FINAL MILE ANTHOLOGY 11 - Adventure Cycling Association
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a publication of
ADVENTURE
CYCLING
ASSOCIATION
FINAL MILE
ANTHOLOGY
11
$6.95
AUG/SEPT 2022
Vol.49 No.7
02 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2
Letter from the Editor
online
BEST FINAL MILES
It’s the bumps in the road that make
SOAKING IT IN a bike tour memorable. Isn’t that
part of why we do it? We don’t expect
a trip to go perfectly smooth, and
The case for ready enough the inevitable hiccups become plot
points in the stories we tell about
them. Overcoming those bumps and
➺ Late last week, as of this writing, my friends and I were bummers is what makes the final mile
emailing back and forth: “Should we cancel?” “The rain so satisfying and the stories so good.
looks pretty heavy.” “But we don’t mind rain!” “Don’t we?”
We’d been planning a bike trip to Glacier National Park for a
month. It’s not too far from the Adventure Cycling office, just
THE DARK CLOUD
a few hours (lucky us, I know), but you need a pass for Going- by Greg Smith
to-the-Sun Road, and these days spontaneity doesn’t always
We don’t like to talk
come so easy — and backing out of plans does (case in point). about it much, but
It took one too many spreadsheet requests for me to close bummer moods can
my laptop and say, “Let’s go for it, rain be damned.” I’d never been to Glacier, strike while bike touring. In his Final Mile,
and this first experience was — I was told — different from most. It was pouring Greg Smith describes how a friendly offer
rain, as we expected, and the milky river was high, flooding the hiking trails and in Salmon kept him on the sunny side
(from Feb. 2012).
whooshing past the road as we rode up. The higher part was still closed with
adventurecycling.org/dark-cloud
avalanche warnings, but the photos I took one-handed as we pedaled up to the
Loop all show face-hurting grins on us drippy pedalers. After the ride, we hung
out in Lake McDonald Lodge in true bike traveler form, clothes drying from a
HERE THERE BE
banister and snacks taking over a large table as we walked around barefoot to let
BEARS, SERIOUSLY
our shoes dry. We hiked until the trails drowned and sat by a fire under a pavilion by Alastair Bland
playing Bananagrams until the lights shut off and the fire died.
Bike touring can make
It’s amazing how hard it was to convince ourselves to do this thing we love, us feel invincible, and
and how awkward we all felt packing for this first trip of the year. We all forgot sometimes we forget that the locals may
something, wished we’d decided to bring or leave something. But once we know better than we do. While on a trip
started, it was as if we’d been on our bikes for years, the comfort of a person through Turkey, Alastair Bland pays for his
elbow-deep in their life’s work. Which is, I suppose, what a life on the bike is nonchalance with a nighttime run-in with a
bear and some poachers (from Oct./Nov. 2015).
for us — our calling. Back at the office once again, everyone is gone, and the
adventurecycling.org/here-be-bears
room dims around me as I, for some reason, refuse to go home. Meanwhile,
Yellowstone has just closed its entrances due to flooding similar to what we
witnessed in Glacier, and I wonder if it’s only a matter of time before that
flooding becomes destructive enough that Glacier, too, closes.
THE GHOST OF
Who knows what the future holds? I sure don’t. But I’d rather make a mistake
CECIL CHUBB
chancing something fun than spend the weekend wondering exactly what will by Eric Bryan
happen until it’s past tense. Give me your wet socks, your mushed banana,
A late-night visit to
your huddled masses wishing for waterproof matches and an extra layer, send Stonehenge on bikes is
these thirsty coffee mugs and soaked insoles to me, I will open my tarp to thee rewarded with chilling tales of a hot-headed
and light my lantern for them to dig around for a multitool that’s gotta be … ghost (from March 2013).
somewhere in here. adventurecycling.org/cecil-chubb
I hope you enjoy these Final Mile stories of choosing yes on keeping going,
on talking to strangers, on not taking the easy road just because it’s easy. And as
the summer’s heat crawls in and dries out these fields (that hopefully stay wet
FIVE MYTHS OF
enough to keep the fires at bay), I hope you’re motivated to send yourself out the
BICYCLE TOURING
door as well, as imperfect and ready as ever. by Tony Brown
Fresh off a cross-country
Carolyne Whelan ride, Tony Brown takes
Editor-in-Chief, Adventure Cyclist the romance of bike touring down a few
cwhelan@adventurecycling.org notches (from Oct./Nov. 2017).
adventurecycling.org/five-myths
contents
VOLUME 49 ∞ NUMBER 7 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG
BY BIKE WHERE EAST
MEETS WEST
Finding endless
kindness in Armenia.
by Nikki Ellman and
Jana Zanetto 24
OUR COVER:
Kari Black’s colorful take FINAL MILE DEPARTMENTS LETTERS COLUMNS
ANTHOLOGY 11
on a cyclist’s sunset.
