Spokes and Shoes

Intro The Lima sky hasn’t changed; it remains a heavy slab of wet wool pressing down on the coast, turning the air into a thick, humid soup. I started the day with a flicker of hope for my bike, but the urban pavement and mechanical incompetence quickly turned the mood […]

Intro Today was about letting the chain stay slack and the tires cold. After days of the Lima sky pressing down like a slab of wet wool, I stayed inside the Casa Ciclista to handle the digital clutter of a long trip. The pavement outside was damp, but for once, […]

Intro Today was a forced pivot from mechanical frustrations to urban exploration. After the bike shop ghosted my messages about spoke specifications, I left my frame leaning against the wall at the Casa Ciclista and headed toward the coast. The weather finally shifted from that suffocating grey slab to a […]

Intro The third day in Lima feels like living inside a damp sponge. The sky remains a stubborn, heavy slab of wet wool, pressing the coastal humidity into every corner of the Casa Ciclista while my bike sits in pieces across town. Today was supposed to be about recovery, but […]

Intro The sky over Lima remains a stubborn, heavy slab of wet wool, pressing the coastal humidity into every corner of the house. Today, the bike still not ready for pickup, its chain silent for once, as I traded the paved coastal roads for the glowing blue light of a Read more

Intro The sky over Lima today was a thick, suffocating grey, looking less like weather and more like a slab of wet wool pressed against the city. I woke up in the Casa Ciclista feeling content but aware of the mountain of administrative tasks that accumulate when you aren’t pedaling. Read more

Intro The wheels touched down in Lima under a familiar ceiling of clouds that looked like wet wool. After the pressurized, recycled air of the long-haul flight from Germany, the heavy humidity of the coast felt like a physical weight against the terminal glass. I arrived with my internal clock Read more

Intro Today was a transition from the solid, predictable ground of Bavaria to the thin air of a transatlantic crossing. The weather was mostly sunny as I traded the quiet streets of Brannenburg for the high-speed efficiency of German rail, eventually ending up suspended over the Atlantic. There were no Read more

Intro The transition from the slate-grey humidity of Lima to the high-altitude hum of a transatlantic flight was a blur of recycled air and heavy eyelids. Touching down in Frankfurt, the tarmac was bright and the air was sharp, a stark contrast to the thick, salt-heavy blanket I left behind Read more

Intro The morning in Lima was a familiar shade of slate, with a heavy, overcast sky that seemed to hold the city’s humidity hostage. After days of grease-stained hands and the rhythmic clicking of my derailleur, today replaced the gravel under my tires with the sterile hum of an airport Read more