I thought I would take a couple of days after getting back to Boulder to reflect on all the experiences that accompanied biking from British Columbia to Baja to launch SWAE Sports before penning my magnum opus. It’s been an interesting couple of days as I’ve readjusted to civilian life. My initial realization was that most importantly, the 2-½ months on the road helped to solidify our team and define the direction of SWAE Sports.

After getting off the plane and driving back to my Rocky Mountain home, I immediately began to miss the other four guys that I’d spent just about every waking moment with since mid June. After feeding off one another’s excitement, sharing the hardships of the road, and waking every morning to the team immediately talking SWAE, life as it was began to seem, well, rather quiet.

When I separate myself from being a part of this whole expedition, it seems truly amazing that a group of five highly dedicated young men would undertake such an endeavor to launch a company.  As a consumer, it would hardly matter to me what it is SWAE was selling because if anyone was really that motivated, odds are that it was something I should be a part of.  I’d rep their shirt. It would get even crazier for me as I started to explore their website and realized that the reason those boys were so psyched was because they held in their hands a truly paradigm shifting business model for the adventure sports industry.  Of course they’d cycle 2,500 miles to spread the good news. It would all start to feel quite logical.

Whenever I return from a big trip it’s always a bit weird to think about the places I just was.  Sailing through the waters of the San Juan Islands, biking through the primordial Redwood forests of Northern California, and camping along the rim of Crater Lake begins to feel like a dream, or clips from a movie I watched before falling asleep. But they are my memories, my life experiences, the way I became a part of an organization that will undoubtedly shape the course of my life.

The greatest thing I’ll take from this trip is being witness to the fact that my actions along the West Coast will not only benefit my own life, but every outfitter, guide, and outdoor adventure school that sat down with us and subscribed to the dream that is SWAE.  I can only believe that they saw in our eyes the motivation to make our company’s principals a reality and that that kind of excitement was something they wanted to attach themselves to. When looking back over my notes, its almost ridiculous to see that the only companies we didn’t partner with after a meeting were those that didn’t want more business.  That’s crazy and yet it’s the truth.

The way people get outside is about to change, and I’m truly humbled to be a part of that shift. It’s happening because the team that comprises SWAE is actually our targeted customer. We live and breathe this lifestyle and we’ve somehow figured out a way to make a career out of doing the stuff we love. I don’t think I could be more stoked.

Daniel wanted to finish the trip strong and everyone agreed. So, with 150 miles from our place in Manhattan Beach, we decided to make the final push to the border in one epic day.

I awoke at 5:30 a.m., Sunday, August 23 in Manhattan Beach. There was a quiet concentration among the group as we packed up and prepared for the longest ride of the trip. We left by 6:15 and began our ride south along the coast. It was a gloomy Sunday morning and the streets were empty aside from a few cars. Beside the fact, we were still had a close call with a bus as it whizzed past on the Pacific Coast Highway. Daniel swerved after the bus came inches away from us as we rode the shoulder of the street.

The flat terrain of Southern California made riding 150 miles seem less daunting and as we pedaled mile after mile, we met large groups of cyclists on morning rides.  This made riding that much easier and all four of us found different groups to keep pace. At this point we had all hit stride, pedaling at a consistent rhythm. After a section of flat riding, we encountered several miles of rolling hills, into San Clemente.

Daniel takes in the view at La Jolla Cove.

Dan and I managed to keep a strong pace with a group of riders for more than 80 miles and decided to stop for lunch at noon in Oceanside. Brendan had busted a tire during the first stretch of the trip and stopped in a bike shop in Laguna Beach to get it fixed, while Will reached Oceanside just a little while after us.

Refilled and refreshed, Dan and I set off from Oceanside into the high noon heat for the second half of our ride to the border. We continued to see cyclists all day while we rode along the marked bike routes running adjacent to the freeway, the surf crashing along the coast to our right.

This ride was a culmination of eight weeks of riding. After 2,400 miles, we had been exposed to almost every kind of cycling that could be done on the west coast. We had cycled through heatwaves, up mountain passes, along rolling hills and through long hours of cranking pedals. The road to Mexico threw everything it had at us, but we had prepared.

