Ride Archives - Adventure Cycling Association

Trip Recap: Langford’s Third Annual Bike Overnight

Kari Kuwamura — Wed, 24 Jul 2024 18:11:59 +0000

This is the third Langford Elementary School bike camping trip supported by Adventure Cycling’s Bike Overnights program. You can read about the first one here and the second one here. This year, Langford Elementary School celebrated its third annual bike camping trip, supported by Adventure Cycling’s Bike Overnights program. Embracing the tradition, students and volunteers embarked on an adventure from Langford Elementary to McKinney Falls State Park on May 9-10, 2024, marking the final trip before the school closed for renovations. For over seven years, Langford Elementary and the Ghisallo Cycling Initiative have partnered to provide South Austin students with biking opportunities, fostering skills, exploration, and friendships. This time, ten enthusiastic students and three dedicated volunteers set out for an overnight trip.

A Hot and Challenging Journey

Gathering in a classroom after school, the group prepared their bikes, filled water bottles, and loaded gear, including tents and sleeping bags, into the support vehicle. The six-mile ride to McKinney Falls was filled with camaraderie and encouragement as students navigated neighborhood streets, bike lanes, and McKinney Falls Parkway. The trails were too overgrown this year, necessitating a road and bike lane route. Braving one of the hottest days of the year, with temperatures soaring over 90 degrees and limited shade, the kids persevered with the support vehicle providing much-needed water, air conditioning, and moral support. Arriving at McKinney Falls, the intense heat couldn’t dampen their spirits. The group set up camp with enthusiasm and cooperation. The students, many of whom were new to camping, eagerly pitched tents and helped unload the vehicles.

Fun Despite the Heat

The highlight of the trip was playing in the Upper Falls. Recent rainfall had made the creek’s flow even more robust, and the kids delighted in splashing and swimming in the refreshing water. As the day wound down, the group gathered for a delicious dinner. Grilled fajitas, followed by s’mores, made for a memorable meal under the drizzling sky.

Evening Activities and Bonding

After enjoying a dip in the falls, the group encountered thunderstorms, including a tornado that touched down about 15 miles south of the campsite. Despite being in the eye of the storm, the kids munched on cheese sticks until it was dry enough to cook dinner. Though Bike Story Night had to be canceled due to rain, the kids enjoyed a camp-cooled dinner, stories, and tent time with friends. Phone calls from concerned parents and the principal were met with assurances of safety as the group watched the storm pass over.

Wrapping Up

The following morning, the group packed up their tents, enjoyed breakfast tacos, and set out for the return ride to Langford Elementary before school started. The cooler morning weather and downhill ride was a joyful finish to their overnight adventure, with students greeting the wildflowers along the way. Back at school, Principal Castillo welcomed them with congratulatory words and celebrating their successful trip.

Gratitude

This adventure was made possible by the support and dedication of many individuals and organizations. Special thanks to parent volunteers and teachers Girmawi, Lily, Kari, and all the students for their participation and enthusiasm. Kari’s support with the SAG wagon was invaluable for water breaks along the way. We are also immensely grateful to Cabela’s for helping us purchase last-minute tents after discovering our usual tents were damaged. Lastly, a heartfelt thank you to Ghisallo, Langford Elementary, Adventure Cycling, and Texas State Parks for making this trip a reality. As Langford closes its doors for renovations, we look forward to continuing our programming at Palm Elementary, where students will be transferred during the school’s temporary closure.

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Redwood National Park: Local Adventures Can be Grand Adventures

Hollie Ernest — Tue, 02 Jul 2024 20:57:43 +0000

This is a ride report for the Short Route: Eureka, CA: Redwood Coast Loop while the author and her husband were developing the route. Sweat dripped down my nose and landed on my handlebars. Gnats whirred in my ears, determined to steal my sanity. By slapping them, I slapped my own face, and when I slapped my ear too hard my hand got tangled in my helmet strap. I cursed the added weight of the bottle of wine and steak in my pannier. Won’t steak be fun, I had thought. Won’t that be romantic. It was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I questioned why we weren’t swimming and grilling out on the long weekend, like normal people. Instead, I was huffing and puffing and checking the map every tenth of a mile to see if we were at the top of the long, steep gravel climb. We had left our house near the breezy Pacific Ocean in Arcata, California, and pedaled 35 miles over two watersheds, inland to the mountains and the heat. I used to think there was no point cycling roads I drove all the time. For years, I planned cycling trips in other states or countries and neglected the roads around me. Groups of us would mountain bike on our local forest trails, but local overnights seemed either too close or too much hassle. But my partner Tom and I had decided to change it up, mapping this loop and riding it over the long weekend. En route up this hill I had driven dozens of times, I saw clusters of trees I never noticed before, including a few particularly large Douglas firs and madrones. There were also scattered acres that had been harvested for timber, a large boulder shaped like a dog, and the beginning of royal purple larkspur flowers. “Was that there last time we were here?” I asked Tom as we pedaled past a small DIY shooting range just over the BLM boundary. He said that it was. Despite appreciating the novel observations, I was tired and kept asking myself, Where am I? Did we miss the turn? Missing the turn to Lacks Creek is impossible. We would never miss the turn. Tom had driven up to Lacks Creek close to a hundred times during the building of the trail system. We had actually met on that drive years before when I volunteered for a trail-building day. I should have known that his up-for-anything attitude and my motivation for adventurous weekends would lead to this masochistic Friday afternoon. I wiped my sweaty hands on my saturated shorts and kept pedaling. We finally reached the unmissable turn, pedaled another mile, and set up camp overlooking the fog covering the ocean to the west. Horse Mountain sat to the southeast of us, and rays of sunset danced around the clouds. The arduous climb became a distant memory and we felt somewhat smug about our weekend getaway out of the fog and into the warm spring air. Congratulating ourselves with steaks over the fire, we drank wine from the bottle and I went over all the flowers I had seen on the ride, including ones I hadn’t noticed on other trips by car. We were already excited for the next two days of pedaling. The next day we woke up foggy in our heads and legs, but after strong black coffee and tortillas filled with Nutella, we carefully descended corrugated gravel towards the Hoopa Valley to the east. We saw a bear, a fox, and osprey, marveling at the geology of the cliffs and bluffs along State Highway 96, as we cycled north along the Trinity River. The Trinity River merges with the Klamath River, known for its legendary salmon runs. We crossed the bridge at the confluence and refilled our snack supply at the newly renovated Weitchpec store. After crossing the bridge over the wide, murky water, we turned left on the 169, then crossed back over the Klamath and climbed up switchbacks on Bald Hills Road, cycling west. Over the next day and a half, we crossed the ancestral lands of Hupa and Yurok Tribes, up and over Bald Hills Road, and into Redwood National Park. Before crossing into the park, there is a very elaborate Yurok Veterans Cemetery, with somewhat overbuilt concrete buildings, ramps and railings. We paid our appropriate respects over the Memorial Day weekend. The smell of bigleaf maple blossoms sat heavily in the fog as bird calls echoed in the steeper parts of the valley. The pain from Friday had dissolved and we glided along, happy to be pedaling through the mist that covered the golden meadows and purple lupine lining the road. Two years before, I had worked a summer in the Bald Hills on a project to restore habitat for native grasses. Even though I had hiked for more than 100 hours over the oak woodlands and prairies, I hadn’t felt the rolling hills as intimately as that day. This time, on bikes, each meadow and each hill etched into my mind like a nail scratching into an aluminum tree tag, recorded for later. As the road leaves the ridge, potholed hairpin turns lead back to the coast and Highway 101. We descended quickly, seeing 1,00o-year-old redwood trees and outpacing the cars. From the intersection of Bald Hills and Highway 101, you can turn right to go north for more redwood glory via Newton B Drury Scenic Parkway, or turn south and ride through the town of Orick. There is a well-known burger and shake stand in Orick, and I felt like I had earned a meal there. We attacked the elk burgers, fries, and milkshakes like we hadn’t eaten in weeks. I wiped ketchup from my chin and stared at the redwood burls across the highway. Sitting on our stools next to the two-lane highway across the street from a run-down motel, we deemed this was the best Memorial Day weekend. We were on a local adventure, absorbing the hills we call home. The section along the 101 was the most familiar to me, since I drove it often for work. But again, I got to see what I had been missing. A short walk along the beach near Freshwater Lagoon left sand in our cycling shoes, and the waves were deafening, rising close to shore before crashing onto the hard-packed sand. Continuing south along the coast, we passed Big Lagoon and Stone Lagoon, pedaling slow enough to note the level of vegetation in their brackish waters. Otters poked their heads out and gulls crowded the shores. Cormorants glided low over the choppy water. The sky was overcast when we arrived home on Monday afternoon. Instead of punching the weekend to the last minute like usual, we had time to unpack, clean gear, and get ready for work the next day. Despite this moment of responsible behavior, we felt like we had gotten away with something. We’d had an epic weekend and felt like we’d gone far away and seen things no one else had. Since that memorable trip years ago, I’ve cycled various parts of this route on different rides. Each time, I feel a deeper sense of connection and familiarity with the place I call home. Instead of regarding these places as mundane or boring, I see them as more special. Each small hill, each large mountain, each watershed, or smooth-barked trees… are all special. This particular weekend reminded me that adventure is a mindset, and the ‘grand’ part of grand adventures is up to us.

Find the route here

Nuts and Bolts

This is a loop route with a start / finish in Eureka, California.
It is 185 miles with 16,167 feet of climbing and can be cycled in either direction.
There is not much resupply, so take most of what you’ll need and top up on snacks accordingly.
Depending on the time of year, you’ll want to be strategic about water. After a rainy winter, there will likely be more springs, but these dry up in the fall or during low-precipitation summers. There are several waterless sections as well.
You can shorten or lengthen this route according to your timeframe. There are several out-and-backs included in the route, in order to factor in spaced-out campgrounds. The road is mostly paved roads with a few short gravel sections.

Highlights

Ecosystem variety! You’ll see Humboldt Bay, inland conifer forests, steep river valleys, oak forests, and prairies before returning to the Pacific Coast.
Seeing several watersheds
Redwood trees
Mountain views
If you do this route in the summer you’ll have campgrounds with riverfront spots

While dominant winds on the coast are typically from the west and/or north, it’s worth checking the wind direction on an app like Windy before choosing which direction to ride. The route is designed to leave from Eureka, the population center for Humboldt County, but you could easily start from Arcata, McKinleyville, or another nearby community. Eureka and Arcata have plenty of shops and accomodations, but once you get pedaling, resupply is limited to convenience stores in Weitchpec and Orick. Campsites near the route are marked on the Ride with GPS route, and you can divide the days however you like. People who want to speed through it could do it in two or three days, while sightseers could turn it into a five-day tour. This route has a lot of climbing, as well as some short sections with high traffic, so it is not recommended for families or kids. This route takes place on the ancestral lands of the Hupa, Karuk, Yurok, and Wiyot peoples.

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A Little Loop in Michigan

Laura Killingbeck — Thu, 06 Jun 2024 19:49:43 +0000

One of my favorite ways to see a new place is to make my own bike loop. I love pedaling away from wherever I am and returning a few days later to the same spot. There’s a magic in leaving and returning at the speed of your own legs. This year I spent the winter caretaking a condo and dog in western Michigan, and after that I had a few days to explore. I decided to go on a little bike loop to see more of the backcountry and coastline.

