I’ve always sought out unique things to do throughout my life. There are an infinite number of experiences available to us, and I’ve pursued my fair share of them. I’m now at a point in my life where I can dedicate more time to new experiences, so I’m going away for a while.

For many years my wife Kathy and I have talked about riding our bikes across the country. I recently retired from my job, and I proposed to Kathy that instead of riding across the country, we ride around the country for a year or so and visit the 48 states. She thought that was crazy, but she also liked the idea. We agreed we should do this while we physically can so now is the time. We’re not spring chickens, but our activity levels belie our ages. So in May, Kathy and I will load up our panniers and hit the road.

It’s what I would call a loosely well-planned adventure. We’ll meander across the northern states and end up in Maine in September of this year. From there we go down the East Coast and arrive in Florida in December. We’ll spend the winter of 2019 crossing the southern part of the country until we get to San Diego. Then, during the spring and early summer, we’ll cross the middle of the country and end up in Chicago. (Oh, the humidity!) From Chicago we’ll take the train to Klamath Falls, Ore., where we cross off the last of the 48 contiguous states while riding up to the Olympic Peninsula. The final leg will include crossing our home state—at least, that’s the plan as of this writing.

While this may sound romantic and cool, we have no illusions about how difficult this will be. In addition, being together 24/7 isn’t something we’re used to, so there may be a time or two when we’ll need to ride 100 yards apart. But then we’ll do what we’ve done for over 37 years and talk it out. We know there will be hardships, but we will also be there for each other. Realistically, physically-easy days will be few and far between if we’re planning to average 50 miles a day; however, the challenges presented by the unknowns add excitement, and they also present the chance to make memories as we overcome them.

Kathy and I understand our plans are subject to change depending on life events, weather, etc.—hence the loosely well-planned nature of this adventure. We don’t want to have to be anywhere on time. And we’ll take it a day at a time and adjust as needed. One change has already come up: one of our sons is getting married in November. Yes, we will be there—I’m officiating—and we’ll figure it out when the time comes.

To learn more about Hank and Kathy Greer’s journey, you can read their dispatches from their 2019 bike tour at www.greer.fm.

Hank Greer is an avid cyclist. He’s written a number of Every Day Cyclist columns for OTO. In the September 2017 issue, he shared about his Oregon outback bike adventure.

Originally published as “Riding Around, Not Across, the Country” in the in the April 2018 issue.

[Feature photo: Hank Greer is striving for visibility during his bike tour. // by Kathy & Hank Greer]

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Annika LaVoie has racked up an enviable amount of saddle time for someone halfway through her twenties. She has traveled by bicycle across America twice and has also cycled along the eastern and western coastlines. Although LaVoie is excited about cycling and sharing her knowledge, she never lets it go to her head. She well remembers her humble beginnings and recalls what it was like to be stranded, unable to fix her bicycle, and forced to hitch a ride home. In fact, one of the driving factors behind her ambition to empower women on bicycles is saving them from those feelings of fear and uncertainty.

In 2016 LaVoie joined the Wheel Sport Ladies, which creates opportunities for women to ride bikes together. She took over the reins soon after and started hosting free bike maintenance classes for women twice a month. These are hands-on classes where women bring their bikes in and learn the names of the parts, how to clean the drivetrain, and how to fix a flat. LaVoie makes a point to remember what it was like to be new to cycling. Because of her passion for cycling and grounded approach, people new to the sport feel comfortable enough to ask questions.

Her approach has reaped benefits for several of the women, including my wife and a friend, who sustained flat tires and reacted with a cheerful “I got this” attitude. Gaining the confidence and ability to fix a flat tire has been liberating for my wife, who is now comfortable riding on her own.

For 2018, LaVoie would like to offer more skills classes. One idea she has is to help people get used to riding with clipless pedals. Both my wife and I, when we first started using clipless pedals, suffered the embarrassment and minor injuries that occur when you stop but forget to disconnect your shoe from the pedal—or, as I did more than once, stop but lean towards the side where the shoe was still connected to the pedal.

