Oregon

All I need is a road. The more remote, the better. Gravel? Yes, please. A closed gate? The best. The true beauty of bikes lies in the freedom. …

Rolling on down the highway, again — the same old highway I rolled down yesterday, and the day before, and will probably roll down again tomorrow — it strikes…

Fat knobbies crunch the sun-baked gravel to the rhythm of my gasps for air, the beat set by my elevated heart-rate that I can feel pounding in my temples…

Growing up in Wisconsin my introduction to Oregon unfolded in two manners: Watching Steve Prefontaine charge down the homestretch of legendary Hayward Field on…

When the snaps, crackles and pops of my campfire fall silent, the occasional hoots of Great Horned Owls echo through forest casting a spell on my soul. …

As my bike weaved freely to and fro across the roadway, I glanced across the vast lava field atop the Old McKenzie Highway and chuckled with a snort of snot…

In the woods my imagination runs wild, pondering what transpired on these age-old trails way back when, in another time, possibly another dimension. I…

Ah, this time of the year we need to chill, reflect, remember, and dream of our days chasing the horizon. Lost in a sea of endorphins, the waterfall of…

For the most part Oregonians never allow weather to derail adventure. But every now and then, Mother Nature spits out a bit too much rain with the temperature…

It’s not that I don’t like people. It’s that I love solitude. Most days, as I’ve mentioned, I ride alone. That said, there’s something about sharing a special…