Improving on Perfection: Breakfast on the Bridges adds Bacon.

It just seemed like the right thing, to inaugurate Ben's first day back at work since the birth of his beautiful son Gus with donut holes and coffee on the Steel bridge. The sizzlin' fresh pancakes, sausage patties, and non-vegan bacon were an unfathomable surprise quickly embraced.

All props to the profitless BonB crew.



We loitered for a half hour or so, discussing work and bikes: Caleb is happily unemployed again, and assembling a touring bike for a winter voyage; Ben complained about commuting via bmx ("It's half the speed, and twice the work!") and resolved to get his road bike functional before Monday; and I smugly called attention to my new collapsible metal pannier basket, a twenty-dollar purchase which keeps the messenger bag off my back and doubles my investment in the sixteen-inch machine.

We finally parted ways for what I assume were excellent Fridays all around.

Sacred Morning Ritual.

Even though they were out riding until midnight the night before, Ben and Caleb still showed up for Friday's 7:15am Breakfast on the Bridges.

Caleb was, as usual, all smiles, despite having torn his kneecap open just seven hours earlier. Ben was a little grumpy.


Love these guys.

Bridge, Bike, Coffee, Bliss.

It was over a year ago that I read (and blogged) about an ingenious union of mankind's three most magnificent achievements: coffee served to commuters riding bikes across Portland bridges.

Also, there are pastries. And it's free.

The recurring event is called "Breakfast on the Bridges,"and it happens from about 7am to 9am, on both the Hawthorne bridge and Steel bridge, the last Friday of every month, and every Friday in June. Over and over, Ben and I made plans to investigate, but it seemed like something always came up, or we'd simply lose track of plans made a month in advance. But we resolved to make it happen one of these June Fridays.

Friday before last, we succeeded. It was awesome and easy, and we'll be doing it regularly from here on out. Definitely. Here are some photos and a quick report.

The Hawthorn Bridge coffee station sets up on the West side of the river, at an amply wide section of the Westbound sidewalk. No booth, no card table, just some air-pots perched on a concrete barrier. We failed to notice what brand of coffee was being served, but not that it was dark, hot, fresh, and utterly satisfying. Chose from a selection of non-disposable ceramic mugs. Here, Ben follows protocol and helps himself.

Pastry box.

This is bmx rider Caleb Evenson, who recently moved back to Portland. He is a hippie but does not smoke pot and does not stink, even though he currently resides in a minivan, to be documented in a future post. (Here it is. -ed.) Caleb is drinking cider in this picture.

We lingered at the Hawthorne station for twenty or thirty minutes, enough time for a couple of leisurely coffee & pastry rounds; lots of people-watching; beautiful chilly Portland Summer morning. (Note long sleeves on all parties.) Swished our cups in the rinse bucket and headed off to ride a little street before my 9am professional obligations.

Briefly hit up the Steel Bridge coffee station, down on the pedestrian level, East side, but took no pics. Another good scene, but our appetites were satisfied, and we were eager for some bmx. Hit up all the good spots on the East Bank Esplanade, got good and sweaty and sore, snapped just this one photo. Ben wallrides from flat over the 2-foot chunk for no reason. Hawthorne bridge in the background, Caleb silhouetted on his kooked one-speed.

Ben and Caleb discussing cameras. (A bunch of smart little videos on Caleb's vimeo page, btw.)

Detail: Caleb's ride.


After I took off, Ben and Caleb filmed this. A productive morning on all fronts.

I'm going to go heat up some afternoon dregs now, and think up a title for this post.

Pro Bro Coffee Time!

I'm not breaking any news, reporting that Kevin Porter and his wife Chelsea recently opened their own coffee shop in "North Center Chicago." Just really freaking psyched about it, even though I don't live there any more. I used to walk past the cafe Half & Half daily on my way to the train, and I would often notice a totally bmx'd-out fixie chained in front, but it never ocurred to me that KP himself was inside pulling shots. My loss for not bothering to investigate.

Image by David Leep, poached from Defgrip.

I once blogged up all the bmx coffee references I could think of and concluded that there wasn't really a coffee culture to speak of in bmx. But I suppose it's just that consumption happens at the time when cameras are put away. That's the nature of coffee; that's why a good cafe feels so authentic and personal.

This is very, very good.

