The wheels keep on turning

Hello, Friends!

Well, it's been a while, but if you don't hear from me these days it's because I've been so busy I haven't had much time to write. Borders have been criss-crossed, mountains conquered and dragons slayed!

Where to begin! One goal on this journey is that I haven't made any goals. I haven't preselected any particular direction or followed a specific path. I've simply pointed The Biscuit forward and chased sunsets. I follow suggestions of locals, explore landscapes and hidden treasures that look interesting, and never turn down an opportunity that looks promising. And so far it's been working for me.

As you already know, the bike is my preferred means of mountain transportation. Some people hike, others like to climb, and during the long winter months many like to hurl themselves down heaping servings of powder. But for me, nothing beats pedal power. And this glorious country offers endless opportunities for singletrack expeditions.

Dropping in at Nelson, BC.

Shredding the Gnar at Whistler

Only thing better than riding is sharing it with friends.

I've had the good fortune to have met some amazing people along the way. Another benefit of belonging to the culture of mountain biking is the ease of making friends. Ride up to strangers on a trail and say hello and minutes later you're chasing new friends down amazing mountains. I've seen corners of this country I would have sadly missed had it not been for the kindness of some wonderfully generous people. I've never been much of a planner, admittedly to a fault at times. I've always taken the, 'Just Be' approach in life. It doesn't always pan out well, and it can be frustrating for friends who want to include me in their reindeer games but feel compelled to map out their life knowing I'm going to follow the beat of my own drum. But that's just how I roll and I know no other way. And thankfully they put up with me wandering ways.

But one cannot live by mountain biking alone, and the waters beckon during hot summer days. We experienced an insane winter out here in the Western US. One of the benefits of all this water has been the amount of record snow melt causing rivers to swell with pride. This has afforded me some incredible kayaking experiences. The Virgin River through Zion Canyon, the Colorado River, and Slocan River to name a few, served up refreshing, miles-long paddle adventures.  

Sea kayaking along the Sunshine Coast.

I brought my mother's ashes along on this trip. I spread her around the Rockies from Crested Butte to British Columbia. I held on to some of her ashes with the idea that I would eventually return to the Golden Gate Bridge one day and send mom off one last swan dive into the Pacific Ocean. But I woke up one morning in the small town of Nelson, BC, overlooking Kootenay Lake and realized there would never be a more perfect place to set mom free. So I paddled out to the middle of the lake and released the rest of her ashes into the pristine waters where they would float towards Kootenay River, which is fed by the lake, then make her way to the Columbia River, and eventually to the Pacific Ocean. So mom has the country covered by land and by sea, and I get to visit her any time I like.

I've been living out of The Biscuit full time for the past three months. The positives of living on the road far outweigh any struggles that inevitably befall anyone who has no permanent address. One huge benefit of traveling west of Kansas City is the massive swath of public land available to everyone. The government owns 47% of all land in the western states, which means we the tax payers own it, which means we can camp out on this land legally for free at any time. There is nothing quite like driving down a dirt road, unsure where you might end up, then you discover a private spot next to a beautiful river, or in the shadows of an ancient rock formation.

Laramie, WY

Crested Butte, CO

Moab, UT

There's nothing new or particularly novel about Van Life. But it's become a popular new buzzword in pop culture. But the times, they are a changing. And our public lands are being slowly appropriated by the government. Certain rights about traveling freely in this country that have always been taken for granted are being threatened. And I recommend that you exercise your right to travel now. If you have always wanted to hit the road, but felt life's responsibilities have held you back, don't hesitate. There's no better time than now to take advantage of the freedom to live simply. Any concerns or fears you have about Van Life quickly vanish once you become part of the world of nomads and gypsies. Yes, you will get the occasional sideways glance. Some people just can't understand why anyone would choose to leave the comfort of a 'static' home for the uncertainties of road life. But more often than not I'm greeting by smiling faces and positive greetings.

