Severance, NY

You won't believe it but I'm now in the middle of the woods, somewhere in Upstate New York, close to a town named Severance, which doesn't have even a single restaurant or grocery store. And yes, I am getting wireless internet here and posting this entry while sitting at a wooden picnic table next to a river with my headlamp illuminating the keyboard. I guess it is getting harder and harder to hide from civilization these days.

We descended from the Adirondacks this afternoon, finishing our day having covered over 70 miles. Our maps of this are are sprinkled with lakes and rivers and lots of 3000 foot peaks. It was a really beautiful ride through the mountains but you really need to spend some time hiking the trails or kayaking or rafting in the rivers to appreciate this place. Definitely something I want to come back to one day in the future, perhaps as a part of the kayaking trip around the world.

Tomorrow we will finish crossing the entire state, Orchard Park to Ticonderoga. The route really exceeded our expectations. In just 15 miles, we will get to Vermont, which promises more beautiful riding and even taller, steeper hills. Time to revisit New England, after a two year break...

Long Lake, NY

Just checking in - we've been riding through the Adirondacks for the last three days. The mountains are beautiful and we're getting some climbing done. Jeremy got his seventh flat this morning. I have started taking pictures of him changing the tire tubes all around New York State. It will make for a nice photo album eventually.

The weather is becoming extremely changeable here as elevation increases. We rode through pretty solid rain this morning and even though it cleared out in the afternoon, the clouds are still looking tricky. We will try to cover 70 miles today nevertheless. Riding through rain is actually proving quite nice now that we have all the rain gear figured out. And it's much nicer than riding when it's hot.

In any case, Jeremy is just packing up and we should be able able to leave the internet cafe and start the second half of our day soon. It's nice to finally get so much reading done since Jeremy has joined the tour - waiting for him pack his panniers is proving very productive lately!

Pulaski, NY

We're seven days and 500 miles down since we started on the East Coast. Since crossing back into the US at Niagara Falls, we've been riding in the eastward direction across New York State, which offers surprisingly nice back country roads and plenty of small, biker-friendly towns along the way. Rochester was the only big, industrial town we had to deal with so far. But it is easy to avoid for bikers who follow the Erie Canalway as it takes you smoothly in and out of that busy town.

We spent most of Wednesday and Thursday riding along Erie Canal. We did over 100 miles along this smooth, packed-stone-dust road with no hills, intersections or any motorized vehicles to slow us down. Along the way, we passed wild cherry trees, lone country houses, locks and bridges and occasional other bikers. Some of the bridge operators have bathroom and shower facilities and allow the campers to spend the night right on the canal. We did so on Wednesday night. We pitched the tent right on the waterway, next to another lady who was also touring on a bike and a family who was traveling in a boat. We grabbed some local stout in the town pub and went to sleep. The next morning, we got up at 6 am and rode for 105 miles - our longest day so far on this trip.

We left the canal behind us two days ago and continued east. The road is gradually getting hillier, which is quite nice after a full week of completely flat surface. We're re-learning how to climb and some of us are getting some bike maintenance experience (Jeremy got his fifth flat in the last four days!). We continue to meet interesting people every day. In Macedon, NY, we met John, the owner of a small book/coffee shop, who sheltered us from the storm, gave us coffee and cake and helped us find some good books. We also continue to get some not-so-affectionate remarks and honks from drivers in bigger towns. We are still trying to understand what exactly it is that bothers them so much. Perhaps they don't like to be reminded of the fact that they're riding cars that are too big to fit on regular roads.

In any case, I'll write my emails, Jeremy will change his punctured tube, Tomas will finish reading yet another book and we will get on the road again. It's been just over an hour but I already feel the urge to clip back into my pedals. So long!

Niagara Falls, Canada

Greetings from Canada! Since we last posted, we've done another 130 miles or so along Lake Erie, then we got into Buffalo, NY and met up with Tomas's college friend Jeremy. Jeremy, who is sporting a brand new Surly, will be riding with us for next two weeks and he also carries a laptop, which will hopefully allow for more frequent blog entries.

Crossing over into Canada was definitely the most exciting highlight of the last three days. We rode over Peace Bridge on our bikes, drawing quite a few looks from the long-distance truck drivers plowing along. But the officials were quite nice to us and were fine with our green Lithuanian passports and Jeremy's driver's license (he left his passport at home). Later today, we will be crossing back into the US a bit further east from here. Let's see how that works out.

