Lost with Mike
  • Scoot
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    • The South >
      • Merchant's Millpond State Park, NC
      • BRP and a visit to Charlotte, NC
      • South Carolina and Back on my GS (2011)
      • Jaw-ja Trip #1 - Visiting my Nephew
      • Jaw-ja Trip #2 - Cousin's Wedding
      • "You rode 1300 miles for BBQ?!?" (2010)
    • Canada (eh) >
      • 2012 - Beards to Canada >
        • Day 1: Arlington, VA > Arlington, VT
        • Day 1-2 (Continued) Back to VA!!!
        • Day 3: Newburyport, NH > Sandy Cove, NS
        • Day 4: Loafing around "The Neck"
        • Day 5: Sandy Cove, NS to Antigonish, NS
        • Day 6: Antigonish, NS to Meat Cove, NS
        • Day 7: Meat Cove, NS to Port Aux Basques, NFL
        • Day 8: Port Aux Basques to Port Saunders
        • Day 9: Port Saunders to Big Brook
        • Day 10: Big Brook, NL to Trans Lab Hwy
        • Day 11: Trans Lab Hwy to Pinware River
        • Day 12: Pinware River, LAB to Norris Point, NL
        • Day 13: Norris Point to Blue Beach
        • Day 14: Blue Beach, NL to Port Aux Basques Ferry
        • Day 15: Sydney, NS to Sandy Cove, NS
        • Day 16: Chillin on the Digby Neck
        • Day 17: Sandy Cove, NS to No. Sandwich, NH
        • Day 18: Sandiwch, NH to Arlington, VA (Home)
      • Algonquin Park 2013 >
        • Day 1: Home to New York
        • Day 2: Chataugay State Forest to Brent, ON
        • Day 3: Brent, ON to Nipissing River Portage at Nadine Lake
        • Day 4: Nipissing River @ Nadine Lake Portage to first island in Red Pine Bay
        • Day 5: Red Pine Bay to Hogan’s Lake
        • Day 6: Hogan’s Lake to Catfish Lake
        • Day 7: Catfish Lake to Cedar Lake to Fredonia, NY
        • Day 8: Fredonia, NY to Brookville, PA
        • Day 9: Brookville, PA to Alexandria, VA
      • Think I'll ride to Montreal this weekend...
      • Ontario on a Whim
    • Maryland >
      • How to Hit a Tree, By ME!
      • Ruckus Stealth Camping in MD
      • Ruck'n around Southern MD
      • White's Ferry and some Maryland Backroads
      • 1000mi right near da' beach (2010)
    • New York >
      • Cornell, Niagara Falls and PA Coal Country (2012)
      • Finger Lakes trip to NY (2011)
      • New York City Trip (2011)
    • Pennsylvania >
      • Early Spring in PA
      • Michaux Camping
      • From a Wedding to "Where-da-fugawi?"
      • Pennsylvania Leaf Peeping (2012)
      • First Big Trip to PA (2010)
    • Virginia >
      • From the Mountains to the Sea in Ol' Virginny'
      • What the Fog? (Northern Neck, VA - 2013)
      • Uncle Bucks Ride to Eat and Snowy SNP
      • Charlottesville Area Ride
      • Serious Helmet Time in VA (2011)
      • Ruck'n Across Virginia (2010)
      • Impromptu Camping with 'DC Rider' (2010)
    • West Virginia >
      • Rella-Vous and Skippii Rescue
      • New River Gorge Ghost Town Exploration (2011)
      • Five States from Laurel Fork (Spring 2013)
      • A Little Dirt, A Little Clouds, A lotta Fun, WV (2012)
      • GS and an NSX? (2012)
      • Seneca Rocks Camping Two-Up (2011)
      • Panniers Only Club at Seneca Rocks, WV (2010)
      • Laurel Fork Fall 2010 on the Honda Ruckus 50cc (2010)
      • Dog Days Rally and Rella's Gift (2010)
      • Pops and Richmonders in WV (2010)
      • Rocket Boys (2010)
      • New River Gorge and Rella's (2010)
    • Cross Country 2009 >
      • Trip Preparation
      • Day 1: (Sept 3, 2010)
      • Day 2: (Sept 4, 2010)
      • Day 3: (Sept 5, 2010)
      • Day 4: (Sept 6, 2010)
      • Day 5: (Sept 7, 2010)
      • Day 6: (Sept 8, 2010)
      • Day 7: (Sept 9, 2010)
      • Day 8: (Sept 10, 2010)
      • Day 9: (Sept 11, 2010)
      • Day 10: (Sept 12, 2010)
      • Day 11: (Sept 13, 2010)
      • Day 12: (Sept 14, 2010)
      • Day 13: (Sept 15, 2010)
      • Day 14: (Sept 16, 2010)
      • Day 15: (Sept 17, 2010)
      • Day 16: (Sept 18, 2010)
      • Day 17: (Sept 19, 2010)
  • Photos
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69'000 miles on a      Honda Ruckus named
La Tortuga

