Sharing stories and adventures about all things coffee, stories, and stoke
Viewing entries in
Travel Journal
I’m not a surfer. Never tried and don’t plan on it. It’s not the sharks (cough); it’s that I already have enough hobbies to keep me happily broke and perpetually busy. But dirt surfing? On a 170 mm enduro bike? Now that I can get behind.
This past weekend marked the kickoff of Ride the Dirt Wave, an enduro series along the Oregon Coast.
I have a road trip ritual I rarely stray from: Diet Mountain Dew, crunchy peanut butter Clif Bars, sunflower seeds, and classic country music. How that combo came to be, I couldn’t tell you. But it works.
I just rolled back home after a weekend of serving coffee at Cascade Gravel in Sisters, Oregon. These events always feel like something special. The energy. The people. That final pre-race sip of coffee before riders clip in and chase 40, 60, or 80 miles through the shadow of the Cascades.
Let’s be honest: most people aren’t drinking espresso pulled from a $20,000 machine, let alone a $1,000-$2,000 machine at home. They’re not measuring water temperature or timing the bloom. They’re grabbing a mug on the way out the door, pouring drip from a countertop brewer they picked up from Walmart, or topping off a gas station cup somewhere on a dusty road between Point A and Point B.
And you know what? That’s okay. It’s actually great.
This past weekend, I had the chance to serve coffee at the Gorge Gravel race for the very first time — and let me just say, it was an unforgettable experience.
From the moment I rolled up with Nacho the Van, I knew it was going to be a special day. The energy was electric, the community was welcoming, and the winds… well, let’s just say they added a little extra adventure to the day! Majorkudos to every racer who braved those crazy gusts and powered through. Gravel events are always about grit and perseverance, and this weekend definitely delivered on both fronts.
What makes a mountain bike town more than just a dot on the map? It’s not just the flow trails, the epic descents, or the trail density—it’s the people behind it all.
The locals with dirt under their nails. The ones who show up, tools in hand, week after week. Community engagement and trail stewardship aren’t just supporting acts—they’re the main event in any trail town worth its loam.
This past weekend, I traded Nacho the Van for a sketchy motel. I shot two races in eastern Oregon — one XC mountain bike, the other a mud-soaked gravel sufferfest.
Thousands of photos, derailleur-wrecking mud, relentless wind, and more sheep than racers. It was gritty, cold, and perfect. This is what I love — chasing moments that tell the full story.
No glamour, just adventure. Sketchy motels and all.