We just spent some time looking at Niagara Falls. Very beautiful and the weather is great. But I don't think you need more than an hour here. Unless of course, you are here for gambling, of which there is plenty. And since we're not, we'll be moving along shortly. We've got some pretty nice picture down already; will post those as soon as we sit down for a longer rest break.

Thanks for reading and take care!

Dunkirk, NY

Hello from the East Coast! We are finally on the move again after a pretty demanding air transfer from California. We just crossed the 2,000 mile mark and are gearing up for the second and final part of the trip.

On Friday June 19, after completing the entire border-to-border route of the West Coast, we loaded our boxed bikes on the Southwest Airlines flight from San Diego, CA to Detroit, MI, waved good-bye to the Pacific and said hello to the Great Lakes. After a transfer in Nashville, TN, we collected the huge boxes and our 10 pieces of bicycle luggage at Detroit Airport and loaded it all in a rented Chevrolet. We spent the night in rainy, stormy Detroit and got on the road promptly at 6.30am the next morning. We started heading to Cleveland, OH, as it puts us on the route we are following (purple route from Cleveland to Bar Harbor in the picture below). We went to Cleveland Airport rental car drop-off and started assembling our bikes immediately.

Now, we drew quite a crowd over there. The airport and car rentals personnel kept approaching us, asking questions and expressing general disbelief in what we are about to do. To regular people like them, it seemed just a little bit weird to be getting out of a car, putting together a bike and heading over to Washington DC, casually stopping in Maine along the way. They helped us with directions, filmed us with their camera phones and even offered us a discount on our rental.

In any case, the bikes didn't get damaged while flying although it took us the full 3 hours to put them back together. And needless to say, it felt awesome to be moving under our own power again, feeling the breeze and observing the new scenery.

We managed to ride over 50 miles that same day, mainly getting through Cleveland and some other towns around it. Although desolated and kind of run-down, Cleveland seemed to be (or had been in the past) a nice-looking town, with lots of parks and a long shoreline along Lake Erie. The weather here is a lot more humid that it was on the West Coast, and you get very hot very quickly, even when it's cloudy. Though it had been a long day and we were anxious to get to the campground, Tomas and I couldn't contain ourselves and we jumped in the lake eventually. We'll be riding along the lakes for a few more days and cooling off in the water is the definitely the best part of the ride.

After crossing into Pennsylvania and camping at Perry Township State Park, we continued to move east along the southern shore of the lake. The ride is very flat and suburban but the view of the water on our left is gorgeous. In fact, the lake feels much like the ocean in the West - it stretches out into the horizon and the waves are almost as big. But the water is warm and fresh and once you're in it, you just don't want to get out. After 78 miles of riding, we got into a town called Erie, where we camped with a fellow named Francis, who left behind his building business in Vermont to embark on the cross-country bike trip he wished to complete for 33 years.

And today, we're getting a bit more of the back-country road, which offers a nice break from the manicured suburban gardens. We just crossed into New York State and will continue on Route 5 along the lake. The sun is out, the road is flat, the conversation is good, and the water on our left is very inviting. I think I'll just have to jump in as soon as I'm done with the emails.

We'll be stopping in Buffalo, NY to pick up Jeremy tomorrow. We'll see the Niagara Falls together and do some climbing in the Adirondack Mountains in the next two weeks. So long!

"My, my. A body gets around" Lena Grove in Faulkner's 'A Light in August'

Wherever we ride, whoever we talk to, people ask us a question - why? Why go on a three month long bike trip? Some of them wonder about our motivation - why cycling, why for so long. Others about the dedication - how do we find the time and the guts. Sometimes we say we just love cycling, other times that we had nothing better to do, both of which are good enough reasons. But Daumantas and I left our careers and friends in London and I didn't even own a bike before this trip, so there's clearly a more fundamental and important urge that pushed us into this venture. But what exactly was behind this urge is hard to pinpoint. 

Part of it was the disappointment with the corporate life and our careers. Part of it was the excess motivation that failed to get harnessed by our employers. Part of it was the primitive male nature to take risk, a craving to fling ourselves into the unknown and experience an adventure that our life was devoid of. Part of it was a desire to put ourselves into an extensive meditation and clear our minds of the unnecessary clutter that crowds the life of an average professional. Things that are supposed to make your life easier, such as a blackberry, email and internet that turn into a distractive addiction and inconspicuously gobble up your productivity. Also, things that are supposed to make your life more comfortable, such as a nice apartment, a car, or about any material possession that ends up enslaving and possessing you instead...

