Travel Writing

Published in The Oregonian, May 17, 2009

In the right hands, a humble road map can transcend navigation and move right on to imagination and inspiration. Sitting in the back of the family car as we drove into our new home state of Oregon in the summer of 1970, those accordion folds unveiled a new world of possibility.

I discovered, to my pre-teen delight, that a long-ago lover had been immortalized by an Eastern Oregon peak named Nellie’s Nipple. That in this state you could visit both a Dufur and a Nimrod. That if you headed east from Burns, you would first hit Stinkingwater Pass, then Drinkwater Pass. That if you wearied of life in Idanha, you could start over in New Idanha. And who could resist the lure of places called, simply, Hole-in-the-Ground and Crack-in-the-Ground?
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Published in The Oregonian, May 3, 2009

In the classic cycling movie “Breaking Away,” the character of Dave Stoller is a 19-year-old bike-obsessive with a tribe of three friends: Mike, Cyril and Moocher. Of the four, only Mike has a car, and so Mike’s car has a bike rack up top – because where Dave goes, his bike goes. His friends accept this about him.

That’s all I ask of my wife when we go on vacation.

And, honestly, she’s great about it. So in most cases the three of us arrive together at our destination: her, me, my bike. But having a bike is just the first step to good vacation riding. The big question: Where to ride?
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Published in The Oregonian, August 9, 2009

It was the quintessential day at the beach on the Oregon Coast. My 3-year-old son and I raced the waves while my wife wandered the beach with her camera. Our two friends tried their hands (and feet) at surfing. Dogs chased Frisbees. Kites soared briefly and then plunged earthward. Children built sand castles and then destroyed them with glee.

But something was vaguely missing. The coastal vibe I grew up with in Oregon was somehow absent. I pondered a moment… and then I realized: There wasn’t a T-shirt shop in sight. My only-at-the-beach craving for saltwater taffy wasn’t flaring up. I wasn’t fighting the temptation to buy a cute creature crafted of tiny seashells for my knick-knack shelf back home.

Was this heaven? Nope, Oceanside.
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Published in The Oregonian, June 21, 2009

When that caveman genius invented the wheel, it didn’t take long for folks to figure out that if one wheel was good, pairing up two of them promised a whole lot more possibilities. And so the evolutionary branch for one-wheeled vehicles ended up pretty short. Wheelbarrows… unicycles… that’s about it.

But maybe it’s that Darwinian dead-end that speaks to a certain group of people. Unicycles aren’t really useful, and they’re really hard to ride. And therein lies a twisted appeal.
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Published in The Oregonian, February 15, 2009

A panoramic vista after a monumental climb. Dancing at a raucous finish-line party. The delicious exhaustion that follows extreme effort. A sinuous rainbow line of riders extending out to the horizon. Standing peacefully next to a bike in the middle of a freeway bridge that’s cars-only the other 364 days a year.

I’ve experienced these moments, and countless more, on event rides in Oregon. Our state offers a cornucopia of riding bliss, and organized rides can be a great way to experience different aspects of that bliss. For me, riding is most enjoyable as a group activity. Whether it’s a small group of friends, a medium-size bike gang or a huge mob of garish jerseys, there’s a basic appeal to event rides: They’re all about a shared activity, power in numbers and guilt-free food after. Oh, and sometimes they’re even for a good cause.
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