Tag Archives: nyc

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)

Leaving NYC

I temporarily gave up my vagrancy for an opportunity to work with some of the best journalists in NYC.

Now that my job is finished and the ground here is covered in snow, the long road to Sunny South Florida is calling. This time, I'll be the vagrant picking up hitchhikers.

6 months ago, I signed a short-term contract and saved up enough to buy a micro-home-with-an-engine (a Prius) and a folding bicycle. Now that my job is finished and the ground here is covered in snow, the long road to Sunny South Florida is calling. This time, I'll be the vagrant picking up hitchhikers.


My short-term plan is to find long-term parking for my car in Atlanta, then hop on a one-way bus to Key West, FL with my new Brompton folding bicycle and a 50L backpack This ~1,500 km trip will be a gentle test of bicycle touring with the Brompton.

If all goes well, my long-term plan is to use this setup for a bike-packing trip from the southern tip of India up to China, then down to Vietnam. Or Ethiopia to Botswana. Or zig-zagging Europe. But probably Asia.



New York City Vagrant

After 6 days, I finished hitch hiking 1,500 km from Ft Lauderdale, Florida to Asheville, North Carolina. It took me another 10 days to go the last 1,000 km to Philidelphia, where I paid $10 for the Chinatown bus into Manhattan.

The sad reality of my hitch hiking experience on the East US is that it was slower than riding a bicycle.

Most of this trip was spent in the blistering sunshine, ~8 hours per day sitting on an on-ramp, smiling & holding a cardboard sign inscribed with my next relative destination. It would have been more productive had my headphones been working, as I had a tall stack of audiobooks & podcasts awaiting my ears.

A backpack is sitting in the shoulder of an on-ramp with a cardboard sign reading "NYC". A sign indicates that the on-ramp is Interstate 95.
Thumbing my way back to NYC

The sad reality of my hitch hiking experience on the East US is that it was slower than riding a bicycle.

Of the time I spent in cars, everyone I met was quite benevolent. It was a mix of the coolest truck drivers imaginable, old hippies that have done lots of hitching themselves, religious folk living by the word of Jesus trying to help someone out, and friends who just wanted someone to talk to on their arduous, long-distance drive.

Contrary to what I've read, the only offers I got from the uniformed gangsters that patrol the streets was threats to take me to jail--specifically from the dumbest Men in Blue who couldn't differentiate a pan handler from a hitch hiker..

A suspension bridge with many lanes of cars. A sign hangs that reads "Welcome to NEW YORK. THE EMPIRE STATE."
Back to NYC

My last ride dropped me off in Philadelphia by the airport. I walked from there to Chinatown (gorging on a crate of mangoes scored from a wholesale produce market I passed en-route), and met a Chinese-American woman by a plastic sign tied to a post that said "NYC one-way $10". I boarded the bus, and found myself emerging from the Tunnel connecting New Jersey (one of 5 States where hitch hiking is illegal) to Manhattan a couple hours later. I bought a subway pass, and headed to Brooklyn to meet an old friend.

Finally, I arrived to NYC.


Hitchhiking Florida to New York

Tomorrow I'm going to the I-75 on-ramp, sticking out my thumb, and hitchhitching 2,500 km from Florida to New York City. I've never hitchhiked more than a few hundred km, so this multi-day adventure is a long-awaited trip. Tomorrow I'm picking up a cardboard box, ripping it to size, and painting "I 75 N" with my magnum permanent marker--the hitchiking essential.

A backpack is sitting in the shoulder of an on-ramp with a cardboard sign reading "NYC". A sign indicates that the on-ramp is Interstate 95.
Thumbing my way back to NYC

It's my second week living unemployed, and I'm wasting no time jumping head-first into my first adventure as an American Vagrant. I have some paperwork to file in the Big City, then I plan to stick out my thumb again--hitching WB from New York to San Francisco. My hope is to make it in a week, but yahoo answers says 4 days to 1 year 😉


Brazil

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself on an unfamiliar bicycle--winding through cars on the streets of São Paulo, Brazil. As we went over a narrow bridge, my couch surfing host shouted back at me, "watch out for the motorcycles!" They were splitting the lanes too, and a force to be avoided.

