195 miles

Oh hey, I’ve been here before. What’s that sound, that ringing noise, sounds like…freedom, echoing through the hills 🇺🇸 Not actually. I feel like I might have less rights in America then I did in Canada. More on that in a minute.

What a fantastic feeling to wake up to a 50° morning with a brilliant sunrise. I find it a lot easier to get out of my sleeping bag now that it is much warmer out. I’m still a little groggy when I first wake up, but if it’s not as intimidating to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag anymore. I’ve kind of adjusted to a new sleep schedule that really is only going to be good for the next week and a half until I leave the United States. I originally wanted to make sure that I was getting eight hours of sleep every single night. But I’ve been very restless at night and I’ve been finding it to get much more than seven hours of sleep so I’ve been taking what’s been given to me and I have been waking up at six and riding until 10 o’clock instead of 9 o’clock like I had been. This theoretically gives me an extra hour of riding time, but the past couple of days I’ve squandered it in various ways through stoppage time. Hopefully, now that I’m in the US I can really dial in my schedule. But I should actually be working on waking up much earlier and going to bed when the sun sets. When I get into Mexico, I want to be done with my riding and in bed by the time it is dark every night. If I want to ride for more hours than there are hours of sunlight in the day, then I need to be waking up early in the morning and and riding in the dark before everyone else wakes up as opposed to at night when everyone is still out and about. This is a pretty obvious decision in terms of safety, but it’s a difficult one in terms of logistics and riding style. I find that my circadian rhythm adapts much easier if I wake up with the sun and go to bed after the sun has set, then I do the other way around. I simply must get accustomed to it, though, as it is clearly the way I must proceed through Central and much of South America. Anyways, I have probably about nine days in the US until I get to Mexico. On paper when I was planning this trip, I theoretically knew that I would only be in the continental US for about 10 days, but it never really sunk in that I really am going to be in the US for such a short amount of time. Crossing the US seems like a long way, so it sounds weird to me to say that after today I might only have seven more nights in the states.

I rode for about 2 1/2 hours before reaching the border town of Coutts, where I used up the last of my Canadian dollars at a diner before making my way through customs. The border patrol agent was a little bit flabbergasted when I came through. He said he’d never seen a cyclist come through this border crossing and when I told him where I was going, he barely even looked at my passport and kind of just laughed. I am taking an unusual route through the states, in terms of what is customary for a cyclist doing the Pan-American. Anybody in their right mind would be cycling through Canada’s Waterton National Park to Montana’s Glacier National Park, taking Going to the Sun Road in the process. This road is absolutely stunning and the mountains in Western are—in my opinion—the most beautiful mountains in the continental United States. Even if someone decided they didn’t want to bike through the mountains and instead wanted to bike to the plains, they probably would’ve crossed at Del Bonita further west, because then he/she wouldn’t have to ride on interstate immediately upon getting to United States. As soon as I crossed into Sweet Grass, Montana the divided—yeet not limited access—highway I had been on turned to Interstate 15, which is of course a limited access freeway. But as I said, yesterday, bikes are allowed on the interstate in the states of Wyoming, Montana, and Nebraska. For official verification processes and for authenticity’s sake, I crossed the United States border at 10:26am and I left the border at exactly 10:30am (GMT-7). This information may become important in 8 to 9 days time. Upon returning to the United States, not much changed. The fields all look the same, the headwind still battered me—17 miles an hour from the south southwest today—and the cattle were just as lackadaisical as they had been in Alberta. However, after riding in the US for a couple of hours, I did notice a couple of telltale signs that I was in the land of the free and the home of the brave. First off, there were a ton of billboards all along the highway. I hadn’t really missed their absence in Canada, but now that I think about it, I didn’t really see billboards on the side of the highway in Canada to the extent of those in America. There were small signs in Canada, but nothing like the house sized billboards of the US of A. I was treated to familiar advertisements for injury lawyers, fast food restaurants, and a plethora of casinos. It was a little bit depressing, not going to lie. Another thing that really struck me was the political polarization. I’ve been really out of touch with the news, although I did listen to the debate the other morning, and I forgotten how much animosity there is in the United States right now. I saw a bit of Trudeau hate in Canada, but nothing like the immediate and constant bumper stickers, flags, and campaign signs of the United States. Campaigning for a candidate is one thing, but the constant attacks and debasements are disheartening after being in the woods for so long. Montana is a red state, but there are certainly blue pockets and Great Falls seems to be a very politically polarized area. I’m going to stay completely apolitical on here, and just say that regardless of what side the readers may or may not be on, it is incredibly sad and disheartening to see so much division after so much time away from it all. It really did strike me, and it was such a sharp contrast to the peaceful areas I’ve been in for the past two weeks. In general, the world around is so beautiful, but it seems like we have really failed to capture that beauty in some of the things that we have created as a society. Every interstate town here really is copy and paste. There doesn’t seem to be any culture or any life to the towns beyond that of the casinos and fast food restaurants. I know I’m being reductive and I’m obviously not spending enough time in these towns to really get a feel for them, but optically it’s quite depressing. I can’t tell one town from another or one side of the border from another and I think there’s something a little bit sad about that.