The even bigger headline smeared across the blogosphere is Porter landing his first energy drink sponsor, elite Chicago micro-roaster Intelligentsia. (Not coincidentally, the beans of choice at De*li*cious.)

Bike photo borrowed from Dig.

Not sure how I'd feel about a Starbucks colorway, but KP's Intelligentsia bike looks downright dignified.

virgin terrain.

Yesterday, as an alternative to dealing with scattered showers and slippery pedals, I went out with my camera and a cup of coffee to photograph some spots around my new hood that, to my knowledge, have never been approached by a bike. I post these images for two reasons:

1: The simple pleasure of spotting an obstacle and picking out lines.
2: The fantasy of seeing these spots taken care of by another, better, ballsier bike rider. Both these spots are in the Portland suburb of Oregon City. Hit me up if you need help finding them.

Gap, over the rail and across the chasm. Definitely do-able, just a matter of speed and commitment. Decent runway and landing, all things considered.

If, instead of hucking the gap, you were to descend the stairs...

...you'd find yourself in the Willamette river.

Never seen this setup before. Grinding into the water appears physically impossible at first glance, due to the right turn at the top of the stairs and the monstrous dimensions of the rail. But I think there's a chance. Examine the picture below. See that little flat platform halfway up the middle stage? There's actually more than a bike length for run-up, and the rail is just over axle high there. It's possible. A second cool line would be to drop from the pipe into the bank and hop both rails into the river.

Next location: ledges. Get your steel pegs.

Seventeen steps, thigh high. I'll probably go back and hit this myself on a dry day. Gap to ledge ride to gap across the walkway into the shrubbery. This ledge on its own wouldn't warrant a blog post. But it's got a little brother around the corner...

...94 mossy steps. Start your feeble...

... Emerge from the trees, hop from grind position up onto the ledge, and gap to the final 17-stepper.

Snow day.

I liked my first tower better, but it fell down. That red triangle block in the bottom right was on top of the green rectangle but got knocked off while I was taking the picture, I guess.

There will probably be more of this stuff.

You Love Alaska.

Great write-up of an unconventional bmx road trip on the NoBikes Blog. As usual, I wish there were more pictures.

My new favorite crew?

Bikes and Coffee

I remain surprised that coffee hasn't emerged as a bigger part of bmx culture. Joe and Ruben have been documented savoring gourmet beans a couple of times:

Sipping espresso on the train at 0:40 in the
Dig Train Trip video


Arriving for the morning skatepark session, Venti Starbucks in hand, at 5:41 in Why Didn't We Do This Before?

Not to mention Ruben enthusiastically brewing a cup of coffee at home in the pre-intro to You Get What You Get.... The video isn't available anywhere online, but two of the V-Club guys did an absolutely unwatchable review of it on youtube, and the video plays in the background.

Not recommended, but the coffee happens at 0:30.


...

The only pair of bike riders I like better than Joe and Ruben would have to be Ben and TJ. I've never known quite what to make of the clip below, but I know I wish I'd been there.

Ben and TJ, Winter Morning...



Today I stumbled on this story about the burgeoning trend of espresso bars in bike shops.

And last week I learned about Breakfast On The Bridges, right here in Portland. On the last Friday of every month, morning bicycle commuters can enjoy fresh coffee and pastries, free, on the Hawthorne Bridge. Unreal. When I mentioned it to Ben, his first question was "Is the coffee good?"

We'll have to investigate.

Chicago to Portland

I set this down in writing mostly to cement my own memories, but also to share the experience with anyone who might be interested. I had intended to blog/journal every day, but I never seemed to have the time. So it goes, travelling with a newborn, I guess. As I write this tonight, all in one sitting, the trip is not quite completely over.

Eleven days ago, we said goodbye to Chicago and set out for the West. We had sold all of our furniture; returned anything for which we happened to have a receipt; donated to Goodwill anything without resale value; and sent everything else across the country via Amtrak freight, at the extremely reasonable rate of 41 cents/pound.