Bahia De Los Angeles

2/28/2017

1 Comment

 
I awoke in the morning to the chatter of birds in the cholla under a cloudless blue sky.  The sun was warming the high desert quickly and drying my damp gear on the boulders I hid behind in the previous night's wind. A feeling of abundant comfort and peace washed over me with the promise of warm and sunny weather for the next few days.  Traffic was light out on the narrow and twisty Hwy 1 as I motored into the Valle De Los Cirios.  My destination was only 120 miles away so there was plenty of time for breaks and some GoPro video.  Mid morning, my phone shut off after a particularly rough patch of road. I swapped batteries and attempted to turn it on and finally resorted to a factory reset on the side of the road.  Without any service, the phone went into lock mode and needed to verify that I wasn't a theif.  It suddenly occurred to me how much I rely upon this micrcopmputer for navigation, fuel tracking, e-books, music and photography.  Not letting the hiccup get me down, I pressed on and soon ran into a cluster of camper vans at the small Llantera where the road splits off 66km to Bahia De Los Angeles.  I introduced myself to the small gaggle of English speaking travelers and gathered that most were on their way to the Bay.   Naturally, everyone passed me by on the desolate desert road where I stopped often to breathe in the perfume of pink desert flowers in bloom mixing with the drying creosote bushes. The Borja, a Seussian deciduous tree that grows only in this specific region, populated the desert, it's red blooms a unique spring occurance.  Hummingbirds buzzed past to the blooms in a frenzy of activity and buzzing wonder.
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Rounding a bend, the azure waters of the Sea of Cortez washed over the tan desert under a baby blue sky.  Abrupt volcanic peaks ringing the Bay of Los Angeles form a natural amphitheater to this critical spawning habitat for whale sharks, turtes and whales. The town appeared unchanged since my previous visit two years prior.   Running into the van folk at  Dos Pinos Cafe de Mariscos, they had just wrapped up dinner and drinks and were heading for Playa La Gringa on the north end of the bay, the end of the road.  I borrowed the wifi password to restore my phone then set off toward the free beach.  The paved road fizzled out and became rocky riding up toward the hillside where "Welcome La Gringa" was written in white painted rocks. A few other RV's were positioned on the sandy crescent shaped beach.  A striking view of the nearby mountains reflected off the calm water where brown pelicans floated past and the depths beneath teaming with sealife. Although the water was in the 50's, I took a short swim in the salty water, admittedly mostly for bathing purposes than pleasure.  The cold immediately took my breath away but was equally invigorating. Two traveling Vanagon couples I met were great company on the cool beach.  Out in their wetsuits, through snorkels they say rays, baby shark, many fish, abalone and scallops.  Sipping a cold beer on the beach beside a campfire surrounded by laughter, my head tips back to the sky where a dazzling spectacle of the heavens sparkles in the clear Baja air.

You can follow Mak and Owen on their great website and instagram:
http://www.boundfornowhere.com
https://www.instagram.com/bound.for.nowhere/
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Fisherman's Boat Launch
PictureMak, Owen and Adam riding the nose!
The next few days were spent relaxing along the beach with the odd 10mph crawl into town on the scooter.  Having the small mercados nearby with affordable vittles made life easier on me since I'm limited on total food and water capacity.  I picked up a few beers each day which were sold individually for about $.50 a Tecate.  The curving beach terminates at a small island which offers stunning 360 degree views of the Isla Angel De La Guarda, Sea of Cortez and the volcanic remnants ringing the Bay of Los Angeles.  Winds blew from the northwest during most of the visit with some days being blustery but enjoyable in the abundant sunshine behind a wind block of some sort.