Route Planning

To plan this trip, I just poked around the Adventure Cycling Association website and Bikepacking.com to see if there were any bike routes nearby. On the Adventure Cycling website I found the North Lakes cycling route, a paved U.S. bike route along the coast of Lake Michigan. The route had easy resupplies, great views of the lake, and plenty of camping options. And it passed directly through the town I was in! I found the North Country Traverse on Bikepacking.com. This is a 172-mile non-technical singletrack route starting at a trailhead about 50 miles away. The route also showed plenty of backcountry camping options, water, and easy resupplies. I compared the two routes and found they intersected at the northern terminus of the North Country Traverse at Traverse City, creating a near-perfect loop. I could ride out of town on the North Lakes cycling route, cut over to the North Country Traverse, take that to Traverse City, and then hop back onto the North Lakes route down the coast to where I’d started. So that’s what I did! The total length of this route was about 300 miles, and it took me about a week and a half. I also wrote about my first day on this trip in this story. Here are the details about this shorter route, and how to tackle it yourself.

Navigation

Before I left, I downloaded maps of the area to my phone and tablet through Google Maps and Gaia. Google Maps is a free source for offline road maps. Gaia is an excellent app that shows detailed hiking and biking routes, campsites, and landscapes. I also downloaded the North Country Traverse GPX files to my phone and tablet from Bikepacking.com. The Adventure Cycling Association’s North Lakes Route can be downloaded through the Adventure Cycling Association’s Navigator App or as GPX files. Since I was only doing a short section of this route, I didn’t need to download those maps for this trip. But if I were doing a longer section it would have been useful. The Navigator App makes it easy to follow any of the Adventure Cycling Association’s bike routes. Along my ride, I also picked up a paper map of cycling routes from the Michigan Department of Transportation. You can order or download that map from their website.

Landscape and Climate

I left in mid-April, which is technically spring, but in Michigan it still felt like winter! During the first few days of my trip, I experienced rain, sleet, snow, and a brief moment of surprise hail. Nighttime temperatures were in the 20s. A week and a half later when I finished my trip, flowers were blooming and temperatures were in the 60s. The entire loop was mostly flat with some short, rolling hills. There were no mountain passes or significant elevation changes. The North Country Traverse highlighted western Michigan’s secluded forests and dunes. The North Lakes Route reminded me of Adventure Cycling’s Pacific Coast Route, which I cycled last year. If you’re attracted to shoreline riding, the Michigan section of the North Lakes Route is a gem.

Camping and Resupply

I camped every night along the way. The North Country Traverse and my section of the North Lakes route both pass through National and State forest land with ample free dispersed camping. I supplemented my dispersed campsites with registered camping in Michigan’s extensive network of primitive campgrounds. As always, the Adventure Cycling Association and Bikepacking.com show campsites, lodging options, and grocery stores on their route maps. I always bring tons of food with me wherever I go. I prefer to eat as much as I want all the time without having to measure or ration anything. I also often dehydrate my own foods ahead of time and take them with me. This means I end up carrying a lot of extra weight in food, but I don’t really mind. On this trip I supplemented the food I brought from home with resupplies at country stores, gas stations, and grocery stores. There were plenty of options. I got most of my water in towns, but also occasionally filtered water from streams.

Bike and Gear

I don’t think you need the “perfect” gear to go on a bike trip. You just need the gear that will get you there and back, and keep you safe and happy along the way. My setup is always a mix of things I happen to have, items that survive the test of time, and whatever new gear I’m testing for gear companies. You can see my full gear list for this trip here.

Creating Your Own Bike Loop from a Larger Route

Since 1976, the Adventure Cycling Association has mapped over 50,000 miles of bike routes across the United States. These bike routes intertwine and overlap, forming hundreds of possible loops. You can also make your own loop by splicing routes together however you want. I’ve often planned my bike trips to start or end at my house or a friend’s house. That’s what I love so much about bike travel: you can start wherever you are, or aim for wherever you want to be. The adventure unfolds along the way. To make your own loop, just choose a place to start or end and then pull out some maps. The Adventure Cycling Association’s Interactive Route Map is a great place to look. How close are you to a bike route?

The North Lakes Route Nuts and Bolts

Overview: The North Lake Route connects 1,600 miles of pavement and bike paths between Minneapolis, Minnesota and Denver, Indiana. Distance: 1,600 miles (1,200 miles plus additional route alternates) Route Surface: Paved Terrain: Backroads, highways, and bike paths. Flat or rolling, with no major mountain passes. Best Season to ride: Spring, summer, and fall (Adventure Cycling recommends May through September). Bike: Any bike Find more information and download maps through the Adventure Cycling Association.

The North Country Traverse Nuts and Bolts

Overview: The North Country Traverse is a singletrack bike route through western Michigan. It follows a bike-friendly segment of the North Country Trail (NCT), a 4,800-mile footpath between North Dakota and Vermont. Distance: 173 miles Route Surface: 86% unpaved, 66% singletrack Terrain: Mostly non-technical with some roots, leaf litter, blow-downs, sand, mud, bridges, stairs, and other obstacles. Flat or rolling. The trail is well-marked with signs and blue blazes. Best Season to ride: Spring, summer, and fall. (Bikepacking.com recommends April through November, or whenever the trail is clear of snow.) Bike: This is a mountain bike route. Recommended tire size is two inches or wider. Find more information and GPX files at Bikepacking.com.

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Celebrating the Northern Tier on its 40th Anniversary

Maggie Slepian — Mon, 06 May 2024 17:18:57 +0000

In June of 1976, Adventure Cycling — then known as Bikecentennial — mapped and publicized their first route: the TransAmerica Trail. This cross-country route stretched over 4,000 miles from Astoria, Oregon to Yorktown, Virginia and became an instant classic. But even as the TransAmerica Trail was being finalized, another idea was taking shape: a second route that would also cross the U.S. coast to coast, but this one would stay up north. The idea was to hug the Canada / U.S. border, aiming to maximize the grandeur and rugged beauty of the northern part of the country.

This is the route that would become the Northern Tier, initially conceived in 1975 and officially mapped by Adventure Cycling cartographers in 1983 and 1984. The final version, completed in 1984, was a 4,296-mile adventure from Anacortes, Washington to Bar Harbor, Maine. To gain funding for the Northern Tier’s development, Adventure Cycling Founder Greg Siple and former Adventure Cycling Executive Director Gary MacFadden pulled out all the stops on their proposal. They displayed the system of routes combined with photographs of scenery along the way, sending professionally bound copies of the proposal to the Huffy Foundation, which had potential for grant funding. Eventually the deal was made, and the financial backing helped make the Northern Tier possible.

Pamphlet page displaying routes along the Northern Tier states.

The Northern Tier was created by combining a network of pre-existing routes linked together with new segments to reach coast to coast; a dramatic, challenging cross-country ride that begins and ends with serious climbing, leading cyclists through incredible scenery on a near-constant basis. Today, it remains a bucket-list route, taking cyclists from Washington State to the Northern Rockies, into the sweeping plains of the Dakotas and iconic mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont. Cyclists riding its entirety will pedal everything from Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park to Kancamagus Pass in New Hampshire, and climb nearly 175,000 total feet. This year marks the 40th anniversary of the Northern Tier, and as summer approaches, the season for cycling this route will soon be upon us. “The Northern Tier is kind of a hidden gem,” says Jenn Hamelman, Adventure Cycling Association Routes Director. “The TransAmerica is the most popular, and people see the Southern Tier as more appealing because it’s shorter. But the Northern Tier is really something that gets overlooked.”

Dan Miller

Hamelman cycled over 2,100 miles across the northern U.S. in 2017, from Maine to Minnesota before she hopped off to avoid the threat of wildfires. She based her route on the Northern Tier, albeit with a few modifications to see friends and acquaintances. “The people across the route were amazing,” Hamelman says, recounting tales of trail angels, friendly locals, and hospitable town stops. That’s not to say her experience on the route was easy. “Both the eastern and western parts of the Northern Tier are very mountainous and hilly,” she recalls. “Crossing Vermont and New Hampshire is just one pass after another. It’s pretty intense… Kancamangus Pass was one of my hardest days of cycling ever.”

Chuck Haney

While Adventure Cycling doesn’t have exact records as to the number of cyclists on the Northern Tier route each year, Adventure Cycling guided tours have rave reviews, and self-supported cyclists have ethusiastically volunteered tales of their journeys. The reasons cyclists gave for choosing this route varied. Some were inspired by other cyclists, some sought the majestic scenery of the Northern U.S. and for several, it was their first extended bike tour. Several people also mentioned the desire to “circumnavigate” the U.S. on Adventure Cycling routes — top to bottom, east to west… on four sides. This epic goal includes cycling the West Coast on the Pacific Coast route, the East Coast on the Atlantic Coast, the northern states on the Northern Tier, and the southern part of the country on the Southern Tier. We reached out to several cyclists for their memories* of the Northern Tier. In their own words, here is the Northern Tier from two self-supported cyclists and one Adventure Cycling tour guide. Perhaps their stories might be the final push you need to add this route to your own list.

***

Deb Gardner

Year: 2018 Type: Self-supported Direction: West to East Duration: 64 days

Deb Gardner

My husband Tom and I completed the Northern Tier route in 2018. We thought of the route as an Oreo cookie — flat grasslands sandwiched between mountain ranges on either side. But beyond cookies, and notable landmarks like the Cascades, Glacier National Park, Logan Pass, visiting Canada (twice), eventually the Adirondacks, the Green Mountains, the Whites and Niagara Falls. The seed [for riding this route] was planted back in 2014 when we were on our way back to the Spokane airport after running a couple marathons in Idaho and Washington. While driving through the Cascade mountains on Highway 2 we passed a mother/daughter duo cycling West to East across the country on the Northern Tier. We stopped to chat with them and decided it would be this trip, this route, this direction, someday. Northern Tier, to us, appeared to be the “granddaddy” of all rides in the continental United States due to its length and the variety of topography. We rode West to East because we live in Indianapolis and we could get home more easily from Maine than Washington. After shipping our bikes to Bellingham, Washington, we started on June 1st and finished on August 7th in 64 days, taking only four rest days.

Deb Gardner

The highlight of the trip was seeing our country and meeting its people at an average speed of 10 miles an hour from a bicycle seat… slower than a car, but faster than walking. In our opinion, bike touring is the best way to experience our country if you’re able. The start and finish of any ride is always a highlight, however cycling Going-To-The-Sun Road and visiting the National Parks were right up there. Tom’s favorite state was bucolic Wisconsin whereas I was in my groove in upstate New York with its mountains, trees, and lakes. We both agreed that North Dakotans were the most friendly folks. For some, the toughest days will be climbing. For others it will be the gas station food. Still others will struggle with the inability to roll with the changes. For us, it is always cold weather. The beginning of the ride included some cold temps and rain which made for some challenging cycling. The Northern Tier route was our first and longest cross country ride. Since then, we have completed the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (border to border) in 2021 and Southern Tier in 2023, although we decided to turn right in St. Augustine and ride the Atlantic Coast Route south all the way to Key West.