High above Powell River, BC

Preparing for a ride in Canada means packing bear spray.

Rolling with the Holy Wow Gang in Rossland, BC.

The Biscuit is just getting started and looking forward to a long journey and new adventures. I hope this post finds you well and doing what you love.

Until next time, my friends! Peace out!

- Ian

#vanlife

#getoutandexplore

#livesimply

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!

Escape from LA

I've been marinating in Santa Monica for the past few days visiting family and chomping at the bit to hit the road. As some of you already know, LA isn't exactly my favorite place in the world. Other than my family, and one of my oldest friends, Julia, who lives on a very special patch of land with her awesome family in Highland Park, I have few reasons to point my compass towards Tinsel Town.  

So tomorrow I'll put LA in my rear view and make my way towards Joshua Tree for a couple days before landing back in Arizona. The mountain bikes are hungry to feast on more red dirt, and I hate making them starve.

Holla!

Shifting gears

Hello my strong friends,

Since the beginning of my little blog that could, I've focused primarily on my recovery, with a few snippets of my personal life tossed in for flavor. Since I'm over three years removed from the surgeon's table and out living my life, I thought it might be time to change things up. So rather than focus on my day to day recovery, I'll simply post up stories from my travels. I'll be spending more time on the road this year, living out of The Biscuit, traversing mountains and sharing beers with whomever crosses my path. And as I'm sure that anyone who has been following my progress will agree, beer stories are for more interesting than how many pull ups I can muster.

Last week Bonnie and I spent her spring break (she's a teacher, don't you know) roaming the San Juan Islands and other parts of the deep PNW (Pacific North West). I've always wanted to check out the San Juans, and they didn't disappoint. We spent most of our time on Orcas Island, a popular tourist destination in the Summer, but decidedly quiet in early Spring, which made for a very relaxing trip. We had hoped to get in some kayaking where, if lucky, we might be treated to a pod of orcas. But conditions weren't conducive to paddling around the island, so we contented ourselves with lush hikes and breathtaking mountain bike rides. We also managed to land a choice, secluded spot on a beautiful lake to park the Biscuit for a few days. Somehow, hot coffee tastes even better while gazing out the double doors of the van onto a rippling mountain lake.

Watching the sun go down over Canada.

I've been living a fairly simple existence these past few years. I've given away most of my possessions, and have found a new sense of fulfillment that comes with living in a tiny home. I have what I need and little else. Except for my mountain bikes. I mean, seriously, who doesn't need multiple bikes! But living in a van for extended periods takes the minimalist lifestyle to another level. I've set up the Biscuit to accommodate at least 3 bikes underneath the bed and have built out a small garage that can handle almost any need. And of course I had to go all first class with the mattress and get a Tempurpedic. I mean, a brother's gotta get a good nights sleep!

Garage inside the Biscuit

I'm often asked how I decide what stays and what goes. It's simple, really. I keep what I actually need, hold onto a few things that have some sentimental value, and everything else is brushed aside. There's only so many pairs of pants a person really needs. I find no joy in the accumulation of things, and a light life is a far easier and more fulfilling life. So the Biscuit has everything I need or want in order to lead a comfortable life while traveling.

Breakfast is served!

Bonnie getting her shred on by the lake.

Moss! Everywhere, wonderful moss!

Orcas Island magical mist!

I'll be hitting the road in a couple weeks for an extended road trip. I'm currently in Portland, but will be heading home to Santa Cruz for a few days before rolling out for the western states. I'm looking forward to seeing old friends and making new ones. So consider this my first of many reports from the road.

Peace out, bean sprouts!

Anniversaries

Hello, Friends!

It's been too long, my apologies once again. My three year anniversary came and went with little fanfare. Normally I would have shouted from the rooftops about my progress, but my surgical anniversary also coincides with the 1 year anniversary of my mother's passing, which happened one day prior. It's difficult for me to celebrate much on that day concerning my current state, so I chose to simply spend the day alone and think about my mom and the wonderful life she gave me.

