Tag Archives: greyhound

Going East (by car)

Where to begin? Should I start in the Sequoias–my time wandering through the largest trees in the world? Or stumbling into what felt like an unofficial rainbow gathering in Mendocino? Or Yellowstone, where I spent a week amongst the bears and elk–getting snowed-on and walking though basins where the earth’s crumbling crust gave way to pools of scalding-hot water?

I spent a week amongst the bears and elk — getting snowed-on and walking though basins where the earth’s crumbling crust gave way to pools of scalding-hot water

Alas, I’ll start with the present. At the time of writing, I find myself in Madison, Wisconsin. My preoccupation as of late is no longer my next backpacking trip through some US national park.


Mikey's bicycle is parked next to a large pool of water that is emitting hot steam
Casual Earth Steam

In less than a month, I’ll be boarding a plane one-way to the Middle East, and I don’t plan to come back to the US for over a year (closer to two).

Indeed, my current preoccupation is selling my car, getting back to NY, and finding some clever way to fit my folding bicycle into a checked bag that’ll go under the bike-fee radar for the German airline on my flight to Israel.


Mikey's tent is setup in a field. There is light snow on the ground and many clouds in the sky. In the distance, snow-capped mountains can be seen.
Thunderer Campsite in the morning

My last major stop was Yellowstone, and my what an adventure that was! For the record, if you visit Yellowstone in September, all the backpacking permit fees are waved. And there’s at least 3 campsites that are entirely accessible by bicycle. But, even if you just visit Yellowstone by car, it’s quite an experience. There’s fewer awe-inspiring vistas than other national parks, but looking across a low-lying basin with huge plumes of water vapor rising from patches of pools stretching out to the horizon offers a unique sort of inspiration in it’s own wright.

Continue reading Going East (by car)

Back to Chile

In 2 months, I took the train from Ottawa, Ontario to Halifax, Nova Scotia. I stopped in Ottawa, Montreal, and Moncton between. After I crossed the border into the US on a bus from Montreal, I arrived back in New York City’s Penn Station at 04:00 AM. I assembled my bike, and I rode through Manhattan to Brooklyn–crossing the East River over the Manhattan Bridge.

I stayed in Brooklyn for a week, then caught the Greyhound to Miami–stopping for a week each in Asheville, Atlanta, and Orlando to visit friends & family.

Next week, I board a plane back to Chile. This winter holiday, I take my long-awaited journey to the south of Chile in Patagonia!


USA East Coast

I’ve crossed the US by bicycle. I’ve crossed by plane. And now–I’m taking a train from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

I’ve crossed the US by bicycle. I’ve crossed by plane. And now–I’m taking a train

I just bought an Amtrak ticket from Atlanta -> New Orleans (for Mardi Gras!) -> Los Angles. It’s ironic to realize that I’ve never done the good-ol cross-US road trip; I’ve never driven across the US (or taken a bus), but I suppose I shall one day (update: I did !). For now, I look forward to seeing the South via rail.

Mikey as a child wearing a buttoned-up collared shirt and holding up 2 floppy disks. Behind him, a girl sits at an old laptop wearing a hat labeled "F" for Florida.
I may not have always been a hobo, but I’ve always been a hacker.

In any case, an update is due: After 4 magical months in in India, I came back to NYC just before the winter cold set in. After visiting friends & family, I traveled down the US East Coast.

I left a big duffel bag of possessions with a friend in NYC, and–due to price gouged bus fares ($700 flight from NYC to Atlanta? I don’t think so) over Christmas–I tried my luck at hitching from DC to Asheville with a backpack and 2 oversized duffel bags. I could hardly walk 0.1 km without needing to rest my back hauling that much shit.

Several people stand around an enterance to a building with a sign that reads "TRUMP TOWER." One person holds a sign that reads "TRUMP. Make America Hate Again." A uniformed gangster stands nearby with a hat that reads "NYPD."
Trump Protest

Within 10 minutes of holding up my cardboard sign indicating highway 81, a couple of southern boys (welcome back to Virginia) in an unmarked van stopped, started clearing junk out of the way in the back behind a full-size US flag strewn between the back and the cab, and told they could take me as far as highway 81, but wouldn’t be able to drive me South. I declined their offer. In the next 6 hours, another 4 people offered to take me part-way.

Having too many bags to be able to walk my way out of a bad spot, I left for the DC greyhound, slept the night in Union Station on Christmas Eve, and took the next Greyhound to Atlanta.

After a week exploring downtown Atlanta (read: where Martin Luther King Jr was born), I took a bus down to Florida–where I currently sit, a true NY snow bird.

After I hit LA, I’ll head north to Vancouver for Spring–traveling by train & bicycle along the majestic US-Pacific coastline. I’ve never spent much time in Canada; I’m sure looking forward to Vancouver!