Deb Gardner

Each ride was unique and offered something different. I think we learned the most on Northern Tier, and not as much about bike touring as we learned about ourselves. We learned to be resourceful in limiting what we took on the ride, we learned we could eat like teenagers for weeks at a time and we learned that yes, the mountains are spectacular, especially when going down them, the wildlife in its natural habitat, magical, and the flowers and trees interesting enough to keep our bike pedals turning, but it’s the people we met along the journey that made the trip unforgettable. On the Great Divide we learned compromise. When Canada closed its borders to travelers during COVID, we settled for a border-to-border southbound ride. We learned our bodies would do what our minds commanded, even though the route’s terrain was more than us Hoosier flatlanders were accustomed. Most of all we learned we could get way outside of our comfort zone so long as we took it one day at a time.

Deb Gardner

After having two cross-country tours under our belt, we thought Southern Tier would be a slam dunk and especially so after the Great Divide. Wrong! Southern Tier taught us humility and choosing the right season to ride is paramount. However, consistent in all three tours we lived more simply, presumed the best in people and learned not to sweat the small stuff. Further, we used Adventure Cycling’s indispensable paper and digital maps. On all three tours our post dinner nightly “route rap” was something we looked forward to each night as we looked at mileage, services, elevation and field notes for the next day and then checked the weather forecast for wind and temps. If only the weather forecasts were as reliable as ACA maps. The Northern Tier was our introduction to long distance bike touring… and we are only just beginning.

***

Monte Marti

Year: 2023 Type: Adventure Cycling Guide Direction: East to West Duration: 90 days

Monte Marti

What can I even say about the Northern Tier?? It is constant, epic cycling. Once we took off from Bar Harbor, we saw incredible places like Niagara Falls, then rode into the Rockies and the Cascades… one epic thing after another. All 90 days were just chock full of things that people would love to check off their list. The most challenging part was the distance and days — you’re a long time away from your family and friends, and 90 days is a long time on a bicycle. On top of that, you have the physical challenges. The Northern Tier involves climbing up and over White Mountains in the East and the Rockies and Cascades in the West. Plus, you’re right in the middle of summer, and in a typical summer on the Northern Tier you’re going to face a variety of things from rain to heat to winds.

Monte Marti

The Northern Tier can feel more challenging than other epic Adventure Cycling routes. Unlike other trails that ease you into the climbs, you’re into it immediately, and it’s helpful to be in good shape no matter which direction you start from. Our tour went from Maine to Washington, but a lot of people we met doing it on their own went from West to East because they feel like those are the prevailing winds. We didn’t get stuck with many winds however, and it didn’t seem like they were consistently in one direction or another. I love other epic routes like the Southern Tier and Atlantic Coast for their own reasons. But what I experienced on the Northern Tier is that from start to finish, you’re constantly running into epic things along the route… every single day.

Monte Marti

Each one of these rides is unique. You just need to peel back the onion as to what makes it unique. The scenery, the people you meet along the way, the places you see, the weather. Each of those things makes up an epic trip like the Northern Tier, and each day of a ride like that. It’s something to love and enjoy… that’s the beauty. With the Northern Tier and bike travel in general, every day can be a beautiful adventure. That’s how I encourage people to get past the thought of: Oh shoot, I have another 50 days. Just look at the beauty of each day. It’s going to be challenging. You may have headwinds. You may have 100-degree temperatures. You may have 5,000 feet of elevation gain. It’s a challenge. It’s going to be difficult. But think about it. Once you get it done, you’ve done it and you’ve accomplished it and you get to celebrate at the end of the day. Then you get to go do something different tomorrow.

Monte Marti

As a leader, you have to coach and help and guide people through the challenges of 90 days on the Northern Tier. You have your group and your gear and your bikes and all of the things that come along with that. But if you break it down day by day, it becomes a beautiful thing.

***

Dan Miller

Year: 2021 Type: Self-supported Direction: West to East Duration: 67 days

Dan Miller

I rode the Northern Tier in 2021, after I retired at 63. I started in Anacortes, Washington on August 1 and finished in Bar Harbor, Maine on October 6, two months and one week. I did the ride by myself except for my brother joining me for a week in Wisconsin. I decided on the Northern Tier because I couldn’t start till August 1 — I had a daughter getting married the last weekend of July. I did some research on scenery and weather and the Northern Tier won. I also read and followed the blog of a couple (Tom and Deb Gardner) that had ridden the Northern Tier several years earlier. For highlights, it’s hard to beat the majesty of the Rockies on Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park. The vastness of the Northern Plains is hard to fathom and awe inspiring coming from suburbia. And riding in New England along streams and rivers in the mountains as the fall colors started to pop was amazing.

Dan Miller

The hardest part of the whole trip was the daily issue of logistics. How far am I going today where am I sleeping and where am I eating. Small town restaurants are not always open seven days a week especially along the Northern Tier after Labor Day. The hardest day was my shortest day at 40 miles, cycling into a steady 30 mile-per-hour headwind with strong gusts, occasional heavy rain, and some road construction.

Dan Miller

My “short” speech to people who asked was that everyone who can should do it! It is a big beautiful country full of wonderful people with great stories to share. Turning off the news for two months and getting away from all the gloom and doom and fear is rejuvenating in and of itself, but adding in all the wonderful people, scenery, and daily exercise is life affirming. *Interviews have been lightly edited for length and clarity Feature image: Chuck Haney

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How You Ride the Great American Rail-Trail

Maggie Slepian — Wed, 24 Apr 2024 15:04:16 +0000

Picture this: You hop on your bike in Washington, D.C. and start pedaling on a series of bike paths and peaceful sections of rail-trails. You angle northwest through Pennsylvania and cross Ohio, continuing across the Midwest into Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho until you reach Washington and cycle all the way to the Pacific Ocean. This journey across the U.S. is separated from traffic, utilizing a series of interconnected multi-use trails and allowing you to safely explore the vistas, small towns, and rich history across the country. Sound nice? That’s the Rails to Trails Conservancy’s (RTC) vision for the Great American Rail-Trail, a massive undertaking more than 50% complete with over 2,050 completed miles already on the ground. New trail segments are added to the route each year, and RTC is working with hundreds of partners across the country to accelerate trail development.

The Great American Rail-Trail is an Iconic Route in the Making

Credit: Rails to Trails Conservancy**

RTC began tracking rail-trail development in the late 1980s. Over time, a non-motorized route across America began to present itself. RTC waited until a pathway through the West was possible and the cross-country route was more than 50% completed before committing to leading its development. After conducting hundreds of meetings to gather input from trail partners, and local and state agencies, RTC announced the project to the public in May 2019. As it stands, the route traverses 12 states and Washington, D.C., with more than 100 miles of trail in current active development. RTC works with hundreds of trail organizations and partners on local and state levels to help map this route, hitting major cities like Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Columbus, Ohio, Seattle, Washington, and Missoula, Montana. Notable trail segments include the Great Allegheny Passage, Great Miami River Trail in Ohio, and the Palouse to Cascades State Park Trail in the state of Washington. Since the trail segments aren’t fully linked, people embarking on this journey currently map their own connections between completed trail portions using a series of roadways. No matter what section or state you decide to ride, riding between historic towns and major cities on peaceful rail-trails is the adventure of a lifetime. More than 50 million people live within 50 miles of one of these proposed segments, so the opportunity for increased recreation on accessible, non-motorized paths is a benefit for everyone. Each year has seen major strides in visibility, progress, and cyclists’ time spent on the route. Since the project was announced in 2019, more than $117.5 million in public and private resources have been invested in projects along the Great American Rail-Trail.

Adventure Cycling Partners Up to Create a Detour Route through the Mountain West

Western end of the detour route at the Route of the Olympian. Credit: Rails to Trails Conservancy.

In many parts of the country, people have several options for connecting existing sections, including traveling through towns with services and linking together road segments. Some regions need more connections than others. The Mountain West — particularly between the western end of the Cowboy Recreation and Nature Trail in Chadron, Nebraska and the eastern end of the Route of the Olympian in St. Regis, Montana — provides a unique challenge. This 960-mile section of the route has the fewest existing trail miles, and services can be spread far apart. To help amend this, RTC came to Adventure Cycling to map a detour route. Since the Great American Rail-Trail is based on the idea that cyclists will be on separated paths away from vehicle traffic, it appeals to a certain audience of cyclists. As some of those cyclists are less comfortable on busier roadways, the detour route creates a temporary solution for those ready to ride it right now. Adventure Cycling’s experience lies largely in building safe and accessible routes on existing roadways, and their cartographers tapped a few different resources to create the detour route. These included existing Adventure Cycling routes, regional and social network knowledge, and intel from state and local organizations and cycling groups. “RTC wants to create the safest, most comfortable riding experience for folks. Out here in the West, we have a much looser and more gap-filled set of paths to work from,” says Jenn Hamelman, Director of Routes for Adventure Cycling Association.

Credit: Rails to Trails Conservancy

“RTC’s expertise is in rail-trails and separated paths, and our expertise is in trying to find the best solutions via roads,” says Hamelman, “This detour route travels through key communities that will be on the finalized segment, which will give them a preview of what it’s like to have bicycle travelers come through.” This is the first time Adventure Cycling has collaborated with RTC on any sort of route development, but the Great American Rail-Trail does overlap with several Adventure Cycling routes, including the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route in Butte, Montana, multiple sections of the Lewis & Clark Trail through Montana, and Parks, Peaks, and Prairies through Basin, Wyoming. Adventure Cycling mapped the route and provided all points of interest, including service information and towns. RTC continues to work with its partners across the country to fill these gaps to ensure that anyone can take a trip on the Great American Rail-Trail through the Mountain West, whether for an afternoon or for an epic-weeks long adventure. Explore the 960-mile detour route and the entire Great American Rail-Trail here.

How Should You Choose What Section to Ride?

Credit: Rails to Trails Conservancy

There are plenty of sections to choose from on the Great American Rail-Trail, and the one you pick depends on your starting location, how much time you have to ride, and the amenities you’ll want along the way. Since the route largely follows old railroad lines, it means that many sections offer a new town every 5-20 miles, providing ample opportunities for supplies and amenities. The states do vary in completion, so keep that in mind when picking your section. The 207 miles of Washington D.C. and Maryland are complete, and nearly all of Pennsylvania is mapped, including the iconic 150-mile Great Allegheny Passage. The 468 miles through Iowa are more than halfway complete, with 255 trail miles and 212 gap miles, and the new detour routes a more comfortable ride in Nebraska, Wyoming, and Montana. You can find the breakdown of each state here, along with more information about trails and plans for development. “The Great American Rail-Trail offers something for everyone,” says Kevin Belle, Project Manager for Rails to Trails Conservancy. “This includes well-traveled, paved trails in an urban core to remote, unpaved trails that provide some one-on-one time with nature.” The longest continuous completed section of the Great American Rail-Trail travels between Washington, D.C. and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania along the C&O Canal National Historical Park and the Great Allegheny Passage, providing more than 330 miles of connected trail. Belle also recommends that users looking for a more rugged experience should try the trails in the western half of the route, like the Cowboy Recreation and Nature Trail in Nebraska. Remember that the terrain changes between the states, and not just with the percentage of route completed. As you move from the mid-Atlantic to the midwest, consider weather changes, and as you progress into Montana and Idaho, the climbing will increase and the elevation ramps up.

What Type of Bike is Best for the Great American Rail-Trail?

