Grocery shopping for your car? Drinking gasoline? Bikes instead of cars? Blue sky instead of gray? Read on. As you sip your drink, let’s take a trip back to middle school math class for numbers that will blow your mind:
1 calorie, also known as a gram calorie, or (cal), is the amount of energy required to raise the temperature of one gram of water by 1 °C.
1 gallon of gas contains the equivalent of 31,000 calories!
Average fuel minded vehicles travel 25 miles on the 31,000 calories of energy supplied by 1 gallon of gas.
In other words, a fuel efficiency of 25 mpg, still, most cars average much less.
Imagine if cars, like humans, used food as fuel rather than gasoline: A weekend drive of 50 miles would require62,000 calories stashed in your trunk, and I’m not referring the way most Americans feel the morning after Thanksgiving.
That would be about 591 bananas for the health minded, or, a trip to the McDonald’s Drive-Thru to pick up 113 Big Macs to fuel your car’s drive. And those bananas, all 222 pounds of them, will set you back $210.90, not to mention the sore back you’ll have after loading them into the car. And just what will you do with all those peels? Maybe you could sell them to Wiley Coyote…
An average recreational cyclist requires 600-700 calories to ride 20 miles.
After some quick division and multiplication one discovers that the cyclist above is reaching a fuel efficiency of around 1,000 mpg!
Now, imagine if humans could drink gasoline. “But humans can’t drink gasoline.”To which my middle school students reply, “Actually, Mr. N-B, you could drink gas, but you would die.” I love how they are always thinking outside the box.
But, if we could bike up to the Chevron station and put our mouth under the pump, like the brash teen putting his head under the Slurpee machine, we would need to sip about 3.7 ounces of gas (that’s about three average sized ‘sips’) to fuel the same 50 mile trip the car above took, and, assuming it didn’t give us a stomachache, would only cost about $0.23.
Something to think about the next time you have the choice to “get there another way” instead of driving.
This picture makes me think of the image of someone dangling a carrot in front of the horse.
(* Note: From the archives features posts that for one reason or another I have decided to re-in-joy with ya’ll)
Nature is wise. Seasons, adaptations, cycles, all snychronized across the globe in a seamless, everchanging manifestation of life. I am always amazed how nature times the readiness of fruit from June – October. Rather than ripening all at once, the keen eye will notice a rotating monthly menu as the summer and fall progress. Cherries, to strawberries, blueberries to veggies, to blackberries, figs, apples, pears and grapes. Can you imagine if they all ripened at one time, one three week burst of abundance? That would be like Costco. Nature is smart, She nutures us slowly with ever changing palette. Fall is wonderful in the Rogue Valley and normal ride food can be supplemented by freshly picked fruits. By now I have all the good trees mapped in my mind, and in the last week have managed to glean most of my ride food from roadside fruit, little sweet bundles of summer sunshine that I put in my belly. So if you see me riding, and see my jersey pockets bulging with something round, in the words of Arnold Schwarzenager in the movie “Kindergarten Cop”, “It’s not a tumor!”
Sweet, crunchy, juicy, and not too big.
Nature's own Gu packet.
Sun dried raisins, oh yeah. Only thing I miss about the red box ones is you can use the empty box as a train whistle.
Pears are a little more finicky as they usually ripen best after picked, still, there is some good fructal love to be had here.
Actually at the Finish: "The Robots With Souls", L to R, Joe "Father of a Baby Named Courage" Vaile, Pete "Hayduke" Wallstrom, me, Chad "Smooth Operator" Woodward, Bradley "Low-Tech" Whelden
There weren’t many pictures taken, our hands were too busy gripping water bottles, kayak paddles, handlebars, throwing high-fives, thumbs-up and handing off a sweaty maroon rubber wristband baton. I’ll do my best to make things visually stimulating as well as colorful word links to click on for another layer of exploration.
