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Freedom comes through many forms, most of which I haven’t known for a very long time. I put in my official 2 weeks notice today, the first question was when will you be back. This little hideaway has been good to me, they even gave me a cabin so I can reassemble Chika and her luggage every day till the early hours of dawn. I can assure you of this, you can’t fit a 10 pound parcel into a 2 pound sack. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that this journey is open-ended so I just pedaled around the question.

Before I leave, Sookie will be completely emptied and put on mothballs. I have no intention of using her again in the coming decade. The smart thing would be to sell her but she is un replaceable so I will lovingly tuck her in for a much needed nap. I’ve been on the water to long and need a good bit of inland travel to settle my wounds. On some level it almost feels idiotic to have spent the last 10 months preparing for a trip that may only last one day. My knee… well, we will have to wait and see. While the potential for failure looms heavy on my soul, not attempting this ride would be the largest failure by default. I’ve never once in my life let fear get the best of me.

I’m leaving too late in the season, the budget is wrecked, my body as well. I have new knee pains completely unrelated to the old but couldn’t care less, this is my time. Every second of the day will be spent wild and free, solo and without a real destination or timeframe. I have ideas but they are in a state of chaos floating around in my head. I simply won’t know where I’m going till I arrive which will happen with the first turn of my pedal.

If you want me to structure a 600 million dollar revolving line of credit I can do that in my sleep. To properly prepare for any sort of expedition on the other hand, well my brain just isn’t programmed that way. I need freedom to roam, chance, risk and above all the unexpected. This is where my heart lies, in the unknown, uncontrollable universe of random exploration. Safety nets are for pussies, the hipsters of the world that can’t make a single move without a reservation, travel insurance and a itinerary with every possible outcome covered. My itinerary is to enjoy a well earned and most likely warm beer at the end of the day. To sleep like the dead, even if it’s on thick roots and jagged rocks because my body simply turns itself off due to exhaustion. To watch every sunrise engulfed in the sounds and scents of nature and to be wholly tuned into the environment and my senses on a prehistoric level of consciousness.

We are a dying breed.  Sailors these days have made so many efforts to completely  remove them self from the act of sailing that they no longer experience the craft. As soon as the boat speed falls below the designers theory or the wind turns slightly unfavorable they make a bunch of excuses and turn on the engine. It’s not thier fault. We live in a world where every one is in such a hurry to get there that we get lost and never arrive. Like sailing engineless my bike is about movement, the time, speed and distance doesn’t matter. To keep the bike unstoppable, always finding new challenges, to be self sufficient and free enough to point in any direct I choose for as long as It’s fun, fuled by nature, desire and tenacity.

I found this on Instagram and it made my day. You guys are ruining my beard fetish. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved a man with a beard. To me they meant strength, power, MANLINESS. Someone who could protect me. Unfortunately you guys have turned it into a fashion statement. The beard has turned into the padded bra of masculinity. Sure it looks sexy, but whatcha got under there? There’s a whole generation running around looking like lumberjacks and most of you can’t change a fucking tire.