So every year on February 27th I'll mark another year without my mom, and February 28th I'll quietly mark another year since surgery. There will be no celebrating, but rather quiet reflection.

However, for those of you curious about how I'm doing three years out, I'd have to say a little bit of alright. I just returned from a 4 day mountain biking trip in Sedona, AZ where I shredded some red dirt with a crew of friends from the Bay Area. Now, my friends and I are all highly experienced riders, but we were humbled by some of the truly gnarly, double black diamond trails. Sedona doesn't play when it comes to the gnar, and we were on high alert while traversing Sedona's finest.

The views were ok, I guess...

The Honzo feasted on red dirt

We were there for the Sedona Mountain Bike Festival, complete with fleets of demo's, beer, tacos and music. It felt like home being surrounded by hundreds of other dirties coated in a fine layer of Sedona's red dust, cactus scratches and bloody forearms. Sadly, one of our crew didn't go home quite intact after a failed, but brave attempt down a massive rock face. He's currently scheduled for surgery to repair the puzzle of broken bones in his left wrist. But after some plates and screws he should be good as new.

I logged some serious miles on this trip. I left Portland for Santa Cruz, then bounced to Sedona, then Prescott, and eventually back to Portland. Around 2800 miles in The Biscuit over an 8 day stretch, and while my back was cranky sitting through endless miles of high desert through Arizona and Nevada, I managed to make it back in one piece. One of the benefits of towing a bed around is you can always stop and take a nap no matter where you are. And after popping a Tempurpedic in The Biscuit, any time is nap time!

I even started an Instagram account for The Biscuit. If you'd like to follow along in my adventures you can tag along here.

I'm currently planning to hit the road in early April for an extended journey throughout the western (and maybe some central) states, living full time out of The Biscuit. I'll be visiting friends along the way, but plan to just let the road take The Biscuit wherever the winds allow. As always, I'm happy to talk with anyone who is considering, or has completed surgery. So if our paths intersect, feel free to reach out and let's grab a beer in person.

Until then, The Biscuit and I suggest you get out there and enjoy the view!

High Plains Drifter

Peace out, Friends!

Hitting the Road

Hello my strong friends!

A while back I decided I wanted to do some serious road tripping. So I set about getting a van to build out as a micro RV. I looked at three platforms, the Sprinter, Ford Transit and Ram Promaster. I settled on the Promaster as it's got a few features I prefer, as well as being less expensive.

My plan involved building a raised bed platform for room underneath for bikes and snow gear, insulation, wood paneling, solar panels, galley, the whole 9 yards. Basically something me and Bonnie could live out of for extended periods of time in style and comfort. So without further ado, may I introduce... Biscuit - The Adventure Van!

Bonnie and I just returned from a tour of some hot springs around Oregon and the Biscuit performed like a champ in it's first voyage! We've got some big road trip plans for 2017. I'll be visiting several mountain bike destinations I've been wanted to see for years, including Sedona, Crested Butte, Moab, and many more. 

2016 has been a mixed bag. Loss, heartache, new love, new friendships, pain, happiness, ditching bad habits and embracing healthy new ones. I hope you find yourself in good spirits and living strong healthy lives in 2017 and beyond. 

See you from the road, my friends!

- Ian

Namaste!

Hello my strong friends!

Gratuitous Santa Cruz shot.

Well, some big changes in the life of this intrepid conquerer of mountain ranges. So for those of you who have followed my journey, I hit it kind of hard right out of the gate after surgery and had to learn some hard lessons about letting my body slowly adapt to its new life. It took a while, but I finally accepted the fact that I can no longer be the guy who jumps first and asks questions later.

So in addition to my 100+ miles a week on the mountain bike and intense calisthenics workouts, I've added yoga back into my repertoire. To be completely honest, I was sweating my first class. I've been practicing 'yoga light' on my own, but it's been over 4 years since I attended a serious class. So tensions were rather high.