The 2nd Annual Siskiyou Challenge, a relay event in Ashland, Oregon benefitting The Rogue Valley Farm to School , connecting efforts of two of the hardest working groups in the valley, farmers and educators. This year’s event drew an ever bigger turn-out of racers and increased support from the community. Goes to show that the organizers Tracy Harding and Deborah Gordon have started something that the community wants, needs, loves, and enjoys!
The team this year was brought together by Bradley at Chad’s Birthday Party the week before, and graciously sponsored by Modern Fan.
Introducing, team #130, “The Robots With Souls”, If you want the nitty-gritty on each leg you can click on the colorful words next to each person’s name.
Leg #6: Joe “Father of a Baby named Courage” Vaile
A cup of coffee and Warren G made the pre-dawn start to the day smooth as possible and with each of us preparing in our own special way, the E.R.M. factor began to rise with the sun, gloriously cresting the Siskiyou Mountains a round orange ember ready to rally.
Bradley “Low-Tech” Whelden rolled out early on the first bike leg. Some bike racers lust over their bikes, some lust over their legs, and some just ride their bikes as hard as they can. Bradley is the later. And in an extreme sort of way. While many of the lycra laden competitive racers for this leg were sporting $3,000+ bikes, clipless pedals, aero bars and skin-suits, Bradley was not. Platform pedals, steel cyclo-cross bike with knobby tires on low tire pressure, lights for commuting on the front and back, and no spare tubes.
If it was a hunting match the competition would have looked like this…
and Bradley would have looked like this…
Good equipment doesn’t guarantee success. However, good motivation and attitude do. And of those Bradley had the best on the road early Saturday morning. Charging, pedaling, E.R.M.ing the sh#%! out of every inch of asphalt between Lithia Park and Emigrant Lake.
Chad and I watched as Low-Tech rolled into the transition chute, blue helmet (turned out to be a child’s sized helmet loaned to him), baggy blue Adidas shorts and blue T-Shirt flapping ragged in the wind. I could see dilated pupils and a focused stare behind his tinted safety glasses, tell-tell signs of Bradley spending serious time on the E.R.M. bullet train.
The wristband “baton” was handed off to Chad as he sprinted down the boat ramp to the same kayak we were loaned last year, a 16 ft. fiberglass beauty named ‘Mariah’. Early that morning Chad had keenly applied a gracious coating of PAM to her underside. Mariah, in her curvaceous, glossy, sleek form, was like a Hawaiian Tropic beauty that just couldn’t wait to get wet. Which was evident when earlier in the morning Chad and I were staging her on the steep shore of Emigrant Lake and had a hard time keeping her from sliding un-manned into the lake.
Mariah, a Hawaiian water loving craft, like this but with a lot more fiberglass…
With his intimate knowledge of E.R.M. science, and a solid week’s worth of training under his life jacket, Chad charted his course. A prominent triangular wake crested from the bow of Mariah and radiated through the calm surfaced of the lake as she and Chad knifed through the water. Chad’s history as a river-runner and river-keeper gave him an edge.
With an arsenal of three paddling techniques, and the laser beam focus from a previous year full of Bikram Yoga, Chad pulled some time in on the leaders. Going from paddler to sprinter 50 times faster than a Seattle Duck Boat goes from water to land, Chad made the final sprint back up the boat ramp. Once he handed the wristband off to me I was around six minutes behind the leader of Team Flywheel, Ryan Wilcoxson, the first cyclist to head out on the long road bike course. There were four other cyclists between Ryan and I so I had plenty of work to do.
Usually at this hour of the morning my legs were just climbing out of bed, rather than onto a bike all spando’ed out. The soundtrack for the first few minutes helped to calm, focus, center, and start to ramp-up,
and from there it was pretty much like this..
with a healthy hand of some of this
The long road bike course made a slow climb up into the orchards and farms east of Talent, some hills and punchers though it was all about staying in the dog, chasing down strong man Ryan Wilcoxson with his disc wheel, and making sure to go hard enough to ensure there was a lot more doing than thinking going on. In a techno-metal-E.R.M.-lactic acid induced stupor I rallied up through Lithia Park, now in 2nd place, our team was a fox-hound strong on the scent of a furry beast named Podium.
