With Devin & Luis. Words and Photos by Luis.

Truly this journey began over dinner, Devin and his sweetie hosted me and my sweetie. Roasted chicken, tacos dorrados, all the works. We brought homemade key lime pie and a classic Armenian salad type situation. Wine bottle in hand type shit (just kidding i hate wine). After some laughs and some chats, me and Dev started co-visioning future ambitious n’ ridiculous adventures. We know down the line we want to race Tour De Frankie (Mexico City to Puerto Escondito, 500 miles of gravel and road), so we need some BIG rides to train for ese papayón (spanish for large papaya).

First we said Seattle to SF, then we said fuck no too farTM, what about PORTland 2 OAKland 850 miles give or take, lets do it in 6 or 7 days. HMMMM. OKAY NOT BAD. Both our eyes lit up and immediately got on the RWGPS route planner. Flights were only $50 bucks, and I had just acquired my first real road bike, well just the frame. Things were getting excitinggg.

Fast forward two-ish months, I just finished my summer job as a camp Director for this badass FREE nature camp for minority high school youth (shout out Vida Verde), and after all that madness I had exactly 2 days to build up my new to me Standert Kreissage, and then pack it into a cardboard box for our flight to PDX. I was working from sunrise to well past sunset everyday, quite sleep deprived, yet every moment I felt like I couldn't go on anymore, I would think about this PORT2OAK trip and it would make me grin. I had hardly any time to ride this summer let alone finish my build, but thanks to Dev working at King Kog and Endurobearing’s warehouse being 5 min away from my house, we built up my bike overnight and I was able to get my set up dialed for this adventure.

The fact that humans can fly around the world in metal birds is absolutely mindblowing, but being in a plane is still one of my irrational fears. No matter how much I fly, when the plane is landing, my heart is racing. Likely the scariest moment of the whole trip for me. That and when I had to race a convoy of semi trucks on the 1. But like they say, do shit that scares you. Doing 800 miles with 55k in 8 days, unsupported, was a scary next step for me. I’ve done big rides, and I’ve done long tours, but big rides back to BACK was scary (read: exciting). 

And it was absolutely amazing and absolutely so fucking hard. I was feeling pretty broken by day one. Leaving the inland Willamette valley was hot as actual balls and the 2k climb at mile 60 into the Nestucca river descent, surprisingly, got me pretty good. The leg cramps came at the hottest part of the day, just 150ft from the top of the climb, and quickly humbled me. All of a sudden my mind was flooded with doubt: 

“Can I really do this? I'm already breaking down on the first day! Maybe the lack of riding while I was working was too much. I won't be able to keep Devin’s pace”. 

Me and Devin split up a bit during this descent. It was clear his legs were firing just like they have been all day, but now I was moving like a car in limp power mode. If I was solo touring, I would have stopped there for the night. But fortunately I had a stallion of a riding partner who wasn’t afraid to push me yet also being incredibly patient when doing so. So I kept on riding, even finding some power reserves I didn’t know I had. I knew if I was to complete this tour, I’d have to find some deep untapped reserves. Its still a mystery how I gain energy from the most peculiar things. Not always a carbs gel, sometimes it's a smile from a stranger, sometimes it's the comforting thoughts of my grandparents, sometimes a brainrot joke Devin shares. 

Our first day of riding ended with the retreat of the sun, I promised my mom I wouldn’t ride my bike at night, and on this trip I wouldn’t really break that promise. Got to love summer. We called at mile 107, and we opted for a modest priced hotel in Pacific City. Which wasn’t a mistake, but quickly we realized we can’t afford any more hotels for the rest of the trip. 

Day two started off incredibly slow, we slept in and had a slow big breakfast, yet we still managed to knock out another 100+ mile day. This day had some trip highlights for me, as the climbs rolling into the dunes before Florence were on some fantasy world beauty, and we were in great spirits. I kept looking to Dev and saying “we in some harry potter or narnia type shit”. This is when those past doubts were crushed, and I’m reminded I do, in fact, have that dawg in me (for now).

The Oregon/Californian coast is perfect for touring, as there's a town every 15-25 miles. We started finding a good flow for days 3 and 4. And there was a meditative pattern to each day. Snake through the woods, cross a major river, daydream future bike explorations in the new to me watersheds, ponder the orb, have my breath taken by the rugged coastline, try to calm the burning of my legs with salty water, and dance to the cumbia and hardcore music blasting through my headphones.

Sleep hits so good when you’re almost delirious setting up camp. Camping under the stars and waking up to dozens of bird calls, ones unfamiliar to my big ol’ ears, is so so special.

The last few days felt more like a practice of mental strength than physical fortitude. I wanted to give up every other hour. And when I felt bad, I felt horrible, but then when I would get past the shit, it was clearer than day that this is my best life. But with every pedal stroke, I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into a debt of exhaustion. The relief I felt when I saw my girlfriend's face, I was so happy it immediately brought me back to childlike joy.

Cycling to me isn't a race, nor even that much a sport, more a practice of liberation and being in flight. But I do want to participate in “race” events, like the Tour de Frankie, or the Trans Continental Race. Less to win, and more to catalyze me riding new roads around the world and sharing stories with my worldwide brothers and sisters who remain strangers as of now.

On top of that, in my 26 years of life I’ve learned discipline can be liberating. And my abuelo’s words: “la vida es hecha de momentos” “life is made up of moments”. SO with those two things I mind, I can answer- why push myself to do these ambitious goals then if it's not to be the best? Well shorty, it's simple. We are already the best. Today I celebrate, while I still can. The fact I have a friend who I can collaborate on our dreams, make them happen, and then have a blast living them out, is already a massive WIN. 

I’m pushing myself hard because my future is filled with more hard things. Its never wrong to be strong and it takes some physical fortitude to fly at the speed I’d like to fly at. It's my goal to be capable, to not just perform in future events like Tour de Frankie, but also thrive and enjoy those beautiful moments. 

Every significant moment in life holds a whisper of a clue of what steps to take next to have more moments like these. And this trip did a lot of whispering in my ear. Ayeyo?