Bound South

Feb 7

Trivia

Trivia_is_defined as insignificant or unessential matters, as well as obscure and useless knowledge. It is derived from the Latin words tri, “three,” and via, “ways.” In Roman times trivia would describe an intersection of three roads. At this point there would be kiosks and places to post information for travelers that was frequently ignored. We have made our obscure and useless knowledge into a game for you all, a chance to learn more about us and prove how well you know us. If you wish to keep score you may create your own scoring rubric and compete with other readers.

Choose the best answer to the following questions:

Me Gusta!

1. Choose the things, ordered from most important to least important, that we find most pleasing.

a) showers, tailwinds, laundry, free food

b) laundry, free food, tailwinds, showers

c) free food, showers, laundry, tailwinds

A wild ‘X’ appeared!

2. Which animal has eluded us in our travels?

a) Boa Constrictor

b) Crocodile

c) Grizzly Bear

d) Iguana

Adjusting brakes on a steep descent.

Como se llama?

3. What is the name of Isaiah’s bicycle?

a) Angus

b) Charlet

c) Hereford

d) Burly

4. What is the name of our Mariachi band?

a) Chupacabra Scramble

b) Tres Leches

c) Sangre de los Niños

d) Viva Oxxo!

Cyclist Badges

5. Identify the owner of the following tan lines:

6. Whose calf is that!?

You heard it hear first

7. Who is the speaker of the following quotes, and which location best suits the quote?

a) “Guys, we just dropped twenty G’s on ice cream.”

b) “I have bean juice all over me.”

Now that you are breathing hard from intense thought we hope you picked up some useless facts about us. We’ve had six months in the saddle and we are accumulating the marks of the road. Our callow skin has grown tough and tan, and our muscles are starting to match our spirits. With the Andes towering over us it couldn’t have come at a later time.

Highlight text below for answer key:

1. c
2. c
3. a
4. b
5. a) David, b) Nathan, c) Isaiah
6. a) David, b) Isaiah, c) Nathan
7. a) David, in Aipe, Colombia, b) Isaiah in Monarch Sanctuary in Mexico

Feb 6

2 Comments

Mailbag Monday #11

Today_we_continue our Mailbag Monday series…

Dear David,

Hi. My name is Kristi. I like that you are trying to raise money to build homes for the poor. It is very kind to help others. Ms. Stoltz is my teacher. She told us about you. I hope you have a safe trip. Thank you for helping others.

Sincerely,

Kristi

Black and white image of Lago de Atitlán

Dear Kristi,

It’s wonderful to hear from you. You are absolutely right about helping others. Leading a virtuous life through service and leadership is incredibly important. Before this trip, I learned much about myself and how to best help others during my involvement in various high school activities. Students Today Leaders Forever and Fill the Dome were two of these, and are two great examples of how students can become engaged in servant leadership.

I encourage you to find ways to lead and serve throughout your life. You will grow and prosper as an individual, student, and citizen. I know I have.

Thanks for your letter!

Sincerely,

David

Feb 5

1 Comment

In America

Our_leap_to_Colombia used a famous foreign destination as its stepping-stone, a strange land where we were cultural and lingual outsiders: Miami. Though it was only a matter of months since we last had touched US soil, our brief layover in the States had a surreal character about it. We were all casually speaking English again with complete strangers in that gregarious American way that is so dear to my heart. The cleanliness beside well-lit streets, the bright colors of the buildings, the gleam of infrastructure, the simplicity of clean water from a sink, and the cheeky consumerism of the city all swept over me. “Your wife is hot,” pronounced the emboldened interstate billboard advertisement, continuing in the fine print, “Buy her a new A/C.”

Momentary road block due to construction meant an early lunch for us in Colombia

We enjoyed the blessings of a brief home stay, a warm bed, and a home-cooked meal. We even sang for our supper which you should be able to find on our Facebook page. And as quickly as we had become strangely reacquainted with a familiar world, we boarded a plane bound for the cool, stormy, high mountains of Colombia. After assembling our bicycles in the lobby of a very patient hotel, we moved south and are now bound for a region known as Trampolin de los Muertos, literally the Trampoline of Death, a reputation earned by its spectacularly steep, twisty, and remote mountain roads. These are the roads that keep us up at night and that we wake up for in the morning. This reminds me that we could improve our record with regards to waking up early in the morning and climbing mountains. We obviously have much left to learn between here and Argentina.

