
My mind has set upon a new course to avoid these foot problems in the future. Not being a trained podiatrist, I can not guarantee my findings, but they seem logical to me at this point in time. Here is what I believe:
I used traditional cycling pedals on this trip, onto which I attached Power-Grips to hold my foot securely to the pedal. I wore Merrill Moab Ventilator low-top hiking boots while pedaling. I kept the Power-Grips opened wide to allow my foot a deeper purchase, which held it in much better than simply having the strap come across at the toes. The reason for this is that on a recumbent trike, where your feet are behind the pedals, it takes conscious effort to keep them on the pedals if they aren’t held on with something.
Even though I had SPD cleats on the reverse side, I chose to use regular hiking shoes. SPD cleats are similar in function to ski bindings. Next trip, I will use SPD mountain bike cycling shoes instead. I believe that the softer and more flexible sole of the Merrill boots, combined with the axis of the pedal being mid-foot, behind the ball of my foot, led to the tendon and nerve issues. Essentially, I was pushing with the middle of the foot, thereby unconsciously curling my toes and foot around the pedal’s axis millions of times over the weeks of the trip. This took its toll.
To simply tighten the Power-Grips would not be a solution in my opinion, as they would then not attach my foot to the pedal securely enough to avoid it sliding off and placing my lower leg in the path of the trike’s cross frame while riding. Another consideration with the Power-Grips is that in order to be effective at holding the area at or in front of the ball of the foot, they place a noticeable pressure upon the foot. This is because you must twist into them from the side, and then when the foot is twisted to the straight-ahead position, the strap becomes quite tight. They would probably work better with a standard upright bicycle, where the feet are on top of the pedals, and their main function is to keep the feet from moving forward off the pedals. The placement dynamic is significantly different on a recumbent tricycle.
With an SPD attachment, which is totally secure and delivers more power to the stroke, I will be able to pedal with the ball of my feet at pedal axis line, making it more like walking. This will hopefully avoid the over-flexure of the Achilles tendons, and the over-stimulation of the nerves that supply feeling to the two affected toes on each foot. As I now think back to my pre-trip training rides, I do recall that I felt some foot strain after a fast 50 mile jaunt, which was a result of the soft sole wrapping itself around the pedal’s axis. This occurred to me at the time, but I did not act on it, choosing to wear normal boots anyway. I believe this dynamic has led to my current need for rest and rehabilitation.
At this writing, only my right Achilles is at all problematic, with minor swelling and occasional tenderness. This is likely due to the fact that my right leg is about a quarter-inch shorter than my left, which results in me having to extend my foot farther forward on each pedal stroke. The toe numbness issue is nearly gone, as the nerves have mostly returned to a normal state. I have learned that a simple misjudgment can lead to some serious down-time. Would this have happened to me if I took this trip 30 years ago and used the same setup? Is it an age-related thing? There is no way to know for sure, but I suspect that age has little to do with it.
I have had many weeks to consider my options for the future. We’ll see if my thoughts have merit, and if the new setup pays dividends on my next journey through the natural world. I want to explore without physical limitations. This is my goal. I eagerly await the next departure into the adventure of tricycling.
Burley No More
(January 05, 2010)
Well, the cargo carrying metamorphosis is well underway! Yesterday, I sold the trusty Burley flatbed trailer (that accompanied me on the Death Valley Tricycle Expedition) to a pharmacist from central California. She happened to be visiting in town and caught the Craig’s List ad online … what luck, huh? Get this: Melanie Baker also owns a trike! I showed her how it connects up to the drop-out on the rear axle, explained to her about the slow leak in the right side tube, removed the quick-release wheels, and stowed the Burley in her Toyota Prius for transport down south into California’s San Joaquin Valley. Melanie is happy to have a top-quality trailer for her around-town shopping needs, and I am happy to have some cash to put into the new pannier setup I’ll be adding to my Q. She is an environmentally inclined soul like I am, so a lively extended dialog accompanied this mega financial transaction.
I will be retaining the red Arkel GT-54 panniers on the sides of the rear rack. Atop the rack, I am currently inclined to place a new Arkel Tail Rider cargo trunk. It is made of the same high quality material as their panniers. For the seat, I am looking into purchasing a pair of Radical Design’s side panniers. This is a small company based in Holland that produces top-notch cargo carrying solutions. I will also retain the Radical Design side pods that I already have. With these additions, I believe that the gear I formerly placed in the trailer will fit on the trike (except for the massive food supply I brought along, which will be greatly reduced on the next expedition).
After some quick study, I now realize just how much weight will be saved by not pulling the Burley trailer loaded with the Rubbermaid Action-Packer cargo trunk. The trailer weighed in at 16 pounds, which is very light by anyone’s standards, being that it is primarily aluminum. The cargo trunk weighed in at 20 pounds, still light by itself, but if we add both of those numbers together, and consider that the weight was being pulled by a tricyclist over high mountain passes, it becomes readily apparent that on my next journey, I will be at least 36 pounds lighter! That 36 pounds was just the means to carry the cargo, in other words, it served no real purpose other than that of a vehicle for gear. Find a way to get the gear on board the trike, save at least 36 pounds of pulled weight, and have more fun on the long road to adventure as a result. This is my goal.
Tricycle Expedition Movie
(January 20, 2010)
Well folks, I have met with success in the digital video realm of this expedition!
