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I’m a week late posting about this, but I wanted to make a few quick notes.

Last Tuesday/Wednesday, we did our second fully-loaded test ride. On this ride, we rode 100km up the coast to San Clemente and camped overnight at a state campground. This is approximately the distance we expect to cover each day, so it was a good test of our fitness and gear.

It took us a lot longer than expected to get our bags fully setup as we’d made quite a few changes from our last run. Notably, we had an all-new expanded first aid kit based on what we learned at a wilderness training course we took. The kit includes a wider range of bandages, adhesives, an irrigation syringe, several types of antibiotics and other medications like Benadryl to treat any illnesses out allergies we get while too far from a hospital or clinic.

We also had new bike lights that charge on micro USB, a USB powered beard trimmer, and a few other things. To compensate for the added weight, I removed some extra tent stakes and also some tools that I decided we didn’t need, keeping my entire setup at 22kg. Steve’s bike and gear weighed in at 20kg.

The ride up the coast went very well, perfect weather and no mechanical issues, but we’d started too late in the day. I didn’t have time to stop at REI to get camp stove fuel, and we didn’t have any time to take a break. By the time we stopped for dinner in San Clemente, it was dusk. We quickly ordered take out sandwiches and rushed to the campground, where we setup in the dark using our bike lights to illuminate the ground.

Although we didn’t expect it to be cold, we had packed all of our gear, including cold weather stuff, and we were glad we did! The temperate was not supposed to get lower than 10°C (about 50° F), but around 2AM, it was 6° C inside the tent and probably around 3° C outside (37° F). So it was a good test of our gear, as we are planning to be able to be comfortable down to 5° C. For me, it took two pair of wool socks, wool shorts and tee-shirt, Patagonia jacket, a cycling cap, all tucked inside my 40°F sleeping bag zipped up over my head, to be completely cozy. Steve had trouble getting warm enough and is going to look into warmer long johns for the trip as well as full fingered gloves.

The ride home the next morning was uneventful, but it’s clear that we are not in the same shape physically as when we returned from our last tour. The last 50km was grueling for both of us. We plan to increase our training over the next several weeks to be more prepared. The nice thing about a long bike tour, though, is you can easily train your way into it by simply starting with shorter distances.

It’s coming down to the wire now, less than a month left, and our downsizing is in full swing. Below is a picture of me with everything I’m keeping!

It’s a strange but satisfying feeling, being able to see all of your possessions in one photo. It’s also lead me to mull on the real meaning of “ownership”; when do we own a thing, when does it own you, and the societal structures that back that all up.

It’s been a long process to get to here, involving Craigslist, eBay, OfferUp, donations to local charities and friends, scanning documents and photos, sorting through decades-old keepsakes and albums, and on and on.

Some items have been emotionally difficult to part with, but what I’ve learned is that those emotions fade immediately once the item is gone and I have never felt a sense of regret once it is gone. It is more like a weight has been lifted.

Steve is planning to post some more about the decision process of downsizing, stay tuned!

The single most important lesson I learned in 2016 was taught to me by a Buddhist monk in Bellingham, Washington.
It was our first day camping on Steve’s and my Pacific Coast ride from Vancouver to Tijauna. We’d just crossed into the USA from Canada on our bikes and were setting up camp at Larrabee State Park, just south of the friendly and endearing city of Bellingham.

I’d been meditating at the Zen Center in San Francisco, and I was doing a poor job keeping up with my meditation practice, but that day I spent some time meditating after we’d setup our tents. To my surprise, Steve came by after I’d finished and said that he’d met a Buddhist monk who was camping next to us, and he was going to stop by and speak with us in a few minutes.
We told the monk about our trip that we were just beginning, and he told us about his trip that he had taken several years ago. His teacher had instructed him to go out to a hard-off neighborhood in rural USA and spend some time with the people there and travel around. But one of his rules was he could not use money in any way.

This made his trip much more memorable and meaningful due to the connections he was forced to make with those in the local communities. But more importantly, he started hearing the same thing over and over again.

When he asked for help from someone, whether it be water, shelter, or food, he would very often receive that aid along with a warning. “The people in this neighborhood will be very happy to help someone in need, but be wary when you travel to the next neighborhood, the one on the other side of the tracks. Those people are not like us; they are not nice people and will not help you.”

The next neighborhood lay in the way of the monk’s travel, so when he arrived, he was worried. But when he asked for help, many of those other people gladly welcomed him and gave him help. He was perplexed, and he told these new folks what the others had said. Their response was interesting. “You have been tricked! Those people are not like us at all; they are horrible people and would never help someone in need! Do not trust them!”

These people, who had nothing at all different between themselves except for a railroad track that ran between their neighborhoods believed that the people on the other side of the tracks were somehow fundamentally flawed, different from themselves in a way that made every single one of them not to be trusted. But yet, they were all gracious, welcoming, and compassionate people. How is that possible?

This story has stuck with me ever since, and one of the reasons I am taking this trip with Steve around the world is to show myself and my friends that this holds true everywhere.
Yes there are some bad apples, and there are some communities bent on nothing but violence, but much more, there is goodness in every community, despite all differences, and we should be wary of anyone in our communities who would try to convince us otherwise. Those folks across the track (or on the other side of the wall) have the same needs and compassion as we do.