It didn't take long before we were hiding in the bushes. Heavy machinery and watchful eyes lumbered down the rocky road below us. I suppose that's what we deserve for attempting to ride a closed road. But to our credit, we were on bikes and obviously, traffic rules don't apply. My brother, laying horizontal behind a log on an exposed hillside, couldn’t stop smiling. He was able to briefly escape the turmoil of medical school at the University of Washington to join me in Idaho for an annual get-together. This year’s objective was to ski the Devil’s Bedstead, a prominent peak in the Pioneer mountains of Central Idaho. 

I’ll be honest; this Journal Entry is self-fulfilling. I’ll be honest again, explaining our deeper approach to Human Powered Movement merch and business in general is wildly more important than making a few extra bucks on swag. It’s no surprise to anyone that follows HPM that we are outspoken and unashamed tree hugging eco-lovers. Here’s why it’s so important to us.

Clearly, I’m not the only to name their bike. For some, this act is a considerable sign of affection. For others it’s a fun and casual way to give their pedal machine a bit of personality. For me and my bike, I approached the naming process from a number of different angles … one of which was to share a lesser known, but wildly bad ass cycling story. 

Guest Contributor: Kristi Bratton
Read Time: 5mins

When planning a trip to Alaska last year, my crazy and “loving” husband mentioned two things.  First, he argued that maybe he should go solo. Nope! I shot that down immediately. His next comment was something along the lines of “You know this trip isn’t just going to be hanging out and relaxing, right?”. It was time to buckle up for a one-of-a-kind experience.