To transport ourselves, we paid a hundred dollars for a pop-up camper, dirty but in good working order. We spent a week customizing and cleaning it: discarded superfluous racks, brackets to nonexistent accessories, a pair of rusty propane tanks; from the interior, temporarily removed the cabinetry, tore out the linoleum flooring and ragged panelling; put down new pad and carpet (taken from Markie's bedroom), installed new paneling (the only out-of-pocket expense); re-installed the pair of bench cabinets, ditched the rest; replaced the decaying kitchenette tabletop with one from our patio furniture (which J stained to a shade of mahogany); scoured every surface inside and out; and laundered the curtains and upholstery; did not have time to follow through with our plans to paint it. Perhaps in the future.

Some befores:

Afters:

As you may well know, moving can be a chore. The final stages seem absolutely unending. My mom came up from St Louis and watched Markie while J and I focused on our projects for the final forty-eight sleepless hours leading up to our departure. Our goal was to pack light as possible and bring along nothing unnecessary, but at a certain point, we gave up on doing it all perfectly and just wanted the hell out of our apartment. We crammed everything into the trailer, the trunk, the back seat, left the house keys by the fridge, and hit the road, pulling a trailer for the first time.

...
Day 1. Sunday, September 16

As the sun rose, Mom tailed us to Dunkin Donuts for 5 a.m. coffee and sugar charge up. We all exchanged hugs, and then Mom drove South for St Louis, and we peeled off onto the 294 tollway, westward. We tried to work up some nostalgic sentiment for our last views of Chicago, but the thrill of being done with it all was too great. That excitement was enough to keep us from conking out for approximately twenty minutes. Eyelids crashing, heads lolling, we exited the highway and pulled into a hotel parking lot where we slept deeply, upright in our seats, for five hours. Not even beyond the city limits, the liberated sensation of travel was strong. The randomness of our spot made us invisible, and after the car nap, J put a blanket on the grass and laid down with Markie for a while. The dogs roamed. Markie burped up; we changed her outfit and diaper. Someone had dumped out a cooler on the lawn, and so I scooped the free ice into our own cooler.

Getting out of the apartment had been our final responsibility. No job waiting for me in Portland, no rent due (We'll be staying with my aunt and uncle, once we arrive in PDX), no school, no homework. Huge, unnatural freedom. Furthermore, at just ten weeks old, the demands made by Markie are at their lifetime minimum, and her capacity for sleep is at its max. No schedule, no plans, no itinerary. Watch the weather, check the atlas, drive when we're in the mood, stay an extra night when we find a good spot, so on, so forth. See how Markie handles long stretches of driving, see how livable the camper is, see what the Volvo is capable of.

Concluding our heavenly pit stop, we promptly found ourselves disoriented and confused, choosing between poorly marked on-ramps, atlas locked in the trunk under the fully loaded bike rack; little dog Murphy spontaneously vomited a stomach-full of dog food and putrid scrounged mystery liquid, coating car seat and Markie, now squirming and screaming. On the shoulder of the freeway entrance, I ineffectually wiped off the car seat with paper towels while J changed Markie's clothes for the second time in twenty minutes.

Markie didn't seem to mind the stench of her car seat, so we trundled off, frazzled but not disheartened, all the more eager to get some miles behind us.

We used the De Kalb Oasis free wi-fi to make reservations at a KOA just beyond Des Moines. Made it there around ten pm, set up the camper, took showers, bathed Markie, decided to spend the next day organizing the camper and car, examine atlas and guide books, enjoy the campground. Slept with the “windows” open, let the night air blow through the mosquito netting.

...
Day 2. Monday, September 17.

Slept late. Cooked a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast on the Coleman stove. Organized the living space, consolidated boxes. Loaded the trunk with all items that didn't have to do with the trip. Patched a tube. Drank coffee, read the New Yorker in the shade. Once the sun reached its full height, we zipped the rubber windows and tried out the AC. It works.

...
Day 3. Tuesday, September 18.

Got in touch with J's friend Liz in Omaha, made plans to meet for lunch on our way through. Liz invited us to stay the night, so we did.

...
Day 4. Wednesday, September 19.

Ate a ridiculous complimentary breakfast at the French delicatessen where Liz works. My first time eating caviar, I think.

Headed North for the Badlands. Sunset rest stop.

Arrived at the Badlands around 1:30a.m., found a campsite, tried to set up quietly.

...
Day 5. Thursday, September 20.

Toured the Badlands by car. Lured prairie dogs with gravel.

Wall Drug.

...
Day 6. Friday, September 21.

Woke with the sun.