Credit: Rails to Trails Conservancy

Like we often say about starting out bicycle travel, the best bike is the one you already own. But if you’re interested in getting more into extended bike tours, we recommend going to a bike fitter and making sure you’re on a bike that suits both your body and your riding style. People ride all sorts of configurations on the Great American Rail-Trail, including lightweight carbon gravel bikes all the way to heavier-duty hardtail mountain bikes. Since there is little technical riding on this route, you won’t need anything super aggressive, and we suggest considering comfort over suspension. Think about whether you prefer a flat-bar bike or drop-bars, and whether it’s easier for you to ride flats or clipless. Whichever style suits your pre-existing touring preferences will be the best option. “Railroads can only travel at a low elevation grade, which makes their old corridors ideal for the trail needs of a wide variety of people,” says Belle. “Most of the existing trails along the Great American are paved or use a crushed stone surface, which most bikes can handle.” Belle did say that there are some segments that are a little more rugged in which a cyclist might benefit from a touring bike or mountain-bike hybrid, so do your research before picking a section and make sure your bike can handle it.

How Should You Prepare to Ride the Great American Rail-Trail?

Credit: Rails to Trails Conservancy

Consider your trip on the Great American Rail-Trail like any other bike travel journey with access to towns and resources. You’ll have to plan your trip itinerary, get your bike and gear ready, and start training. Once you’ve decided on a section of route and taken your timeline into consideration (how many miles per day you anticipate riding), we always suggest you start physically preparing. Adventure Cycling contributor Mac McCoy has a great overview of four training stages here, emphasizing the importance of not just training large muscle groups, but getting your seat ready for long days in the saddle and making sure your bike is set up for your proportions. This means everything from your seat height to the distance between the seat and handlebars, and ensuring everything is working properly. It doesn’t hurt to bring the bike in for a full tune, or do your own multipoint inspection at home. We recommend starting training at least 12 weeks before your planned departure date — whether you’re riding indoors or outdoors — and cycling at least three days per week. Aim for time spent in the saddle as opposed to distance, and work up to two hours or more for your longer rides, keeping in mind you’ll be taking plenty of breaks on the Great American Rail-Trail for sightseeing, snacks, and unplanned days off in particularly cool cities. One of the great things about almost any section of the Great American Rail-Trail is that you’re never far from resources, and while much of the scenery feels peaceful and far from civilization, these pathways and trail segments are popular thru-ways between towns and along rivers. You don’t have the remoteness of other routes to consider when worrying about mechanicals, gear issues, or resupply issues. While there are more resources than other cross-country routes, we still recommend knowing the region and familiarizing with the resources and highlights of your section. Knowing your own to resources, bike shops, and cell service can provide peace of mind.

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**Editor’s note: The images in this article show different segments of the Great American Rail-Trail, but they do not depict the detour route through the Mountain West unless noted.

The post How You Ride the Great American Rail-Trail appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Gearing Up to Get Out, At Any Size

Marley Blonsky — Mon, 12 Feb 2024 22:46:13 +0000

When I started riding bikes nearly 10 years ago in Seattle, it was a struggle to find even a basic pair of padded shorts and jersey to fit my plus-size body. Finding technical gear such as a raincoat or rain pants? Ha. Good luck.

So I made do. I rode in leggings from Old Navy and athletic-style tops from Costco. I found a used rain cape and cobbled together outfits that allowed range of motion and were comfortable enough. And while this worked for commuting and short-distance trips in the city, as my riding turned more adventurous and longer distance, I needed purpose-built cycling clothes. I eventually found some options through a combination of second-hand stores (shoutout to the Seattle Goodwill’s Annual Bike Weekend) and deep internet searching, but it was way harder than it should have been.

The author in general athletic wear

Marley Blonsky

Ten years later, I’m happy to report that the landscape for gearing up as a bigger-bodied rider has gotten exponentially easier. Numerous brands cater specifically to larger sizes, and many traditional cycling brands have expanded their sizing to fit a broader range of bodies. Today’s plus-size rider has options! I am so excited to dive into this world, as everyone, regardless of size or shape, deserves to have clothing and equipment that works for them.

A Note of Sizing Caution

Size charts in the cycling world are wildly inconsistent. Many brands that only go to a 2x or 3x will have the same measurements as other brands that tout a 4x, 5x, or even 6x. Before ordering, check the size charts! Measure yourself and take note of your bust, waist, hip, bicep, and thighs. Ignore the size and instead match your measurements to the size charts. This way you’ll wind up with garments that fit and save you the hassle of returns or poorly fitting clothes.

Where to Shop: Online Vs. In-Store

Marley Blonsky

While our options have increased, most of the extended and plus size options are still available online only, often directly from the brand you’re interested in. Nearly every brand has at least a 30-day return window if it doesn’t fit, and if you’re unsure on your exact size (and your budget allows), order both sizes with the intent to return what doesn’t work. I also think it’s important to let retailers know that bigger bodied folks are actively looking for gear that fits us. So if you’ve got the emotional fortitude, it never hurts to call your local bike shop or outdoor retailer and ask if they’ve got gear in your size. Not only will you potentially be able to try things on in-store, but it also sends a demand signal for bigger sizes!

Gear for Bad Weather Days

There’s a saying in cycling that there’s no bad weather, just bad clothing. And this is very much the case for bigger bodied folks, as finding technical clothing such as rain gear and outerwear for cold days is that much harder. The key to bad weather days is layers, starting with a moisture-wicking base layer, and building up from there. For those nasty days when I find myself on the saddle, these items are essential to staying warm and dry, and are offered in inclusive sizing. Where possible, we’ve linked to the plus-size options.

SmartWool base layers
Wool socks
Pearl Izumi WxB Monsoon Rain Jacket or Cleverhood Rain Cape
REI Co-Op Rain Pants (now in plus sizes!)
Ice Ninja Gloves
Midweight wool layer
Fleece-lined Pearl Izumi Cycling Tights
Lightweight merino wool skull cap

Gear for Perfect Weather Days

Sometimes perfect weather days call for a swim

Marley Blonsky

My absolute perfect day on the bike is 75 degrees, slight cloud cover and barely a breeze. Gearing up on days like this is easy. Here’s what I wear for those days.

Pearl Izumi Cargo Bib Shorts
Shredly Cropped Tee or SmartWool Merino T-Shirt
A top layer that can be stuffed into a bike bag. I like the Shredly Jacket or a flannel like this Dovetail Givens Work Shirt built specifically for women.

Staying Fresh on the Road

Space is at a premium when traveling by bike, which often means packing light, and rewearing clothing for multiple days without doing laundry. Staying fresh under these circumstances can be challenging – but is totally doable! My best suggestion for this is to wear natural fabrics, such as merino. SmartWool makes great base layers, t-shirts, and socks that are naturally antimicrobial, helping lessen odor build up. I also recommend changing clothes as soon as you get to your stopping point for the day. I love to pack a lightweight camp dress to wear while I air out my cycling clothing on a clothing line (compact and easy to pack), or tree. If I’ve got access to a freshwater source, I’ll wade in, using the opportunity to both wash my body and my cycling clothing, being sure to thoroughly dry my chamois.

Traditional Cycling Clothing

Marley Blonsky

I am the first to admit that I never understood the appeal of a traditional cycling kit — until I wore one that actually fit. Turns out that a properly fitting kit provides all sorts of advantages, including comfort for long days in the saddle, moisture control, and protection from the elements. Check out the offerings from the following brands:

Aero Tech Designs
Fat Lad at the Back
Terry Designs (Women-specific, sizing can be limited)
SheBeest (Women-specific)
Pearl Izumi
The Black Bibs
Velocio
Montella
REI Co-Op Brand

Outerwear, Base Layers and Non-Lycra Options

Marley Blonsky

For many adventure cyclists, the idea of putting on a lycra kit when on bike tour (or on a daily ride) just doesn’t jive with their style. Here are some great options for bigger bodies wanting to ride with a different sense of style. All of these brands have inclusive sizing for larger bodies.

Shredly (Primarily mountain bike clothing designed for women, with lots of multi-purpose options.**)
SmartWool Base Layers
Columbia Sportswear for rainwear, outer layers. They have plus size for both men and women
REI
Alpine Parrot
Duluth Trading Co
Ripton Denim

**The author is sponsored by Shredly, with a special Marley Blonsky X Shredly product line launching in Spring 2024.

The post Gearing Up to Get Out, At Any Size appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

Basic Bike Malfunctions (And How to Deal With Them)

Kyle Casement — Tue, 06 Feb 2024 22:44:30 +0000

Fifty miles from home and twenty to the nearest bike shop, my friend got a flat tire. This wouldn’t have been such a big deal except he was relying on me for help with mechanical malfunctions, and we were not riding together. It was the big downhill of the day, and I wanted to let gravity lead the way while he was a bit more responsible with his brakes.

Lucky for both of us, I was riding with my phone mounted to my handlebars so I saw his text message almost as soon as he sent it. After a 30-minute climb back up the mountain, I found him safe and off the road but with a very flat tire. We were able to get him riding again, but not without some roadside problem solving. The way his inner tube failed meant it couldn’t be patched, and while I did have a spare, it was for a Presta valve, and his tires use Schrader valves.

A flat tire is never ideal, but it doesn’t have to mean hitchhiking home

Kyle Casement

My friend told me that before I returned to help with the flat, he was worried the problem was much worse and he’d be stranded. He had already begun trying to figure out alternative ways home, which included waiting for me to ride all the way back then drive my car to pick him up. He also considered calling his roommate or another friend, but couldn’t think of anyone who might be available with a big enough car or bicycle rack. Another time, I was on a camping / mountain biking trip with my partner. She was also relying on me to resolve any mechanical malfunctions, but this time I was the one who had a problem. Somehow my chain bounced off my easiest gear and landed between the rear cassette and the spokes. Even though I instantly realized what happened, I couldn’t stop pedaling in time to avoid it becoming wedged in the space.

Chain breaker in action

Kyle Casement

We were five miles from camp, and if I couldn’t resolve the issue, I’d have to carry (or drag) my bicycle back because the rear wheel wouldn’t spin. This would have been a long walk with waning daylight, and after repeated attempts to pull the chain loose, I considered using my chain breaker to take the chain off and reattach it bypassing my derailleur. Then I realized I had packed in too much of a hurry and didn’t have a chain breaker with me. Luckily, I was able to devise a way to resolve the issue, but for a few minutes, I was worried that my partner’s first mountain biking experience would be a bad one. I share these stories only to illustrate how quickly a bike ride can drastically change after a mechanical issue, many of which should only take a few minutes to resolve. Because of this, I consider being prepared for basic bike mechanicals an important part of planning for even a day ride or a short tour. Watch this video to learn more.

What Tools Should You Bring and What Skills Should You Have?

Keep your repair kit up-to-date and easily accessible

Kyle Casement

I try to always carry a multitool with a chain breaker, plus everything I need to fix a flat tire. This includes the multitool, a spare inner tube, an inner tube patch kit, tire levers, a tire boot, and a pump. Depending how long you’ll be gone and your distance from services and a shop, you may also consider bringing extra chain links, chain lubricant, mechanic’s gloves, zip ties, duct tape, a sewing kit, spare spokes, and much more. I’m getting ahead of myself though, because all the spare parts and tools to install them won’t do any good without knowing how to use them, and learning takes time and repetition. If there were two things I’d recommend learning before embarking on a tour or long ride, it would be how to fix a flat tire and how to remove links on a chain and put it back together. The video accompanying this post goes into more detail, and includes links to additional resources.