The sun became intense as the day continued on. Flashbacks of Oregon heatwaves came to mind as Dan and I continued along the bike path. We were already caked in dirt and dripping sweat as the path wound back and forth under the freeway.

We arrived in La Jolla at 4:30, the heat of midday giving way to a warm afternoon as Daniel and I took in the view of people in the water along La Jolla Cove. Just north of San Diego, we only had another 30 miles to reach our goal. The trials of the day’s ride began to take its toll as we began to make our way towards downtown San Diego. My legs were working hard to keep pedaling and my stomach, deprived of any substance besides Clif Bars, began to growl as the sun began to fall along the western horizon.

Dan lifts his bike 100 yards from the border.

Because Dan and I had stayed along the water, we missed the opportunity to shorten our route by heading straight through the city of San Diego. We had some trouble getting back on track, but after asking a few people along the way, we were able to make it to downtown in a reasonable time. I had to stop for a quick bite as I began to run on fumes for the last stretch of such a grueling ride.

We finished our last push to the border as the bright afternoon became a fading dusk. Dan pointed out the rising hills along the horizon which were not part of the U.S. We were close and could both feel it.

Our instincts were correct as we encountered the final stretch of bike path with a sign pointing us in the direction of Mexico. We followed the streams of people heading towards a fenced entrance and found Brendan and Will waiting for us. The black fences and fluorescent lights gave the place a very inhuman glow, but we were too excited to care.

As I sat and watched the people streaming into the border, we touched our bikes as far as they could go without going through the trouble of customs. We had all pushed ourselves to the point of physical and mental exhaustion.

For the next several days, Will, Dan and Elliott will spend time in San Diego working with outfitters before flying home on August 27. What a trip, what an adventure and a great success.

Ghost Tree is one of the prime locations for big wave surfing, the jagged branches give justice to the name.

Alex and I left before everyone, hoping to find a campsite and settle in for the evening. We were given directions from a cycling shop employee, who was nice enough to show us a route that would help us avoid Highway 1 for the stretch to Carmel-by-the-Sea. We were told to take a road called 17 Mile Drive, through Carmel and out onto Highway 1. We saw Ghost Tree, a hallowed surf spot for some of the best big wave surfers in the world. The name fit the area. The cliffs was littered with jagged trees while the fog created an eerie sense of menace in a section of Monterey Bay where waves can reach up to 50 feet high when they break.

After two hours, we had rode through several golf courses, including the legendary Pebble Beach, before we looped back up to the same spot we started.

The road was not called 17 Mile Drive for nothing and Alex and I had managed to ride a huge circle in those two hours. Distraught and frustrated, we sat at the side of the road hoping to figure out what to do when Elliott and Will came riding out to where we sat. Our detour through the ritziest golf course in the country made for a good laugh and an extra 20 miles on top of the 35 we had to do.

Highway 1 produced beautiful scenes of the ocean break along the cliffs of the Pacific Coast as we rode to Big Sur.

We split off into pairs for the ride to Big Sur. Elliott and I led the pack for the ride, pedaling at a consistent speed of approximately 16 miles an hour. Like the rest of the California Coast, the highway to Big Sur was set in rolling hills and a shoulder inches wide at certain points. This stretch of the Central Coast has been some of the most beautiful riding we have experienced. You almost become adjusted to the magnificent scenery. From the panoramic grey-blue skies and thin white clouds across the horizon, to the beaches, trees and mountains which surround the highway, it took all my effort to pay attention to the road and not the stunning views.

Elliott and I arrived in Big Sur by 6:00 p.m. We had calculated we were far enough ahead of everyone to sit down for a beer. Luckily enough, the pub we found was right in the middle of happy hour, and a pint of their best-selling Hemp Ale from Humboldt Brewing Company was a tasty reward for an afternoon of some good cycling. The beer was dark and delicious, but not overwhelming in the slightest.

Our free campsite, 200 yards from Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. We fell asleep to the rushing sound of waves crashing on the beach below.

Will and Alex arrived just as Elliott and I were ready to leave, and I decided to humor Alex and sit with him for another Hemp Ale. Will and Elliott rode the last 10 miles to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, where we would camp for the evening. After another pint and some nachos, Alex and I left the pub to finish the ride.

