I Climbed a Mountain And Turned Around…Then the Landslide almost brought me down…

“I climbed a mountain then turned around… saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought me down”


Life for me is like a mountain. I’m always climbing reaching for a life that means something. For now spending my time riding bikes while alternating between college every fall is the ultimate enjoyment. Sure, it’s tough. Rewards are far and few in-between but does that matter…

Riding bikes in the lovely winter out here in Georgia is the life. In these moments life seems easy everything is carefree…you simply ride. Riding is enough. My mind is to busy to calculate…pressing through the pain as as the group surges along. In these moments I’m to busy to acknowledge life outside of cycling despite the warnings whispers. I hear a lot of ‘there’s no money in cycling’ …

Finish your degree get a real job… thoughts like these add to the pile of woes pressing the carefree moments down…submerging me.

Instances like these cause me to dig deep to clutch the most important thoughts.

First of all I was never worried about money.  I have the rest of my life to spend in the office plugging away, calculating numbers,earning for the weekends.

Cycling goals may not be forever but for now I choose this life. These goals may change in a year or two but I’ll be dammed if I’ll let others opinions dictate my life.

I simply want to live life. Youth is not eternal I choose to spend mine wisely.

I love riding bikes and getting to meet beautiful people all at different points in life striving for their goals or dreams.

You never know maybe along the way I might just find my calling. Maybe it won’t be bikes. If that falls through you might just see me backpacking across Europe putting that Irish passport to use. 😉 But I’ll never know I guess I’ll just have to keep meandering along.

See you out there.


Scotland…barely in one piece

Somewhere on Lancaster Campus Located in the United Kingdom I found myself situated on a suitcase loaded full of bike gear waiting for my much-anticipated car ride to appear. I would be traveling with the University club for a weekend getaway to Scotland. A typical collegiate cycling trip in the United States was usually overrun by a horde of guys or in this case “boys” sorry Lancaster peeps if your reading this…if your 21 and under your classified as boys”.

My first mountain biking trip from the University to Scotland was nothing far from the usual. I see a car roll around the corner loaded to the brim with mountain bikes and camping gear.

Yes, that’s my ticket a typical collegiate getaway is never complete without a cozy fitting transportation. Despite the rearrangement of doing our best to play the shuffle game I found myself situated with a bag between my legs on the floor squished into the back along with two pleasant British mountain biking dudes. As usual with groups we were running late… according to the others we would soon make up the time with the current dude situated in the drivers seat.

I soon learned that to be more than true as we turned off the main free way heading into the hills we were hitting the straight always at nothing short of 90 mph in the pitch black on skinny European roads. If your in the US some of these roads could almost be considered one ways. Somehow despite the overloaded car we managed to make air on multiple occasions. And the corners were nothing short of criterium racing pro1/2 style.

I was clenching the corners of the car with a rather rigid grip as we zipped



…than right.

Every time we would hang a hard left I could most definitely feel the left tire undulating under the weight. I could only pray it wasn’t my time to leave this planet so soon…

And the long blonde haired pony tail guy named Hamish seemed to have a confidence of driving that was very comforting.

Almost three hours into the trip with only one to go and the shared cookies earlier had somehow managed to switch places with my dinner which should have been almost completely digested… Jeesh another typical day with a group of bike loving fools…all we know how to do is hammer hammer hammer…

At this point I couldn’t even bring myself to think about the cliffs situated on every other corner as we wound our way deeper and deeper into the thick of Scotland.

Yes we arrived alive! I plan to come back eventually…maybe not in the same car though  😉

oooo yum
Take a pic while i act cool
another one
another one
Oooo me to
Aww Sweet Beauty
Out of shape mtb
Get the landscape more so than me
Tippy Top timer selfie
Regroup lets take ten minutes to decide where to next
Alright im out of here
Day 2
Deep and Dark
Mud trouble
Its kind of cold but that view…
Just a pole
Scotland Coffee on point
Look at me i have a cool shirt
More decor
Goodbye sweet Scotland

Stressed Departure “Adventures in Europe”

I have been planning to take a trip to Europe ever since I can remember, and it finally become a reality this October 1st. This was the day my study abroad journey began. The days before the journey were smooth sailing as I packed everything I thought I would need. The most import piece of my luggage included my bike carefully taken apart and separated into a frame and wheel bag. Two days before my departure I had set aside a night to disassemble the bike. I am not bike smart by any means; I typically learn as I go. If you fall into this category reserve a night for disassembly. The Hen House bags I was using were special ordered from a bike company based out of Des Moines, called Ruster Sports. If you YouTube Bike disassemble Hen House bags, a lovely tutorial will come showing you step by step directions. If you your impatient like me you might take a look at everything required to be taken apart and dive right in….

WRONG…the steps are specifically set up in order for easy disassemble.


