You Do You

“Do you work?”

“Fuck you, get a job…ha ha!”

“I’m jealous, fuck off!”

More often than not I’m greeted with such comments concerning my recent foray into Van Life. I get it, and it all comes from a place of humor and goodwill, but there is some measure of truth in sarcasm, whether it’s delivered with casual flair or a sharp bite. 

And after a while it starts to take a toll. 

I almost always smile, shrug my shoulders with a, ‘You can do it, too’, sort of grin. But inside I’m thinking, ‘Stop projecting your shit onto me!” I am not the target for your passive aggressive swipes. The CHOICES you make, and I make, determine how much free time we have and how we CHOOSE to use that time.

Now I recognize that some choices are made for us. For those who were born into poverty and are trapped in low income jobs, scraping by from day to day, your options aren’t as broad as say, a software developer earning $250k a year who CHOOSES that massive mortgage and C Class convertible. So I’m not going to throw a blanket over the entire population and claim that everything is a choice. For some choices are easier to make, for others it’s a choice between eating or paying the rent.

With that said, I’ve never lived an extravagant lifestyle. I’ve earned higher than average salaries in my life, but never would I consider myself anything other than working class. But I haven’t been attached to a mortgage in 15 years and recently have scaled back even further. A few years ago I gave away almost everything I owned, and after all was picked clean I was able to squeeze all of my belongings, including my bikes, into my 6 year old Honda Fit. 

I lived in one particular tiny home that could barely be considered a home, with an outdoor shower and a toilet separated from the rest of the hut by a thin curtain.

And I loved it!

My rent was $400, and yes, it was primitive. But I never felt as though I needed more. I had a roof over my head, a bed, means to clean myself and food. As far as I was concerned, I was in heaven. I’ve since ‘upgraded’ to a slightly larger tiny home, with, regrettably, an indoor shower, and higher rent, but still far lower than the local average. 

Friends visit and say, “How cute!” And some might mention how they have always wanted to live in a tiny home, but creature comforts are a hard thing to give up, I know from experience. It’s easy to say you want to live a minimalist lifestyle, but difficult to actually pull the trigger. 

“How did you give your things away?”, is a common question. It’s easy. Give your shit away.

How many pots do you need? How many plates? How many rooms in your house are required to protect your shit? If you want to minimize, less talking, more doing. But in the end, most people can’t part with their shit. And let’s face it, that’s what our stuff is - shit.

But if you want to acquire more and more shit, that’s your choice. I don’t judge you. Buy what you want, it’s your money. But when you ask me how I can live on the road and not have to work, look around at all your shit, and there is your answer.

If you are unhappy or dissatisfied with your life, please don’t sling light hearted jabs in my direction because of some perceived notion that I have, ‘figured it out’. And don’t assume that your time is more valuable because you have less of it. If I accommodate you because I have more free time, and it’s far less an inconvenience for me to work around your schedule, that is MY CHOICE, and one I am almost always happy to make. But if you work 10 hours a day at your management position at some high tech start up, then spend another 2 hours a day in your car so you can arrive home to your 3,000 square foot house with all the trimmings, that is YOUR CHOICE. And your choices, and mine, have no bearing on the value of time.

Your time is no more important or valuable than mine and vice versa. 

Everything in life is a trade off. While you were sitting comfortably on your toilet seat with heated floors keeping your toes warm and forcing out a satisfying crap this morning, I was shitting into a plastic bag in the remote camping area I chose to sleep last night. While you stood under your shower nozzle with 7 levels of high powered jets massaging your tense neck muscles, I was cleaning up with aloe-infused camp wipes. 

While you were relaxing in your plush loveseat sipping your morning coffee, I was laying back in bed inside The Biscuit and writing this little ditty while staring out at this.

My intention isn’t to attack anyone. Quite the opposite. If anything I want people to be happy in wherever they are and whatever they are doing. A lovely new phrase entered my lexicon recently. When asked, “Where are you?”, I respond with, “I’m right here.” And in my response is hopefully a sense of contentment that isn’t hard to decipher.

If you want to simplify your life, go crazy. It’s fun and liberating. But if that’s not your bag, it’s ok. How you choose to live your life has no bearing on my path, and my journey in no way impacts your day to day. 

You do you. I’ll do me.

Peace out!