Halfway through the ride fog began to roll in along the road. Alex and I were engulfed in a damp white cloud as crickets began to chirp, signaling the time when day turns to night. For one third of the ride, we rode in the near dark to the campsite. Elliott and Will had found a cozy spot 200 yards from the entrance to the park. Some passersby had suggested they take a look at it if they didn’t want to pay for camping.

Our ride to Big Sur had been amazingly hyped up as several people told us prior to the ride it was “the most amazing place ever.” I must say, Sur did not disappoint, however it reminded me a lot of the Redwood Forests of Northern California, which I still remember vividly.

Alex and I were relieved to find the crew and we set up shop to prepare for a 100-mile ride the next morning to San Luis Obispo.

Elliott and I destroyed the ride from Big Sur, arriving in SLO in six hours and 30 minutes. We worked as a great team and each took turns setting the pace and creating a good draft for each other. It was a hard ride, but we stayed as consistent as possible through the uphill battles and eventually the flats coming in to San Luis Obispo.

A young lady named Alisa, who we met in Monterey through Will’s friend Alex, and her roommate, Jamie, were kind enough to let us sleep in their yard and of course we obliged. The most comforting feeling is riding into a town you’ve never been and knowing you have a cozy place to go. It made finishing the ride that much more rewarding. Thank you Alisa and Jamie! You guys rock!

A view of the Venetians from our spot at Mr. Toot's Coffee Shop in Santa Cruz.

Although the sun had not joined us on our trip through Northern California, it was front and center as we settled into the laid back atmosphere of Santa Cruz. We spent our first night in a quaint home with a young group of people caught in post-college limbo. A surfer, an artist, a Wisconsonian and a cook let us sleep in their back yard and the next day, SWAE went to work.

Kyle Thiermann, our surfer host, had recently taken a six-week trip to a small town in Chile, where an American coal-mining plant is being proposed. Kyle spent his time speaking with locals about the impact of such a plant and what we in the U.S. can do to help prevent this from happening. Not only is Kyle an awesome surfer, he is incredibly passionate about supporting local industry and business, just like SWAE. Check out the video of his trip at www.claimyourchange.org.

Phone calls, research and meetings. While the sun hit the surf all day on Friday, Will, Elliott and Alex hit the streets to meet with outfitters. Will met and signed Venture Quest Sea Kayaking.

Since he has joined the trip, Alex has worked hard to sink into the pattern of finding outfitters and contacting them. In Half Moon Bay, just outside Santa Cruz, Alex met Chris Manchester and signed his outfit, Half Moon Bay Kayaks. In Santa Cruz, he was able to sign Pacific Yacht and Sailing.

Elliott and Will teach Ed Guzman, our host and surf instructor, how to slack line at his home near Manresa State Beach.

Elliott has had some great meetings since he joined up with SWAE in San Francisco. He got to go hang gliding in San Francisco and in Santa Cruz, met with two legendary surfers in Richard Schmidt and Ed Guzman, who are both owners of two of the largest surf outfits in Monterey Bay. The Richard Schmidt Surf School and Club-Ed Surf Camps are both well-established surf schools in the area. Elliott was able to line up an evening of dinner and videos with Ed, which gave us an opportunity to crash with his surf camp in Manresa State Beach AND take lessons from him in the morning.

There is no shortage of passion for the water in Santa Cruz. The stories Ed told us throughout Thursday night only reaffirmed this fact. Ed has spent time surfing some of the largest waves in California, just north of Santa Cruz in Half Moon Bay, as well as 50-foot swells in Ghost Tree, just outside of Monterey. Ed can talk surfing 24/7 and loves not only to talk about his experiences, but is adamant about helping people get into the water to learn the sport.

The crew get wetsuits as we get ready to surf with Ed, Friday morning at Manresa State Beach.

I am not a surfer by any means. On Friday morning, Ed thrust a wetsuit into my hands, handed me a board and was almost to the point of pushing into the water along Manresa Beach. This was my first time ever holding a surfboard. It felt oddly foreign in my hands, but I’m not one to shy away from an opportunity to learn something new. The waves were small, but surf-able and Ed and his staff are excellent teachers.

After some pointers on the beach, I was in the water, paddling out with Dan, Will, Alex and Elliott to make my first attempt at standing up on a surfboard. Ed spotted a reasonably sized wave and urged me to start paddling.