Goliath disassembled

Unpacking Angus

An education isn’t merely about the acquisition of knowledge, nor is it necessarily just about critical thinking. William Deresiewicz wrote an essay once about leadership and intellectualism that I found very compelling, in part because it pointed to the profound orientation that results from a liberal education. It is certainly important to know things and to hone your abilities to deploy one’s intelligence and acumen. Yet it is also important to think about the right things. And so with every kilometer of solitude, and the privileges of time to read good book and speak with local people that we meet, we see the world and ourselves a little differently with every day of riding. Buried in the debris of our scattered thoughts comes a realization: that with every passing day as travelers, the unknown mountain roads of these strange lands have become home to roaming souls and minds.

Feb 2

6 Comments

Go South, Young Man

I_revel_in_the moments of clarity and consciousness that adorn this bicycle expedition. They vary from random echoes of abstract college lectures to personal acquaintance with the far-reaching consequences of history, governance, institutions, and culture across the Americas. I marvel at the great forces of the Earth that produced Central American cliffs and prismatic lakes. Other times I simply consider all of our weathered faces and wonder what great forces have already shaped us as well.

Spectacle of the year: Gringo showers in the town square.

Flying down the hot and muggy coastal plains of Chiapas on our bicycles, I remember one night camping outside of Juchitan. As twilight fell mosquitoes converged upon us as we haplessly scrambled down dirt roads looking for a secluded field to pitch our tent amidst the bogs. In nearly perfect darkness we swatted at mosquitoes and finally rode to an unlocked gate, our salvation. We danced something wicked with a plague of mosquitoes for 45 seconds while we hastily ripped our bags from our bicycles and threw on long sleeve pants and shirts to protect us from bites and the risk of malaria. It was still 87 degrees Fahrenheit outside and would not fall much below that overnight. We sweated through our shorts and shirts until we were able to strip them off in the safety of an (almost) bug-proof tent. We killed and/or threatened a few impossibly large insects and spiders and attempted a restless night of sleep despite the hum of the mosquito vanguard and the uncomfortable heat of the tropical coast.

Moving quick to flee the morning mosquitos.

Glancing at David and Nathan above the glow of our camp stove, precariously insulated above the floor of our three-man tent, I couldn’t help but notice how worn out they looked. The countless days of wind, rain, sunburn, and 8,000 miles of sweat showed on their faces along with exhaustion, discomfort, and excitement at the imminent rice-and-beans dinner we were preparing. I will never forget their unguarded faces because they represent the kind of men I have as brothers: men who would work against great difficulty and discomfort in pursuit of a good thing, and bask in the glow of our camp stove as if we had arrived at a luxury estate for a night of rest.

Fun fact: the white concrete of the underpass is cool on a hot day.

The most important changes since Alaska have been more than skin deep. I know already of intangibles that we will take with us when our road ends in Argentina. For example, we will never see distance nor our capabilities in the same way. Topography will be forever inseparable from the character of a place and its people. It will be a sin to not live simply; after nearly a year with three bags and a bicycle, we have all come to better understand what we truly need and what makes us happy. Our brotherhood will be stronger, with a greater love and understanding of one another’s weaknesses and greatest hopes. We will still be hopelessly in love with peanut butter, Mexican Coca-Cola, and downhill signs. Yet as I glanced at our tired faces, I admit that the positive intangibles weren’t on my mind. Instead, I was coming to face the tradeoffs and costs of this bicycle expedition for the first time. We were riding fast through the oppressive heat of the southern Mexican coast, averaging nearly 150k a day in order to make up time lost to illness and the lonely roads of the Mexican highlands. Our intermittent phone calls home were always laced with the uncomfortable questions of our pace and goals, and whether we’d be home in May in time to see our sister graduate from high school. I sat in the tent with my two brothers, all of us pushed to our limits, and imagined the long road to Tierra del Fuego that we were bound to. This is a dream and adventure with great opportunity and great cost.