I found the chute to make the hand-off to Pete “Hayduke” Wallstrom, who, like any fast runner, rocks short-shorts and no shirt. There simply wasn’t enough fabric to pin a number on the man, so he went ‘Jesus Crown of Thorns’ style, and pinned the number straight to through his skin, mentioning that the initial sting of the pin through the skin helps him access his E.R.M. with greater presence.
Pete ran himself ragged in the hills above the park and surrounds. Blazing up each one with the fury of George Washington Hayduke laying systematic destruction to a big CAT dozer, his own blood mixing with sweat, adrenaline and pain, a cocktail stronger than any Gatorade. Hayduke was on fine form that Saturday morning, catching the eye of a local reporter, as quoted from the newspaper story on Sunday’s front page:
“One of the most relevant aspects of Hayduke is the fact that for all the property destruction dished out during his efforts with, “The Robots With Souls”, despite the explosions, the excavation equipment ruined digging deeper and deeper, the survey stakes pulled up from mile after seemingly endless mile of soon-to-be-destroyed countryside, Hayduke never hurt, maimed, or killed anyone.”
Pete entered the park rocketing down with the grace and skill of Hayduke traversing a labyrinthy sandstone mesa. Pete maintained our 2nd place during the run, Le Black Beauty and I then had the mountain bike leg to try to pull in some more time on the leader, and I found myself working to chase down another talented athlete of the Flywheel Team and Wilcoxson family, Jade. I shifted back into the part of my brain where pain becomes pleasure as Le Black Beauty and I danced a dance that while effective, was not particularly pretty.
The Ashland MTB trails were in sore shape after a dry summer and abuse from the mass of shuttlers who use more gas to ride their bikes on Mt. Ashland than the average person does on their weekly commute. Still, I used my special visualization of imagining my Brosef Patrick Means charging it in front of me and trying to follow his line. During the course of the MTB leg the gap closed from seven minutes to just under thirty seconds, the podium scent was soon to be fox pelt in our teeth.
Like a salmon funneling threading boulders upstream on the Rogue River I made my way into the transition chute and made the final wristband hand-off to Joe “Father of a Baby named Courage” Vaile. Joe set out on the anchor leg, the crucial final step to ensure success, like taking the nozzle out of the car before driving away from the gas station, or paying for your groceries before walking out the store, the final step matters. The anchor leg also carries the added pressure of having been witness to the mayhem of your team gutting themselves on each leg, returning on empty, having left all form of physical, mental, and spiritual mojo on the course, knowing they are all counting on you to seal the deal.
On the likely two hours of sleep he had the previous night, an amount most new fathers would consider a good night, Joe set out on the 3.6 mile course with the goal of touching the ground for as brief time as possible. The interesting thing about a relay is the amount of time you actually spend with your teammates during the event is minimal, just enough time to hand off the wristband and watch them propel themselves by foot, pedal, or paddle into the horizon.
Despite that isolation, there is an electrifying feeling I imagine most of us robots felt when out on the course one would look down and see the wristband, knowing that throughout the morning it had at one time been on the wrist of each of us, a rubbery thread of connection, and each time its image inspired its wearer to dig deeper, breath harder, E.R.M. it to the max.
And Joe felt the electricity, the voltage firing axons and endorphins like an automatic rifle, churning his legs like well oiled pistons, his lungs like a blacksmith’s bellows, he took the form, a Robot with a soul, honed on the finish line, crossing to keep our solid hold on a well earned and satisfying 2nd place.
Le Black Beauty and I had one more MTB lap to run for another team, Burgundy Mold, who was in last minute need of a MTB. Again we charged, sweated, and made a controlled falling descent of Ashland’s slippery summer single-track. And after was some good maxin’ and relaxin’ in the park, drinkin’ drank and tasking time to enjoy the sun of the day all in the same spot at the same time, The Robots with Souls took on the Extra Leg #7 Team shopping spree to the Ashland Outdoor Store. We were going to buy matching Team Down Track-Suits, like these, then we realized that our gift amount only had one zero after the first number, so we opted for some Team water bottles that keep your sake cool and your coffee hot.