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Owen free-climbing old gold mine buildings
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On the first night camping at La Gringa, a short but stocky man of about 45 or 50 walked up as I was collecting scraps of wood for a campfire.  He asked if I wanted any wood so Matt and I accompanied him on a walk down the beach.  He spoke rapidly in Spanish and I struggled to keep up but learned he was from Nayarit and spent December to May here in a home built along the beach.  He told us he missed his children who live in Bakersfield and Sacramento.  His dog was quite excited but incredibly obedient, a gorgeous golden brown short coat and sensitive eyes like caramel drops.  Pushing the stout door open on a small outbuilding, he reaches down to a knee high pile of hand chopped wood begins handing the arm sized logs out to us.  We take a couple then have to refuse, realizing there isn't a tree in miles and he must have walked far to get this wood which he probably uses to heat the cabin on cold nights.  We asked how much he wanted for the wood and he refused payment saying it was a gift.  Accepting our invitation back to camp for a beer, Chelo returned with a bundle of wood himself and delighted us with his big smile, storytelling and joyful persona.  As the fire died down, I watched Chelo's figure lit by moonlight fading westward down the beach, his trotting companion obediently by his side. Here's that "Bad Hombre" I was warned about. 
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Scorpion in the firewood I carried on the scooter
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Stranded at high tide
1 Comment

Baja Vacation

2/26/2017

2 Comments

 
After converting my dollars into pesos at a 1:20 conversion rate, I drove through the Tecate border crossing and up to the barrier and gate arm. A red light glowed and quickly turned green. Nobody took my passport or asked any questions. Cautiously I rode forward until a guard waved at me and pointed toward the exit. This may have been the least stressful entry ever. An hour before I was sitting in my tent in the San Diego mountains. The feeling of dread and caution I recalled on my first entry ino Mexico two yeas ago was completely gone, replaced with eager anticipation of the upcoming adventure. In Tecate, I sat at a battered blue overhead sign pointing west toward San Felipe or east toward Ensenada. It suddenly dawned on me that I had nowhere to go, no solid destination or goal for this trip south of the border. A strip of beach on the Pacific with fresh mussels at low tide and crashing waves on blue rocks materialized in my mind as a cofortable destination for the evening. It was cool in the 50's as I meandered down the relatively quiet pastoral Ruta Del Vino past sprawling vineyards, rustic shacks of workers and through small dusty villages with topes, steep and abrupt speedbumps, that forced me to crawl over them. In Ensenada, the sea fog was thick and billowing around the cruise ship tourists who meandered in and out of the gift shops of the Malecon. The rich aromoa of grilling meat and spices on a charcoal fire billowed from Tacquerias under a sign reading 10 pesos ($.50) each. It was a comforting moment when I stopped in to Tacos El Poblano for two of their mindblowing Tacos Al Pastor, the red spicy meat shaved from a beehive shaped vertical rotisserie. Following Hwy 1 south, I only earned brief glimpses of the sea as the fog remained along the coast keeping things chilly and damp. There were fewer military checkpoints now than two years ago, their small concrete huts, stacked tire traffic diversions and sun shades had quickly fallen into disrepair in the short time, such are the realities of intense sunshine, wind and heat in Baja.
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Graffiti on the Ruta Del Vino
Filling up a battered water bottle along a roadside creek, I enjoyed the fledgling spring growth on the oak trees in the canyon. Water is precious in Baja and although inexpensive ($1 for 3 Gallons), I'll take free any day. In the small seaside town of Ejido Erindira, I obeyed each ALTO sign and eased my way past the dusty storefronts and brightly painted houses. An old roosterms scratched in the dirt and and goat stared cautiously as I plodded along. Everyone I waved at in passing waved back and I kept looking all over for those "Bad Hombres" I was warned about. Turning north up the coast, I crunched my way up the Tecate Score race route with walled vacation homes on the hills to the right and crashing surf to my left. The coast here is a network of small beaches and rocky headlands with free camping anywhere not explicitly signed, and usually in English. Finding an area near the water but behind a windbreak of shrubs, I set up camp in the gusty afternoon half light struggling through the fog and clouds. The silhouette of a cross stood erect on the adjacent cliff and a head popped up along the rise. I waved a lot the fisherman who wore a wool Baja style pullover with pointed gnome like hat. He waved back and I noticed his fish camp just around the corner. The pounding surf and stiff breeze made for a lot runs chilly and spray-damp few days on this rocky coast. Rain storms would blow in and send me to the tent for reading or another cup of coffee but the sunsets seemed to be spectacular.
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Sunsets and crashing surf, Ejido Erindira
After a few days on the chilly oceanside, my bones longed for a sun-baked desert of cactus and creosote bush farther inland. The towns south along Hwy 1 here are employed mostly by the large fruit and vegetable companies with sprawling acres of greenhouses and factory buildings for sorting, processing and packaging. Sooty retired schoolbuses with colorfully painted and old script stenciled print shuttled the workers from towns up the highway to their jobs in the fields and plants along this strip. In San Quentin, I pulled in beside a mid 80's Ford truck sagging under the bed full of oranges. A sign read "3x25" which I assumed meant three oranges for 25 pesos ($1.25). "Tres naranja por favor" I asked the weathered woman who pulled out a black shopping bag and began stuffing it with oranges. The scale balanced to 3 kilos and she handed me the sack. To my astonishment it was not three individual oranges but 3 kilos for that price! At least I wasn't going to get scurvy south of the border.

