A dirty little bike touring blog. Mostly about bikepacking and rigid single speeds. By Montana Miller
"Man, Colleen couldn't you have picked a place farther up the hill?" I'm doing the paper boy up the super steep street in Cat Ba Town, to the hotel Colleen picked which is like five feet below the very very top. "You're being super dramatic," she says. "No, I'm just telling you, please pick the … Continue reading Vietnam: Ha Long Bay to Cao Bang
"Try, try it, this for you," says an old lady with a cone hat. She pushes a little donut into my hand before I know what's happening. Colleen and I were just walking down some busy side street in Hanoi, scooter horns and buzzy exhausts. "Oh, thank you," I say. I try the donut, not … Continue reading Vietnam: Hanoi to Ha Long Bay
I never finished writing about New Zealand last year, work just got too busy. We rode all around the South Island, it was nice, I'll write it up sometime. (And here's a plug for a good gig- if you're interested in being a bike tour guide or mechanic, we're crazy short staffed. Work in the … Continue reading Hello Vietnam
The road is one of those impossibly steep ones, the kind where you'd shift a car into first gear to try to creep down, but it's still too steep so the by the time you're at the bottom the brake warbles and smells like shoes that were supposed to be drying by the campfire, but … Continue reading Auckland to Coromandal
This is the Big Boy. I like her very much. So first, why- in the last year I've been real taken with skateboarding. I couldn't imagine taking a winter off the board, but I still wanted to go bike touring. So I just needed to figure out a way to carry my skateboard on the … Continue reading The Big Boy
We've just crossed the Alabama Florida line, and the 15th and 16th dogs that day run out of their yard to chase me, and I snap. "Arff arff arff arff arff!" they yell. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you!” I yell, and boot the closest dog in the head. Four really good, solid kicks, excellent … Continue reading Florida and Mississippi
We're in a Mexican restaurant that's playing twangy country music. New Year's Eve. It was a long day, not much above freezing and heavy rain and we had no choice but to ride 60 miles to get here, Ozark, Alabama, because it was the closest place with a motel. I look over the available beers- … Continue reading Alabama