Another idea she has for a skills class is how to use your gears for best results since many people starting out are not familiar with the gear choices and their uses. In addition, LaVoie may offer basic road riding safety as well as a touring clinic.

Wheel Sport Ladies also offers group rides, which vary in order to match up with the experience and comfort levels of participants. For example, some rides are “no drop,” which means you’re not left on your own because you are slower than the rest of the group. There are also faster-paced rides and mountain bike rides for people interested in exploring the many Spokane-area trails.

It’s cool to see how supportive these cyclists have been on the group rides. On one occasion, a woman showed up for a more energetic ride with a beach cruiser-type bike and the wrong clothing. The group welcomed her anyway. She kept up as best as she could and they didn’t leave her behind.

Whether you’re new or an old pro, it’s a great group to connect with. You can find out more about the Wheel Sport Ladies Group rides on their Facebook page. //

Hank Greer has been writing Out There’s Everyday Cyclist column for years and likes to ride his bike everywhere. The last article he contributed was about riding the Oregon Outback Route.

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There are several steps you can take to extend your cycling season. First, look at what you’re wearing. Layer your clothing to stay warm. Whatever is next to your skin needs to wick moisture away. Your clothing needs to be made of breathable fabric to help let that moisture escape. It’s okay to start out feeling a bit chilled because riding will warm you up. If needed, wear gloves and a cap. If you get too warm, take a layer off and bundle up if it’s colder.

Embrace the Rain

Put fenders on your bike. Fenders help protect you and your bike from the dirt, oil, sand, gasoline, etc., that mixes with the rain on the roadway. All that junk that ends up in the bike lane or on the right side of the traffic lane is being thrown all over your chain, derailleurs, brakes, and you. That means you must wash the bike more often so these important parts don’t gunk up and break down sooner than normal. Wear a rain cape or jacket and pants and scoff at the elements. Waterproof shoes or waterproof shoe covers will save your feet. Once you’re set there’s no need to dodge puddles. Let that inner five-year-old splash through them with impunity!

See and Be Seen

You always need to see what’s ahead of you, and the sun is setting earlier every day—even more so after we get off Daylight Wasting Time. A good headlight can be had for a very reasonable price these days. Bonus visibility points awarded if it has a flashing feature you can use during the daytime. Ditto for a taillight. I prefer lights with rechargeable batteries so I can juice them up at home and at work so they’re always ready. Another important part of being seen is wearing a jacket or vest that’s highly visible and reflective. A reflective strip around each ankle combined with the pedaling motion helps catch a vehicle driver’s attention. A glow-in-the-dark T-Rex costume would be awesome and everybody would notice, but it’s not practical. Your vision would be too restricted. But it would be totally cool on a group ride where someone has your back.

Waterproof Hauling

Carry your stuff in something waterproof, whether panniers or a backpack. I also use a trash bag as an inner liner for extra insurance. And I put my lunch inside a zip lock bag so my leftovers don’t end up on my clothes if I were to take a spill. It’s one of those things that only has to happen once to make you implement a low-cost solution.

The Right Tires

Slick tires can slip right out from under you on a rainy day, so use tires that have some tread on them. Something beefy with thicker and wider tread works best, but save the knobbies and studded tires for the snow. Remember, I’m not talking winter riding here—yet. Beware of wet debris on the roadway. You are doomed if you make any sudden moves on wet leaves. Drop your tire pressure a little so your tires get a better grip on the road surface. Carry a spare tube, a patch kit, tire tools, and a pump so you’re not stranded by a flat. And if your commuting route is close enough to a bus route, keep bus fare on hand just in case.

Basic Maintenance

At the end of the day, rinse your bike off to remove dirt and grime. And when you do, wipe the grit off those rims so your brake pads don’t sand down the rim walls. Rust is your enemy, so remember to oil the chain. After all, you want it to last all winter too, right?

