Bike2Barn

Author: Guillermo

Megan writes:

> Guillermo, from what I’ve witnessed, seems leery of profitable
> scenarios.

That's not quite true.  I'm all about making profits, I just don't want to do it in any way that jeopardizes the activist mission of LocalHarvest. If I was against profits I would have built a 501c3. LocalHarvest.org is a corporation.

Investors in 99.9% of cases are just looking for the best return on their investement, measured in DOLLARS.  Accepting their money means that you have to run things to maximize returns at the expense of everything else. They don't even care about "returns" in any other sense than having a big "liquidity event", like selling to a big corporation or going public.  Both outcomes would destroy the point of LocalHarvest.  I would never do that.  I'd rather scrape by and be an agent of change than get rich while facilitating more "business as usual".  No freaking way.  Sure, there are some investors, few and far between, that really care about building a sustainable business that's run not only for the bottom line, but finding them would be a full time job, and I'd rather focus on building the business.

steal the profits and run!

Author: Megan
September 5, 2005

I’m in Colorado, sans motorcycle, envious of all the leather-clad riders straddling V-twins this Labor Day weekend.  My work with Nextcourse has been picking up and distracting me from writing more about the Bike to Barn trip.  Of course, I get paid by the hour to do this work I love for Nextcourse, while writing for Bike to Barn, (though it also leaves my heart full) does little to fill the bank account.

Clarity on Authoring of this Blog

Author: Megan.
Until today, Guillermo and I have not been indicating which of us is writing each entry.
And then today, someone posted a comment and wondered which of us wrote,
"When I die, I'd rather have some lingerie named after me instead."

Believe it or not, it was Guillermo.

If it will make anyone feel better,
from what I've seen on the road so far,
Guillermo does not himself wear lingerie.

Alas, I have nothing further to offer which could shed any light on this. But I'm sure going to get a lot of leverage with this one, harassing him on the next road trip!

From now on, we'll indicate at the begining of each post, which of us is writing.

Megan

Morning at Pinnacle Organic

Author: Guillermo.    Seeds of Change sent me an invite recently for a "try some of our good stuff" event in the bay area. I have a mile high pile of way overdue things to do, but how could I say no to this perfect excuse to hit the road on the trusty beemer?

Phil Foster, the owner of Pinnacle Organic, gracefully hosted the Seeds of Change event at his farm. Phil owns 250 beautiful acres of prime farmland in the San Benito County.  Riding the bike through the crisp morning air, cutting through the sweet smell of garlic, celery, and onions in the fields, the mind wanders, and I could not help but think of the "San Benito", which is also the name of the garb that the Inquisition used to force poor condemned souls to wear on their way to the bonfire.  This Saint Benito must have been quite a character, to get both this very nice farmland and such a "happy" garment named after him.  When I die, I'd rather have some lingerie named after me instead.

missing the farmers

It's friday night and I'm experiencing a post-trip crash.  A little sadness. I miss our new friends from the farmlands.  As I sit here, writing from my houseboat, I'm wondering what they are all up to this evening. 

I'm picturing RivenRock's fierce guard dog, Whitey, dashing about, (all 3-4 pounds of him) as John hauls stones into the cacti garden and Vickie heads off to her evening caretakers job. 

I'm seeing Bill and Delia gathered around their vast dining room table with their endless stream of guests.  And I'm remembering the distant shrill howl of coyotes that lulled me to sleep in their house last Monday night. 

Are Tracey and Carole hard at work in their home offices in Ojai, overseeing the unrelenting growth of their Edible empire?  And what about Dan at Sunny Acres?  Will he have new battles to fight next week as he struggles to maintain a legal right to house members of his farm-based addiction recovery program? 

Did Gary the landscape architect make it back to San Deigo in that bad-ass orange car of his?

My motorcyle has been parked for two days.  Resting until we hit the road again.  Soon we'll ride.

Story of a Penny

Dick Rogers, of Hollyhock farm, (see the Hollyhock album) gave to me an old Indian penny, the likes of which he presents to people who make a strong impression on him.  (Was it my motorcycle or the way that Guillermo and I burst into his home that made such an impression?)  Regardless, I was moved and honored.

The last person Dick gave a penny to was to a ranking soldier who was sitting among a group of young soldiers in a local restuarant.  They were preparing to ship out for their second tour in Iraq.