I stroked my left hand through the water, then my right, then both at the same time and with a little nudge from Ed, I was being jettisoned along the wave. I slid from my stomach to my feet and was surprised to find myself actually surfing and not eating salt water. It was a great feeling and after a few hours in the water, I was truly enjoying the surfing atmosphere with Ed and the SWAE crew.

Ed Guzman preps Alex and Elliott with fiber glass surfboards before we head into the water.

Santa Cruz is beautiful. A cozy town where the beach is one of its prime attractions. The beach, combined with blue skies and sun, make for a relaxed atmosphere where anyone is welcomed.

Although we only spent two days in town, I was inspired by the sights and sounds we were able to experience while we were there.

Saturday morning, we rode 30 miles down Highway 1, to Monterey, where SWAE will spend the next two days taking care of business. More to come as the adventure continues to unfold!

Some of the last scenes of San Francisco as we rode south towards Santa Cruz.

I haven’t disregarded the beauty of San Francico, but I’ve truly become restless with this booming metropolis. I’ve heard the echos of police sirens day and night through the city, seen masses of people stroll the sidewalks and warily watched traffic as I rode the streets. It’s been a great week in San Francisco, but it’s time to say good bye.

Alex and Bates left a day before Dan, Will and me and rode to Half Moon Bay, 30 miles from The City. The duo met Chris Manchester of HMB Kayaks for breakfast. The meeting went very well and Alex and Bates were able to sign HMB Kayaks on the spot.

On Tuesday, Aug. 4, Will and Dan met the Oceanic Society, a non-profit devoted to conservation of endangered marine life, stationed in San Francisco. The Oceanic Society is an incredible non-profit that shares like values with SWAE: Conservation and a dedication to local outfitters was what drove the conversation.  The Oceanic Society also organizes expeditions all around the world, from Antarctica to Sri Lanka and Will and Dan got them excited enough to join up as an Adventure Vendor on the spot!

A view of the beaches along Highway 1 were a relief to us as we rode to Santa Cruz.

We rode through San Francisco that afternoon towards our next destination, Santa Cruz. We began by riding south on Highway 35, which would eventually link us up to Highway 1. Dan, Will and I arrived at a junction, but were put into a dilemma as a street sign warned us to stay off Highway 1. Another cyclist confirmed that we should continue on 35 and it would eventually meet back up with our desired highway.

Mile after mile passed with no sign of a junction. We rode so far that we hopped onto Interstate 280, where we stopped a highway patrolwoman to ask her where we were and where we should head next. We were lost. She said we had missed the turn to Highway 1, which meant we had to backtrack three to four miles to continue in the right direction. It was 4:00 p.m. by the time we actually got to Highway 1 and we still had 65 miles until we would reach Santa Cruz.

The sun paints the skies with an array of bright colors. We didn't reach Santa Cruz by sun down.

We ate dinner just outside of Half Moon Bay and continued to ride, the sun slowly setting into the Pacific Ocean, painting the sky in pastel pinks, purples and soft hues of blue. As we rode, the sun yielded itself to a full white moon, rising over the crest of a hill as the evening light turned to dusk.

Unfortunately, we didn’t make it to Santa Cruz Tuesday evening. However, Dan found an awesome place for us to camp, in a grove of trees right along the beachfront. We could hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores, the froth from each surge fizzing as it dissolved into the sand. The wind rustled through the trees around us and kicked up small amounts of sand as we set up camp.

Will woke up especially early the next morning and was on the road by 7:30. Dan and I took a little longer to get packed up, but we still arrived in Santa Cruz at a reasonable time. The weather is as you would expect it in a town built on the beach. Bright blue skies, warm sunlight and a cool sea breeze was in the forecast for the day.

SWAE will be in Santa Cruz for the next several days. More to come as we explore the boardwalk and the beach of the city’s surfer’s paradise.

The rides through Washington and Oregon feel like they were in another lifetime and now, instead of dreading the next ride, I relish the opportunity to get back onto my steel steed.

Fog engulfs the coast as we rode along Highway 1. The rolling hills were a welcomed change from our grueling rides.