I experienced some twinges and tightness during class, and easy it was not! But afterwards I felt relaxed and loose on a level I hadn't experienced since long before surgery. So I've been getting my downward dog on 2-3 times a week and feel fairly confident moving forward that this will be yet another tool I can whip out any time I feel the need to literally unwind.

Now one thing I don't believe I ever mentioned was my past as a skate god. I spent my impetuous youth rolling my cares away all over the Bay Area. It's been years since I slapped on my K2 Fatties and 'Roll Bounced' to the beat of Roger and Zapp. But last night that streak came to an end as I glided around with friends at the Santa Cruz Palladium. Holy mother of all that is funky that felt good! I was pretty shaky at first, but after a few beats I fell right back into a smooth rhythm and it was 1992 all over again at 6th Ave in San Francisco. After the surreal and crappy week we've had in this country, it was fun watching people smile and just have fun. And other than being in the woods on my bike, it was the most free I've felt physically in a long time.

Roll Bounce!

Time machine to childhood

OK, but here's the best part, and I'm jumping out of my skin these days with pure joy. I met a girl! OK, a woman, an amazing woman. Someone that flat out makes me ooze love from every cell in my body. Meet Bonnie. Remember that name kids, she's gonna figure prominently in this lucky boy's life for a very long time. She's an artist, a warrior and just the most wonderful collection of intelligence, kindness, strength and beauty I've ever stumbled across. Lucky doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. She makes me feel...free.

Love

It's been two years and nine months since Germany. There has been nothing linear about this journey, and if this process has taught me anything, it's to be patient. Pain is still a passenger on this road, but it doesn't steer the bus any longer. I never take anything for granted and there is no time for complacency. Every day is an opportunity to get stronger. The pain keeps me hungry, it reminds me that recovery isn't a one week or one month affair. This is a lifelong voyage, and I'm grateful for every second.

Peace and strength my friends!

Ode to Fate

You gave it your best shot.

I weathered the broken bones with muttered patience.

Endless rehab robbed me of precious hours, days, years, decades.

I could easily be an asphalt-stained memory if not for one thing.

You don’t own me.

You never owned me.

“Be careful!”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Why take so many chances?”

As if you had any say in the matter.

I say when it’s time to go. 

My flicker of time on this spinning rock will end when I pull the plug.

You’re just along for the ride.

I may not be whole.

My body racked with pain.

Concussed memories fade in and out.

Every scar a mark in my personal timeline.

Sleepless nights a constant reminder of risk versus reward.

But your contribution isn’t even measurable.

Regrets? None.

This vessel has been well used.

And will continue to punch a hole in the earth until it can no longer move forward.

Soon I begin my 47th trip around the sun.

If it ends tomorrow I’m satisfied with my time spent.

Until then, bring it.

Take another swing. 

Take as many as you like.

I’ll be too busy living my life to notice.

Nice try...

...but I'm still here, standing tall and lookin' pretty.

Peace out my strong friends!

- Ian

Chasing Wabbits!

Hello friends!

Forgive me, I just realized I never mentioned anything about my first mountain bike race since the comeback! Please forgive the slip!

Anyhoo, back in May I competed in my first race in over 3 years. I had to take almost three weeks off from riding leading up to the race to let my back accept the stem cell injections (doctors orders) so my fitness level for the race wasn't exactly where I'd hoped. But my only goal was to finish the race without embarrassing myself too much. And of course I entered Open Single Speed, because I'm just not that smart.

The course took place in beautiful Wilder Park in Santa Cruz, overlooking the deep blue Pacific then twisting in and out of emerald green forests. Each lap was 11 miles with about 1500 feet of climbing. My class only completed two laps while the pros did three, but at race pace and minimal fitness it felt like twice that amount. I'm a notoriously slow starter, so I got smoked on the initial climb. My old lungs just don't appreciate being played like a bag pipe from a cold start. But once my wind bags settled down and my thighs stopped screaming at me I began sliding into a rhythm and started catching some of the riders in front of me who went out a bit too hard.