We definitely found what we were looking for on this cycling tour. Besides all the fun and adventures we had, our trip also reminded me of the many fundamental ideas that sort of escaped me when working and living in a city. Being able to carry all your possessions with you on your bike, and subsisting (and having the time of your life) on 20-30 bucks per day was quite liberating. It also seemed very attractively sustainable. And the understanding that there is only so little that a man needs to be happy, will definitely affect my future decisions in terms of lifestyle and career, helping me to preserve my independence and dignity to a degree uncommon amongst corporate professionals that I've met. 

But what really makes this trip special and life-changing is that it turned out to be so much more than we have expected, hoped or imagined it would be. And that is mostly because of the people we met and the kindness and generosity that they showed us. Just in the last couple of days, we met Patrick, who invited us to stay over under his roof, Tim who helped us transport the huge bike boxes that we wouldn't have been able to carry ourselves, Greg, who's house we are staying at in San Diego and whose computer I'm typing this from. And there were so many others before who kindly hosted and humored us, Karolis in LA, Whitney and her flat mates in San Francisco, Saliklis and his family in San Luis Obispo, the Fuller family in Yahats, the liquor store assistant that treated us with brandy, and the bearded man who bought our dinner, and so many others that we met along the way. 

Honestly, I had forgotten that this kind of friendliness and kindness still existed in this world and that it wasn't a virtue of the books and the times past. All of that help and support we received fills my heart with a desire to repay in kind and to treat others like I was treated on this trip. It makes me less embarrassed and more hopeful to be a human. I realize that I've been living the last two years very selfishly, so no wonder it failed to satisfy me because only a life lived for others is truly worthwhile. Don't let me forget this again. 

San Diego, CA

We have successfully completed the first half of our trip - the border-to-border survey of the West Coast. It took us under five weeks including all the rest days and just 26 days of riding in which we covered almost 2000 miles. Needless to say, we are feeling very happy it all went so smoothly. Our legs are sore, our faces are sun burnt, our bikes are dusty and scratched but the feeling of accomplishment is overwhelming.

Over the last three days, since we left LA, we've been taking it fairly easy. We managed to get out of the city using the Metro system, which is an accomplishment in itself, given the level of public transportation (or lack thereof) in LA. We then rode through Long Beach, Newport, Laguna and all the other beautiful beaches just swarming with surfers of all ages, sizes and degrees of craziness.

By the time we reached beautiful San Clemente, we were actually getting excited to camp out for the night as we had spent the last few days getting spoilt at our friend's place in Pasadena. But lo and behold, we ended up having a huge home cooked meal and spending the night at a beach house about a mile from the campground we intended to reach that night. We ran into a guy named Patrick while paying for our canned chili at the local grocery store. He was standing in line behind us and we started talking. Appears that Patrick had completed the exact same route on his bike many years ago and the next thing we knew - we were on the way to Patrick and his son Kevin's house to share our stories. The generosity of people here keeps astounding us. Patrick has cycled through numerous states, skied the highest mountains in the US, scaled many a peak on the West Coast and collected an awesome collection of mountaineering books that we talked about for the majority of the night. While spending time at Patrick's place, Tomas and I decided we will one day climb a mountain together.

The next day we saw more wild surfer beaches and rode through Pendleton Marine Corps Base Camp, which now has an awesome bike path stretching through its entire length. We didn't realize we were riding through a military base for a while. We took the bike path which trailed along an eerie-looking abandoned old road through the sand dunes. The road was eroded by the elements and vegetation, mother nature claiming it quickly while man is off guard. We were enjoying this strange sight but riding pretty fast when all of a sudden, three fully equipped and manned tanks appeared in front of us. After we figured out what was going on, we took some pictures with the troops. We later saw more tanks, helicopters, assault lessons taking place on the grass and even talked to some guys leading this lifestyle so very different from ours.

Later we reached San Elijo State Beach, where we spent the afternoon hanging out on the beach, reading John Krakauer, Yann Martel and observing the surfers on the waves. Actually, we touched the Ocean for the first time since we started the trip. And we chose a good time and place to do that - the water was warm, clear and great for bathing - even without a wet suit.