After it was all done Chad and made the round to drop off kayaks and I made a cool down ride to the creek above the reservoir where Whyte Nynsha and I had a little swim in some fresh clear water. In a cool deep pool I lay with my back in the granular granite bottom, opened my eyes and looked up to the trees and sky through the lens of the water, the cool water refreshed every muscle, I stood up, out of the water, clarity consumed, the juxtaposition between the total stimulation and excitement of first half of the day and the quiet solitude of my nature swim struck me as a gift, Ashland is a great place to be a Robot with a soul.
**Big Mahalo:
Mr. David Bylsma, the man with the plan, and a really long, fast kayak.
Modern Fan for sponsoring the team.
Tracy and Deborah for creating a fun way to support education and farming in the Rogue Valley, and all of the amazing volunteers who made this event possible!
Amy and Sarah, enduring an early morning, sweaty smelly men and peeing babies to rally and support The Robots With Souls!
Don’t forget, only 359 more days to start training and getting your team together for next year’s edition!
Sports fans and space friends, tomorrow is the 2nd annual Siskiyou Challenge Relay Event! Lube your chains, load up the kayak, shave your legs, and double check the laces on your running shoes. The weather should be great again this year and the course has a few changes that will make the transitions and action more spectator friendly and equally more enjoyable for us racers.
The Rogue Valley Farm to School program is amazing, connecting efforts of two of the hardest working groups in the valley, farmers and educators. It is comforting and inspiring to hear that this year’s event is drawing an ever bigger turn-out of racers and increased support from the community. Goes to show that the organizers Tracy Harding and Deborah Gordon have started something that the community wants, needs, loves, and enjoys!
Check out the RVF2S website by clicking the colorful words in the paragraph above, you can learn more about their mission and how they do what they do. And if you live in Ashland and are not racing in the event come check out all the action at Lithia Park.
Last year some friends and I represented as, “The Godmothers of Ashland”. A last minute team of some top-notch athletes, an amazing last minute connection for a rocket of a kayak, lead us to victory in the first edition. However, this year, Mr. Johnny “Means-Business” Means is in Portland helping my friend T-Payne buy a new bike, Megan “Evinrude” Jansen is volunteering, leaving both myself and Mr. Leland “Full-On” Fulton to defect to other teams. Hopefully either Leland’s team or mine can rally the win and continue the golden thread of victory to honor the Godmothers of Ashland, and someday see the team reunite for a future edition of the Challenge.
Hopefully there will be some pictures from the event to post in the coming week and plenty of stoked Ashlanders getting their E.R.M. on tomorrow.
Seasons change. This sign is about halfway up the climb to the ski lodge. Usually it says, "CLOSED", there is no snow around the bottom of it, and there is hardly any traffic of cars going to the ski lodge, the winter is different. Still, the road goes up, to the same place and in the same way, another 8.5 miles to a warm spot by the fire.
Inversions are a real winter treat here in Southern Oregon, sunshine and warmth make a brief cameo appearance. Which means there is usually the chance to ride the road up Mt. Ashland for the majestic view of Mother Shasta.
Mother Shasta is a strong place holder in my life. She is a presence, a force, beautiful, stable, strong, determined, unique, and ever present. Getting to see her is always a meeting of minds and hearts, human, spiritual, and geologic.
I have a brief mantra of gratitude that I recite every time I see Mother Shasta, sometimes it is said internal over and over, other times in a song voice, other times at the top of my lungs with no others around to hear:
Friday on the ride up I could only see Mother Shasta's feet, as her top was veiled in clouds, Saturday on the way up with all the fog and rain I couldn't even see past the trees on the side of the road, so Sunday it was a treat to see Her in sunbathed glory.
A wave of clouds rolling over the horizon to the south
This man is smiling, this man has a chainsaw, need I say more?