Ripping down the Enchanted Forest loop

The course wasn't terribly technical, but there were enough roots and rocks to keep you on your toes. My competitive streak has long since faded into my rear view. The days of caring about where I finish are replaced with blissful joy at the simple and wonderful fact that I can turn a pedal. And as people passed me, and I passed others, I smiled (and heaved and sweated and labored) realizing my journey, while slow, had brought me to a place I secretly feared might never materialize.

So when I crossed the finish line, with no clue as to my finishing position, I was rather shocked to discover I had landed on the 5th and final spot of the podium. The post race beer tasted that much sweeter being able to stand before my fellow racers and receive a medal. Three years removed from my last race and a mountain of pain behind me, I soaked in every second.

Big grins all day long!

I have no plans on returning to racing on a regular basis, picking and choosing from events rather than training for a particular series. These days I can begin a big ride knowing I will finish in manageable pain, rather than complete destruction. This past week saw my biggest numbers to date on the mountain bike over a 7 day stretch, and my legs are cooked as a result. When my legs are more exhausted than my back, that is a good day!

A big week!

I hope this entry into my meager little journal finds you well, my friends.

- Ian

It's good to be home

For the uninitiated, Downieville is home to some of the most fun and challenging trails in the California sierras. Mountain bikers from all over the world descend upon this little town along the Yuba River padded up and ready to shred. The preferred way to the top is by shuttle van from town, but my old friend Mike and I chose to ride to the top. We don't need no stinkin' shuttle!

The climb from town to the top is about 18 miles and 4400 feet, peaking at the summit around 8000 feet above sea level. We took our time pedaling up the never ending fireroad and labored in the heat, but we knew what awaited us at the top. Miles and miles of untamed, rocky, flowy trails that whip and twist until finally spitting you out back into town. So we grunted and sweated out the climb, catching each other up on our respective lives, having not ridden together in a few years.

Pause in the action after ripping down the mountain.

Mike says it's time for a break on the climb to Big Boulder

It's been over three years since I've been able to ride Downieville, and one of the places I dreamt of returning to once I was physically capable of absorbing the terrain. I must admit, I was a bit nervous about this ride. I've been pounding on my back pretty hard in Santa Cruz and surrounding areas on the bike, but Downieville is a different beast. It never relents and if you're not careful it will bite (I've got scars courtesy of previous Downieville trips as proof of my arrogance). My back protested a bit on the climb, forcing me to move around the bike to keep things loose, but it was all manageable and never forced me into submission.

On January 1st of this year I set a goal of visiting Whistler, BC later this year. At the time my back wasn't near ready for a visit to the mecca of bike parks, but I was optimistic. After yesterdays journey I'm feeling rather positive about spending a week shredding the gnar in Whistler.

Biggest and most challenging ride since the comeback began.

For all my friends who are in pain and seeking relief, don't give up. Yeah, it's corny and cheesy and cliche. But it's the truth. Don't stop moving forward. If each day you can only take one step, that's one step in the right direction. I know some days it feels like living without pain is forever out of reach, and every day I still deal with pain and discomfort, but I continue to find solace in the even the tiniest of victories.

Peace out my strong friends,

- I

Body Weights

It's been years since I touched a dead weight (barbell, dumbell, etc). As far as I'm concerned we have all the weight we need to push or pull right here in our flesh and blood. So earlier this year I finally felt comfortable enough to start a body weight campaign to get my strength back - push ups, pull ups, dips, using all sorts of creative apparatus to move this lanky frame around.

Thankfully, calisthenics parks are popping up all over the place, taking advantage of the new wave of fitness geeks who would rather bask in the sunshine as they wince and strain than sit in a dimly lit box, sweating to bad techno music. Now its taken a few months to get to a point where I can truly push myself without fear of popping something, and I'm finally at the point where I can start getting creative. So Ive set some goals for myself this year.