Oh, wait, we’re just talking about riding in autumn, aren’t we? Heaven forbid I should give you the idea that you could keep riding through the winter—because that’s a great idea! You just apply the same principles for cold and snow. Be safe and have fun out there. //

Hank Greer is an avid photographer, runner, and cyclist. He wrote about volunteer magic at cycling events in August.

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Day 1

My brother, John, and my son, Geoff, joined me in Klamath Falls on July 4th. The next morning, the hot sun blazed as we set out on the OC&E Woods Line State Trail, a rail trail, heading east and then north. In less than an hour we left the paved trail and civilization behind. We rambled through ranch land with countless cattle, pastures with horses, wetlands with head-high vegetation, and thickets of scrub brush. After 60 miles, we camped near a creek on the outskirts of the Fremont National Forest.

Day 2

We finished the rail trail and switched to gravel and forest service roads. Through forests and grazing land, we pedaled 72 miles to Fort Rock where we enjoyed draft beer served in frosted mugs at The Watering Hole Tavern. Searching for a place to camp, we spotted a lawn at the community church. Unable to contact anyone from the church we asked a neighbor if she’d think they’d mind if we pitched our tents there. “Of course not,” she said. “They’re church people.”

Day 3

Another sweltering day, and there was less water available along this part of the route. We suffered through the loose red dust of National Forest Road 22. The deep parts would bog us down like quicksand. Grinding away in the heat, we consumed most of our water. Arriving at Sands Springs, we found a fenced off puddle of murky, stagnant water with a cow pie at the water’s edge. We filtered some of it, but the resulting green liquid was too unappealing for us city boys. We decided to skip it.

Instead we took a 14-mile round-trip detour on Highway 20 to Brothers, OR where we ate, rested, and replenished our water. Thirty-two miles later we arrived at a campground by the Prineville Reservoir. We slept the sleep of the dead after an 84-mile day.

Day 4

The next morning we rode forty miles of paved road to the Ochoco National Forest. The route changed to a rocky road, and it was twenty-five miles of downhill across creeks and through trees to Ashwood. In Ashwood we found a small field with picnic tables and shade trees next to a grange building. A resident told us we were welcome to camp there. There’s a water spigot and pit toilets behind the grange building.

Day 5

It was supposed to be an easy thirty miles, but we ended up climbing more than on any other day. Trees gave way to scrubland and the sun was brutal. We enjoyed a relaxing afternoon in Shaniko that included cold beer and ice cream.

From Shaniko the final leg of the route called for 70 miles with no water and no shade. Fortunately, the temperature dropped to 80 degrees that day. At midday, we diverted to Moro on Highway 97 for lunch and water. We paid dearly for it. Leaving Moro, we fought a 20-30 mph headwind while climbing for several miles. Then we battled headwinds in wide-open farmland all the way to the Columbia River. We were relieved to arrive at the Deschutes River State Recreation Area.

Trip Planning

One of the first considerations for doing this ride is the travel logistics—how to get to the starting point and how to get home after you’ve finished. John lives in Tacoma and Geoff in Oakland. Getting to Klamath Falls was easy. I drove to Tacoma where John and I caught the Amtrak. Geoff also took the train from Oakland. When we finished the ride, John’s wife, Susan, was kind enough to drive three hours to pick us up. We dropped Geoff off in Portland where he caught the train back to Oakland. And I drove home after spending the night in Tacoma. We were very thankful for Susan’s help.

Much of our ride went through what could easily be called the middle of nowhere. We admired heron, hawks, an owl, a bobcat, and other wildlife. The Oregon Outback Route offers plenty of nature with a touch of civilization in just the right places.

Hank Greer is an avid bike commuter and runner.

The post Biking the Oregon Outback appeared first on Out There Venture.