08 Waypoints 03 LETTER from the 32 Road Test
Adventure Cyclist is 36 Geared Up Editor Michael Wilson
America’s only magazine 12 Detour to Haida Gwaii Marin Pine Mountain 2
44 Corporate Member Profile 05 LETTERS from our
dedicated to bicycle travel. by Denise LaFountaine
Readers
It is published nine times 14 Mile 5,000 46 Marketplace/Classifieds
each year by Adventure
by Brooke Marshall 06 LETTER from the
Cycling Association, a 50 Companions Wanted
Director
nonprofit organization 16 Serendipity Abound
51 Open Road Gallery
for recreational cyclists. by Rachel Rosenbaum
Individual membership
18 Steel Reserve
costs $45 yearly to U.S.
addresses and includes a
by Izaak Opatz
subscription to Adventure 20 Forty-Two Bridges
Cyclist and discounts on by Deb Werrlein MARIN PINE
Adventure Cycling maps. MOUNTAIN 2
22 Roll with the Punches, More braze-ons for
For more information, visit
adventurecycling.org or Go with the Flow more adventure.
call 800.755.2453. by Ally Mabry $2,499
PAINT IT BLACK 40
Adventure Cyclist
32
accepts stories, articles,
and photographs for
publication. Learn more Artist Kari Black takes to the
at adventurecycling.org/ road with her son and paints
submit.
the light fantastic.
by Dan D’Ambrosio
04 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2
Letters from our Readers
BUG SEASON
The June article about Maine’s across the paths of moving vehicles and I enjoy the Adventure Cyclist magazine
Katahdin Woods and Waters mentioned generally used to cheaply impersonate each month, devouring each issue. It
in Tips that “The best time to visit is objects in the vehicular world for gets me thinking of where I can bike
any time after black fly season, which mischief must be recognized and next. So I just wanted to say hello and
typically ends in mid-June.” As a New accommodated. Imagine Critical Mass happy birthday, and that I’m glad that
Hampshire resident who has hiked but with no potential for injury to there’s a lady as Editor-in-Chief now at
for six decades in New Hampshire the Mass’ers and the ability for just a Adventure Cycling. It puts a different
and Maine, including Katahdin, I can few people to amplify their presence. spin on the magazine. Keep up the
assure you that if you arrive in late June On another hand: want more than a good work!
or most of July expecting to miss the meter of overtaking space? Want to Charmaine Ruppolt | Hyattsville, Maryland
nasty little critters, you will be sorely be followed from farther away than
disappointed. June is the height of black motorists think is safe? Want your UNITED WE CYCLE
fly season in northern New England. turn at the green left turn arrow to be I am writing this letter as a reaction to
They start to wane by mid-July, but you respected? Want to not have to worry the segregation and polarization I see
won’t be black fly–free (or nearly so) about right hooks or left crosses? in our nation. And sometimes expressed
until early August. That said, there are There’s a flying beacon flock synced in some letters to the editor. Some
ways of combatting these bloodthirsty to you that can get all this for you in a people only seem to want to listen to
beasts. Insect repellent, head nets, and beaconized vehicular landscape. information that they agree with, and I
repellent clothing can all help. Joseph Cahill | Austin, Texas believe this attitude is a problem. The
John Parsons | Durham, New Hampshire members of Adventure Cycling share
BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE a love for bicycling. Some of us like to
HAPPY CAMPERS I saw in the latest Adventure Cyclist do trips that last months and others
I just wanted to take a moment to magazine that you mentioned your are happy to go out for a good day ride.
pass along that the May 2022 edition birthday is May 7 — mine is May Some of us ride bikes we purchased at
of Adventure Cyclist is excellent. The 6. Happy belated birthday! For my a yard sale for $100; others have paid
pictures, articles, and overall content birthday, I took a week’s vacation to over $10,000 for their bikes. Some
were top notch. That’s all ;) fly from Washington, DC, to Spokane, of us only camp when we travel, and
Brian Gatens | Ridgewood, New Jersey Washington, bringing my folding bike, others stay at multi-star hotels. Some
a Brompton, with me to ride some of of us like to race and others like to
I’m a proud Life Member of Adventure the trails in Washington, Idaho, and take their time. All these approaches
Cycling. Your issues these last few Montana. I made a special stop at the are wonderful ways to enjoy cycling.