The tide of clouds moving slowly in. From the parking lot of Mt. Ashland Ski Lodge looking south.
The wave of clouds about to sweep up to the base of Mother Shasta, kind of like Hawai'i, except the grains of sand are granite boulders, the blue Pacific is a thick layer of clouds, and a basalt cliff is a mountain, still, the sun is the sun, the sky is the sky, and I am me, so really, it is pretty close to Hawai'i. ALOHA!
Looking down the east slope. One vivid memory from this shot is standing quietly and being able to hear the clunking of boulders randomly tumbling down this side, and the echo they made, and the echo my warrior yells made, AI-AI-AI-AIIIII!
This is the third and final part of the adventure, if you missed Part I or II click on the colorful words below. Thanks for coming along!
Not the best resolution, though worth the look, the rim of majestic Crater Lake National Park on the horizon to the northeast.
Getting to the top was only half of the trip. Run back down to Sweet Melissa, and yes, I brought the cable lock, you never know when a lycra-clad bear or walking weary PCT hiker might try to steal a svelte pink single speed beauty. Dancing shoes go back on.
Got the chance to shred some sweet single track before putting the knobbies on the pavement.
Sign out from my solo partay and homeward to where a friendly partay is just 45 mostly downhill miles and one warm shower away...
Not quite an Old World stone fountain like in the Dolomites, still, the pump on Road 37 provides refreshment.
The sun was setting, light was dimming, and the smoky haze made the light horrible for pics. Still, there are some changing colors to be seen here, a beautiful spot. If you want to see what this area has to offer in the way of mountain biking check out my pose titled "Summer or Fall?" in the archive under October 2010
Timing. Less than 1.5 hours before this picture was taken I was at the top of the mountain. And one week after this picture was taken the upper heights of the Rogue Valley got snow, laying a frosty blanket on top of Mt. McLoughlin that will only grow thicker until it all melts in late July. Just in the right time, a great date with a great mountain. I'll be back, perhaps for a winter time rendezvous.
All downhill from here. Door to door the trip took 9 hours, including picture breaks, stops for water, stops to empty water from bladder, wardrobe changes, and my "alone" time with Mt. McLoughlin as we talked about things one would talk about on their first date. My goal next year is to do it in under 8 hours. Maybe the Siskiyou Challenge could run an endurance leg.
t truly is amazing the fact that when you climb a mountain the best view you will ever have of the objective is from a distance. Sometimes the bigger the challenge the harder it is for me to notice it when I'm right next to it, and very close to encountering it.
The thick forest starts to give way to blast zone style snags, and a glimpse of the elevation I was gaining, at about 1,000 feet vertical gain per mile.
And then steeper, and big blocky boulders, and blue sky, to the west there were some forest fires making things start to turn hazy. From here it looks short, but there is still a ways to go.
Once on the prominent south ridge it's up, up, up, the summit is actually the round mound up to the left of the dramatic looking pinnacles. Time to climb the spine of brontosaurus rex.
A nice spot along the way. Looking southeast towards the Klamath Basin area.
If you follow the ridgeline down to the last sunny spot in the lower left third of this picture you will see the sunny spot shown closer up in the picture above this one.
So close to the top, so far from the bottom, and the world is a circle which means I've plenty of sideways left to go.
Just me and Biff at the summit, 9,495 feet is pretty high for a little bear with quartz lungs and a big heart, Reinhold Messner would frown on Biff's actions but the supplemental oxygen was necessary for my good friend.
Begin summit panorama 360 action, looking northwest, and we'll spin to the left slowly, keep yer hands on the hips and shoulders there boy.
Mother Shasta off in the smoky horizon.
If you like this story you might also like to check out a similar, ‘Junior’ sized outing in the Rogue Valley: The Pilot Rock Bike’n’hike.
Like Peanut butter and Jelly, Coffee and Oatmeal, the Moon and the Stars, there is in my life the wonderful combo of Sweet Melissa and the Team Backpack. Shown here ready for some major Lewis and Clarkin' to Mt. McLoughlin.