Bill Bender, Spokefest president, has an all-volunteer board with individual responsibilities who also recruit about 250 volunteers for helping with registration, staffing checkpoints on the day of the event, obtaining permits, obtaining and paying for traffic control by the Spokane Police Department, renting porta-potties, renting street barricades, obtaining a sound system for the start, arranging for volunteer medical support, arranging for and running food stops, obtaining volunteer mechanical support from bike shops, sweeping and marking the course, and getting sponsorship dollars and prizes. Whew!

Wendy Zupan of Round and Round Productions puts on the 24-Hour Mountain Bike Race in Riverside State Park. For that race she’s had to take a different approach. All of the participating teams are required to provide a volunteer, who may or may not be a member of the team itself, to help set up and put away tables and chairs, stuff swag bags, handle late registration, staff the start/finish to track racers coming in and going out, and staffing checkpoints to keep track of racers on the course.

Volunteering is a great way to give back to the community. I know a gentleman, Kevin Miller, who does a double shift at Summer Parkways and works all day during Spokefest. Kevin describes himself as “An old hippie who hopes that by volunteering I can help other people enjoy a bike ride. And,” he adds, “maybe they will continue to ride and start commuting and park their car a few times a week. Oh, and to make the world a better place to live.”

Spokane could use more people like Kevin. You may have seen him. He sports a big bushy moustache and wears bright striped knee-high cycling socks. He says “Hi” to everyone passing by. Say “Hi” to Kevin as well as all the other volunteers and thank them for being out there.

Another reason to volunteer can be to scope out an event. Maybe it’s a race or a type of racing you’re not that familiar with but you’re thinking about getting into. Volunteering gives you a close-up view and puts you in contact with people who know the sport and can help you get started. Have you heard people talk about cyclocross or mountain bike racing, but you’re not sure it’s for you? Help set up and break down a course and watch what happens in between. You may have found your calling. The same thing applies to road racing and criteriums.

Volunteering is a great way to have fun and make it fun for the participants. Do you play an instrument? Well, now you have a captive audience, and they will thinks it’s wild that you’re playing for them. Exaggerated traffic control antics, cheering, or just waving hello while rockin’ some wild socks puts smiles on everyone’s faces. It makes the hot days more tolerable, the long days less tiring, and most importantly, makes it more fun for everybody.

Volunteering is also a great way of getting your children involved in the community and the sport of cycling. The first time I brought my kids out to work at Summer Parkways, their attitude was along the lines of “Do we have to?” When they were done, it changed to, “Hey, that was fun.” Bringing your kids out to different cycling events exposes them to different facets of cycling, which may pique their interest.

What’s key here is that the multitude of cycling-related events in our area happen because enough people give of themselves to make them happen for us. And if we all took turns, we’d have a better sense of appreciation to go with all the fun we had. //

Hank Greer is back at the helm of OTM’s Everyday Cyclist column. He wrote about adventure commuting in May.

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So I began exploring other routes. I randomly turned down residential streets I’d never been on before. I included trails, some I stumbled upon and some I found while peering at Spokane from online satellite maps. I would happen upon stairs, dirt roads, pathways, and dead ends. There were always new sights to see. I call this adventure commuting.

Most bike commuters can make this work whether the commute is one or 10 miles. For many years my commute to work was at least nine miles from downtown. Last year we sold our house and moved into an apartment while we looked for a new house. I was half a mile from work. We found a house, and now I’m barely four miles away. When my commute was nine miles, I could easily branch off on other residential roads. Sometimes it lengthened the ride, but I always planned for extra time just in case. Sometimes I’d leave early and purposely take a different but longer route just for the fun of it. I came up with a 26-mile route where I didn’t hit a traffic light until I got to the intersection right next to my work.

During my six months living close to downtown, I got to venture out on roads and trails on Spokane’s south side, a part of town I had rarely biked. I had a blast discovering new, to me, places to ride. The south side of town has an incredible number and variety of roads and trails to make your commute more interesting. At first I was surprised to find as many unpaved roads as I did. Even better, I’m thrilled whenever I find small trails connecting neighborhoods.