By years end I'll be able to do:
• Muscle up - No kipping crap, but a true and strict muscle up.
• Planche - this will be harder on my shoulders than anything else.
• Archer/walk step pull up - Just because it looks so damn cool

As luck would have it, there's a pretty decent calisthenics spot at UCSC overlooking the Monterey Bay (rough life, I know). It offers most of what I need to GET STRONG, and these mini bars are great for a variety of exercises, including curled-up dips only people with short legs can really master. But I thought I'd give it a shot.

To pushing your body around!

Peace out my strong friends!

- I

Freedom of movement

Hello my friends!

It's been a while, my apologies. Recent events have kept me on the down low, but I'm slowly crawling back. I want to discuss something that might get under the skin of some of the more able-bodied folks out there.

I was talking with a fellow spiney friend of mine who is having a rough time coping with life after surgery. He's in constant pain and residing in a very dark place. A place I'm more than familiar with. He spoke of being a prisoner in his own body. Of locking himself away from the world, of feeling inadequate. Of wanting to move on from this mortal coil. This is a feeling I know all too well.

I didn't judge him. I didn't try to brighten his spirits with empty talk of 'life will get better'. I just listened. I gave him the space to say what he needed to say, free from any obligation to explain himself. Because I know what he's going through, and sometimes you just need someone to listen to you explain what you're feeling without fear of being ignored or patronized.

For those of you reading this who are otherwise able-bodied, meaning you aren't in agonizing pain and live a rewarding and comfortable life, please don't offer your opinion to someone whose existence can only be described as a daily, naked crawl through broken glass. Don't even speak. Just listen. Wanting to bring an end to the pain is very personal, and unless you have been stuck in this bottomless pit of despair with no hope and no end in sight, you have no idea what you're talking about.

If you get upset with a friend who wants to end their pain once and for all, you are being selfish. You are  thinking only of how their absence will affect you, and not their struggle. When every second of every day is a prison cell of pain, the only thing you want is relief. And for some, relief is a soothing pint of morphine away. So if you find yourself speaking with someone who can't see past the mountain of pain crushing their soul, don't speak, just listen.

Sometimes just being heard is enough to get that person through another day.

With that said, I'm thankfully no longer a resident of Darktown. My struggles become more tolerable as time goes by. I'm back to riding my single speed mountain bike, hammering out mile after mile. Pain is still my co-pilot, but I can cope.

Two weeks ago I underwent another round of stem cell injections in my low back, but this time we hit the facet joints further up my spine to help get some relief in areas I'd been neglecting. My body is enjoying a freedom of movement that two and a half years ago seemed impossible. I'm feeling strong for the first time in far too long, and every day is a new opportunity to get stronger.

I will never be satisfied, which helps drive me, but I appreciate each and every moment that I can rise without daggers digging into my spine and forcing me to my knees.

For anyone currently living in Darktown, I know what you're going through. I know the thoughts swirling around in your head can be difficult to rationalize. But they're normal. Don't beat yourself up for simply wanting an end to the pain. My only advice is to find something, a glimmer of progress, any change that feels like a sliver of improvement or hope, and grab onto that hope with everything you have and work your ass off to push forward.

Nothing in life is static. Life IS change. Up, down, sideways, backwards, forwards. We keep moving in different directions. You might have to take two steps back to go one step forward at times. Progress can arrive in inches or miles. It can come slamming down with thunderous force or drizzle across your face like a sweet spring rain. But just Keep. Moving. Forward.

Peace, my friends.

- I

Anniversary

Hello Friends,

Well, my two year anniversary came and went a couple weeks ago. I had been anticipating the two year mark for a while, but the past few months have put my back, well, behind me. I may have mentioned a while ago that my mother was diagnosed with cancer in the fall of 2013. Right after my back took a nose dive. Sadly, mom departed from this rock recently after giving cancer a good run for its money.