Kyle Casement

Most other potential mechanical failures won’t leave you stranded, or they happen infrequently enough to learn as you progress in your skills. I recommend focusing on listening for odd noises or noticing extra resistance when pedaling, then trying to identify and resolve the issues. Even if you can’t resolve it yourself, your local bike shop will be able to help, and will at least tell you what went wrong and where the problem was. Ask questions and if possible, observe as they work on your bike and you’ll learn something for next time. Being prepared for basic bike malfunctions is part of planning and preparing for a bike tour, just like packing layers, gear, and food. The important thing is being prepared for what you think will matter and having a plan for if you misjudge. For many of us, that’s all part of the fun of bike touring.

The post Basic Bike Malfunctions (And How to Deal With Them) appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

How One Legally Blind Cyclist Toured California’s Inter-Mountain Area

James Fillette — Wed, 17 Jan 2024 23:40:46 +0000

I used to drive all over California exploring every State Park and National Park possible. I often saw bicycle tourists riding along the road, marveling at their equipment and often wondered how they were able to pedal such heavily laden bicycles. I thought at some point I might try a bicycle tour myself.

Unfortunately, my life took a different path. In 2000, I began having difficulty reading normal-sized text. Driving my vehicle became challenging as objects on the road would vanish and reappear in front of my eyes. 2001 brought mass lay-offs at my work, and while I tried several temp jobs, my vision continued to deteriorate. In 2005 I was forced to sell my car after being diagnosed with Leber’s hereditary optic neuropathy — or Leber optic atrophy. This condition is mitochondrially inherited (transmitted from mother to child), and in my case, began a slow degeneration of retinal ganglion cells and their axons, which lead to loss of central vision. I moved in with my parents in Redding, California during the 2008 recession, and my days of traveling, camping, and exploration came to an end. I reentered college under the sponsorship of the California Department of Rehabilitation, which allows disabled students to pursue a college degree with the support of technology. During this time, I couldn’t drive to class, and taking the bus meant a two-mile walk, then 90 minutes on the bus. I decided to go back to riding bicycles, commuting 22 miles a day by bike. I dreamed of one day resuming my adventures on a bike, particularly in the Inter-Mountain area, which included McArthur Burney Falls State Park and Lassen Volcanic National Park. The question was: how could I do this with my disability? My condition rendered me partially blind, which included severe contrast issues, tunnel vision, partial color blindness, floaters, holes in my vision, and almost no depth perception. But I could still see the white line on black asphalt. For road signs and signal lights I used a small pair of binoculars. I did not have a smartphone, so I scanned road maps onto my computer and enhanced them to suit my visual needs. It took several years of research, but I gradually gathered the equipment and resources. The only trouble was, all this gear was heavy. Then, in 2015, I saw a Pedego electric pedal-assisted cargo bicycle at an Energy Fair. It had interchangeable cargo racks, a 400-pound payload, five levels of pedal assist, a throttle, and it could pull my old cargo trailer. It was powered by a lithium ion battery that could be recharged through ordinary power outlets and could last 30-40 miles depending on cargo load.

The author’s bicycle at the top of a pass

James Fillette

This bike seemed to be an answer to my dilemma. After several modifications and endless testing of its capabilities, it was time to resume my adventures. I planned this trip for June, but equipment issues forced me to postpone several times. The first issue was the number of flat tires on the rear wheel. Replacing the tubes on a standard bike was easy compared to an electric bike where the wheels were bolted to the frame and were heavier than an ordinary bike. I had to be careful sliding the wheel in place, ensuring the rotor slid into the brake slot while keeping in mind where the power cord for the motor was located. If it fell short of the connector, you had to pull the wheel off and start over. For someone with bad eyesight, this was a nightmare. Then I heard about motorcycle-grade tires made for electric bikes. In addition to the three Kevlar belts and plastic sidewalls, I included thorn-resistant tubes filled with green slime, teflon tape, and liquid latex. It was as close as I could get to armored tires. The second issue was a spare battery. The original battery was a 48-volt, 13 amp/hour lithium ion. The recharge time is two to four hours, and I needed to extend my range without stopping constantly to recharge. I purchased a 48-volt, 17 amp/hour battery that significantly extended my range. Each battery weighed 11 pounds, and the bike weighed 76 pounds total, including batteries. I tested the battery life under different loads and terrain conditions while I waited for the new tires to arrive. The new battery did well, but the recharge time was nearly doubled. I estimated my new range was about 50 miles with a fully packed bike and trailer. The distance from Redding to my first stop at Burney was 54 miles, so I would need at least one recharge on my first day. A window of opportunity appeared in the form of cooler temperatures in mid July. I planned to leave at dawn, which would mean I had the sun in my face, but I could see debris on the road more easily. I have contrast and depth perception issues with my vision — when the sun is behind me, I cannot see the shadows of debris on the road, making the debris invisible to me. When the sun is in front of me, I can see the shadows of debris, and am able to avoid them.

***

Day 1

Landscapes along the way

James Fillette

My Redding neighbor and his wife (Peter and Shelley) told me if I made it to Burney Falls State Park the next day, I would be welcome to join the festivities of their annual family reunion. I left my parent’s house a few hours after dawn, following quiet rural roads until I reached California State Route 299 which would take me to Burney. My primary battery was at four-fifths power with 42 miles to Burney, and I was maintaining level one pedal assist. By 9:45 AM I had traveled about 25 miles. Even though I had been using level 1 pedal assist, I seemed to be using battery quickly, and even with the motor assist my left foot and knee were throbbing. My maps were scanned onto my tablet so I could magnify the image and see details. I can’t see the screen in daylight, which meant I needed shade to read the maps. The traffic was nice throughout the day as the shoulder came and went, though at times I could sense the impatience of the traffic behind me as I struggled up the grade. I switched batteries a little before 12:00 PM, pausing at the base of a major climb. My first battery was in ration mode, which meant it only had pedal assist once in a while.

As I drank half a liter of water, I thought this is it. My legs were too destroyed to go on any further. Now what? Flag down a passing motorist for a lift?

By the time I reached Round Mountain, the heat had increased, and my stamina had decreased. I looked around for a place to rest and recharge the first battery. The climb was rapidly draining my second battery, and being on assist level one meant I used my legs more than the motor in order to save battery life. I spotted a supply store on the other side of the road. I rode over, introduced myself, and asked if I could rest and recharge the batteries. The owner’s name was Randy. He and his wife’s hospitality overwhelmed me. I was given a folding chair under the tarp, an extension cord for my power pack, ice cold water bottles, and a tour of the store. I left Round Mountain after recharging myself and the batteries for almost two hours. The grade continued to increase until I reached Montgomery Creek and I stopped at a local cafe to tank up my water bottles. Once I cleared the town, the grade turned even steeper. My batteries were not at full capacity, and were barely up to half level when the power rationing kicked in again. The heat was beating down and there was no shade anywhere. I could smell burning brakes from all the cars going down the grade. My legs began to give out on me. I wanted to stop at the rest area at the top, but I couldn’t get there — my mouth was too dry from panting, and I felt like I was going to burst into flames. As the grade curved I saw a small tree against the embankment. I managed to drag my rig off the road and dropped to the ground into the scant shade. As I drank half a liter of water, I thought this is it. My legs were too destroyed to go on any further. Now what? Flag down a passing motorist for a lift? After resting for 15 minutes, I dragged my rig onto the road and stepped on my pedals. To my astonishment, the short rest was enough to get me going. The rest area ended up having no outlets, and I had to juggle the batteries, though they did end up dying at the top of Hatchet Pass. I made it to the motel at 5:45 PM after almost eleven hours of riding. I felt exhausted, sweaty, and a bit depressed. My parents were encouraging though, and helped boost my confidence. I set an alarm to switch the batteries over to make sure both were charged. It had been the hardest day of my life but I did it! Day 1 miles: 61.3

***

Day 2

Meeting other cyclists on the road

James Fillette

I turned left onto Highway 89 the next morning. This highway is also called the Volcanic Legacy Scenic Byway, which means it traverses the line of volcanoes from Lassen, up 500 miles to Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. I arrived at Burney Falls at 12:00 PM, and got free entry because of my California State Park disability pass. They showed me where the hiker/biker campsites were, but I couldn’t read it and most of my magnifiers were packed away. I roamed around trying to match up campgrounds with what they told me. Shadows from trees covered up the paths making it difficult for me to navigate, much less find smaller roads. I almost wrecked on boulders lying alongside the road because I couldn’t see them in the shadows. Caretakers cleaning cabins took the time to show me the way, which was nice of them. When I did find the site, I was in shock by how basic it was. There was a sign warning campers that the area was frequented by mountain lions, so I decided to get a car camping site. I locked up the bike at the car camping site, grabbed my white cane, and proceeded towards the falls. The walkway had been redone since the last time I was there, and there was a fence keeping people off the rocks around the falls. I was glad I had the cane to navigate the steps, but it made me feel like an old man. Peter and Shelly were waiting for me at the site, and Shelly cleared a spot behind their tent where I could set my own up. I had a great dinner from Peter and Shelly’s family, and everyone lifted my spirits. I wished I could bring them all with me. Day 2 miles: 25

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Day 3

Volcanic landscapes in the Inter-Mountain Region

James Fillette

I left Burney Falls around 11:45 AM after a great breakfast with the family. I wanted to stay, but since there was no cell phone coverage here, I couldn’t call the RV park and rearrange my next reservation. I exchanged phone numbers and went on my way. I took a side trip to an observatory, which added miles but was well worth it, especially since the caretaker let me charge my batteries while I walked around. I made it to the Rancheria by around 3:00 PM. The tent site was mostly gravel with an electric box that allowed me to recharge the batteries. A water spigot provided drinking water, and it seemed like mostly retired people who stayed for the summer. Some of the RV’s had little picket fences and fake plants outside the trailers. The internet did not work at all and there was no cell coverage. The managers charged me two dollars for a phone call, but I had to call because my parents were worried about me. After dinner I took a walk around the RV park, and considered my plan, thinking I might pass up Hat Creek Resort and go all the way to Lassen Park. Day 3 miles: 30

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Day 4

Seismograph house

James Fillette

After I left the Rancheria, the terrain continued to change from conifer forest into a more volcanic landscape and I finally got to see Hat Creek. It ran full and fast, and I could see Lassen Peak in the distance. After an hour’s ride, I reached Old Station at the intersection of Highway 89 and 44. Since I was only 15 miles from the park, I decided not to go to the Hat Creek Resort for the night. I replaced my first battery halfway between Old Station and Lassen Park as the grade got steeper, reaching Eskimo Hill Summit at 5,933 feet… the highest I’d ever been on a bike. My cargo trailer was having some problems, and the Goal Zero battery had fallen out the back and was dragging along the ground. The trailer was old and worn out. This was probably its final bike tour. After a steep climb, I made it to the park entrance. It was a real thrill for me to ride into a national park on a bicycle. My lifetime disability pass got me in for free, and I went to the campground behind a store where they had an abundance of sites next to Manzanita Lake. Inside the park museum, I talked to a young ranger named Austin about recharging my batteries, which needed multiple hours to charge. Austin told me he would come back to the museum at 8:30 PM and I could switch batteries then. The helpfulness of people along the route was like a boost of energy. I rode back to my campsite after swapping the battery, but I had to go slowly. The headlight that came with this bike was inadequate for night riding. I made a mental note to get a more powerful headlight to install on the handle bars. The mosquitos hassled me all the way while moths attacked the headlight. My parents told me that it was going to be 103 degrees in Redding during the weekend. I figured I would stay here an extra day to recuperate, and do some short hikes. If it got any hotter in the valley, I might stay up here longer. I did have plenty of food. Day 4 miles: 35.5