Another benefit of taking the road rarely traveled is it helps you become more in touch with the city you live in. There are houses whose creative occupants have placed clever, fun, and impressive works of art outside. Parks and ponds beckon you to stop and linger. Lonely steps leading onto an empty lot make you wonder about the house that is no longer there. Also, there’s a segment of humanity you’re probably not that familiar with, such as people sleeping in their cars or encampments in out-of-the-way places. There are murals painted on garage doors, and rundown streets with sparks of revitalization in the middle of the block.

The greatest source of enrichment, I discovered, is the people you meet. There’s the elderly woman who doesn’t know me from Adam yet greets me like an old friend each time I ride by her. I often exchange greetings with people waiting at bus stops, and many times they are the ones initiating the contact. There’s an elderly man with profound hearing loss that basks in the sun in front of his house. Now he smiles and waves at me because I took a moment to say, “Hello.”

There are children on bikes who challenge you to race them. Shy children often smile and say “hi” because you’re on a bike, too. A driver whose car is stuck in the snow is grateful for the push you can give them. Sometimes it’s a driver or another cyclist sidelined by a flat tire who thank you for the roadside assistance. My favorite interaction is with children selling lemonade or ice cream on the sidewalk hoping to make a few dollars. I like to make it more fun for them by paying for a couple more and telling them to treat whomever they like.

Whether it’s meeting new people or enjoying the variety of taking a different route, I found that adventure commuting always brings something new. One morning I ran into a friend on the High Drive trails and she asked me where I was going. I told her I was headed to work. She knew I worked downtown and pointed behind me and said, “Downtown is that way.”

“Yes,” I replied and I pointed behind her, “But it’s more fun to go this way.” And that is what adventure commuting is all about. //

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The rules are simple. The first rule: No complaining about the rules. (That’s a good first rule!) You must ride every mile of the course. Solo riders may not draft. You must do the whole race unsupported except for neutral support available from the Newton Bike Shop in Newton, Kansas. The bike shop is roughly at the halfway point, and they provide a bunkroom, kitchen, and repair services at all hours for all race participants. The intent is for everyone to ride unsupported between towns and function self-supported when in towns. Any services used must be commercially available to all challengers and cannot be pre-arranged. Private resupply and private lodging is not permitted. There are more rules, but you get the idea.

Oestreicher’s training regimen has been lengthy and intense. Sundays have been “century” days. In January he began riding 100 miles on a trainer. To help pass the time he would watch two documentary movies during each training session. To simulate his race food stops, he’d stop to refill his water bottles and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or microwave a sausage and wrap it in a slice of bread. Then he’d take all that back to the bike and eat while pedaling.

Oestreicher increased his saddle time to 250-plus miles a week in February and 300-plus in March. The lengthy winter weather forced him to do most of those miles while riding on a trainer. On the bright side, he got to watch a lot of documentaries.

Oestreicher studied the first three races and learned that the winner’s average speed is about 13 mph, which is not fast by racing standards. But this isn’t a normal race. The key to being a top finisher after 4,200-plus miles is riding for as long as possible each day and keeping the stops to a minimum. To meet his goal of 20 days or less he’ll need to average 210 miles per day. That’s 20 double-centuries in a row. Getting food on the go means eating fast food, which Oestreicher does not eat. In April, he started “conditioning” his body by eating fast food. He was not happy about that but it was necessary. During the race he plans to sleep 3-5 hours a day.

Around mid-March Oestreicher transitioned to more tempo and interval workouts around his Sunday centuries. He plans to compete in a few road races to help with his intensity training. Over Easter weekend he will complete a trial run with all his gear to make sure it’s a smooth functioning system. He’ll also see what the physical toll of three nights of camping and 600-plus miles will be like. In the last two weeks of May, he plans to taper in order to recover so he’s fresh for the start on June 3.

What does Oestreicher get out of this besides all-you-can-stand fast food, physical exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and absorbing an estimated $12,000 in costs? An opportunity to raise money for a local cause: Team Gleason.