As I moved south, I was treated to some beauty of the natural variety. As I peered west, the sharp peaks of Glacier National Park and the Apgar Mountains punctuated the otherwise melancholy horizon. I have fond memories of Glacier from the one time I went in middle school, and I could feel my heart being tugged west, even as my mind kept me heading south. Although it was hard to tell on an hour to hour basis, the land was slowly changing. Things became more arid and consequently the agriculture became less crops and more livestock. I had a lot of sun today, but I also had a very brief bout of light rain at around noon. Keeping that streak alive, baby! I made my first US stop in Shelby where I loaded up on some all American health food for lunch before hitting the road to chisel away at the headwind for the afternoon. About an hour after leaving Shelby, I noticed a state trooper kept passing me then, stopping until I passed and then leapfrogging me once again. He did this probably four or five times over the course of 30 minutes so when he pulled me over, I wasn’t really surprised. Honestly, I’ve been expecting to be pulled over on these roads. But I’d come prepared. I knew my rights and I had screenshoted the exact laws in Montana and Wyoming that allow cyclists to ride on the interstate. In Montana cyclists are treated as non-commercial vehicles, and as such have not only the right to be on the interstate, but I actually have the right to take up the entire right lane if I want to. The interstate was so quiet today that I never felt a danger at all and sometimes I did take up a part of the right lane about 1 foot to the left of the white line, as I was well within my right to do so, and felt safe making this call. The trooper hopped out of his cruiser and came up to me. He informed me that he had gotten a complaint that I was riding in the middle of the interstate. First of all, if a cyclist ever has the gall to ride in the middle of the interstate in rural Montana, where the speed limit is 80 mph, I think that courage would be deserving of an award. I politely informed him that no, I had not been riding in the middle of the road, as was evident of the fact that I am still alive and he had been watching me for the past 30 minutes and had seen me ride in the shoulder the entire time with the rare exception that there was glass or sharp gravel littering the shoulder. He agreed that I had been riding safely, but he said he just wanted to let me know that he had gotten a complaint. I was a little bit annoyed that he pulled me over for this, and he acknowledge that I’d done absolutely nothing wrong, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was just trying to keep me safe. When he asked where I was coming from and where I was going and I told him his demeanor towards me changed a little bit and I think he was a little bit less worried about me getting hit by a car since I clearly made it a couple miles without getting hit so far. He asked for my information after he already told me I was in the clear legally. I’m pretty sure I didn’t have to give it to him, but I did anyways. I probably shouldn’t have because at this point I’ve racked up quite a list of warnings this year. I don’t want you guys to get the picture that I’m a reckless delinquent, but this is my seventh time being pulled over while on the bike this year, not to mention the two warnings I got for hitchhiking with my bike. I haven’t gotten any tickets while biking—although I did get a ticket in Maine’s Baxter State Park for slack camping, but that’s a totally different can of worms—but I have an impressive list of warnings from all over the country. My first warning of the year came in February when I went 35 through a 15 mile an hour school zone. My second warning came just outside of Newark, New Jersey in March when I was riding on a