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Hanging at the Campsite

Manzanita sunset

James Fillette

I hiked the Chaos Crags Trail in the morning, which started at the visitor center, and allowed me to lock my bike to racks next to the museum. I was still pretty wiped out from the ride, so a short hike was more than enough. The trail started in the woods with Manzanita Creek running parallel. A couple of hikers came by and said they had gone off-trail to check out a saddle on a ridge between crags, but I was having a hard time navigating the trail covered with tree shadows, and didn’t want to go off trail. The top of the trail had a great view of the Chaos Crater, and after a few photographs, I headed back down the trail. From the trailhead, I went to the Loomis Museum to get National Park patches where Austin was about to begin a presentation at the seismometer. After the presentation, I went over to the laundry hut to recharge my phone and wash my laundry. The campground filled up throughout the day, and I had new neighbors. I had set up my tablet on the picnic table, and was busy entering data from this trip. A bunch of guys with their sons came by, thinking I was a scientist here to monitor the volcano. I got an invitation to have dinner at their camp, and they wanted me to come over and talk to the rest of their group about my journey. I went for an evening hike up Manzanita Creek Trail, and when I got back I found that every site had been taken by people trying to escape the heat in the valleys. It was a rowdy bunch, and I figured I would just head home in the morning.

***

Day 6

Chaos Crater

James Fillette

I packed up early, and let my neighbors know my camp site was available in case they had friends who wanted to join. I had 46 miles from the park entrance to Redding, and it was virtually all downhill. As soon as I hit flat land, I started using the motor again. I didn’t exchange batteries until I got to Old Alturas Road near Redding. Once I was on familiar ground, I made my way quickly through bike lanes and bike trails. The main purpose of this trip was to see if I could ride a bicycle tour on my own, despite my disability. I did it. I proved I can do it, and I think I can do it again. Total trip miles: 236.6

The post How One Legally Blind Cyclist Toured California’s Inter-Mountain Area appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

“We’re All in This Together:” A Documentary About Relying on the Kindness of Strangers on a 7,000-Mile Journey

Maggie Slepian — Tue, 09 Jan 2024 21:50:07 +0000

Cycling across the United States is an accomplishment on its own, and doing so without bringing any food or money — relying solely on the kindness of strangers — adds a whole other element to the endeavor. Throw in the logistics of filming the ride, and you have Daniel Troia’s 7,000-mile solo adventure. This journey culminated in the self-produced documentary We’re All in This Together premiering on Apple TV, Amazon Prime, and Google Play on January 12th.

Troia set out from California in May of 2018, cycling for months until he reached New York City. He cycled through the vastness of Nevada and Utah, was chased by wildfires through Colorado, hopped from town to town in Kansas and Missouri, flew through cornfields in Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, then headed up the east coast through Pennsylvania into West Virginia, New Jersey, and New York. On the way back he hitched across the high-elevation, snowy states and finished his ride by cycling through Montana, Idaho, Oregon, and back down to California. All told, Troia cycled 5,700 miles—and hitchhiked 1,300—following routes including the Western Express, Great Parks South, the Katy Trail, the TransAm, the Eastern Express Connector, and the Chicago to New York City route. On the way back, he was on the Lewis and Clark and Pacific Coast routes.

Daniel Troia

This cross-country trip was Troia’s third extended bike tour — he rode across the country in 2014 and from Rome to Amsterdam a few years after that. This particular tour came to fruition after Troia grew weary and disheartened by the negative news and interpersonal division in the country. He took a leave of absence from his bartending job, and in a combination of bike tour and social experiment, decided to attempt the route without bringing any food or money, relying on the goodness of strangers to prove that people are inherently good. Part of Troia’s inspiration came from another cyclist who had filmed his own tour on the Western Express route. After some initial research and YouTube deep dives, Troia found Adventure Cycling’s maps and routes, piecing together his own journey back and forth across the US. He filmed the entire thing, culminating in his documentary that is partially a showcase of the epic cycling routes across the country, and partially a look at the heartening amount of goodwill from strangers in the towns he rode through. “I just knew that everything was going to fall into place for this ride,” Troia said. “The moment I thought about it, I knew it was going to work. It almost manifested itself.”

Daniel Troia

Troia’s affable nature — plus the spectacle of a fully loaded bike and a large cardboard sign — proved beneficial as he headed east out of California. He would station himself outside grocery stores with the cardboard sign that said he was riding across the country and out of food, accepting aid in the form of food, money, and the occasional place to stay. He filmed these encounters with a pair of camera-enabled glasses, catching the genuine interactions with people curious about his ride and eager to help. After recording the initial conversation, Troia would tell the person he was filming a documentary about his experience, and asked for permission to use the footage of their interactions. As he leaves California, you can hear someone ask the direction he’s heading. When Troia responds that he’s cycling east, they sound concerned and ask “Is there a flat way through Colorado?” In the film, sweeping overhead drone shots and point-of-view footage from Troia’s GoPro are interspersed with the conversations in towns, taking the viewer along on the realities — good and bad — of cycling across the country. You see him as a small spec on the road in the middle of expansive plains, and get a close-up of the sweat pouring from his face during an extended climb in peak summer. Any cyclist will flinch at the roar of headwind picked up by his mic as he pushes through a punishing section in the midwest.

Troia used a GoPro, camera glasses, and a drone to get the footage.

Daniel Troia

Filming the ride as a solo cyclist required a few different techniques and cameras. For static shots, Troia secured his GoPro to a tripod, then would cycle past the camera, turn around, grab the gear, and continue on his way. This was the most time-consuming way of obtaining footage. “You’ll see I didn’t have many of those shots in the film,” he said laughing. To catch the overhead cycling shots without having to actively fly the drone, Troia programmed his drone to fly a specific path, then cycled that path as the drone followed him. These make for some of the most dramatic and classic bikepacking shots of the film, as do the familiar over-handlebars view of roads and winding mountain passes. Also notable (if less majestic) are the shots of Troia eating from a cookpot in a public bathroom and hopping in and out of dumpsters, returning triumphant from one dumpster dive with a full bag of fresh clementines. “Turns out there’s a lot of really good food that gets thrown out,” said Troia, “I never had trouble finding something to eat when I had to go that route.”

Troia in one of the less epic, but honest, moments of the film

Daniel Troia

As the months of his bikepacking trip went on, you can see both Troia’s physical appearance and demeanor start to change. His beard grows long and unruly, and the caloric deficit gives his face a hollow look. It wasn’t just the cycling that was exhausting, it was the way he’d decided to do it. “I felt worn down from always being in public, having nowhere to go to where I could be alone,” he said. “Even when I was in places like public libraries, I still wasn’t out of anyone’s view.” As Troia neared the end of his tour, he began feeling like he wasn’t connecting with the people in towns as much as he had in the beginning. “I’m a very outgoing and gregarious person, so normally people are drawn to me,” he said. “By the end of the trip, I wasn’t feeling so outgoing anymore. My energy wasn’t good, and people could sense that.” When Troia reflects on some of the brightest spots of his route, his most impactful interaction comes during the challenging time as his tour wound down. He had started to feel guilt and shame about asking for food and money, and found himself standing on a street corner in North Bend, Oregon, trying to figure out his next move. “From out of nowhere, this man runs across the street with a bag of food from a store down the block,” Troia said, “I didn’t have a sign out and hadn’t said anything.” The man told Troia that he could sense he was going through something and in a bad spot, and he had used his own food stamps to buy Troia a meal for the afternoon. “To be seen at that moment was really something special,” Troia said.

Troia receiving food and supplies in North Bend, OR

Daniel Troia

People watching the film might find themselves wondering about the morality of Troia’s well-intended endeavor, where a person who is able to take a leave of absence from work (and buy his own food), asks for and accepts donations, including from people using their food stamps. Troia does reflect on his own privilege and the safety afforded to him as a white man seeking the aid of strangers, and he did achieve his goals of seeing what people were willing to give. It’s up to the viewer to take their own message away from it. This is a well-meaning and heartfelt account responding to the division in the US. It is a worthwhile watch for anyone who has taken on an extended bikepacking trip, is considering it, or wants to feel a little better about our country. We’re All in this Together premieres on January 12th on Apple TV, Amazon Prime, and Google Play. You can follow more of Daniel Troia’s adventures on his Instagram and YouTube pages.

The post “We’re All in This Together:” A Documentary About Relying on the Kindness of Strangers on a 7,000-Mile Journey appeared first on Adventure Cycling Association.

A Curtain Parts

Ron Hershey — Tue, 02 Jan 2024 21:29:34 +0000

This article first appeared in the September/October 2023 issue of Adventure Cyclist magazine.

The spring of 1968 in Czechoslovakia was no ordinary time. And as it turned out, Jaroslav Jung was no ordinary 21-year-old. Revolution was in the air. The turbulence that spread throughout cities all over the world blew through the Iron Curtain that year and took root in Prague. Out of the ferment of that fateful spring, Jaroslav planted a seed of hope in the form of an ambitious, moonstruck plan for an expedition, a bicycle tour to showcase to the world the bright future toward which his country was headed.

Part One

Fueled by boundless youthful enthusiasm, resourcefulness, a love of the outdoors, and a yearning for long-denied freedom, Jaroslav, along with two friends, hatched a plan to travel by bicycle from Prague to Amsterdam, then fly to New York and bicycle from New York across the U.S. and down to Mexico City in time for the 1968 Summer Olympics. The trip was to be a cultural exchange, showing the world the new Czechoslovakia as it embraced “Socialism with a Human Face.” The Czechoslovakia of Jaroslav’s youth was a country under occupation, as it had been for almost two decades before his birth in 1946. First the Nazis and then the Soviet Communists squelched any vestiges of democratic governance, transforming this peaceful, beautiful country into an impoverished land where everyone was equally poor, living paycheck to paycheck — everyone, that is, except for top officials of the Communist Party. There was no freedom of press or assembly. Anyone who expressed criticism of the government was considered an enemy of the state and arrested. Secret police were a pervasive albeit invisible presence, creating an atmosphere of fear and suspicion. Badly run government agencies caused shortages of food, clothing, and other consumer goods, and what was available was too expensive to afford. There were long lines for nearly all basic needs, including medical care. Travel to the West was banned. The borders were sealed, surrounded by sand strips, land mines, and barbed wire fences, with round-the-clock surveillance by military guards and sharpshooters. Growing up in Czechoslovakia of the 1950s and 1960s, the very idea of going to America was nearly as much a fantasy as going to Mars.