During one of his Sunday century trainer rides Jason watched the “Gleason” documentary and was moved to tears. He was inspired by Steve Gleason’s strength and courage in the face of a devastating disease and thought it was a more-than-worthy cause to support. Jason will set up a page where people can pledge an amount for every 100-mile unit he completes. Pledging five dollars per unit nets Team Gleason $210. One dollar per unit results in a $42 donation. Look for his donation page to be posted on the Out There Monthly Facebook page and website.

On June 3 you can watch Oestreicher’s progress by going to trackleaders.com and clicking on the Trans Am Bike Race link. //

Hank Greer is a longtime contributor to Out There Monthly. Whenever he isn’t on a ride, he’s probably thinking about the next one.

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We left McCall early in the morning following the route clockwise to Warm Lake, 70 miles away with 5,000 feet of elevation gain. I was surprised that 30 miles were paved but also thankful there were 30 fewer miles of bouncing on washboard dirt and gravel. Our second day going to Stanley was longer, steeper, and rougher. Then our plans changed.

John’s 28-tooth small chain ring was not small enough, making the long climbs very difficult. He decided to take the Lowman Cutoff and return to McCall where he would get his truck and meet up with us. So John headed west and Geoff and I continued south on the route toward Ketchum. Thirty miles later, I broke my rear derailleur.

It’s amazing how generous people can be when you’re in a remote area. I walked and coasted 6 miles to the highway. Within 10 minutes of reaching it, Geoff and I were in Steven Gorman’s pickup truck headed back to Stanley. Steven offered up the derailleur from the bike he had in his truck but it wouldn’t fit. Mark, the mechanic at the bike rental shop, had a broken bike with a derailleur that would work. The repair price was a bargain and I gave him a huge tip. Late in the afternoon and with 67 miles to go, Geoff and I started plowing through a hot, blasting headwind. After 15 miles of desiccation treatment, we decided to put our thumbs out again. An 80-year-old German-American woman named Juda (yoo-duh), whose life story is Spielberg-worthy movie material, insisted we fit everything in her small SUV. She said her children would be angry with her — again — for picking up hitchhikers — again — but we seemed nice.

Back on track the next day, Geoff and I left Ketchum for Featherville. There was a sign saying Forest Road 227 was closed. But we knew that was many miles ahead and that bikes could get through the washed-out section. We stopped by Frenchman’s Bend Hot Springs where a young couple was reading a book together in the early morn. It’s a good-sized pool so I got my feet wet without disturbing them much. After cresting Dollarhide Summit, the highest on the route at 8,192 feet, snakes occasionally darted across our path as we followed miles of dusty road. Down the road from the Preis Hot Spring we found the Smoky Bar Store. A 4-year-old girl opened the door for us. “Come on in, guys.” Her mom served us cold drinks and reminded us the road ahead was closed.

At the washed-out section we had to make two trips over 1/3-mile of rocks with our gear and bikes. Then we continued to Featherville on an even dustier road. A sign at Cyndie’s Featherville Café greeted us: “Welcome Insane Cyclists.” But first things first. A beer at the saloon washed away the dust. Then we had dinner at the café where we added our names to the logbook listing the insane cyclists who preceded us.

Near the end of the next day’s ride we found another oasis in the middle of nowhere — George’s Tavern. A couple of riders going in the opposite direction told us the third person of their group, Alex, was behind them somewhere. We found Alex just five minutes away sitting in the shade. He probably thought we were put up to pranking him when we told him his friends were just ahead at a tavern drinking beer. He waived us off in disbelief saying, “Get outta here.” We laughed as we left.

The next morning we started the 4,000-foot ascent leading us to Idaho City 29 miles away. Midway on the descent we ran into John. He had sandwiches! Geoff and I put our gear in John’s truck and for the last two and a half days we were on a supported ride, which changed everything. John would drive ahead, scout out the next stop, and we’d have a surefire plan for the day whereas before, we’d find out when we got there and adjust accordingly. Removing the not-knowing-what-lies-ahead part diminished the adventure. But lighter bikes made for easier riding. I was conflicted.

