Hit The Road Jack

Near Ruby Beach, WA

In my notes I have scribbled three items that need addressing prior to the release of mechanicals for the flyer, postcards and general campaign launch. These notes and the items they contain are in reference to the 2019 Epic Ride, our cycling celebration of the Washington, Oregon and California coasts for twenty-one days. The notes tell me that I need:

1) A sponsor or sponsors.

2) A map of the route.

3) The cost.

Having one, or preferable all of those, would go a long way to keeping my nose to the proverbial grindstone. To push each of them this afternoon I will compile a list of likely candidates for sponsorship, sketch out a rough map and put some detail to the list of hard costs I have previously compiled. 

Yesterday I filled through almost all of my external hard drives looking for suitable media to use for the flyers, and while I found a few, they are not exactly what I am looking for. And for those editors among you, that means that I revisited media from 19 drives. A lot of stuff. 

This morning, as we conducted another Sunday indoor cycling session while watching a movie, we call them PowerBarn FlickSpins, I started thinking about the grind seventy-five miles a day, for three weeks, puts on the body. To Tinker, Taylor, Soldier, Spy this morning I managed just under fifty miles in two hours. And felt good about it. Remember that fifty indoor miles, without downhills, stops, tail winds or chasing dogs, works out to have about seventy miles of training value. So, as they say, there is that. 

I have jut decided to use the Epic Ride promotional video as the open for the next PowerBarn 2x20 video, thereby doubling up efforts, or as Hollywood likes to say, re-purpose it. 

My backup plan, should I be unable to attract a workable number of participants, is to simply do it myself, as I have done twice before. I would swap-out bikes, outfit a gravel bike, add panniers, shoulder my trusty Gregory back pack replete with camera gear, and HTR.

Hit The Road. 

Might be the easiest thing. I checked hiker-biker campsite fees in Oregon just to make sure that in the twenty-three years since my last epic coastal trek inflation hasn’t taken them to Hilton levels and was pleasantly surprised to see them still only eight bucks per night. 

After seventy-five miles a guy can sleep soundly in his own down bag for less than the cost of a six-pack of decent IPA. 

HTR Jack.