Jaroslav Jung

Coming of age in such a repressive, constraining environment, Jaroslav turned to where he felt most free — the great outdoors. He learned to ride a bicycle at the age of three, guided by his father, a two-time gold medal cycling champion in the University Olympics and a silver medalist in the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games. For Jaroslav’s family, cycling was more than their transportation; it was their way of life. It was extremely rare to own a motor vehicle in Czechoslovakia at the time, so his family would often pedal 50 miles a day from Prague into the countryside. “Often, with my parents or alone, I would pedal through rural Moravia, Slovakia, and Sumava for weeks at a time,” Jaroslav recalled. “I remember, once, after pedaling all day with my parents, we stopped to eat dinner and I hungrily ate our only can of sardines, not realizing it was dinner for three of us!” In his teens, Jaroslav developed another passion, one that paired well with his love of the outdoors: photography. With a camera lent to him by a friend, he began taking photographs of his mountain climbing expeditions. On a whim, he sent some of these photos to Nikon’s Zurich headquarters, and, to his delight and amazement, they were accepted for use in Nikon’s European advertising campaigns. In exchange, Nikon presented him with three cameras and three lenses. Just like that, his hobby became a new profession.

The last seconds in Czechoslovakia, as the border control agents allowed the trio to cross into West Germany, following what seemed like hours to review their documents.

Jaroslav Jung

Massive student protests in Czechoslovakia began in 1967, leading to widespread repressive crackdowns and arrests. As the main photographer for the magazine Student, the only press that dared cover the protests, Jaroslav was a frontline observer. What started as a tentative tremor gradually became a groundswell movement for social and political reform. By March 4, 1968, for the first time in Czech history, there was a complete abolition of censorship. A new first secretary of the Communist Party, Alexander Dubcek, was openly promoting new freedoms of media and travel to the West. The excitement was palpable throughout the country. Jaroslav was like a coiled spring trapped in a tight box, desperate for freedom. But with no money or resources, travel to the West remained evasive. He needed a plan. Drawing from his two greatest passions, bicycling and photography, as well as an exuberant pride in the new Czechoslovakia, Jerry devised a plan. He would cycle across Europe and the U.S. to Mexico City in time for the 1968 Olympics and promote the new “Socialism with a Human Face” along the way. “I was excited thinking of the photos I would be inspired to take, all the amazing adventures I would have, the interesting stories I could share, and the ability to meet my aunt and uncles who had sent care packages through the hard times,” Jaroslav recalled. “I knew it would not be easy to pedal up to 300 kilometers (187 miles) in a day, with challenging terrain through mountains, desert, and unpredictable weather. But once the idea got into my head, I realized that I had to do it.” It was March 1968. The Olympics were to start in October, a mere seven months away. He enlisted two friends, the very athletic Ilja, and Milos, a 42-year-old bicycle mechanic, to accompany him. They would visit universities and youth organizations to establish an exchange of ideas with American and other European students. Using his photographic and journalistic skills, Jaroslav would document the trip in detail. His Czech press card (and some helpful connections along the way) would grant him access to newsroom resources like darkrooms throughout his trip, meet prominent people, and attend cultural events, museums, and landmarks. He would give interviews and send progress reports to the press and his sponsors. And finally, after returning to Prague, as the grand finale, he would have a photo exhibition and write a book. Before this plan could get off the ground, though, Czech government approval would be needed, as their official support was essential for Jaroslav and his team to be considered legitimate ambassadors of Czechoslovakia. Given how Czech bureaucracy was known to be notoriously slow and obstructive, it was astounding how quickly, even enthusiastically, they provided all the necessary documents. Next, they needed sponsors. Their youthful enthusiasm and handsome athleticism made them irresistible as the fresh faces of the new Czechoslovakia. One by one, sponsors jumped at the chance to help. Pan American Airlines agreed to provide flight tickets to New York and from Mexico City to Prague, as well as T-shirts, travel bags, and cases with their Pan Am logo. Nikon supplied cameras and lenses. Kodak and Ilford sent them film. Various Czech companies supplied three custom road-racing bicycles, outfits, parkas, windbreakers, canned food, walkie-talkies, a typewriter, and replacement tires, parts, and tools to be cached throughout Europe and America for necessary repairs. In the U.S., Czech expats and relatives who had emigrated, contacts through school deans in Prague, even a network of Czech bartenders who had emigrated — they all wanted to be a part of this historic odyssey.

In Germany, standing by their bikes, the trio paused to eat some lunch.

Jaroslav Jung

Amid dense crowds and much fanfare, with TV crews and journalists all jockeying for a glimpse of these young explorers, on May 27, 1968, the trio departed. In a gesture of recognition that they were cycling from the Old World to the New, they chose to begin their expedition from Prague’s Old Town Square (Staromestské namestí) in front of the world’s oldest working astronomical clock, the Orloj, built in 1410. As they rode off with their panniers full of gear, an acquaintance they passed yelled out, “Guys, where are you going?” Jaroslav yelled back, “We’re going to America!” triggering incredulous laughter. As they rode across the iconic Charles Bridge, which spans the Vltava River in Prague and was originally constructed in 1357, Jaroslav suggested they stop at the statue of the first Russian tank that arrived in 1945 at the end of World War II. That first tank was the harbinger of the end of Nazi occupation and the beginning of Soviet occupation. Jaroslav remembers saying, half-jokingly, “Let’s take two minutes of silence here, because who knows what Czechoslovakia will be like after we return from the Olympics.”

Jaroslav climbed the Tatra Mountains of Slovakia with his coach and friend, Jan Kalvoda, to strengthen and acclimatize for the upcoming pedaling and climbing through the high altitudes of the German Alps, Rocky Mountains, and volcanos in Mexico.

Jaroslav Jung

Part Two

The emotional high from all the attention provided a strong tailwind as they cycled out of Prague. They felt like stars in some epic movie, invincible heroes on a noble quest. As they approached the Czechoslovakian border with West Germany, the Iron Curtain, anxiety clouded their sunny exuberance. All the recent reforms and newfound freedoms seemed so fragile, so tenuous. The sight of the border guards triggered a fear that all their grand plans could be washed away in an instant, like delicate young seedlings in a sudden thunderstorm. For the entirety of their young lives, those uniforms had been the straitjackets to their freedom. After a nerve-racking hour of careful examination of their documents and bags, the guards’ demeanors softened and they wished the three well on their journey to the New World. Relieved to have passed the first big hurdle, Jaroslav found cycling through Germany pleasantly familiar yet excitingly new; the countryside reminded him of the many pleasant weeks he’d spent as a child cycling with his parents touring rural Czechoslovakia. Here in Germany, though, everything seemed brighter, happier, and cleaner. After a moment of worry when German police checked their documents, they felt free, truly free in the free world! They were flooded with invitations: to join local mountain climbing club expeditions, to give radio interviews, to meet with local university student organizations, even to meet the president of the European division of Nikon, where once again they were given yet more camera equipment. It was a comforting reassurance that if they were taking a leap into the great unknown, they wouldn’t be left to fend for themselves. The first hint that the free world might not be free of the turbulence they had left behind came as they were visiting the Zurich plant for the newspaper Tages-Anzeiger. They stood next to a row of teleprinters, chatting with the editor, as the presses rolled out the headline news of Robert Kennedy’s assassination in California, one of their planned stops en route to Mexico City.

Ilja and Milos posed for press articles with the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France.

Jaroslav Jung

Of all their stops in Europe, Paris was for Jaroslav the most highly anticipated. When they arrived in the City of Light, though, the streets were choked with massive student demonstrations and the largest general strike in France’s history, reminiscent of those they’d witnessed in Prague but even more widespread and paralyzing. The realization dawned on them that the Prague Spring might have been part of something much larger, spanning borders. With all public transportation frozen by the strike, their bikes gave them independence and ease of movement within the chaotic city. They pedaled right to the George V Hotel on the Champs-Élysées, an oasis of Old World elegance and calm amid the turmoil in the streets. There they met with Rudolph Slavik, a Czech expat of some renown, who held court as bartender par excellence. He handed them special passports that he portentously instructed them to show to bartenders along their expedition, with individual letters from himself that they were to deliver. He assured them that they would be received as honored guests in these bartenders’ homes. They accepted this unquestioningly, but to this day, Jaroslav wondered if they were unwitting messengers, passing coded messages between spies. To avoid the chaos of the city, they slept in a barn outside of Paris the night before their departure for Brussels the next day, an epic dash of 199 miles that would take them 12 hours. Civil unrest had spread to Brussels as well. They had instructions from FAMU, a film school in Prague that Jaroslav had attended, to deliver letters to deans and presidents of universities along their route in Europe and the U.S., with the hope of opening new markets abroad for FAMU. When they arrived at the University of Brussels to meet with administration officials, they were once again immersed in massive violent student protests that engulfed the campus. The scene was scary. Numerous police officers were taken away in ambulances. Five very large students attacked Jaroslav and seized his camera, tore out the film, and refused to give it back until Ilja explained in French that they were themselves students and not government agents. In their minds, all the miles they had traveled from Prague were just the warm-up for the main act: America. With their flight to New York from Amsterdam imminent, they set out on the final leg of the European phase of their trip, arriving early enough to enjoy their first glimpse ever of an ocean, the Atlantic, that they were about to cross on their very first flight on an airplane.

Jaroslav Jung

New York came as a shock. Their only real experience of a big city was Prague, where the streets were empty and the summers mild. In Prague, life happened behind closed doors, and in the streets there was a general atmosphere of somber tension and restraint. Not so here in New York, where the heat was stifling, the streets choked with traffic, fumes, and people yelled amid a deafening cacophony of sirens and honking horns. It was unlike anything the three had ever seen. Even the chaos of Paris didn’t compare. For Ilja and Jaroslav, it was dazzling, but for the 42-year-old Milos, it was overwhelming. Almost twice the age of his cycling mates, Milos had health issues that turned out to be more serious than he had acknowledged. Within days of their arrival in New York, it became clear that Milos couldn’t continue the expedition and, thanks to a quickly arranged complimentary Pan Am ticket back to Prague, he went home to recover. The remaining duo found refuge from the roiling city in the apartment of a childhood friend who had escaped Czechoslovakia in 1962, although the heat was so intense that Jaroslav slept in the cool iron bathtub. They spent their days in New York adjusting and preparing. A visit to Pan Am’s headquarters on Park Avenue provided another reassurance of corporate support, where they delightedly accepted a $400 check for publicity expenses, which would feed them for two months. They had official visits to the United Nations Czech delegation, to Nikon headquarters, and Time Life magazine, where they were interviewed, as well as museums and tourist sites they had dreamed of seeing for years. Arriving at Columbia University, they were greeted with student demonstrations against the Vietnam War and general chaos, a scene reminiscent of those in Paris and Brussels. In what almost seemed like a comic refrain, once again a protester grabbed Jaroslav’s camera and tore the film out. As they left New York heading to Washington, DC, and points west, Ilja and Jaroslav had settled into a daily rhythm. They would cycle much of the day, then each night, in preparation for the following day, Ilja would plan their route and type up press stories to mail in the morning. Jaroslav would mark the day’s film rolls by location, place them in protective bags and seek out local newspaper offices where, thanks to his press card, he was allowed access to dark rooms to develop the negatives and make prints to mail back to Czechoslovakia in the morning along with Ilja’s text copy. Heading away from the East Coast, the journey to Chicago felt like a long, lonely slog. The landscape became less interesting; they had no connections. They were always hungry, excited at the sight of a McDonald’s where they could get a hamburger for 18 cents. Chicago felt like a sight for sore eyes, but without any connections there either, they felt disinclined to linger. Here a woman overheard them speaking Czech and gave them a $5 bill. This gesture of solidarity couldn’t have come at a better time, lifting their low spirits.