We left the tiny town of Westport, Calif. on Thursday, July 23, fog engulfing the coast like a specter from the sea. Our first full day of riding on Highway 1 was a welcomed change to the rugged, steep and hot uphill battles we experienced throughout Washington and Oregon. The hills of Highway 1 were simple and we were able to see the crest of each incline with every push of our pedals as we rode.

Up one hill, through fog and a cool sea breeze, down the other side, gliding through the dip and meeting the next hill at a consistent pace. The road felt like waves in their own rite and we skimmed the surface like surfers in the waters of the Pacific.

The coastal highway set me into a rhythm as I rode with Dan. My gears clicked briefly as I shifted up and down with the inclines and declines of the road. My legs moved my pedals, one foot over the other, the constant sound of my chain churned to create the motion necessary for me to ride forward. The sound of my tires on the pavement, buzzing with every push of my pedals. My breathing was steady, in and out, through my nose, out my mouth. I could almost taste the salt on the wind rushing from the sea to the west.

During times that the fog cleared, we had a view from Highway 1 of a picturesque coastline full of color.

Highway 1 was straightforward and stress free, which made for ideal riding conditions. As we pressed on down the coast, we were continually greeted by other groups of cyclists of all ages, enjoying the rolling hills and co0l temperatures that the California coast provided. Everyone we met who had ridden the coast before told us we were “in for a treat” the rest of the ride to San Francisco.

So far, the scenery had been gorgeous, but the fog had put a damper (literally) on our ride. We arrived in Point Arena Thursday evening and ate huge burritos at the Pirates Cove. Dan, Will and I were lucky enough to make it to the town before the restaurant closed.

A woman named Adell was kind enough to let us sleep in her yard and the next morning, took us out to the port for breakfast. Point Arena was a town of approximately 300 people and a well-known point for surfers of all skill levels. The breakfast hut was filled with surfboards and pictures of the locals lined the walls.

A surfer paddles out to meet the waves along the bay at Point Arena.

Friday consisted of a 95-mile ride to Point Reyes Station, 40 miles from San Francisco. We met two young cyclists along the ride and were excited to find out we all had quite a bit in common.

Christian and Miles were film students from Los Angeles. They were on their first cycling tour and were also going from Canada to Mexico. They had been documenting their trip through film and were riding to raise money for the World Bicycle Relief. Check out their Website at www.conquertheland.com.

Dan and I arrived in Point Reyes Station at 8:00 p.m. Will had ridden ahead of us and throughout the ride, we wondered where he had gone.

There was an intersection just outside of the agrarian town of Tomales and Will had taken a 20-mile detour, inland to Petaluma. Dan and I shared a laugh about Will’s adventure, but were relieved to hear from him as he met back up with us at around 9:30 p.m.

Will chats with Kevin and his daughter Ruby in their backyard in Point Reyes Station before our ride to San Francisco.

We ate another big burrito and afterward attempted to find a place to sleep. I had several doors shut on me before Dan knocked on Kevin and Rhonda’s door. The couple had moved to Point Reyes Station eight years ago, just before their daughter Ruby was born. Kevin let us into their backyard, treated us to a beer in the evening and then gave us coffee in the morning.

I was excited to get to San Francisco on Saturday morning. We rode out of Point Reyes Station with only 40 miles left between us and the Golden Gate Bridge. From Point Reyes Station, we traversed a higher section of Highway 1 that wound along the cliffs of the coast, above the low-hanging clouds floating above the beach below.

Our first glimpes of the Bay Area as Dan rides along the sidewalk towards the Golden Gate Bridge.

More cars, traffic lights, more cyclists, more people in general. This was our first real interaction with a bustling city since we were in Bend, Ore.

Tourists, walking and cycling, lined the streets of San Francisco as we rode into town. A bike path led us towards the Golden Gate Bridge. The spectacle of the massive structure attracts thousands of people to the city each year.

The bridge was everything I had imagined and it stretched for at least a mile as we rode across.

Dan and Will at the beginning of the Golden Gate Bridge. Fog engulfs the top of the massive structure, making it impossible to see the top.

The large, orange-bronze structure reached up into the sky, engulfed in a constant fog so the tops of the bridge remained invisible. Wind gusts made riding across the bridge interesting, particularly since there was so much foot traffic. I stopped to take several pictures and was surprised at how powerful the winds were, like a fan turned on high, as I stood and stared out from my vantage point.