The sunshine I sought was soon reddening my nose in the helmet and forcing me to take breaks in the rare shade trees along the highway. The small villages along the highway were a fine stop for gas, snacks, fish tacos and fruit. At this rate, it seemed like the $500 I converted to pesos would last me until next year. Climbing up to the central portion of the peninsula situated at 3000 feet, I was happy for the low number of trucks today as the winding roads had no shoulder and often precipitous drops where the brightly colored remains of fiberglass semi body panels signaled their fateful descent. Rolled and flipped vehicles sat hundreds of meters down ravines, completely stripped of all useful engine and transmission components by the resourceful and wily locals. Roadside graves, adorned white crosses and sturdy concrete shrines dot the spartan highway as memories of those who passed on this dangerous stretch of asphalt. More rain greeted me in the high Desert and I drove into the back end of drenching storms that also blew my way so they became more intense until I had cleared the frontal boundary. With all this wet and cool weather, I had started to second guess my vacation down here as though I'd have been better off in coastal Oregon. Wet and shivering, my numb fingers struggled to snap together the tent which was sodden once finally erected, just in time for the stars to come out and coyotes yipping at the full moon. Oh man did those stars shine bright against the oppressive moonlight.
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Wildflowers and Borja in Valle De Los Cirrios
2 Comments

NE Baja

2/9/2017

1 Comment

 
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The eastern coast of Baja remains my favorite when travelling the peninsula. Deep blue water contrasts with the tan desert sands and volcanic peaks beside the sea. Commercial fishing boats big and small ply the waters of the Sea of Cortez. Along the shoreline under a cloud of seagulls are fishing camps where their catch is sorted, cleaned, iced and sent out on trucks. Most pescaderos live in campers or concrete block and recycled plywood shacks while fishing. I turned off the highway shortly before one of these camps to follow a two track sand road to the cliffs above the sea. An old concrete foundation served as my campsite as I relaxed in the fading afternoon with a warm Tecate and a cold refried bean burrito. Life is good spitting sunflower shells into the sand with the time to watch ants retrieve their prize from above.
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In the morning I continued up the coast toward San Felipe noticing an increase in civilization compared to the relatively desolate interior to the south. The road was paved but the condition was poor with potholes and vados (dry stream beds) marked by these repeating spray painted markers, "Dip" and "Shit". Fortunately at my paltry 30mph pace, I hardly noticed the trailer-scraping woops.
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The red sky I spotted in the morning was reiterated as the day progressed by the unusual bands of clouds racing Northeast. When the wind was above 25mph, it would blow the desert sand into billowing clouds that expanded across the wide expanses of former seabed. I kept my visor closed to avoid sandblasting my face. The tailwind was quite favorable however and I found that at equilibrium with the windspeed, the orange flag on my scooter would sit slack at the pole.