Dick, who used to work for the establishment, has become increasingly disenchanted with it.  He could not fathom, that a group of young men would have to endure two tours of duty in our senseless invasion in Iraq. 

When Dick presented a penny to the soldier, the soldier appeared baffled.  He slowly reached into his pocket and produced his own Indian penny, which he carries for luck.  He kept Dick's penny, asked for his address, and promised correspondence from the troops in Iraq. 
We hope for their safe return home.

Hahahahah Who's Guillermo talking about?

Hahahahaha

No one who knows me well, (in particular my mother), will believe this comparison, written by Guillermo:

We've turned to to be perfect travel buddies.   I tend to be scattered and overenthusiastic.  Megan is very organized and grounded and brings some sanity

De Vuelta a Casa

Author:  Guillermo.  Wow.. that was quite something!   I'm happy to say that the first Bike2Barn tour has been a success.  I've been wanting to do these trips for years, and it's great to finally get one of them completed, even if only a "mini farm tour" for now.  The name was Megan's first contribution to the project, and a good harbinger of, hopefully, many more contributions.   My idea for these trips had always been to spend a couple of months on a motorbike riding up, down and across the good 'ol US of A, visting all those wonderful places and great people that I grew up admiring in the issues of National Geographic, to which my family subscribed to back in my native Peru.  My grandpa had an incredible collection of them in his library, all bound in leather and going back to the 1920's.  I would often visit and spend hours and hours browsing through them and reading about the Okefinokee Wilderness or the East Oregon Cowboys, or the farms in the Imperial valley, or whatnot.

Wednesday - We're back

Wednesday SOOO much to tell.
Guillermo and I will both get to work ASAP, filling in all the blanks, telling all the stories. I'm off to SF now - hopefully will have a little sun on this, the last leg of my coastal ride!

For Novice Riders

Author: Megan.
For Novice Motorcyclists who find Themselves Suddenly Riding with Experts.

Sunday:
Zip up your pockets. I lost 2 credit cards on Route 1 just before Half Moon Bay not even 45 minutes into my trip Sunday. I’d used one to buy gas and forgot to zip my pocket. I couldn’t figure out at first, what the hell was fluttering against me then dropping onto the highway. I know I know, I’ve been told at least once or twice by motorcycling friends I need to do this, but maybe now I’ll remember.
And don’t go looking to steal my cards. They’re already cancelled.

Monday:
I’m not sure what Guillermo thought I meant when I told him before taking this trip, “I’m a new driver, I wanted to drive slowly on this trip. I don’t think my bike can do more than fiftyfivesixty. “ But already by the time we were five miles from his house in Santa Cruz, he’s got me pushing my own boundaries. Turns out my bike will do 60, easy. In fact, it will do nearly 70. On a straightaway.

After my first stretch at sixtyfiveseventy, I thought, “Well, that’s great, that’s the worst it can get. It will be cake from here on out.” That was until I later found myself driving in the dark, blinded by oncoming headlights going around hairpin curves on the PCH. “Ok” I thought again, when we finally turned into our campsite not long before midnight, “That’s it, that was the worst of it. It will be cake from here on out.” Then we woke to fog. Fog and winding roads not visible for more than 20 feet in front of me. Then later it was gravel roads (up and down wrong driveways with barking dogs and little space to turn around) which, I didn’t even know the M-Bike could handle. Guillermo later said to me, “Ah, you might want to get your suspension re-done, it looks kind of shot like you were bumping around a lot.” And he wonders why my ass gets so sore? I’ve stopped waiting for my cake. We still haven’t had rain….

Random funny stuff

Author: Megan.

Funny Things

Perspective.
How two people can have such different approaches to taking a trip. Here I am waxing poetic about my philosophy and goals behind this trip. Guillermo writes an email to his friends prior to our departure and shares with them his goals: to see farms and eat.

Guillermo asked if we should bring along an empty saddlebag, “You know, in case someone gives us a really great piece of cheese or something.” Um sure, I agree, but later harass him endlessly – wondering why we still haven’t been given that 100 year-old giant piece of cave-aged to put in the case.