Endless steep climbs and switchbacks near Lago Atitlán.

This is ours to shape. And so we made a decision to fly from Guatemala City to Bogotá, Colombia. Originally, we were to continue 1,000 miles further south to Panama City where we would use a plane or boat to cross the impassable jungle of the Darién Gap. That was going to be our bridge to South America. This represents a great leap for us, one which we considered very carefully. Would we diminish this journey by missing a part of Central America? Would we look back and regret the leap forward? Ultimately, we all deeply wanted to continue on our bicycles to Panama. The costs and tradeoffs were too great to bear, however. Simply moving up our necessary flight can make an immense difference for us. With this relatively small step to Colombia, we can ride strong and fast in the hopes of making it home to see our sister graduate from high school. We have more time and flexibility to explore the spectacular mountains and villages of Colombia, Peru, and Patagonia. With any luck, we’ll be able to explore the vast richness of the South American continent and still return home to begin the next chapter of our lives with friends and family in good time. It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s the one we’ve got and we’re riding with it all the way to Ushuaia.

Sunset over Lago Atitlán.

The shores of Panajachel.

There are no empty places between Alaska and Argentina. We will miss a great deal in Central America, but we will also gain that much more in South America. Just two days of riding in Guatemala brought us the heat of the lowlands, friendly encounters with Guatemalan police, breathtaking vistas of what might be the world’s most beautiful lake and some of the most incredibly difficult riding of our journey across the steep canyons and broken roads of Guatemala’s mountains. Perhaps we were rewarded for our new plans with a month’s worth of difficulty and beauty, crammed into two days of riding.

When the road disappears in front of you, have faith and ride on.

Saying good-bye and climbing high away from the lake.

Many things have changed since leaving Alaska. The dream hasn’t. We are bound for the Andes of South America and a long, unbroken road to Ushuaia. We hope you’ll continue to follow us there.

If we made it this far, we can make it to Ushuaia.

Jan 30

7 Comments

Mailbag Monday #10

Today_we_continue our Mailbag Monday series…

Dear Isaiah,

How are you doing? is it fun working with your brothers? How long have you been doing this? My name is Marissa im in 3rd grade my favriote color is pink.

Sincerely,

Obviously, only amateur cyclists are prohibited from this highway stretch.

Dear Marissa,

I’m doing very well, thank you! Doing this with my brothers is quite amazing to tell you the truth; it isn’t always easy and fun, but there is nobody else I would rather have with me on this adventure. We’re outside the border between Mexico and Guatemala right now, which is very exciting because it seems like just yesterday we entered Mexico from San Diego, California. This journey is going by very fast, that is for sure; we left from Alaska on our bicycles on August 11th, 2011. Five and a half months later, here we are! We have some big plans in the works; next week we will fly to Colombia to continue our journey on the South American continent. We will finish at the southern tip of Argentina in the city of Ushuaia at the end of May. I may have written this before, but the Argentinian flag is blue and white, and blue happens to be my favorite color (with green a close second)! Enjoy the rest of your 3rd grade year, Marissa! My 3rd grade teacher was Mrs. Jamsa, and I have always thought she was pretty awesome. I kind of miss 3rd grade, especially recess.

Sincerely,

Isaiah

Jan 25

5 Comments

Hidden, Silver City

Get_lost_with_someone_that_you_love_when_you get the chance. Saddle up and ride someplace unfamiliar. This place does not have to be a world away. A different part of town could suffice, maybe one state over. Keep in mind that this is not some New Age quest for self-knowledge. It is about getting to know one another better, loosed from the constraints of familiarity and the status quo. There’s the saying about character being who you are when nobody is looking. I’d add that brotherhood is about who you are when you are all hopelessly lost in the dirt-and-rock mountain roads of Guerrero.

Nathan getting the job done in the hot Mexico sun.