There are about 50 hot springs along the route. Stopping at them takes up time. To fully enjoy doing the entire loop, I recommend taking 10 to 12 days. We scheduled nine and that turned out to be a little aggressive, especially since we had a setback. Shortening each day’s distance and setting up camp instead of aiming for the towns would’ve made the trip less physically demanding for us. And even more adventurous.

The Idaho Hot Springs Route is a great adventure. If you decide to use a support vehicle, there will be one definite detour — bypassing the washed-out section of 227. Another possible detour is the huge climb south of Idaho City. I thought parts of that road were too sketchy even for a four-wheel drive. But then I’m a city boy so what do I know? Regardless, go unsupported. It’ll be more memorable and you’ll have better stories to tell. //

Hank Greer is an avid photographer, runner, and cyclist, as well as an inconsistent Oxford comma dropper. He wrote about DIY bike gear in September.

The post Ride, Soak, Repeat: A Day in the Life on the Idaho Hot Springs Mountain Bike Route appeared first on Out There Venture.

This time I took on the task of making a frame bag, a gas tank bag, and a porteur bag for my locally made Elephant National Forest Explorer bike. I was preparing to bikepack the Idaho Hot Springs Mountain Bike Loop and I needed bags to carry my gear. Buying bags would cost more than it would to make them. Plus, I wanted the bags to match the color scheme of the bike.

I scoured sites and found lots of tips and ideas, but my first challenge was relearning how to operate a sewing machine, which I hadn’t done since Nixon was in office. My wife let me use her older, heavier machine, which is what’s needed for this kind of work. She won it in 1988 on The Price Is Right where she also got to kiss Bob Barker. With a pedigree like that, how can it not work for me, right? The user guide disappeared many years ago, so through trial and error and some search-engine studying, I figured out how to wind and load a bobbin, set the stitch length, and thread the needle. I tackled the frame bag first.

I created a pattern from the bike’s triangle and bought some cheap muslin material. I cut all the pieces out, including strips to simulate the Velcro strips that attach the bag to the frame. This practice was well worth the time. Getting used to the sewing machine boosted my confidence, and since the bag is sewn together inside out, it forced me to focus on the geospatial aspect. The muslin bag was enough of a success that I moved on to nylon.

The first nylon bag did not go well. Nylon is a thicker and stiffer material to work with, making the handling more awkward while running it through the machine. Once completed, the bag was, as my master seamstress next-door neighbor politely put it, “A bit catawampus.” But she also gave me some helpful advice for which I’m very grateful.

The next bag went together well — except for the part where I got the inside-out thing wrong and had to take one side completely apart and do it over. But the finished product looked good and, most importantly, it looked good on the bike. I sealed the inside seams and waterproofed the outside. I stuffed a towel inside and hung the bag out in the rain. For good measure I hit it with the hose for a while. The inside stayed dry. Success!

I sewed a gas tank bag without bothering with a prototype and mistakenly put one side of the Velcro straps on backwards. It was an easy fix and you don’t notice the mistake — much. The porteur bag, a box-shaped bag that sits on top of the porteur rack, was tricky because I had to figure out a reliable method for attaching the bag to the rack that would hold up to the punishment of bouncing over 500-plus miles of rough roads while holding 20 pounds of gear.

I used the bags on my bike packing trip in July. The porteur bag was functional, but I’d feel more comfortable with an improved mounting system. The frame and gas tank bags worked well. There’s a sense of pride and accomplishment that goes with making your own gear. It’s surprising just what you can make if you put your mind to it. Try it some time and you’ll see for yourself how fun and cool it can be.

Hank Greer is an avid photographer, runner, and cyclist, as well as an inconsistent Oxford comma dropper. To read his Everyday Cyclist and other OTO stories, visit our archives.

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