Your friend,

Ian and The Biscuit

#youdoyou

#livesimply

#doityourway

AZ Crazy!

Hello my strong friends!

I left Los Angeles a couple weeks ago in The Biscuit itching to 'get lost' and spend time checking out new corners of the country on my bikes.  After a stopover in Joshua Tree I made my way to Arizona to sample, once again, the legendary chunk in Sedona. But before shredding the red I decided to stop by Phoenix to visit some friends for a few days.

Now Sedona basks in the glory of having the best mountain biking in the South West, but Phoenix has been getting the shaft as far as I'm concerned. Take away the punishing heat, and more mountain bikers would surely flock to this pile of rocks. What their trail systems lack in outright size and variety is more than made up in technical and challenging terrain. PHX has some world class riding out here in the desert wasteland and it definitely forced me to up my game.

South Mountain just outside Phoenix. Rocky Goodness!

Closing in!

After a very relaxing stay at 'Chateau Jensen', where I spent as much time lounging at my friend's pool as I did pedaling, I hopped over to Prescott to visit another friend who, like me, has some hardware in his spine. Phil has had a rough couple years dealing with complications from 3, yes 3 spine surgeries, but he's finally turned the corner and is improving daily. He's a former competitive triathlete, and also like me, struggles with being off the bike. But he's making excellent progress and by summer's end I expect him to be back on the road putting miles behind him with the wind in his face.

Prescott is a quaint, friendly town situated in a valley surrounded by the beautiful Prescott National Forest. When one thinks of Arizona the first thing that comes to mind isn't Ponderosa Pines, but AZ has far more to offer than cactus and sand.

Watson Lake made for a beautiful spot to cool off after a big ride.

After a couple days the heat was getting a little rough for this West Coast boy, so I hit the road for the postcard views of Sedona. Your heart stops for a second when your eyes get their first glimpse of Red Rock. It's as if a sculptor chiseled the mountains with artisan care. But unfortunately, the heat followed me from Prescott via Phoenix. I took a peep at the forecast, and Sedona wouldn't cool down for a few days. Flagstaff on the other hand was a cool 75 degrees and sunny, so I bugged out for the Alpine Forests of Flagstaff and hid out in the mountains for a few days while waiting for Sedona to chill down. And damn I'm glad I did!

Am I in Tahoe or Arizona?

Struggling to breathe at 9,000 feet.

Like being back home.

I'd never been to Flagstaff, and for some reason I had this image of a conservative enclave of wealthy retirees. I was later corrected and realized I had confused Flagstaff for Scottsdale. Flagstaff is a picturesque town resting at 7,000 feet, with its highest peak reaching an impressive 12,600 feet. Like most college towns it has a fairly progressive feel, easy going, with a healthy selection of craft beer and outdoor activities.

I felt comfortable in Flagstaff, like I do at home in Felton. Being surrounded by mountains makes me feel welcome, at ease. Like I'm home no matter where I lay my head. I spent time asking locals questions about life in Flagstaff, and was greeted by friendly and happy people eager to speak about their hometown in glowing terms. My visit in Flagstaff was far too brief, but I have every intention of returning for a lengthy stay and have placed Flagstaff near the top of my list of potential homes.

Thank you Flagstaff! You were a welcome surprise!

Ok, where were we? Oh yeah, Sedona. The forecast was starting to look far more favorable, so I traveled the 30 miles back to Red Rock City and its now agreeable weather. I found an awesome spot to camp out for a few days just outside town on BLM land that didn't cost The Biscuit a penny.

'Red Rock Inn'

Now I'd been to Sedona once before (a mere 2 months ago). And you'd think I would have been prepared for the view when you roll into town. But as I said, the sight of the Sedona rock formations causes you to stop breathing for a moment. There is no preparing for such a vision. From every angle you are treated to postcard views. It's a visual feast, an eye-gasm, if you will.

Sedona is propped up by the tourism trade. People come from all over the world to photograph themselves under Cathedral Rock, and for good reason. But I can handle large groups of tourists for so long. So I spent only a couple days in Sedona, but I spent my time well and soaked up as much of the landscape as I could.

With legs properly cooked and The Biscuit coated in a fine layer of Red Rock Dust, I'm headed to Utah for some slick rock adventuring. Arizona has been good to me and The Biscuit, and I will definitely return for some more Alpine Adventuring in the future.

Peace out AZ!