Always document even the small things


SOOOO upon hearing this I uttered every word in my vocabulary (in my head of course), then did the only reasonable thing and opened up my other suitcases which were under limit. I then began shifting weight between the bags. I made a calculated guess as to the approximate weight and dragged the bags back through for round number two. This time the bags were under the weight limit…WHEW, I thought I’m done.



Quite a few hours later I had successfully taken the bike apart shoving it carefully into the bike bag with numerous other amounts of shit. Fun tip…so you can shove whatever else needed into the bag; it actually has quite a bit of extra room. Just make sure its wrapped as the grease will surely stain. Also, keep running tabs on the weight of the bag if your over 60 lbs by a tiny bit you will be charged another huge chunk of $$$$ at least for international flights. If your a college student and a cyclist your most likely broke…

BUT WAIT….the lady went on to hassle me with questions of whether the bag contained a bike or musical instruments. I of course went on to explain to the lady that I had pieces of art work and other odds and ends in the bag. The lady gave me quite a stare before begrudgingly saying ok.

WAIT… your not done fellow bike enthusiast; you then have to drag the bags over to over-sized luggage for further interrogation. If you like quick changing flats like me your probably have air cartridges contained within the case. Just remember your only allowed two cartridges depending on which airline you fly with. A hard lesson I learned on the journey back to the States which I will eventually discuss.

Flying internationally with three checked bags the tally ended up being around $300 dollars. At this point I am wondering why I bought the $400 dollar Hen House bag if I was going to fly internationally rather than just shipping the bike in a bike box via Bike Flights which would have been around $250. Despite the hassle I do think the Hen House bag was worth it. If you were to go light and forgo the suitcase full of clothes and just take a carry on and one personal item the cost of flying internationally would only be $100 dollars. The first bag free and the second part of the bike bag costing you the extra $100 dollars. However this being the first time flying internationally I had failed to think through this scenario. A lesson I will learn on my return flight which will cost me another chunk of $$$$$$.

Right OK I have officially made it through luggage check and have almost made my way through the security checkpoint…Not before I was securely patted down by a somewhat unhappy security guard. Unless you are rather unlucky or happen to have a tiny screws in your wrist from a unfortunate snowboarding accident which sets off the scanner sometimes; you should be able to avoid this incident.

OOOK so I finally make it through and am seated within the waiting area. As my boarding time approaches I unfortunately hear my flight number come across the loudspeaker ‘ Flight blah blah blah will be delayed for maintenance reasons’ oh TERRIFFIC. Another two hours goes by then the boarding begins to take place. This is when you sigh with relief…WRONG. Once we are all securely fastened in the lovely flight attendant regrets to inform us that the flight will be canceled and we will be scheduled on another flight leaving  in a couple hours. My journey hasn’t even began and it appears to be riddled with problems.

Hours later I am again securely fastened ready for takeoff situated next to a lovely gentlemen from Scotland who offers me some hard alcohol which he claims tremendously helps with flight nausea. Had I not been severally nausea anticipating my flight connection which had been at 5 hours in New Jersey dwindle down to a mere 10 minutes; I might have taken him up on the offer. Upon conversating with the gentleman it appears that I have to make it from terminal A to terminal C all within 10 minutes…at this point I am EMOTIONALLY WRECKED.

If I miss this connection…


I will miss my flight to UK


Which causes me to miss my shuttle pick up from the airport to the university


Additionally causing further shit to be messed up

Add these problems onto a already stressful 23 year old and it makes for one stressed out girl. I give myself a small pep talk and as soon as I get the green light i am furiously running off the flight with my backpack and carry on in hand. You can imagine I looked quite funny…the back pack is jumping up and down on my back while the heavily stuffed suitcase is thudding into my shin causing my running stride to be quite fcked up. We have all seen these people running looking kind of foolish and laughed right…well until you have experienced it…its not as funny as you would imagine. Please resist the urge to laugh next time you see one of these unfortunate souls.

After numerous twists turns I arrive just as the shuttle bus is about to depart to terminal C. Whew momentarily I can relax. What seemed like hours later I arrive at terminal C to find out my flight gate is basically situated on the opposite end LOVELY. I continue the run looking a little less of a train wreck as the suitcase rolls behind. Right as the final boarding call rings out I come sweating in just in the nick of time. Now fellow travelers here is a crucial tidbit of information always carry deodorant in your carry on luggage in cases of rare occurrences like mine. Your fellow mates situated beside for you for 7 long hours might not appreciate your recent hard efforts.

Now I can finally relax I am flight bound for the Manchester, United Kingdom.

WRONG…Thoughts of whether or not my most prized possession made the flight continue to tease my mind for the entire 7 hour flight. Any shut eye that could possible come my way would most certainly evaded me…