This afternoon, during a break in the winter rains so common to the coastal regions, I hurried on down to the library with my laptop. Seeing as how I no longer own a petroleum-based automobile, I donned a rain jacket just in case the clouds opened up while I was walking. The library has free high-speed Wi-Fi internet, so I am now sitting comfortably at a remote table, having happily, and without incident, uploaded a shortened version of the expedition movie I have been working on these past two weeks. At long last!
The original movie is 640×480 pixels, which is quite exquisite to view from a CD, as it retains all its clarity. From what I can see so far, the YouTube presentation has digitally reduced the movie’s viewing size, thereby making it not quite so sharp. A message informs me that it is still processing the video, and quality might improve. We shall see. In any event, at least you can view the old expedition in a new light. I apologize for any lack of clarity that may yet remain in the presentation.
There is a longer version of this movie, which tops out at just over 13 minutes. Due to time restrictions on YouTube however, I could not upload that one, so the online version is slightly less than 10 minutes, and it has an altered musical score as a result. As it so happens, I believe I prefer the shortened movie and its audio accompaniment over the longer movie (I had to remove about 40 images, and one complete song, to get it down to the YouTube size requirement).
I’ll be sending out CD versions to folks who were involved in the expedition. Perhaps if anyone else would like a CD copy, we could work out an arrangement for a minimal fee and shipping. Thanks for waiting patiently for this posting … it has been good to finally get outside and take a walk for a change (of course, right now, I am once again sitting on my duff at the library, but at least I have to walk to and from)! Take care my friends … see ya’ …
Trike Asylum
(January 22, 2010)
If you are interested in tricycles specifically, I have begun a new blog about these bizarre three-wheeled vehicles at Trike Asylum. It is planned to be an “all trikes all the time” affair for the devoted enthusiast. It will be found at http://trikeasylum.wordpress.com.
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By the way, Inspired Cycle Engineering now has three new models available for 2010. Visit their completely updated website HERE to see what all the excitement is about. Alas, the venerable Q that I rode to Death Valley no longer exists, but in its place is the Sprint, which appears to be very similar in design, with the advantage of front suspension, something I wish I had on the Q. The new ICE website is now easier to remember:
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The Author’s Den: (March 01, 2010) Here is where I spend my days this winter of 2010 as I extract the memories of this expedition from my journal and head (yep, it’s still sittin’ on my shoulders). My Acer laptop computer sits on its own little desk, and faces the northern upstairs window so that I can gaze out into the coastal forest from time to time. The house is one mile from the ocean, with the sounds of surf often audible, especially when the window is open. I like the ambiance of this lodge-styled room, yet I count the days before I can get back out on the trike for some new backcountry adventures!
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New Cargo Solution (March 05, 2010)
ICE POLE: For all you truly addicted trike pilots out there, here are three new photographs of recent minor upgrades. You may recall my invention of this aluminum pole that continues from my left seat tube. I call it an ICE pole because it’s on an ICE trike. On the trip, it held the head light, tail light, and flag pole. Essentially, it was my safety and visibility tube, as everything on it contributed to me being able to see, and being seen by motorists. To this pole, I have now attached a FastBack (now owned by TerraCycle in Portland) pump holder for my Topeak Road Morph tire pump. The holder is made from heavy-duty Cordura fabric, and is held firmly to the inside of the ICE pole, just to the left of my head.
To the pump pack, I have now attached my marine emergency strobe beacon light, so I can reach all my light sources while seated on the trike. This strobe used to be on the rear of my trailer, but since I no longer own a trailer, it has moved forward near my head (the most important part to protect). You will also notice the new Arkel TailRider rear rack trunk, which replaces the Otivia solid plastic trunk that accompanied me to Death Valley. I sold the Otivia trunk to triker Will Baird of Apple Valley, California prior to my return to Oregon. I prefer this new Arkel trunk, and the good news is that it does not require me to fetch a key to open it.
In the third photograph is visible the new FastBack cargo system I have placed in the empty space behind the right side of my seat. It consists of a 3 liter water bladder container, but I will use the holder for other gear since the same kind of pack that sits on the other side of the seat holds the water. Attached to both sides are two FastBack tool pouches (4.5 x 2 x 8.5 inches) that will hold tool gear, items that are rarely used on an ICE trike anyway. These new cargo solutions are intended to make up for cargo space lost with the sale of the trailer.
This cargo transition also necessitates me rethinking what defines essential gear, and what should be left behind. I have quite a bit more storage room than a backpacker, so I am confident that I’ll eventually solve the packing puzzle. My total cargo capacity is now roughly 94 liters, about 40% more than a typical backpack. This trip taught me many things, one of which is to keep my cargo weight as light as practical, which will allow me to travel quicker while burning fewer calories per mile. This will also considerably reduce the stress on my feet, which, as you will recall, presented some serious issues along the way. Losing the trailer results in a 40 pound immediate weight loss, and provides superior maneuverability in tight backcountry scenarios.
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ALL FURTHER TRIKE-RELATED POSTS WILL BE FOUND AT TRIKE ASYLUM:
http://trikeasylum.wordpress.com
Thanks for reading this Silent Passage website. Hope to see you over at the new Trike Asylum if you are interested in this unique mode of human transportation. Take care!
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