During our Monday morning foggy drive down PCH, we stopped in Cambria, where we were happy to find wireless internet at a spot that served great espresso. We couldn’t help but rudely snicker at their indoor seating spot though, with it’s office-like chairs and conference table. It felt rather like a motel lobby. (See pics of the purple room.)
And dang, it had been cold enough on the ride that morning to feel like winter, I wasn’t surprised to hear Christmas tunes piping into the room.
I wished Guillermo a Merry Christmas

Day 2. Mid-day - Ironies

Monday Mid-day

I’m writing while kneeling on the sidewalk at a gas station parking lot in the town of Nipomo. Generally, I like to write in cozy cafes, in my bed, at a desk with a view.
But this is one of the beauties of travel. You get used to having less, and become grateful for the bare minimum you really need to survive. Food. Water. Gas. A few moments of freedom from a vibrating CM 400 seat, and a place to sit with the laptop…
Guillermo has gone off to the Nipomo post office to see if we can track down a farm for which we have only the PO Box number. Ironic, isn’t it - that we have a handheld GPS and palm pilot listing all LocalHarvest’s farms at our disposal, and yet we’re asking the postman where the farmer is.

More irony.
As of noon Monday, we, the road warriors for the local food gospel, have tasted just one green bean from one farm. This is not what Guillermo was expecting.
Rather, he’s been having vivid daydreams about the bountiful gifts of fruit and cheese and nuts he will be receiving along the route. (For more on this, see the posting, Funny Things)
But alas, in fact, we’ve been remiss. There was me, nearly choking on imported melons during my pre-trip dinner. And, there were both of us, hemming and hawing, finally having to admit to Gary that the figs we’d been offering him were not, as he has excitedly hoped, from a local farm. Nope, we picked ‘em up at Whole Foods on our way down to Big Sur. Figs, to go with the Spanish cheese and Chilean wine Guillermo’s friend brought out from New York City. It’s not easy to eat local food in America.

Day 1. Evening - We Ride!

Author: Megan.
So much is happening, I can barely get it all down. It's amazing! Bear with me as the editing/spelling/wordsmithing may decline in quality until I have time to edit once I've returned to Sausalito!

Sunday Night.

Guillermo is devious. He looked so excited and boyish when he said to me earlier, “How about we head South tonight instead of tomorrow!? He got me all geared up. It sounded reasonable at the time, “We’ll head down, maybe just for an hour or so for sunset and camp near Big Sur.” Two and a half hours later, we’re driving, in the pitch dark, along the winding Pacific Coast Highway. And I’m finding it a wee bit scary. I’m finding it exhilarating as well, as I watch Guillermo’s red taillight careening along in front of me. The black of night surrounding me. Wind and engine rumbling in my ears.

We arrive at a full campsite in the Los Padres National Forrest. While Guillermo drives around to suss out the best spot (Those of you who know me will find this humorous. Usually I’m the one looking for the best spot. Last night I would have slept in a parking lot.) While Guillermo circles, a short-ish bearded man wearing a head-lamp over his grey hair approaches me and says softly, “Campsite’s full.” Why is he speaking so softly and in a strange voice – is he crazy? Drunk? I turn off the engine and realize soon that yes, perhaps he’s drunk but he’s also quite lovely, and is our saving grace for the night.

He’s Gary Ruyle, a landscape architect from San Diego, and he generously offers to share his campsite. It makes sense, who wouldn’t want to share the amazing spot he’s eeked out. He insists we have a look over the cliff’s edge, to see the water far below where, as he described, whales had been “broaching” all afternoon. We all stood quietly and admired the stars.

Guillermo and I had stopped along these same cliffs, not long before arriving at the campsite, just as the nearly full moon was coming up over the hills. He’d motioned for me to come to the cliff’s edge and we listened to the chorus of seals barking below.
I shivered with cold and immensity of the space and darkness around me.
“Hey Guillermo, did you feel the air suddenly turn warm there through Big Sur…” He completed my thought, “..and the air smelled so fragrant. Sweet.” Crickets.

Yeah, travel is something to be shared, among friends and strangers. Accepting the kindness of others while traveling can be so humbling. How grateful I was, for Gary’s lamplight at the site, and his desire to share the view. I was glad Guillermo had brought wine and figs to offer him in return. We swapped addresses with Gary in the morning, admired and took photos of one another’s vehicles (his is the badass orange car in the photo album), and we all drove out together, down along the foggy Pacific Coast Highway towards parts South.