I moved back in with mom last December to take care of her while under hospice care at home. So my recovery has taken a back seat to mom's care. I managed to get out early some mornings for quick workouts, and in January I finally started doing some strength training to compliment the biking and swimming. And after a few weeks I'm able to eeek out a few pull ups.

This is from a few weeks ago. Nothing to write home about, but progress. By summer I'm hoping to be up to 25. Pardon my brevity, just not feeling terribly enthusiastic. But I promise more energetic updates in the future.

Peace out my friends.

Year of the Comeback

Hello friends!

First, I must apologize for the long absence. Sometimes when you're living life you lose track of time.

By the end of 2013 I could barely walk more than a few blocks without back seizures forcing me to the ground, literally. I often found myself daydreaming that while hobbling down some random street a Steinway would break free from its swinging cable three stories above and crush me like a cartoon character. I just wanted it to end.

By the end of 2014 I could hike up to 8 miles, albeit in a great deal of pain. The pain wasn't completely limiting me from moving, but it certainly made life far more difficult. The piercing pain I had experienced the year prior was replaced by a deep, and at times over-bearing pressure that, while not enough to make me reach for a gun, still weighed heavily on my spirit.

Today, the final day of 2015, I went for a spirited ride on my sexy-as-hell titanium Kona Honzo in the Santa Monica mountains and hit some sweet jumps! I was far from pain free, but I can ride. And that in and of itself is a massive victory.

I hit the much smaller jumps...

I started (really) riding the mountain bike in May. Now, when I say I rode my mountain bike, what I really mean is I rolled downhill like a snail on quaaludes, and pushed my bike uphill like an asthmatic sloth. Every ride was painful, and the hours after each ride were filled with anxiety about every little twinge and lightening strike down my back and left leg. But as the weeks and months passed things improved, and the mechanical and structural pain turned into muscle pain.

There was a total of 20 glacial months between bike rides. Twenty long, brutal months wondering if 1.) I would be able to ride again, and 2.) If I could manage to turn a crank, would I split in half. Those fears were quickly addressed and now, 7 months since hocking up my lungs at my first Wednesday Night Skeggs ride in over two years, on a good day I can handle 40 miles in the saddle with up to 5,000 feet of climbing. And I can even manage to keep some of my old shredder riding friends in sight on the descents. I'm far from pain free on rides. Riding is still a lesson in patience and my thresholds are tested with each passing mile. Right now in fact, my back is burning up a pretty good storm after today's ride. But I CAN ride. Physically I can turn a crank, stand and mash, bounce off rocks, and put this bit of titanium and polycarbonate wizardry in my spine through it's paces. And for that I'm grateful.

My year in numbers. I didn't start recording my rides until June, so for 6 months
these are respectable stats and more than I had hoped for.

2015 was my year of regaining some strength and finding a place physically where I felt the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't indeed the N Judah train bearing down on me. There are moments, not entire days, but delicious, blissfully serene moments where I'm almost pain free. No pressure, no tension, just a sense of what I think (and hope) most people feel as they walk through their days. And I plan to string together more of these moments until they form a complete day.

I've got another series of stem cell injections planned at the beginning of the year. But this time we're going all the way up my thoracic spine as well. No more playing games. It's go time. The stem cells worked wonders rebuilding the torn ligaments in my SI joints, so I'm hoping it can help with the cranky facets in my mid back.

At the start of the year I had certain hopes and goals, but wouldn't say out loud what most of them were. Over the summer I rode trails in Oregon and the Sierras, and covered hundreds of miles aboard the mighty Honzo in my backyard, AKA the Santa Cruz mountains, appreciating every drop of sweat that gleefully danced down my cheeks. Goals achieved. My hopes and goals for 2016 are bigger...but I'm keeping those a secret as well.

This time next year I hope to be reporting that I met or exceeding my goals for the year both physical and personal, and that pain is an even greater distant memory. And for those of you who have followed my journey, thank you for your time, and I wish you the best year imaginable.

Peace out my friends!