(Note, due to a hiatus from the blog some of the postings recount adventures from the end of fall up to now. That should explain some of the nice looking weather and lack of snow on mountains in the shots.)
Each fall I do my best to take harvest. Southern Oregon fall is full of apples, pears, grapes, figs, berries, and sunsets, all ripening to a succulent crescendo before the slaughter of winter and daylight savings time. The fall harvest for me is a time when my body and mind are in form from summer’s many adventures.
Mt. McLoughlin is a mountain that captured my eye since the first time I saw Her a few years ago. She could easily be touted as the “Mt. Fuji” of Southern Oregon. In addition to her striking physique she tops out at 9,495 feet, that’s 9,500 feet to me at eye level.
In the course of my ridings etc. I’ve summited some peaks, but Mt. McLoughlin always stood there, looking, watching, waiting, and this fall I knew it was time. And I also knew it would need to be a fully human powered mission. The likes of which I have not heard of being done before by anyone in the Rogue Valley. If you know of someone else who has, please let me know.
The red backpack, known as the “Team Backpack”, is part of my Pirate’s Booty earned from our team’s effort at The Siskiyou Challenge.
Check Back soon for Part II for summit views and sunset hues.
Cresting the summit of Dead Indian Memorial Road is the gateway to the eastern side of the Siskiyou Range. A ten mile hill to climb on Sweet Melissa, at the top of which I'll get my first glimpse of Mt. McLouhglin. The late fall day started clear and blue. And with a late morning start I would need every hour of it.
Looking back down to Ashland, from the lower part of the climb up Dead Indian Memorial Road. A beautiful, sunny piece of road any time of the year.
Follow the yellow lined road.
I've been on this stretch in every month of the year, alone, with others, happy or sad, and it always feels different, especially today with Sweet Melissa between my legs and the Team Backpack on my shoulders, and plenty of adventure ahead of me.
After the passing over the top of Dead Indian Memorial and descending down to the high prairie the first solid view of Mt. McLoughlin opens up. There she stands, a beacon, my goal, seducing me, within a few hours I'll be on Her summit, breathing hard, smiling, yelling wildly at the top of my lungs, to the silence that so nurtures my world.
20 miles into my journey and the first good omen appears. For me, whenever I'm out and about seeing a Porsche is a good luck sign.
And just minutes later another good omen, Red Tail came flying along to inspire me with His glide, thanks Grandpas! Hard to spot in this pick but if you click on the image you can find the Him up in the sky.
A left turn onto Fish Lake Road takes me on a beautiful stretch of road north, and I get my last good glimpse of Her. After this the closer I get the less I see of Her. In fact, from this point I have another 20 miles to ride, and a good bit of uphill to hike/run before I'm on the open ridge that will take me the final miles to the summit
More German engineered good omenage!
I came upon this monster-sized hunk of re-tread on my way east on Highway 140. I ran out and tossed it off to the side, figuring the good deed would be good for my roadside karma bank. Just think, maybe moving this piece of retread will, or had already, saved my life. The whole chunk probably weighed twice as much as my entire bike.
More than 40 miles of pavement ridden and now the road turns to gravel for the last five miles to the trail. Sweet Melissa was happy to get her fat tires on some rough road as we gradually climbed to the base of Mt. McLoughlin.
Where the road ends the trail begins. And one of the forest service bomb shelter/out houses at the ready. Take note there are no cars in the parking lot here. Yep, the whole trail, the whole mountain, the whole forest, just me and my breathing and the rest of the natural world doing the same.
Apparently, this is what I need to know. Imagine what it would sound like if Keanu Reeves read this sign, in his character from movie 'Point Break', "Most Difficult!"
Judging from this map I can see why people tend to get lost: According to this map there are only 6 trees on Mt. McLoughlin, so already, looking at the dense forest around me I feel I'm not where this map says I am. I think it would make much more sense for this map to be just before the section of trail where people tend to stray of course, you know, kind of like putting a stop sign exactly where you want people to stop and not 3 miles before the actual spot of stopping.