We will spend the next week in San Francisco, as an incredible concentration of outfitters call the Bay Area their homes. Elliot Bates has met back up with us and soon, SWAE’s riding team will consist of five people. More to come as I explore this metropolis and reinsert myself back into the city life.

6 weeks since Dan, Will and Elliot set out from the Canadian border. 7 mountain passes have been conquered. 28 blog posts. 2 states and 1,000+ miles of riding total. Over 50 outfitters signed to SWAE. And countless photos.

What a journey so far. By the end of the day, we would be nearly halfway through this adventure.

Will and Dan share some bagels and peanut butter before our ride into California.

It was 8 a.m. and I began to pack up with the sound of a tractor rumbling through the fields behind me. The sun was already beginning to heat everything around me and I could tell it was going to be another scorcher of a day. We rode down to a gas station in Wilderville and ate bagels and peanut butter, before we set off for our last ride in Oregon.

Highway 199 was hot. As we rode, a mixture of smells filled my nostrils. Hot concrete, skunk cabbage, road kill, car fumes and whatever else carried in the wind. Although it was difficult to cope with the heat, we were fortunate enough to ride through several small towns along the highway, which meant we could cool down in some shade. A gas station attendant told us it would be 105 degrees during the day.

Our dread turned into relief as more trees began to lean over the road, providing a decent amount of cover from the heat as we continued to ride south. Forty miles into the ride, we came across a sign which read “Oregon Thanks You, Come Back Soon.” About a mile later we were greeted by a sign which read “Welcome to California.”

Two states down, one to go.

Dan and I let out a shout. We had officially crossed into California. We had 40 miles to go before we were in Crescent City. I was inspired by the fact we had made it into California. You have to remember, I had never done a tour like this in my life and to ride through two states was a great victory for me.

Big hills rose up on either side of the Redwood Highway as we rode into California. The afternoon sun shined down on trees which freckled the hills and a creek flowed below the road. The shoulder was only six inches wide in some places, but the scenery was so gorgeous I barely noticed cars and trucks whizzing by me at 50 miles per hour.

Before the region was explored, there were over 20 million acres of Redwood Forests. Today, there are only 40,000. These forests are part of the reason we ride. Our hope is to preserve the natural wonders of the world. These forests were old. They were ancient and have been in the region for thousands of years. Granted they are a valuable resource, logging has put a strain on much of this natural habitat.

As we rode into Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, the majesty of these forests left me speechless . A bug flew into my mouth as I stared up, jaw hanging, at the trees reaching up into the sky, blotting out the sun. To our relief, the trees enveloped the road in shade and the temperature dropped significantly as we entered the forest.

Our first introduction to California Redwoods.

Although these trees were big, I knew there were bigger ones to come. But for now, this was an amazing precursor to what we had in store for the remainder of our trip. Trees loomed high, some rising over 80 feet in the air. It was all I could do to crane my neck to view the canopy above. It was a tremendous experience to be among natural lands that had withstood countless eras throughout history.

Dan, Will and I rode out of the Redwood forest with 10 miles to go on the days ride. We were making good time, even with the head winds on Highway 101. We pressed hard along the shoulder of the highway, each taking turns drafting behind each other. I led the pack for the last four miles as we entered Crescent City.

I learned a valuable lesson after the day’s ride and that was to respect your elders. Those trees own this land, we’re simply sharing it.

We had not bathed since we left Seattle. The closest we got to showering was skinny dipping in creeks and rivers in the evening before we slept. That means over a week of biking, resting and meeting with people covered in our own sweat, dirt and grime. Surprisingly we didn’t smell TOO bad, but all of us were desperate to find a place to shower as we arrived in Bend, Ore. on Friday night.

Cathy Pettibone, Will, Dan and Big N.

On Saturday, we found a coffee house in Downtown Bend called Bellatazzo, where we spent the morning shooting out emails and making phone calls. As Will, Dan and I conversed in a corner of the store, a small woman with white-blond hair approached our table, an empathetic look in her blue eyes.

“I used to travel when I was younger,” the wavy-haired woman said. “Is there anything I can do for you boys while you’re in town?”