We slept right on the beach, with loud noises of rip curls crashing into the sand. A funny thing happened in the morning. Our tent randomly collapsed on our heads. Turns out one of the poles snapped. We had no problems with the tent for the entire month, building it and packing it up almost every day but today it decided to go on strike. Luckily, there is an REI store in San Diego and given their excellent customer service, we were in possession of a brand new Mountain Hardware tent by late afternoon.

We also got some cardboard boxes for packing our bikes for the trip to Detroit. And we met Tim, who not only offered to drive the huge boxes to our place but also got us extra bubble wrap, a wrench we needed to dismantle our bikes and, most importantly, a gallon of freshly brewed stout beer which was just what we needed after a long and sticky day out. As I have mentioned, people are so nice to us on this trip it is hard to believe it. If anything, this trip has served as a reminder that the world can be very different from the all-business human interaction we've been exposed to in the last couple of years.

We are staying at our friend's house in northern San Diego until our flight on Friday. We will probably explore the town and check out the beach tomorrow but the biggest task is to pack our bikes in the boxes and set them up for a soft, snug ride on the plane. If they let me, I would gladly load and unload the entire baggage for that flight just to give proper care to our bikes. But it's not very likely that they will. All we can do is pray to the baggage gods that our precious vehicles survive the journey unscathed.

We're famous!

Tomas and I made it into another rider's blog. Check out the description of the trip to Santa Barbara from Jeremy's perspective:

http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/page/?o=3Tzut&page_id=113216&v=q

By the way, by Dean the author means me, as I sometimes introduce myself as D, just to confuse people :)

One great big festering neon distraction

Daumantas and I made it into LA yesterday evening, after cycling for about 60 miles. We were planning to stay at our high-school friend Karolis's place in Pasadena. Unfortunately, we didn't have any plan how to get to Pasadena from Santa Monica, where we entered the city. We soon found out that there were no trains that could take us there, and we wouldn't be able to take our bikes on the buses.

To make matters worse, just before entering LA, I had my first accident when my toes hit my front fender causing the wheel to catch it. In a second, my front fender collapsed into an accordion, tearing the plastic out... Nothing that duct tape couldn't fix, but still annoying. Then just a few miles down, I realized that my front wheel had barely any air in it. I had been riding from Seattle for over 1,500 miles without a single flat, so this one was my first. It wasn't leaking air fast, so I put some air into the tube hoping to make it to the end of the day without having to replace or patch the tube.

We had enough sanity at that point not to even consider riding though the city, but after talking to a couple of friendly taxi drivers and a few cyclists on the beach, we were encouraged to attempt it. So we ended up taking Venice Blvd all the way to downtown LA, where we were able get our bikes on a train to Pasadena.

Riding through different neighborhoods of LA we were constantly followed by the eyes of people who seemed to never have seen a bike pass their streets. We heard unfriendly comments shouted our way like "that's some gay shit," "get off the street," "your a hazard on the road..." One sketchy looking guy even ran a few steps towards me angrily shouting and looking like he would grab me or spit on me. Luckily, I was cruising at about 18 miles an hour at that point hoping to hit a green light, so I never had to find out his exact intentions. When Daumantas and I finally made it into the Union station, we kept looking at each other and giggling like kids who got away with breaking a window, or doing something else you weren't supposed to do. I don't think we'll attempt crossing this city on bikes ever again, which makes it a bit troubling considering we still need to somehow get out of here tomorrow.

This town was not made for cyclists, it wasn't made for people either. The unending conglomeration of suburban neighborhoods, where you have to drive for a half an hour to get a cup of coffee, is stitched together by ugly streets filled with ugly SUV's, which are too big to fit on the road and should never be allowed to drive on it, driven by angry people shouting insults at fragile cyclists on the side of the road - not an appealing place at all. What a waste of beautiful land and climate. I wonder what will happen to this city when gas prices will prevent people from driving for 4 hours every day.

Either way, Daumantas and I ended our day at Karolis's place. It was nice to catch up with an old friend and have a glimpse into his life in LA, just a few days before he moves out to New York. After riding San Francisco to LA (about 480 miles) in only 6 days, we feel like we deserve a rest day of nothing but hanging out, eating some good food, drinking some good beer and reading some good books.

Los Angeles, CA

We've reached our next big milestone - the not so small 'n' cozy town of Los Angeles, California. We rode 220 miles in the last three days, which allowed us to travel between San Francisco and LA in just six days. But the first three days from San Francisco to San Luis Obispo (aka SLO-town) contrasted like day and night with the second part of the ride, from SLO to LA.