Day 1. A Sore Ass

Author: Megan.
My ass is sore. On my ride down from San Francisco to Santa Cruz to meet up with my riding partner, Guillermo Payet, I discovered a few new things about my Honda CM400c. One is that the throttle vibrates and makes my hand a little numb. The other is that my bike is not a cruiser.
It is not ass friendly.

I spent some time, just north of Davenport, debating whether or not I can use words like “ass” in this blog. I’d decided yes, primarily because there’s no more satisfying way to express it. My ass is sore. And, I don’t think California farmers and our good friends (our intended audience) will mind such language. Guillermo has just agreed. “If they don’t like it, fuck 'em. It’s our blog”
Ok. So I guess “ass” is not a problem after all

I’ve just completed my first leg of this inaugural “Bike to Barn” motorcycle trip on my trusty M-Bike, which I began riding only last year. I now find myself in the home of Guillermo Payet, founder of LocalHarvest (www.LocalHarvest.org), and my riding companion for the next four days.

Guillermo will probably think I’m nuts. While he’s been geeking out, loading farm information into his new GPS and building the blog for this trip, I’ve been battling some pre-trip anxiety. I keep in mind, our collective goal is to get out and have an amazing journey, tell stories from the farm and meet the people Guillermo has been connecting with on LocalHarvest since 1999. However, I cannot lie, I have a personal agenda on this trip. It’s to complete it alive and functioning, with four limbs - much the way I was as I was bungying my sleeping bag to my bike in Sausalito this morning.

Guillermo shouldn’t have any pre-trip anxiety. He was riding bikes up mountains and along dirt roads in Lima, Peru when he was just 18. I asked him when he started riding bikes in his motherland, and he answered confidently, “As soon as my mom didn’t have any power to stop me.” Guillermo also has 700 more cc’s than I do with his ’95 BMW R11GS.

Now my mechanics, Jefferson and Charlie at Charlie’s Place in San Francisco, have assured me I’ll be ok on the coastal roads with my little engine. Just this morning, I was parked at a light on Gough, when a long dirty white 1970’s-ish car pulled alongside me. It was Jefferson, looking quite hungover with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. “Tomorrow, this bike will be in LA!” I gave him a thumbs up. He looked M-bike up and down and still with his cigarette in his mouth muttered, “I think you’ll be ok.”

I really screwed myself by renting a 750 nighthawk in Maui last week – discovering how much a few extra Ccs can help stabilize a bike around curves and against wind.
Thank goodness I’m used to the gusts across Golden Gate Bridge, and have experienced the gut wrenching sideways pushing of my bike already. When I saw 50 foot trees bowing down to the coastal winds today, I gave myself over to the elements and drove without fear.

Guillermo has decided we’ll start heading south tonight, and will camp near Big Sur. We’re hoping to keep a lunch date tomorrow at the Coleman family farm in Carpenteria. Guillermo is running around packing and I’ve asked him if he ever gets pre-trip anxiety. Without pause, he answered. “Everytime I go somewhere, I think about my mortality. Because if you become too complacent, that’s when you plghhhhfp.”

My mom will be glad to hear that.

I think about my mortality. Last night on my houseboat, I almost choked on a piece of melon and I thought, would I rather die on my kitchen floor with a piece of unidentifiable melon in my throat, or on a 4 day motorcycle trip visiting family farms in coastal California?

Clearly, I’ve made that decision. And I want to keep in mind what incredible personal and professional opportunities are at hand here. One of the projects I have to complete for my job as Outreach Coordinator at Nextcourse, (http://www.nextcourse.org) is to help write our outreach program mission statement. We run programs teaching courses on cooking, nutrition and sustainable food systems for women in the SF County Jail and child-care givers in Visitacion Valley, and will be starting new programs with high school kids in San Francisco this fall.

I’ve been a little stuck, trying to concisely articulate the myriad things we do at Nextcourse, and what impact we have on the people we work with, as well as the greater food system. I had a realization this week, while attending the Food Alliance Roundtable at City Hall, that while refining our focus and educational offerings at Nextcourse, I need to also understand what needs exist - both the needs of the various entities of the food system community, and those of the populations we're trying to reach. Hopefully, this visit to the farms will help me see an even bigger piece of this intricate puzzle. It's the puzzle all of us who toil for food justice and sustainable food systems know must soon be put together.