A typical conversation from our Guerrero odyssey was as follows:

“Isaiah, where are we?”
“I don’t know, heading towards the sun?”
“How do we know we’re going the right way?”
“We don’t. I can’t even read much less pronounce the road signs. Tequesquipan? Huitzoltepec? Xochihuehuetlan? Ahuehuetitla?”
“Isaiah, go ask that guy for directions.”
*minutes later*
“He said we are a long way from Taxco, much too far to ever ride by bicycle, and he couldn’t place us on a map. He suggested turning left?”

I wish I had one of these. A truck to tow me uphill, a cow, or both.

We’ve been through a lot together as brothers, both before and during Bound South. Wrong turns were a surprising first for us in the Mexican state of Guerrero. Moving south of Valle de Bravo we had finally shaken off our serious bouts of illness. We meant business. When mountain climbs can take upwards of three or four hours to complete, these mistakes can prove very costly. On more than one occasion we found ourselves backtracking or getting navigationally creative in order to reach Taxco. As the Bound South maxim goes, “When in doubt, choose adventure.” What they don’t tell you about adventure is that the real deal is awfully stressful. You quickly learn how important it is to guard yourself against your own anxieties and frustrations and exhaustion lest they spill over and affect your comrades. It’s easy to take family for granted, especially when they are stuck with you on bicycles for a year. Sorry, bro, no escape.

The silver city family gave us an apprenticeship in jewelry making.

We got lost but we found a little more about ourselves and each other in the end. We made it to Taxco, the hidden silver city of Guerrero. The Spanish came here for the silver centuries ago, and now that the mines have long since shuttered, the city thrives on tourism and the unparalleled artisan jewelers that have plied their trade here for decades. We managed to meet a couple in a market; the husband a contractor and the woman a jewelry dealer. Before we knew it we were camping in the shell of their unfinished garage on a hillside overlooking the city, and staying up way past our bedtime with a giant Mexican family and singing mariachi songs over a campfire. Get lost and some magic might find you as well.

Climb a mountain side all day and move from one small world to another.

Jan 23

6 Comments

Mailbag Monday #9

Today_we_continue our Mailbag Monday series…

Dear Nathan,

I’m Tara. I live on a farm. I love, love, love to ride horse. Do you like to ride bike? I sort of like to ride bike. Do you live on a farm?

Sincerely,

Tara

Roadside spectators

Hey Tara,

I had the privilege of growing up on a farm and have learned and seen so many things I wouldn’t have even dreamed of growing up in a different setting. The only pain was that it was difficult to get to town to hang with the city kids, so I had to play with my brothers and sister. My family grows a wide variety of crops including wheat, barley, and sunflowers. We’ve also had beef cattle over the years, which have lead to some pretty interesting school nights. We plan on having the cattle give birth to calves starting in February so it won’t conflict with farming in the summer. The majority of the cows tend to give birth during the day, but occasionally there are a few who miss the memo and wait till well after midnight to get to work. Since it is so cold about this time, as you probably know, we have to bring the calves in to dry them off and make sure they get their first drink of milk. It’s crucial for their immune systems to be fed within hours of being born. We usually bring the calves into the barn in a sleigh that we pull by hand, although I bet we could use our horses if we really needed an extra hand, or hoof.

I enjoyed riding horse when I was back home as a kid and still ride when I get the chance. Occasionally I’ll have friends and family come out to the farm to try to tame our feisty beasts. There is a mutual satisfaction between the rider and the horse. The rider gets a ride and the horse its oats. Riding a bike and riding a horse are two completely different thrills, and I love them both. Stick with the bike and you never know where you might end up, and it won’t need any oats either.

Sincerely,

Nathan

Jan 21

6 Comments

Friends in High Places

People_define_our time on the road. Each day we wake with the sun, ride against its flight across the sky, and fall asleep with its departure. Each day we manage to taste, smell, hear, and see a glimpse of local culture aside from simply getting from A to B. People are what we remember most. After our time in the Sierra Nevada of Mexico, I am overjoyed to say we now have friends in high places.

