A dirty little bike touring blog. Mostly about bikepacking and rigid single speeds. By Montana Miller
“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
"I can see a trail down there. We should turn around," says Colleen. We're 20 feet above the swamp, balancing our bikes on a railroad trestle that's being rebuilt as a bike bridge, but isn't quite done. It has some real janky boards to walk across, which makes me feel like we're some old timey … Continue reading Railroad Tracks and Raccoon Trails Across America: South Carolina
“I think I left your water bottle in the mini van, let me grab it,” Colleen says. It looks like someone filled the bottle with beer. She unscrews the top. Scrunches up her nose. “This is full.” She pauses and makes another face. Kinda the face you'd make if you'd just sniffed 24 ounces of … Continue reading Mystery Pee (and we’re riding cross country)
