For the foreseeable future, my blog posts will not be here on WordPress. Instead, they will be here…
https://chris-pondero.blogspot.com
I posted some new content today. If you want to read that, along with what I hope to add in 2019 and beyond, go the the address provided above. Hopefully, I won’t lose any of my dear friends in the transition.
WordPress is more complicated than what I need. That is one reason why I have been spending so little time here, and so much more on Instagram. For fun, however, I went back to my old blogger platform, and posted a couple of thoughts…
I’ve been haunted by a post by Shawn since November 7th. Plus, I’ve had some other friends mention a variety of frustrations with IG I’ll admit I share. I have been pondering spending more time writing in 2019. If I follow through with that, I’ll likely go back to blogger.
Still pondering…
Most folks have made the transition with me from this blog environment to instagram. In case you haven’t…and are looking for information about this year’s event, it is this Saturday, November 10.
Some folks are planning to arrive Friday night and camp. Others are arriving by 8am to socialize, gawk at bikes, and eat a taco. We roll out at 9am. We have patches to celebrate our epic lollygagging for participants.
If you need details, either DM me on instagram or send me an email.
My survival strategy for the Arkansas summer bikepacking adventure came to me in a vision today.
Pedaling out after work into the “feels like 101”, I warmed up (ha!) and commenced several half-load, half-hearted, hill repeats.
Sweat beaded on my skin, burned my eyes, and dripped off my wrists. My heart rate spiked, and I was a little dizzy. But I found a sort of rhythm, and knew I had the answer. In other words, I had a sound strategy for the sweltering summer back-country. In a word…
Siesta.
I saw it clearly in a vision.
Or a hallucination.
I like simple things in life
Like a prairie breeze
A good stout horse between my knees
Just bein’ alone just bein’ me
– Desert Skies, Marshall Tucker Band
Having a good buddy to share a bicycle tour adds much to the overall experience. He points out things I miss, encourages me to go beyond my previous personal limitations, offers a congratulatory mountain top handshake, and validates my claim that “the climb in the photo is much steeper than it appears”. A good touring buddy magnifies all that is excellent about a bicycle outing. He also helps me overcome challenges encountered along the way. That means a touring buddy sees me when things aren’t going well.
A touring buddy has insight far beyond instagram images and blog posts. The information posted on this blog and on instagram is only the information I want you to see. It is carefully edited, and I have total control. But I can’t edit or filter life as it happens in front of my tour buddy. He sees the stumbles, silly mistakes, packing disorganization, and camp failures. He hears me whine when I don’t have my way. Vulnerability and humiliation. Is it worth it?
When a tour buddy agrees to join me again for another tour, it is worth it. He demonstrates (by subjecting himself to my company again) that my shortcomings are somehow acceptable. That makes for a great touring buddy.
Choose wisely.
My plan
(freaky spring weather permitting)
Friday
camp dinner 6ish
sunset 8ish
near full moon
short night ride?
Saturday
sunrise 6:45ish
bacon at 7
ride at 9
26 miles of mixed terrain (trail, gravel, paved)
lots of stops for lake views, photo ops, snacks, and coffee
followed by late lunch burgers in Greenwood (mid-afternoon?)
Planning done.
The bicycle is a ideal adventure vehicle for me. It requires physical activity, it is silent, and it has perfect pace. It seems motor vehicle travel is so fast, I miss too much. Hiking is so slow, it doesn’t keep up with my curiosity. But the bicycle brings me new sensations just when I am ready for them.
I’ve learned that bicycle tours have a certain rhythm which is different than normal life. It is slower, and has more of an “in the moment” flow. It seems to take me a couple of days to make the adjustment. Once body and mind are in sync with the rhythm of the tour, I experience something blissful that I’ve been unable to communicate to non-bicycle tourists.
I’ve done several tours, and have found this rhythm. But my short tours usually end just at the time I make the adjustment. I feel like a surfer dropping in on a perfect wave, only to have it vanish as I carve the bottom turn.
Pondero 