”My riding partner Ilja was holding my bike as I was taking photos of the bears around us in Yellowstone Park. I was so excited that I didn‘t think about the dangers, and a nearby visitor shouted to warn me that another bear was reaching for my leg. I retracted it as I heard the bear’s jaw snap!“

Jaroslav Jung

The section from Chicago to Omaha was brutal. The daily temperatures were over 100°F, with unending, flat, empty space. Dusty and sweaty, doubts crept over them. Arriving in Omaha to a warm welcome from Jaroslav’s godfather, namesake, and great uncle, Jaroslav, felt like divine salvation. Having left Czechoslovakia before World War I, elder Jaroslav had settled in Omaha and, over the years, sent to younger Jaroslav’s family care packages of goods such as coffee, salami, chocolate, and jeans, not usually available in Czechoslovakia. Meeting his great nephew for the first time, the elder Jaroslav spoiled them with more homey comforts than they ever had back at their actual home in Prague. It was hard to pedal away from this deep familial love. When they arrived in Denver, they discovered that whatever his ulterior motives may have been, the well-connected Rudolf Slavik was as good as his word. A bartender on Slavik’s network welcomed them into his luxurious home with stables and horses. Through their host, they visited the U.S. Olympic Village outside Boulder, where they saw athletes training. As if crossing the Rockies by bike wasn’t enough of a challenge, for a change of pace, they joined the Colorado Mountain Club on a climb in freezing rain where they spent a miserable, snowy night in a cave. After that, getting back on their bikes felt like a relief. Fewer connections out west meant fewer diplomatic obligations, and they were able to be tourists. Yellowstone National Park felt like exploring another planet. After witnessing so much social unrest and turbulence, seeing the natural turbulence of erupting geysers was awe inspiring. They turned their diplomatic skills toward the natural wildlife, at times somewhat misguidedly. Having never seen a moose or a bear before, Jaroslav couldn’t stop photographing these creatures who seemed very curious about people. As he was engrossed in photographing a bear, a passing tourist cried out that another bear was approaching him; Jaroslav yanked his leg just as he heard its jaws snap! Las Vegas was a full Technicolor assault on the eyes, its unrestrained vice and sinfulness on full display. Jaroslav, captivated by the casinos, photographed them until security escorted him away. He later discovered that men gambling without their spouses’ knowledge preferred to keep their presence there away from a camera lens. From there, they rode on to Yosemite, for which neither the High Tatras in Slovakia nor the Rockies they’d so recently traversed could prepare them. The ride into the valley was the most challenging day of their entire trip, with unrelenting climbs and heat. Their arrival felt like being delivered into the Promised Land, a sacred place of unimaginable beauty and a gateway into magical California. They were so entranced by the place that they gave their bikes a rest to climb El Capitan to see the valley from up high and take photos of the climb for Nikon. It was more than just astounding natural beauty that California offered the two explorers. Their extensive and eclectic network of acquaintances, relatives, and friends led them to encounters that, back when Jaroslav was first planning the expedition, he never would have imagined possible.

Jaroslav’s camera was on a tripod with a self-timer, so he had only 10 seconds to run from the camera up the stairs, jump onto the bike, get his feet into the cages, place himself in a good composition for the shot, synchronize their riding, and ride down the stairs balancing on thin racing tires! He wouldn’t see the photo he took until the film was processed days later.

Jaroslav Jung

In San Francisco, Jaroslav found a photo lab owned by a Czech expat who let him process his photos. After looking at Jaroslav’s work, the owner set up a meeting for him with the renowned photographer Ansel Adams at his home in Carmel-by-the-Sea. The two had a delightful lunch together during which Adams looked over Jaroslav’s work and gave him sincere encouragement. After cycling from Carmel-by-the-Sea to Los Angeles down the Pacific coast on the famed Highway 1, through the ancient redwood groves of Big Sur, Jaroslav was contacted through the Czech embassy by his aunt Natasha, whom he hadn’t seen since his infancy and who had tracked him down after reading a newspaper article about his bicycle expedition. Natasha had left Prague at the end of World War II and was living with her Mexican film producer husband Jacques Gelman in Mexico City. Eager to see her nephew, Natasha arranged a reunion at the home of their old friend, the film star Edward G. Robinson. For all the support and cultural agility, the trip wasn’t without a few flubs, especially with the exhaustion of pedaling and meeting so many celebrities. At the home of Olympic gold medalist Peggy Fleming for lunch, her mother served green gelatin, Jaroslav’s first time seeing it. When asked if he wanted some, his English failed him. “Fak’ no” is a reasonable response to such an offer in Czech, fak being the slang for fakt, meaning “fact.” But for some reason, the whole table went very silent after that.

Jaroslav and Ilja were on the road near Salt Lake City when a plane passed overhead. It was a magical moment. Symbolically, Jaroslav shot Ilja with their bikes, which were allowing them to experience their new freedom to travel, and the plane was the spirit of their journey toward freedom.

Jaroslav Jung

The Los Angeles Times interviewed Jaroslav and Ilja about their expedition, but when they emerged from the newspaper offices to retrieve their bikes, they found that Ilja’s bike had been stolen. The reporter writing the article integrated this new twist into the story and focused on the theft that halted the journey. The article was printed the next day, filling page three. The newspaper staffers were determined to not let this end the story, however. They contacted the Los Angeles Wheelman Club and Huffman Manufacturing Company, which would eventually become the ubiquitous Huffy Corporation. Within a matter of days, Ilja was presented with the gift of a brand-new high-end bike; their mission was revived! With a new bike and a lifetime of support, it was time to turn south for the final leg toward Mexico City. The evening before their departure, Ilja gave a press interview by phone. Afterward, as they were preparing for the next morning’s early departure, they listened to a small television in the guest room where they were staying. The voice of news anchor Walter Cronkite announced a special report that caught their attention: Czechoslovakia was under siege. Russian tanks were rolling through the streets of Prague and into all the main squares, including the one where their expedition had begun two and a half months earlier. Thousands of people were in the streets, encircling the tanks, shouting at them in anger. Tanks were firing at the National Museum and surrounding buildings. Reports said thousands of troops were landing at the airport. “Russia wanted to crush our brief period of liberalization, to end Prague Spring, our hopes of new democratic freedoms, [our] reforms to the communist system,” Jaroslav remembers now. “Socialism with a human face” had been the motivating theme of their expedition. Jaroslav and Ilja had given dozens of interviews in all the countries they’d passed through, highlighting and celebrating human freedom and condemning past communist restrictions to those freedoms. With a chill, they realized that under the return of Soviet occupation, they would be severely punished or imprisoned if they returned. At that moment, in front of the television set, they knew that not only was their expedition over, but their families, their friends, their homes, and their homeland were in danger. The life that they had known up to that moment was gone. They could never go home.

For Jaroslav, meeting Ansel Adams was a thrill. He was a kind man, very curious about their mission and Jaroslav’s camera equipment. He carefully looked through the photo portfolio that Jaroslav carried on his bike. He shared his sophisticated darkroom and spent the entire day with them.

Jaroslav Jung

Part Three

There was hardly any time to process what happened that fateful day or to mourn the end of their dream of a triumphant arrival in Mexico City. Very quickly, Jaroslav realized that his parents were in imminent danger and that his mission had abruptly changed. He needed to get them out of Czechoslovakia and fast! He remembered that his parents would already be out of the country, as they had just gone on their own first trip to the West, to Paris, though that day they were scheduled to take a train back to Prague. Thinking it was possible, in that pre-internet era, that perhaps they hadn’t heard about the invasion, maybe there was still time for them to get off the train before it crossed the Iron Curtain — if only he could tip them off in time. In desperation, he sent them a telegram to the Nuremberg train station, just before the Czech border, praying that they would get it in time. On the evening of August 21, he called their apartment in Prague, praying they wouldn’t answer. When his father picked up, Jaroslav’s heart sank. They could be trapped in Prague for decades. They had indeed gotten the telegram, his father said later, but he crumpled it up and stayed on the train because “his country needed him.” Noble, for sure, but this complicated the picture. As soon as the Russians realized that Jaroslav wasn’t returning home, they would clamp down on his parents, spying on them and restricting their mobility, using them as leverage to pressure Jaroslav to return. Jaroslav received a suspicious letter from Czech president Ludvik Svoboda, delivered through the Czech embassy, offering him amnesty if he returned home by September 1969. Otherwise, it said, he would be arrested and punished. Knowing the offer could not be trusted, Jaroslav got to work. It took him about a year, putting in long hours at three photography jobs, to earn enough to open his own photo studio and buy his parents plane tickets to the U.S. In secretive coded letters to them, he sent instructions on where to pick up visas and plane tickets and when to leave. Not knowing whether his messages had gotten through or been understood, or if they ever boarded their flight, he waited in a state of almost unbearable tension at the airport in Los Angeles on the day of their flight, September 4, 1969. After a long delay, they finally appeared, carrying only two suitcases. They traveled light to create the appearance of the intention of returning home. But the transition to life in Los Angeles was rough. Living together in a tiny Hollywood apartment, his mother, who spoke no English, felt isolated and despondent. After weeks of hearing her crying, Jaroslav was no longer sure he’d done the right thing bringing them to the U.S. One day, while driving with his father, he suggested that maybe they should return home after all. “I can’t go back,” his father said, “because I’m a spy.” Many years before, Communist Party officials had approached him with an ultimatum: either spy for them and they would let Jaroslav attend college or, if he refused, Jaroslav would be sent to forced labor in the dangerous, toxic Jachymov uranium mines and never have a future worth living. Jaroslav’s mother had never known about this secret deal his father had made. Finally, during a bout of sobs lamenting her parents and country, she finally learned the truth and that they would not, could not, go home.

Jaroslav Jung

“Socialism with human face” was finished after the invasion. The magazine Student that Jaroslav had shot photographs for was immediately closed, the editors badly beaten. “No more freedom of press, speech, no more freedom of travel,” Jaroslav recently recalled. The Velvet Revolution, the peaceful transfer of power that ended Soviet rule, swept over Czechoslovakia in 1989, as it had over all of Eastern Europe. The Berlin Wall fell. By 1990, Jaroslav felt it was time to revisit his homeland for the first time in more than 20 years; he was nervous and wary. He remembered all too clearly those heady euphoric times of the Prague Spring and the launch of his bicycle expedition, the trip that changed his life, and how all that hope and promise had dissolved like the end of a pleasant dream upon waking. But nothing could efface his love of cycling. Back in Czechoslovakia, border police checked and rechecked his U.S. passport suspiciously, conferring in hushed voices for what seemed like an hour, taking Jaroslav right back to all the fear and tension of a childhood within a police state. He was allowed to enter the country, but only a few days later, while driving on a quiet country road, two armed soldiers on horseback yelled, chasing him at full speed until he stopped. Another thorough, nerve-racking examination of his papers followed, leaving him in a state of anxiety, even after he was waved on. For all the upheaval and changes in his homeland, he had become a stranger there. That mission back in 1968 of showing the world the great promise of his homeland’s future had, after much wrenching trauma, brought him to a new homeland. He was now an American.

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