A woman and a man wait in front of a man wearing red holding a red flag that reads "PARE". Across the street there are high rises to the right of the road and large green trees to the left of the road.
Cycling São Paulo

I arrived to Southern Brazil after Argentina and Uruguay. After a couple weeks in Buenos Aires, I hopped a bus up to Montevideo, Uruguay--where I spent a week. As quickly as I fell in love with the people, the culture, the herbs, and the Fainá, I was off NB again. I had 2 days to bus 2,000 km up to Rio de Janeiro. There was no bus that went the entire distance, and bus companies in Brazil require Brazilian IDs to purchase tickets online. So I bought a ticket to Pelotas and crossed my fingers. When I arrived, the bus to Rio was sold-out, but I just bought a ticket North, and--after a few transfers--I reached a station in Florianópolis with a straight-shot to Rio.

Mikey stands facing away from the camera leaning on a wooden railing. The landscape in front of them is a lush green jungle with a huge river flowing through it. In the background, massive waterfalls gush water into the river.
Foz do Iguaçu

It was a bit intimidating stepping onto the street out of the bus station when I finally arrived (well, after chasing down my bus--banging on the side to let me re-board; I had forgotten my jacket in the seat pocket). Brazil, and Rio especially, is known for both violent crimes and petty theft--both on behalf of the poor and the police. This is a country with vast resources--one of the most powerful emerging economies in the world--yet there is still massive class disparity and corruption. In fact, the streets were still tagged with spraypaint condemning the political coup 5 months earlier that saw the ousting of Dilma Rousseff (from the Workers' Party).

Continue reading Brazil

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!


From Peru to India

I'm laying on my bed in a small room on the 4th floor of my new room in Miraflores. In 2 weeks I plan to be in Cusco, exploring ancient ruins like Machu Picchu for my week off. I've grown to like this place; I'm sharing it with ~6 other International travelers, it has a nice rooftop right outside my window, and it's no-frills cheap. $280/month rent. Beats the hell out of $850/mo in NYC.

Drop Machu Picchu. Drop Patagonia. Drop festival in Rio de Janeiro. I'm going to India!

I'm switching tabs back-and-forth between launching nodes in aws and researching bus routes for my next 6 months in South America: Valparaíso, Buenos Aires, Los Ríos, Christmas in Torres del Paine (Patagonia), Montevideo, Festival in Rio de Janeiro. I'm excited as I read through the internet travel guides and multi-day, international bus routes.

My boss sends me a message. I expect he's going to yell at me for signing-off for an hour during lunch. Instead, he asks, "Would you be interested in working in India for a couple months?"

Drop the phone. Drop everything. Drop Machu Picchu. Drop Patagonia. Drop festival in Rio de Janeiro. I'm going to India!

Continue reading From Peru to India

A hobo is born

After I graduated college, I sold or gave away most of my possessions. As a young US American following the footsteps of many before me, I headed west to California.

ho·​bo  / ˈhō-(ˌ)bō /
(n.) a migratory worker

With just a few duffel bags of cargo, my 21-st century move from Florida to California lasted only a few hours on an airplane. My destination: San Francisco -- where, in a few weeks, I'd begin a new job as a software engineer.

During my time living in California, I visited Yosemite National Park and went on my first-ever overnight trekking trip. This experience taught me much about self-sufficiency and packing light--something that I later refined to an art.


I was in San Francisco for just over a year, but I never spread my roots too deep. Before my second year, my feet were itching for something new, and I found myself on a plane again -- this time destined for New York. With Guthy's voice singing through my earphones, I flew from the Redwood forests to the New York islands.

After some time, I was off again, heading down the US east coast back to Florida, and I hopped a plane to the furthest city in America that had an international airport -- Santiago de Chile.