A bike touring blog. Mostly about bikepacking and single speeds. By Montana Miller
I picked up the bottle in the D8 tienda, which is like Colombian Aldi's– put your own groceries in a used cardboard box after checkout. "Ron Viejo de Calandas" I wondered if it was some kind of brown aquaguardiente (aguaguardiente is like the national liquor, it tastes like licorice schnapps). Figured I'll try it. Back … Continue reading Colombia: Belén to El Cucoy
Thunder, louder than it should be, boosted by the echoes on the green steep rocky walls of the valley, pounding rain. Booming cumbia reggaeton mixes, yelling dudes, and fighting barking dogs compete with the storm to be the loudest thing on Friday night. I kinda wish I was at the town party, but I'm so … Continue reading Colombia: Villa de Leyva to Belén
We just finished dinner at a little farm called the Cinnamon Eco Lodge, and the grandpa of the family just brought out his jungle pipe. As long as we've been here, I've been seeing guys sitting next to the road hitting these things- it's a bamboo bong, used to smoke Lao tobacco, which is very … Continue reading Ha Giang to Lao Cai
Close to the top of a giant climb, I see a pack of six little kids running down out of a steep field. Nothing unusual, kids are constantly running out to scream "Hello! Hello! What's your name!" I wave to these ones, and say hello, and keep moving up the steep hill. They're down to … Continue reading Vietnam: Cao Bang to Ha Giang
"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
“They's all meat sheep now,” says Will. He's a pot bellied bloke with a stubbly face, and is wearing a t-shirt with a screaming, flaming, ghastly ghost skull on it. Spooky! We're sitting at the Wimbledon Tavern, an old little pub at the bottom of a steep green valley. “Meat sheep?” I think of the … Continue reading Napier to Wellington
“You looking at the bird?” There's a little black bird hopping around the grass. “He's called B-fah. You see? B for bird!” T starts cracking up at his own joke. He's an older Maori guy, thin and wiry, fluorescent camo bucket hat and little pink reading glasses. “I named him, he follows me everywhere. Poor … Continue reading Wairoa to Napier
I'm way behind on this as usual, but we're taking a few days off before our last couple weeks of riding, so I'm going to try to get caught up. Back in December: From Colville at the top of the Coromandal, we ride south to Whitianga. A vacation community with some houses attached to a … Continue reading Colville to Rotorua
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
A little black and tan chihuahua sprints flat out down the hillside. "Ahrahrahrah!" he yells at us. We're on a nice quiet road outside of Athens, Georgia. "Look at this little guy," I say. He keeps coming, hits the raised shoulder of the road with those tiny little legs, trips, plants his face in the … Continue reading Georgia
Dirt Cruise 