Our route from Guadalajara led us to Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest freshwater lake, where we encountered some incredibly steep cobblestone roads. From there, we traversed volcanic and agricultural highlands to the city of Pátzcuaro, where we met Bruno, a young and well-traveled architect. Well known for its lake and Day of the Dead celebrations, he had much to show us. We visited Tzintzuntzán, home of the Tarasco empire’s pyramids and decorated cemeteries, had carnitas at a local hot spot, and encircled Lake Pátzcuaro. Later that day, we sat in his home and played music together. Over the strum of his guitar and beat of his drum, he told us about his dreams to build a ecological home for himself in the mountains and to continue to travel the world. He told us the importance of dreams, that without them it is hard to find purpose. We shared much with him and rode on into the new year.

Dance performers in Patzcuaro

A mini Jack-O-Lantern we found in a cemetery

Leaving Pátzcuaro, we entered the Michoacán state, where we met Highway 15, Mexico’s principal north-south artery. Upon entering, we began to climb and didn’t stop until we crossed half the state. Temperatures dropped as we gained elevation. Cold nights in highlands required clothing that had not seen use since Oregon. Despite the cold, we found warmth with a logging family along 15. They welcomed us to their home and place of work, and gave us a much-needed flat area for our tent. Their children had numerous questions and found interest in our dinner preparations and Melodica. Sitting around their campfire, we shared dinner and gave a few music lessons. Tired legs soon beckoned and with the warmth of the fire transferred to our sleeping bags, the night found us sound asleep.

Music by fire light

Frisbee in the morning

Before leaving for the school the next morning, the kids joined us for a game of frisbee. Laughter and smiles ensued. Saying goodbye was difficult, but a 30 kilometer descent greeted us thereafter and brought us to Ciudad Hidalgo. By chance, a father and son we met on the ferry ride to Mazatlán spotted us in the city and sent family members to retrieve us. An hour later, we were being fed home-made enchiladas in the family’s home in Tuxpan.

The stillness of the night at Los Azufres

It didn't take long for my soccer "touch" to come back

The family (9 adult brothers and 4 sisters, several cousins, and dozens of kids) was gathered for the holiday season; add three gringos to the mix, and commotion is guaranteed. An unplanned excursion to the hot springs of Los Azufres proved relaxing (the cramped ride on windy, mountain roads to get there, not so much), even after an intense game of Marco Polo. Our departure the next day was delayed for hours as we gave rides to kids on our bicycles and played keep-away games of soccer. The kids loved it, and so did we. Once again, we mustered the strength to say goodbye and rode off.

Joy

We felt the monarch butterflies in the area were a must-see, so we set our sights on El Capulin, a reserve outside of Zitácuaro in the Mexico state. Each year, monarch butterflies migrate to this area of Mexico from Canada and the United States for the winter months (one commonality we share). Between 60 million and 1 billion butterflies fly to high mountain sanctuaries in Mexico annually. We arrived at the reserve late in the day, and a local guide showed us to a camping spot on his property where our gear would be safe while we hiked up to see the butterflies the next morning. His sons helped us make camp and daylight provided an opportunity for more frisbee fun. A campfire provided warmth for dinner and we were tucked away in our tent soon after in anticipation for a sunrise hike.

Making camp with some new helpers

What you can't see in this photo is the frisbee flying towards me and the camera!

Following the guide the next morning was more than challenging. First, he was on horse and we were not. Second, the trail was comprised of loose rock and pine needles. And finally, the trail was extremely steep. Stumbling behind the guide in the darkness (we began the hike before first light) we ascended 2000 feet to a foggy meadow. The early morning light combined with the fog was spectacular. And so were my newly blistered feet! A short trail from the meadow led us to a roped off outlook. He pointed to the trees and all we saw were trees. We were bewildered. Seeing our confusion, he waved us across the rope closer to the trees. Upon closer look, we began to see clearly. In the cool of the morning, the butterflies were clinging to the trees. Together, they created a textured blanket on every tree, top to bottom. It was amazing. We stood in awe as we attempted to grasp the number of butterflies in the sanctuary.

Foggy meadow in the morning

Marisposas Monarchas

Sliding down the trail to our campsite, I reflected over the days leading up to that moment. Circumstance allowed people to touch our lives. Only when people enter our world is it possible for us to share this amazing journey.