On the bright side, the road for the last 220 miles was mostly flat, with just a few rather gentle climbs, which failed to inflict any discomfort for our strengthening legs. The first day, when we rode from SLO to Lampoc was also rather pretty, with back country roads stretching through continuous farmlands and small, Mexican-populated towns scattered along the way. But the scenery changed rather dramatically over the last days and traveling felt more like work rather than holiday.

The route from Lompoc to Santa Barbara goes mostly through the Interstate Highway 101, which is hell on earth for any biker who attempts it. The shoulder is narrow and littered with broken glass, tire rubber, dead animals and any other imaginable kind of debris. Its eight-lane traffic is busy with heavy trucks, oversized RVs and stealthy sports cars. The bridges along the way are so narrow and shoulderless that your handle bars are shaking from nervousness as you're crossing them. Actually, there are signs all over the place announcing that bicycles are prohibited on this road but our maps guided us precisely along that highway as there just wasn't another alternative for getting into Santa Barbara. Tomas and I and Jeremy, a rider who joined us for a day from Lampoc, wanted to get off the freeway so badly that we finished the entire 50-mile stretch into Santa Barbara before noon. That was probably the most productive (and frightening) morning we've had on this trip so far.

(In Santa Barbara - happy to be off the highway...)

That night we spent camping at McGrath State Park, a very nice campground just past Ventura. We shared the space with Cub Scouts and their parents from Woodland Heights who (just so it happens!) also liked talking to bikers and treated us to a hearty breakfast - eggs, bacon, pancakes, strawberries and grapes included.

We then started on the finishing stretch to LA. It is a flat, urban ride on Highway 1, with lots of surfer beaches to our right and many serious-looking cyclists on their training rides passing us on our left. We reached Malibu, which stretches for miles and miles along the highway, and stopped at a really cool Mexican restaurant La Salsa. The entire distance from Ventura to LA, however, feels like a continuous city, with heavy traffic and lots of stop lights - nothing like what we've been riding in Northern California just days before that.

Once we reached Santa Monica, the enormity and the lack of biker-friendliness of the City of Los Angeles quickly dawned on us. We got quite some thrill reaching our friend Karolis who lives all the way in Pasadena, about 30 or 40 miles from where we entered the city. The details will follow shortly in our next post.

(With Karolis in Pasadena)

We are taking a day off today; spending some time reading, cooking, repairing the bikes, and watching the NBA finals game here in Lakers-town. Our next and final landmark on the West Coast is San Diego. Hasta pronto!

Sorry for few blog postings... but here's a song for you

Elliott Smith - Can't make a sound

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tsLfPsYOXQ

I have become a silent movie
The hero killed the clown

Can't make a sound

Nobody knows what he's doing
Still hanging around

Can't make a sound

The slow motion moves me
The monologue means nothing to me

Bored in a role, but he can't stop
Standing up to sit back down
And lose the one thing found
Spinning the world like a toy top
Untill there's a ghost in every town

Can't make a sound

Eyes locked and shining
Can't you tell me what's happening?

Why should you want any other
When you're a world within a world?

San Luis Obispo, CA

We're back on the road after a relaxing few days in San Francisco. And we're feeling fed, nurtured (thanks to Whitney and her awesome housemates!) and stronger than ever before. We just did three hard days through the mountainous Big Sur, totaling 270 miles. Yesterday we rode for over 100 miles, which is the longest day we've had so far. Though the ride was challenging mentally as well as physically, we've passed through some of the most picturesque areas of Central California.


We rode for miles and miles through vast strawberry plantations, breathing the sweetened air and fighting the temptation to stop at too many berry farms scattered along the way. We climbed the punishing hills of Big Sur and admired the edgy cliffs and sharp rocks poking out of the Ocean. While passing San Simeon, we stopped over at a beach where thousands of elephant seals return each year to spend the summer. We camped in state parks situated next to the waterfront and fell asleep to the sound of the waves.



Today, we are finally getting some rest at our friends Ed and Ruta Saliklis's house in San Luis Obispo. We visited them almost exactly two years ago when Tomas and I were doing our graduation road trip through California and now we're stopping over again. For the occasion, our wonderful hosts made Cepelinai, a traditional Lithuanian dish, which is just what we needed to replenish our reserves of fat and summon the strength for the onslaught of Los Angeles.