Once in San Felipe, I cruised around the small city in search of WiFi but gave up after finding the quality so poor as to be unusable for updating my reset phone. The typical touristy downtown Malecon was full of street vendors, bars, taco stands and sunburnt gringos in their 60s. Stopping up on the highway at a delightfully smelling quesadillaria, I ordered a quesedilla and ate it amid the blowing sand on and small plastic table that threatened to take flight. Finishing the last crunchy bites of my gritty lunch, I figured I'd seen enough of this area and would see if I could find a place out of the wind and sand to camp or break.

Riding north from San Felipe, the highway widens and passes miles of private resorts and guarded condo communities until turning inland to the inhospitable dry lake bed of Laguna Salada where a sandstorm blew across the expanse and foreboding clouds dumped on the western mountains. MexicalI was only an hour ride away and something kept pulling me northward with a comfortable finality that I was still grappling with. Originally I had intended to spend a month down here but without a set destination, friends to meet or specific goal in mind, the desert sw of the US seemed just as comfortable a destination as the tip of Cabo. I was okay with that and the gusty tailwind seemed to affirm my decision.
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The darkening sky to the west did not sit well in my mind and I finally got cell service to check the radar. An alarmingly strong band of thunderstorms was moving across southern California and no matter where I went, I'd be in its path. Approximately 20 miles south of the border before reaching Mexicali, the road bisects an area of trash dumping stretching for miles. Acrid smoke from burning tires fanned by the flames drifts east. Shredded remains of plastic bags flutter on rusty barbed wire fences likr children's streamers. Poor men and women in filthy garments can be seen digging through the garbage in this sad wasteland on the edge of town. Traffic picks up to a rapid crescendo of diesel jake brakes, fart can Civic exhausts and screeching brakes. The ill-timed traffic lights mean many stops as I weave through traffic behind other 125cc motorcycles. Vendors pace the lanes of cars at traffic lights trying to sell bracelets, snacks and bottles of water. A small Volkswagen pickup truck drives by with a bullhorn mounted to the roof blaring a political advertisement. Traffic creeps along beneath the swinging signs and traffic lights due to an accident up ahead between an armored truck and Corolla. Filtering between cars, I reach the collision and soon pass it into a nearly empty street. Hotels with private parking garage dot the road advertising rates as low as $15/night. I briefly consider it in the face of the oncoming storm but would rather sleep in my tent amid a sandstorm with $15 in my pocket than a flea bag hotel in a dangerous border town. Nearing the border crossing I inadvertantly get lost and find a shortcut up an alley to the front of the line of cars. A small break in the barrier has an arrow with "Motorcycle" on a sign. I squeeze through and follow another bike to the front of the line. After a q&a with the incredulous agent, he waved me through back over this invisible line in the sand.
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1 Comment

Holy Jim's, Orange County

2/9/2017

2 Comments

 
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And then up with fellow small displacement Honda enthusiastic Dan Jackett over the weekend. His 84' CT110 is a very cool adventure rig which has also been tested on the Dalton Hwy. Despite the forecast of rain overnight, Dan was game to show me a few roads in his backyard such as Maple Springs Canyon, and Trabuco Canyon and the off road gem that is Holy Jim's. The road up was the most rutted and steepest I've ever pushed the Ruck up. I'm being quite literal when I say that, I was actually off the bike pushing it for many of the steep sections because it did not have the power to make it up. We didn't even make it up to the staircase, and stopped at a small pond on the left. Brown muddy water evidenced the recent rain and the low hanging clouds foretold what was to come. We swapped stories into the night and ate camp food in the darkness. This is SoCal and campfires are a huge No-no.

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    Where is Mike?

    Mike Saunders

    In May 2014 I quit my job to ride a Honda Ruckus over 69'000 mi and counting. Wild camping most nights and cooking most of my own meals, I keep the costs low and the landscape changing. 