Jan 18

7 Comments

Affirmation

We_know_why we ride. You know how you help. Yet it wasn’t until a few days ago that we truly understood why we share. More specifically, I didn’t fully grasp the value in parking our bicycles in an unfamiliar city and stumbling through countless streets and Spanish conversations in search of an elusive internet connection, known in these parts as WiFi (pronounced wee-fee). To be certain, we love the opportunity to sit in the comforts of a café or restaurant and connect with the world. Yet from the very beginning of this journey I had a tinge of uncertainty about Bound South as it exists on the web, sharing all of the minutiae of a Pan-American bicycle expedition.

WiFi with a view in Taxco

This uncertainty was a part of my broader discomfort with social media and internet culture as it currently stands. We live in a world that is increasingly about copying rather than innovating, and sharing rather than doing. I was afraid of how the act of posting our photography, writing, and experiences would color how we lived each and every day of this journey. Would we act differently, write differently, or change the nature of our journey for our audience? Would our connectivity isolate us from the people and places we encounter? As I sit in a café and write this post, I see countless people streaming past the window in front of me, each offering their own story or portrait of the world they inhabit. How much richness will I miss between Alaska and Argentina while fumbling through my memories and sensations? The thoughts and conversations of one day spent riding with my brothers through these strange lands are enough to bury my feeble attempts to log them. I gave up journaling before I even started (David’s religious consistency with nightly journaling continues to amaze me).

Climbing through a valley in the western highlands of Mexico

I gave Bound South a chance. I reasoned that the social pressure to assure family of our survival and to share our experiences with the world would ensure a rigorous schedule of reflection. I was willing to bear the costs to our “authenticity” whatever they may be. Five months later, I know we made the right decision. Our connections with the outside world are limited to a couple of times every week when we stumble upon an internet café. This is simply not enough time to distract us from our experience (or to assure our family of our daily safety). Our time spent writing in comfort has been a necessary respite from long mountain climbs, navigational uncertainty, exhaustion, and the nitty gritty of our adventure. Our website is also our vehicle for collecting donations and advancing our cause. A few days ago, WordPress decided to feature us as among the best of the 700,000+ posts that are shared on the web every single day. Comments and traffic and messages have poured in, and we are overwhelmed with a sense of humility and gratitude.

In the end this isn’t about us. This is about our journey and our cause. Yet Bound South will always be bound up in who we are as brothers; David in his youthful boldness, Nathan in his calm mentorship, and myself in my sharp wit and incredible good looks. What we are doing is compelling, dangerous, and uncommon. We can’t deliver you stylized and idealized travel guides, or depictions of heavenly Latin American cuisine. We can only promise you our world, a world that is raw, mortal, and perilous; but it is shot through with love, courage, and the laughter that only brothers can enjoy on a long road to Argentina.

Thank you for sharing that world with us. We take so much joy in this journey and the privilege of sharing it with you. Your donations, messages, and comments sustain us whenever we have the chance to see them.

Jan 16

3 Comments

Mailbag Monday #8

Today_we_continue our Mailbag Monday series…

Dear Isaiah,

My name is Halley I just love to ride bike. Wat are you doing this for? Probly for something good. Wat is your faveret food? Wat’s your favert coler? Do you like to ride bike? Do you get exhausted? I get exhausted sumtimes when i ride bike around the block.

Your frend,

Halley

Greetings on a cobblestone road in Mexico

Dear Halley,

I am so glad to hear that you love riding your bicycle. I hope you love bicycles for the rest of your life; I know I will! My brothers and I are riding our bicycles to Argentina on behalf of Lake Agassiz Habitat for Humanity. We want to build a home for a needy family. I think that’s something good, and I hope you agree.

My favorite color is blue (though green is a close second) and I like riding bike a lot. I would be crazy to do this if I didn’t. Sometimes I get tired, but I’ve got my brothers with me so I can always push through. When I was your age I remember riding a bicycle around a 10-mile loop at Itasca State Park in Minnesota with my family. It is hard to imagine it now, but at the time I felt superhuman for completing that ride. Keep pushing your limits, Halley, and you will amaze yourself someday.

Your friend,

Isaiah