By Saturday night, we are planning to reach LA and then San Diego two or three days after that. From San Diego, we will be flying our bikes to Detroit on June 19 and riding through the Lakes District, Ohio, Upstate New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, to Bar Harbor in Maine (purple line from Huron, OH, to Bar Harbor, ME). We will then descend through Massachusetts, Connecticut, Pensylvania to Washington DC (blue line from Bar Harbr to DC), where we will end our trip. This second leg is over 2000 miles long, which means we may need to be quite fast and organized or take some trains to accelerate our southbound route to DC. Discussing our plans, we're getting very excited about riding on the east coast. But for now, we still have some time to enjoy this piece of heaven on earth known as California.

San Francisco, CA

We have crossed our first big milestone - the Golden Gate Bridge of San Francisco. After 1160 miles of pedaling and three weeks of camping in some of the country's most beautiful state and county parks, we are regrouping for a few days in the city of sunsets, seafood, sourdough bread and sea lions. Here's a glimpse to our moment of glory:


But more than anything, it was the people we met on our way that left the most memorable impressions. As Tomas already mentioned, we met a lot of great riders doing much longer tours than ours, and riding much, much faster than we ever could. But there was another distinct group of people - those that just love bikers, stop to talk to them and go out of their way to help them in any way they can.

We noticed the unusual friendliness right from the start. Every time you stop for groceries or lunch, people notice your big bags and immediately a conversation ensues - where are you traveling and where from, what have you seen so far, and make sure you see this beautiful park and taste that awesome wine. It's just great how easy it is for people to approach people traveling on bikes. The helmet on your head and the panniers on your wheels are like a magic sign that you're a well meaning guy who's here to appreciate the people and the place, it sparks people's curiosity and immediately puts them at ease to talk to you. And they do. And sometimes, those casual conversations turn into real friendships and acts of unexpected, great generosity.

At the beginning of our trip, we met a family who fed us and invited us to spend the night at their home. We have been getting free repairs and discounts at most bike shops we stop at. Once, we were even given a bottle of Bourbon as a gift by a friendly sales woman at a liquor store in a small town in Oregon. And just recently, while passing through Mendocino, a middle-aged man that we talked to for a while got out of his car as he was about to drive home, and he walked back to us, and said: "You know, when I was your age and touring through Alaska, a man I met said to me: 'Tell me your story and I'll buy you dinner.' So here, you guys told me your story, take this money and get some beer and a meal. He pressed the bills in our hands and just walked back to his car. I was astonished, I've never seen anything like it before.

But similar things just keep happening. Tomas's friend Whitney and her roommates have offered to host us for nearly a week in San Francisco while we're regrouping for the next stage of our trip. And we've received lots of other similar invites from friends and friends of our friends for which we are very grateful.

I guess it is true that not just bikers among themselves, but also regular people on the street feel a special sence of comraderie for dusty, sweaty riders. It's also true that being on a bike teaches you to be more approachable and relaxed with others. The trick is to try to stay that way once your travels are over and you move on your feet again.

Point Reyes, CA

Just checking in - we're at the end of our third week, with 1100 miles under our belt. It's been a blast so far. Riding into San Francisco tomorrow and hoping to catch up with some old friends, relax for a few days and, some of us, take some exams.

Oh the people we meet...

Take this middle-aged German couple for example. We ran into them going North to Vancoover, just as we got over the huge hill past Leggett, CA a couple of days ago. The guy greeted us with a heavy Germanic accent and we started the typical conversation.

"Where are you from?" we asked him. "Germany," he answered. "Where did you start your trip?" "Germany," he he said again. At this point, we though perhaps the language is turning out to be a bit of a barrier. "Where are you going?" we asked another question. "Germany," he said smiling.

We asked again, "This trip, where you finish?" we asked again.

"Germany!"

- Pause of confusion and tension -

"We are biking around the world." he noted.

The couple were cycling around the world, and had already done over 16,000 miles, living on the road for the past 10 months, and covering plenty of exotic places on several continents.


Then consider these two American guys. We met them in the evening at about 6pm in Fort Bragg, which was about 180 miles North of San Francisco (Daumantai, correct me if I'm wrong). They had started at 6am at the Golden Gate Bridge.

That's 180 miles in under 12 hours and, here's the punchline, they were just checking in before turning around to go all the way back on that same day. Or, more specifically, by the next morning. Apparently, they were the first two of another 40 ultra-endurance nutcases that were doing a 300 or 400-miles ride that would qualify them to do a 600 miles ride later, and 1,200 miles after that... They ride practically non-stop, day and night.