“The bicycle is just as good company as most husbands and, when it gets old and shabby, a woman can dispose of it and get a new one without shocking the entire community.” Ann Strong, Minneapolis Tribune, 1895
The cruise liner Costa Concordia, which ran aground off the coast of Italy in January, has become an unlikely tourist attraction as salvage crews work to dismantle it just meters from a popular beach. WSJ's Gilles Castonguay reports.
• huffingtonpost, By DAISY NGUYEN and BERNIE WILSON
A yacht involved in a race off the coast of California and Mexico apparently collided at night with a much larger vessel, leaving three crew members dead and one missing.
Some kind of joy faded from my spirit when George the emu quit our partnership. Loneliness crept in again, but I told myself that it was better to have enjoyed him than never to have met him at all. The heat of the desert again engulfed me.
This is where life mingles with death; where every footstep must be watched, measured and tested. At these dizzy heights with loose rock and slippery snow fields, a mountain climber must keep his wits about him every second of the climb.
"I still must abide by the rules of the road, of biking, of gravity. But I am mentally far away from civilization. The world is breaking someone else's heart.” Diane Ackerman
No one ever heard of a bicycle in ancient Greece. However, the cradle of thought promoted by Plato at his ‘Academy’ in 335 B.C. brought seeds of creative energy into being.
“Time means nothing now. It slips away as easily as grains of sand on a beach. But those grains only trade places. On my bike, I change the same way—new locations in the passage of time. The pedaling becomes incidental now—like breathing. No cons
Nonetheless, I took more than a few swigs on my bottle and pointed my bike to follow Denis, Scott and Bob into the depths of what can only be described as Dante’s Inferno…hours later with heat waves rippling of the valley floor, Bob and I opted to ta
One night, two bears frolicked through our campsite while they non-cha-lantly played the mating game. We climbed for hours to Nevada Falls for a spectacular sight! It raged with noise and power and stunning displays of water and vapors.
If death exhalations that brood the broad towns in which we so fondly compact ourselves were made visible, we should flee as from a plague. All are more or less sick; there is not a perfectly sane man in all of San Francisco.” John Muir 1888
Bicycling. I like it for the movement. I don't know if it's poetry in motion, but it is poetry in me. The crank-set is the engine of my travels and the wheels turn with every stroke of my legs. Each day is an experience of mov
John Muir said, “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn lea
Birds are chirping above me as the light fades from the sky and a cool wind whispers through the trees making them creak as they sway back and forth. The campfire chases away the darkness in a small circle surrounded by towering redwoods.
During my lifetime, I have enjoyed Christmas in the Outback of Australia by a campfire. I have enjoyed Christmas along a mountain stream in the Andes. During one Christmas, I gazed at Mount Everest from my perch high in the Himalaya. Today, I would
The veins in their necks stood out as they gnashed their teeth at each other. Shorty uttered a low, grunting sound, yelling into Buffalo's face, "Do ya' think ya' kin whup me midget?"
The two giants glared into each other's eyes. The veins in their necks stood out as they gnashed their teeth at each other. Shorty uttered a low, grunting sound, yelling into Buffalo's face, "Do ya' think ya' kin whup me midget?"
The two giants glared into each other's eyes. The veins in their necks stood out as they gnashed their teeth at each other. Shorty uttered a low, grunting sound, yelling into Buffalo's face, "Do ya' think ya' kin whup me midget?"
Howard and I pedaled through the last month of a coast-to-coast touring adventure. Our legs glistened with sweat as our muscles labored under the constant down-stroke on the pedals. A cop passed us, smiling, but then turned around!
Wild adventure tale of life and death in Alaska:
“The hard life that never knows harness; The wilds where the caribou call; The freshness, the freedom, the farness--Oh God! How I'm stuck on it all."
In New Mexico, I crossed the continental divide and descended into the desert on Route 380. With a blazing sun overhead, I struggled along the two-lane pavement. Sweat dripped from my face and arms. Salty rivulets drained down my backside.
I think this will appeal to the boys with their toys crowd. I sure would like to see the looks on the faces of those who get buzzed during their publicized outdoor speech ... just dreamin'
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