Mt. Rushmore. Refused to pay the $8 parking lot entrance fee, so these are the pics we got. Watched the landscape change from pure farmland to wooded foothills of pine.

Crazy Horse.

Set up for the night at a mediocre RV Park in Worland, Wyoming. Fixed chili dogs on Coleman stove.

...
Day 7. Saturday, September 22.

Woke early, romped with dogs in nearby field. Forecast in Yellowstone called for snow, so we decided to skip it.

Crossed the continental divide.

Buffalo.

Drove South through ridiculously beautiful Wyoming. Stopped at some anonymous body of water for a picnic roadside brunch of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

Looked around after brunch...

Found this. I'm not sure—does the graffiti date itself? King Diamond, Bon Jovi, KISS, Judas Priest...

As the below pictures make clear, hips and berms aren't my everyday terrain, but this discovery was perhaps the peak experience of my bike riding life. Thanks to J and Markie for enduring the blowing sand and for snapping the pictures.

Sweaty back and torn jeans, onward to the next stop: Preston, Idaho, the real-life setting of Napoleon Dynamite. Arrived very late in chilly Preston, rang the motel doorbell, and got a room. Cast and crew for Napoleon stayed here while shooting, turns out.

...
Day 8. Sunday, September 23.

Napoleon sightseeing all morning. I wouldn't call myself a Napoleon “fan,” but I also wouldn't say my taste in movies is very sophisticated. Sad to report that the restaurant where Kip and Uncle Rico eat is no longer extant.

Preston High School:

Summer's house:

Napoleon's house:

...I couldn't believe Idaho's natural beauty. Large-format Hasselblad would be appropriate, but I just went ahead with my compact digital point-and-shoot and fired away through filthy windshield. These shots were all taken while driving, as J and Markie slept.

Tumble weed. Temperature dropping as we climb.

Made camp in Mountain Home, Idaho. Coffee pot ramen noodles. Did laundry.

Rented a dvd to watch on the computer. Here's a hot tip—sign up for a new account at Video Gallery, get a free rental!

...
Day 9. Monday, September 24.

Started the day with an oil change for the Volvo. Perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, the transmission gave us trouble for the first time ever. The automatic transmission just didn't want to upshift or downshift, had to go way above or below the usual shift points. Checked the fluid (as I had at every other gas station stop), and it was fine, as I knew it would be. Checked with four local mechanics, none of whom had a spare second, and none of whom knew anyone that worked on Volvos. I decided that since the transmission wasn't actually slipping, maybe it wouldn't hurt it to continue driving. Got back on the road and the car was normal within thirty minutes. Fixed itself. I'm planning to share my story with Car Talk this weekend...

Beautiful day, beautiful Eastern Oregon, beautiful wife.

Arrived in Medford at 11p.m.
...
Day 16. Monday, October 1.

We lingered in Medford, Oregon, had a fully satisfying visit, and made sure that Markie got plenty of Grandma time.

After a week, we packed up and said our goodbyes. Rather than a straight, five-hour shot North to Portland, we opted for Highway 101, the scenic two-lane that hugs the coast. We dipped down through the California Redwoods and then hit Brookings, the southernmost town on Oregon's coast. It was already mid-afternoon when we stopped to check out the Brookings public beach. When we found that the park included a campground with vacancies, we happily concluded the day's driving.

This was the greenest campground of the trip, and the spot we chose proved the shadiest, soggiest of them all, appropriate for our official arrival in Oregon.

Set up camp, watched the gray sunset.

At just $17/night, we decided to stay the next day, too. Hung out, edited video, let the dogs run.

Rather than spend $8 on two cans of Coleman fuel, I bought an electric skillet for fifteen; only wish I'd done it sooner. Sausage links and french toast for dinner.

...
Day 17. Tuesday, October 2.
Drove north. Pit stop at the Oregon Dunes, ocean visible in the distance.

Couple hours later, stopped for a cold-water swim. J stayed dry.

When it was time to find accomodations for the night, we decided not to stop. Instead, we called our family in Portland and let them know that we would be arriving late that night, and they said they'd have our room all ready with clean sheets.

So we drove and drove, made a late sunset photo stop in Depoe Bay, where we honeymooned three years ago.

Arrived in Portland just before ten.
...
Day 18. Wednesday, October 3.
Slept happy, woke happy. And this is home now, for the next long while.