For a moment, we were stunned by the offer, unable to give a response immediately. Before either Dan or I could say anything, Will jumped on the opportunity.

“We’d love a shower. And somewhere flat to sleep,” he said as he stood up and introduced himself to our new savior, Cathy Pettibone.

A smile spread across Pettibone’s face, while her eyes illuminated the same happiness at our acceptance of her offer. Pettibone lived just outside downtown with her husband Nick Crawford. Their lawn was smooth, flat and spacious enough for all three of us to spread across.

We stayed at Cathy and Nick's, which made lodging one less thing to worry about in Bend.

When living in one place, you tend to take for granted the ability to step into your bathroom, turn a faucet and have warm water in an instant. I had not had this privilege for over a week.

I let out a huge sigh of relief in Pettibone’s bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the layer of dirt which had caked itself on me like barnacles on the underside of a boat. As I got out and dried myself off, I felt like a new man.

“Big N” and Pettibone treated us like princes during our stay and offered for us to make their home our base in Bend.

“You jokers want coffee?” Big N barked out to us on Sunday morning as we awoke to a clear blue sky. “I’m roasting pork butt and rooster balls; eggs and bacon if you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

The couple are fun-loving and adventurous and our conversations were riveting. Their hospitality and generosity were limitless. For the next two days, Will and Dan will continue their meetings in town without the worry of finding lodging. These two have only reaffirmed our love for the people we meet as we ride south.

This post is to thank our hosts and to prove again that there are great people, no matter where you travel. Thanks Pettibone and Big N, you two have been an added bonus to the beautiful town of Bend.

What a magnificent realization: we are dreaming with our eyes open. When I’m cycling across high desserts and in between glaciated volcanoes I feel as if I’m dreaming. When every single stranger we meet wants to talk with us, put us up in their houses, and give us their best wishes, I feel as if I am dreaming. Since we have already surpassed the original goal of partners signed on this trip and we are only three weeks into the ride, I feel as if I’m dreaming.

When we sit back at the end of an evening and share a local pint over stories of hilarity and success from the day passed, I feel as if I’m dreaming. When I’m able to write to the world with a simple declaration: this company will redefine the adventure industry, I feel as if I am dreaming. The most beautiful part is that I, and the rest of this team, are not dreaming. We are, in short, dreaming with our eyes open.

I remember about two months ago, a good friend of mine asked me what I dream about during the few hours-a-night I was sleeping at the time. My answer then was simple, I dreamt about business. How awful does that sound? To some extent, I think an obsession over a project, organization, or company is needed by any entrepreneur. But on the other hand, my own obsession occasionally caught me off guard.

The beautiful bit of it now, is that my dreams are becoming realized while my own eyes are wide open. And when I sleep; I don’t just dream about business. Although, if I were to be completely honest, last night, it was nearly all I dreamt about =).

But you are probably reading this blog and wondering why the title of it is as it is.  I think that it is funny that we always hear that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”  As if there is nothing in this world that nearly everyone would agree is beautiful.  And truth be told, as we go about our lives, I think that many of us just take this common phrase as fact.  The reality of the day yesterday was that after all of our glorious meetings, we jumped back on our bikes and into the evening sky we road just 25 more miles south to Bay View across the ups and downs and winding stoned wall street of Chuckanut Drive.  It was beautiful and I don’t think that you can disagree (no matter how unreasonable that may sound).  Of course, when it comes to art, and physical attraction, and cars, houses, clothing, fashion, style, food, beer, and even bikes; beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  But could anyone look at the picture attached to this blog and tell me that it is not beautiful?  I think that there is a universal beauty in nature and that everyone, no matter their culture, upbringing, or dispositions is captivated by a mountain field, by a beautiful sunrise as it slides across an open bay, or even by a small flower that has just bloomed.  I realize that this is a strong statement but I want to put it out to the world: Beauty, and more specifically the beauty we find in nature, is not in the eye of the Beholder.  And this is why SWAE as a company is dedicated to preservation and to getting people outdoors to the most beautiful places in their back yards and abroad.  Once you are immersed in it and see the beauty, you will be dedicated to keeping it that way for the rest of your life. No company cars, just company bikes… imagine if all business felt the same way and saw the same opportunities