limited access freeway, my third warning came in the same month again for riding on a limited access freeway outside of Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania, my fourth incident was once again for riding on a limited access freeway, this time on the outskirts of Massachusetts. My fifth warning came in upstate New York on the outskirts of Bay of Alexandria on the US-Canada border crossing at Thousand Islands. I’d been biking on a Canadian freeway, that turned into an interstate once it crossed into the US and I was given a warning and a lift to the edge of town so I could get off of the interstate. My sixth warning, of course, came for running the stoplight in Fairbanks earlier this trip and today was the seventh. The reason I’ve only gotten warnings for riding on limited access freeways is because I was riding on the roads before they became limited access freeways, and when the roads turned into limited access freeways there were no signs prohibiting bikes. It is very common for limited access freeways to have signs prohibiting bikes on the on and off ramps, but they always forget to put these signs at the beginning of the roads. So that’s a little tip if you ever want to ride on the limited access freeway, jump on the highway before it becomes limited access. I also have two warnings, both from the state of New York for hitchhiking, which is apparently illegal in the state of New York. What happened to our good old freedom? But seriously I can’t believe you’re not to hitchhike in New York, that’s ridiculous. They don’t really enforce the law and both times I was given a warning the officers ended up giving me a ride. Each time they told me “yeah buddy, what you’re doing is technically illegal, but I don’t really wanna deal with it so I’ll give you a ride outside of my jurisdiction.” I have a little bit of a notorious reputation for riding on busy roads, as you might be able to discern from the last paragraph. Indeed, I am quite desensitized to traffic, and don’t mind a busy road or two. But in general, it is, of course, best to be on quieter roads. On this trip I unfortunately will not be on quiet roads pretty much at all. Hence a lot of my training was on busy roads. Practice like you play. I only have been hit by a car one time this year 👍. The Pan-American Highway through Central America and through the main valley of Colombia and Ecuador make even the most dangerous and congested roads in the United States look like a Greenway. I would rather ride on the Cross Bronx Expressway or on I-5 through LA at rush hour than on the roads I’ll be taking through Managua, Medellin, and Quito. A little bit after nine when I was off the interstate and on Highway 87, I had another cop come up to me. He turned on his lights, but didn’t pull me over and instead pulled up next to me and said people were calling in about a cyclist riding in the dark, which is unheard of around here, and he just wanted to make sure I was OK and being safe. He reiterated that I was doing nothing wrong and told me to have a good night. He was super nice and told me to give him a call if I needed anything. One thing is for sure, American, drivers like to complain, and are much quicker to resort to calling the cops, clearly. But at the same time a lot of people here have been really supportive. And at the truckstop in Shelby today I had three separate truckers come up to me and tell me that they passed me on the interstate and they thought that what I was doing was really cool. I also had a lot of people yell at me from the side of the road today telling me to keep up the good work. On the flipside, a ton of people were super pissed to see me on the interstate and I was getting honked at a decent amount. Much like our politics, Americans seem to be very polarized in their reaction to seeing a cyclist on a public road.