At the start of the trail you sign in, and when you're done you sign out, it's an old school safety system that makes a lot of sense and is simple to use, assuming a ranger checks it every other day or so.
The parking lot was true, and the log shows it, for the day I'm the only one to sign in. I guess Mt. McLoughlin and I really did need some good one-on-one time for our first date after so many years of just looking at each other from afar.
The Team Backpack is a "Mary Poppins" adventure bag, amazing how much can fit in one small nylon sac. Trade the dancing shoes for running shoes, and it's time to get the elevation going up.
This time I've found a tandem! With my six-shooter and clicky shoes there is no road too long. Thanks to my friend Patrick for taking the pic, this is from a ride with him this fall where in I tried to cram as much taste of Southern Oregon into a week for visiting P-Rock.
Since my last post there have been many miles on the bike both on the road and the trails, liters of carrot juice sipped and gulped, journeys with friends, fresh peaches and blackberries, glider flights launched, hobbit bars eaten, smiles and laughs that I needed the most, Whyte-Nynsha invasions, quests, breaths, and summer time vacation.
Much thanks to my friend John who managed to give my computer some much needed technological lyposuction. Posts to re-cap some of the summer’s adventures are on the way. First, you need to pick your time travel vehicle from one of the machines below, claim your mode of transport by posting a comment below.
Option #1: The quiet though thrilling, zero emission balsa wood glider. Book now for first class seating and check the post below for a video of this beauty flying the North Cascades air.
Option #2: Slightly dirty yet very fun mountain bike. Yes, that is me kissing a mountain bike that is not pink and named Sweet Melissa. Please don't tell her, but this one is getting added to the stable soon.
Option #3: Curvy Red Bellingham Beauty, my choice for sure, there's room for more to ride along.
Option #4: The Rancho Relaxo G-Rod inspired VW Rabbit makeover. Gutted to the bones inside for maximum rally driving effect and matte black finish to throw of the radar.
Option #5: The Kitty-Kat-Motor-Machine. Driver must take note of attached tail above rear tail-light and cat ears on helmet. Mt. Baker has some amazing roads and interesting "wildlife".
Option #6: You could hop on the back of one of these five foot crows, though I get the feeling they're not going anywhere soon...
Option #7: The Green Ninja. One word, phenomenal. Shown here in all its glory at the summit of Chinook Pass.
Option #8: Or maybe you'd prefer rolling on 32" rims, gauges, nozzles, ladders, and $300,000.00 of shined up fire dominating driving.
Option #9: Then again, who needs wheels when you can be on the sea. And for only $2.65 this ferry from Port Townsend to Whidby Island is a much better option than trying to swim the channel.
Option #10: Of course smaller river craft is what you're after this little gem at the Alsea General Store might suit you, I suggest replacing the Bud with bottles of fresh cold carrot juice.
Option #11: Sweet Melissa, among the singletrack, ferns, trees and summer beauty of the Chuckanuts.
Option #12: Then again your 'Birthday Suit' might be a good choice if your journey was a hot day long ride up high mountain passes and there is a cold mountain stream at the end of it all.
Option #14: Maybe you want to ride on a cloud, here are a couple I woke up to at the base of Mt. Rainier.
Option #15: My friend Patrick Means and his steed would make a wise and fast choice, that is if you can catch up to him to hold on. Shown here on the amazing Green line 6 Trail in Capitol Forest, where they could always use more of your money.
Option #16: The eco-friendly Airstream Trailer is popular among the masochists with the desire to travel.
Option #17a. b. or c. Three to choose from here, Red Vette, Pick-up, or the Rod.
Option #18: Big Mack Truck. Yep.
Option #19: There's always Amtrak, and it's only $5 extra to take your bike!
Option #20: Then again, you might find yourself with two flat tires and hitch-hiking your way into the back of a bow hunter's truck, studying closely the anatomy of a deer's side while you figure out how you're going to make it all they way home. Not to worry, it has a happy ending as most adventures out in the wild country do.
Building Boats 