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  • Scoot
  • Paddle
  • Pedal
  • Moto
    • The South >
      • Merchant's Millpond State Park, NC
      • BRP and a visit to Charlotte, NC
      • South Carolina and Back on my GS (2011)
      • Jaw-ja Trip #1 - Visiting my Nephew
      • Jaw-ja Trip #2 - Cousin's Wedding
      • "You rode 1300 miles for BBQ?!?" (2010)
    • Canada (eh) >
      • 2012 - Beards to Canada >
        • Day 1: Arlington, VA > Arlington, VT
        • Day 1-2 (Continued) Back to VA!!!
        • Day 3: Newburyport, NH > Sandy Cove, NS
        • Day 4: Loafing around "The Neck"
        • Day 5: Sandy Cove, NS to Antigonish, NS
        • Day 6: Antigonish, NS to Meat Cove, NS
        • Day 7: Meat Cove, NS to Port Aux Basques, NFL
        • Day 8: Port Aux Basques to Port Saunders
        • Day 9: Port Saunders to Big Brook
        • Day 10: Big Brook, NL to Trans Lab Hwy
        • Day 11: Trans Lab Hwy to Pinware River
        • Day 12: Pinware River, LAB to Norris Point, NL
        • Day 13: Norris Point to Blue Beach
        • Day 14: Blue Beach, NL to Port Aux Basques Ferry
        • Day 15: Sydney, NS to Sandy Cove, NS
        • Day 16: Chillin on the Digby Neck
        • Day 17: Sandy Cove, NS to No. Sandwich, NH
        • Day 18: Sandiwch, NH to Arlington, VA (Home)
      • Algonquin Park 2013 >
        • Day 1: Home to New York
        • Day 2: Chataugay State Forest to Brent, ON
        • Day 3: Brent, ON to Nipissing River Portage at Nadine Lake
        • Day 4: Nipissing River @ Nadine Lake Portage to first island in Red Pine Bay
        • Day 5: Red Pine Bay to Hogan’s Lake
        • Day 6: Hogan’s Lake to Catfish Lake
        • Day 7: Catfish Lake to Cedar Lake to Fredonia, NY
        • Day 8: Fredonia, NY to Brookville, PA
        • Day 9: Brookville, PA to Alexandria, VA
      • Think I'll ride to Montreal this weekend...
      • Ontario on a Whim
    • Maryland >
      • How to Hit a Tree, By ME!
      • Ruckus Stealth Camping in MD
      • Ruck'n around Southern MD
      • White's Ferry and some Maryland Backroads
      • 1000mi right near da' beach (2010)
    • New York >
      • Cornell, Niagara Falls and PA Coal Country (2012)
      • Finger Lakes trip to NY (2011)
      • New York City Trip (2011)
    • Pennsylvania >
      • Early Spring in PA
      • Michaux Camping
      • From a Wedding to "Where-da-fugawi?"
      • Pennsylvania Leaf Peeping (2012)
      • First Big Trip to PA (2010)
    • Virginia >
      • From the Mountains to the Sea in Ol' Virginny'
      • What the Fog? (Northern Neck, VA - 2013)
      • Uncle Bucks Ride to Eat and Snowy SNP
      • Charlottesville Area Ride
      • Serious Helmet Time in VA (2011)
      • Ruck'n Across Virginia (2010)
      • Impromptu Camping with 'DC Rider' (2010)
    • West Virginia >
      • Rella-Vous and Skippii Rescue
      • New River Gorge Ghost Town Exploration (2011)
      • Five States from Laurel Fork (Spring 2013)
      • A Little Dirt, A Little Clouds, A lotta Fun, WV (2012)
      • GS and an NSX? (2012)
      • Seneca Rocks Camping Two-Up (2011)
      • Panniers Only Club at Seneca Rocks, WV (2010)
      • Laurel Fork Fall 2010 on the Honda Ruckus 50cc (2010)
      • Dog Days Rally and Rella's Gift (2010)
      • Pops and Richmonders in WV (2010)
      • Rocket Boys (2010)
      • New River Gorge and Rella's (2010)
    • Cross Country 2009 >
      • Trip Preparation
      • Day 1: (Sept 3, 2010)
      • Day 2: (Sept 4, 2010)
      • Day 3: (Sept 5, 2010)
      • Day 4: (Sept 6, 2010)
      • Day 5: (Sept 7, 2010)
      • Day 6: (Sept 8, 2010)
      • Day 7: (Sept 9, 2010)
      • Day 8: (Sept 10, 2010)
      • Day 9: (Sept 11, 2010)
      • Day 10: (Sept 12, 2010)
      • Day 11: (Sept 13, 2010)
      • Day 12: (Sept 14, 2010)
      • Day 13: (Sept 15, 2010)
      • Day 14: (Sept 16, 2010)
      • Day 15: (Sept 17, 2010)
      • Day 16: (Sept 18, 2010)
      • Day 17: (Sept 19, 2010)
  • Photos
  • Articles