I made it to Great Falls as the sun was setting and turned due east. My head wind became a side wind and I felt a great burden lifted. Even if a side wind still isn’t ideal, it’s a whole lot better than a headwind. Inspired by my friend, Conner, who is doing an internship in Mexico City, and has been visiting a different taco stand each day, reviewing the taco, and sharing his reviews and photos, I stopped at my own authentic Mexican restaurant, Taco Bell. This is the first time this trip that I’ve eaten out of an actual restaurant, and not just a grocery store or a truckstop. I can’t say that it was much more nutritious, but it was a nice change of pace. I got 12 cheesy bean and rice burritos, and because I’m a huge fan of nutrition and eating healthy, I paid a little extra to add lettuce to them. I got 12 burritos for just $20. I wasn’t going to complain with that, although my stomach may tomorrow. The sunset was beautiful, but I watched it from the Taco Bell overlooking a Walmart parking lot, so it lost some of its luster. Nonetheless, the sky was intensely orange, and the clouds were outlined in an almost purpleish haze. I’ve been absolutely loving the sunsets as of late. I pressed on south east from Great Falls heading towards Billings and camped on the banks of the Otter River just short of Geyser, MT.

I have two questions from the comments to answer, both of which are technical so for today, at least the readers with this blog will be spared from my half-fleshed-out pseudo-philosophical mental ramblings. The first question comes from Christian who asked about the rules around the official route of the Pan-American. One of the beautiful things about the Pan-American is that there is no official route. It is up to the individual cyclist to decide what roads he or she wants to take. The only rules are that Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, USA and Ushuaia, Argentina must be the official beginning and ending points of the route. You can do the route north to south or south to north, However, for world record pacing it makes more sense to go north to south as the seasons align better. I left Alaska in the late summer and will hopefully arrive in Ushuaia in early spring. Remember that since Alaska and Argentina are in different hemispheres, the seasons are opposite. The one other rule of the route is that one must fly from Panama City, Panama, to Cartagena, Colombia. There are no roads between Panama and Columbia. This area is known as the Darien gap, and it is one of the most dangerous places in the world. Although there are no roads through the jungle, there is an underground highway of sorts, funneling migrants, and drugs from South America to Central America on the journey to the United States. The cartel controls The Darien gap. Crossing it would not only be logistically almost impossible, it would be illegal, and I would almost certainly become captive of the cartels. It is a human trafficking highway and migrants must pay a tax to the cartels to even be allowed to cross. So I fly from Panama City to Cartagena, Colombia, which actually adds mileage onto the route as Cartagena is further north than Panama. Beyond those distinctions, I am at complete liberty to design my route however I wish. I have spent around 200 hours perfecting, my route, familiarizing myself with the areas I will go through, and identifying services that I will need along the way. However, my route is not set in stone and is subject to change. In fact, just today I decided that I will not need to stop in Denver to get my bike serviced, so I am working on a reroute east of Denver. That will take me through the panhandle of Oklahoma and down into Texas. This will save me a handful of miles, and several thousand feet of elevation gain, but more importantly, than those small numbers, I will not have to navigate the congestion of Denver, Colorado Springs, or Pueblo.

The second question comes from Tommy. He asked if I can talk a little bit about the tech that I have with me. For a full list of all of my gear you can check out the first blog post on the Pan-Am Blog page of my website, so I’ll just pick a couple of those items to review right now. In terms of true digital technology, I obviously have my phone, but beyond that I have a cycle computer, a Garmin Edge 1040 Solar. This GPS tracking cycle computer allows me to track my rides, providing verification that I am actually riding and it has a sophisticated mapping function that allows me to load routes and navigate. The cycle computer has a plethora of functions designed to analyze every sort of metric one could dream up on a bike. Beyond that, I would say, my most important piece of tech is my relatively inconspicuous rear red blinky light. It’s not always on, but any time it is raining or dark out my trusty blinky light is flashing red to let cars know of my presence. I have often ridden without a rear light at night, and I can absolutely tell a difference in my safety. When I was riding in Central America this spring, my blinky light died halfway through my trip, and there were several occasions when I was riding on busy roads in the dark during downpours, and those moments were some of the scariest and most dangerous of my entire life. My blinky light is incredibly important. I also have a front headlight, but I don’t always use it because it’s more for myself than for safety. Tonight the moon is almost full and I am riding without my front light and I’m just navigating by the light of the moon. Another inconspicuous piece of tech on my bike is my motion detector alarm. With a built-in tracking device, this alarm is activated anytime I leave my bike to go inside of a store or anytime. I am sleeping. At the slightest movement an alarm will blare from the bike and my phone will be alerted. I also have a small lock which I use anytime I am not actively on the bike. I also have a small headlamp with me that I use when I am camping. I have two large battery packs to charge my electronics. These battery packs can allow me to go up to about a week without stopping to recharge. That is the extent of my electronic technology, but of course my entire bike and gear set up is a technological marvel. My bike is a TIME which is made in Slovenia, and has an incredibly unique and intricate carbon, weaving frame construction that is unique to TIME alone. TIME Bikes are some of the most durable in the world, hence why I’m riding a TIME. I also have the best performance cycling wear in my Black Sheep apparel, and my Big Agnus sleep system is truly the mother of comfort and allows me to catch those much-needed zzzz’s at night.