months feel like they were written just Adventure Cycling headquarters in When I read an article about a trip I
for me! Just finished reading “Riding Missoula to take a tour of the office. will never do, it opens my mind a little
on the Science.” What great advice for I met Beth, who told me the stories to possibilities I have not considered.
me to converse with folks along the behind the bikes that are up on the There is no right or wrong way to
Northern Tier beginning my ride on walls. I bought a couple of souvenir enjoy cycling (as long as you don’t hurt
this coming Tuesday! “What do folks T-shirts in the office and enjoyed my anyone). So please keep the variety, it
where you’re from think about … ?” I’ve visit. I have been a member or 22 is wonderful. And as a group, let’s resist
bookmarked the digital edition on my years. I told Beth what an impact and the thought that Adventure Cycling has
iPad so I can read along the way. influence that Adventure Cycling has to represent only one kind of cyclist. Be
Mary Naber | Spokane, Washington made in my life. I have been on a bike nice, be friendly, and enjoy your ride,
tour every year since 1998, hitting a wherever and however you like to do it.
BEACONED TO BITS different place each time, in the U.S. Josh Levy | Salem, New York
In “Beware the Beacon,” a lot of and overseas. Bike traveling is the
concerns about non-beaconized road BEST way to see an area! I love to
users are brought up. But before this bike and take pictures along the way Your letters are welcome. We may edit letters for length
comes about, a world where beacons and share with friends afterwards. I’m and clarity. If you do not want your comments to be
printed in Adventure Cyclist, please state so clearly.
are randomly sprinkled about, flown sure you’ve heard a similar sentiment
Include your name and address with your correspondence.
on drones against the flow of traffic, expressed by other bicyclists. It was Email your comments, questions, or letters to editor@
tossed from moving vehicles behind or one of the highlights of my trip to visit adventurecycling.org or mail to Editor, Adventure
ahead in the traffic stream, slingshot the Adventure Cycling headquarters. Cyclist, P.O. Box 8308, Missoula, MT 59807.
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 05
Letter from the Director
FINDING AND FOLLOWING EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
MANAGING EDITOR
CAROLYNE WHELAN
DAN MEYER
YOUR NORTH STAR ART DIRECTOR
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS
ALLY MABRY
WILLIE WEIR
DAN D’AMBROSIO
Orienteering is for more than just the wilderness JUNE SIPLE
BERNE BROUDY
GAGE POORE
ART DIRECTOR EMERITUS GREG SIPLE
➺In my 30s, I got hooked on adventure and learned that we needed to refine our ADVERTISING DIRECTOR RICK BRUNER
racing: a niche sport that takes competing focus. While we have lots of ideas to test INTERN IZAAK OPATZ
teams across all kinds of terrain in all kinds and pilot, it’s important to take One Leg
of weather. I remember one competition at a Time. Earlier this year we wanted to
I did alongside a more experienced provide a variety of different resources
adventure racer while I was still learning to meet needs like route planning, travel
how to use a compass. We were knee deep inspiration, and group rides. By June, we
AREAS OF FOCUS
in mud, pushing and carrying our bikes had supported 15 beginner bike travel rides Provide the premier tools and inspiration
for people to travel by bicycle.
through a swampy marshland. I wondered to share the transformational joy of bike Expand and integrate bike travel
out loud if we were going the wrong way. travel, including 117 riders from historically networks for North America.
Create the best possible conditions
My partner replied, “Yeah, I think marginalized communities. Our first release for bicycle travel.
you’re right. I’m not normally the of short bike travel routes from members
navigator on my team.” of our community also launched, and we’re MISSION HOW TO REACH US
Adventure Cycling Association memberships@
At that moment, I realized that strong excited to continue to share accessible, inspires, empowers, and connects adventurecycling.org
people to travel by bicycle. 406.721.1776
navigation skills were almost more important local adventures for anyone ready for a
HEADQUARTERS SUBSCRIPTION ADDRESS
than physical abilities in an adventure race. Bike Overnight! But with all those avenues, Adventure Cycling Association Adventure Cycling Association
We made it out alive, but once we finished we were starting to lose our focus — we 150 E. Pine St. P.O. Box 8308
Missoula, MT 59802 Missoula, MT 59807
that race, I made a point to practice my were trying to take too many steps at once,
orienteering skills. I became the navigator and needed to find a better pace. For Bike STAFF
on my own adventure racing team. It’s a role Overnights, this meant recalibrating to EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR JENNIFER O’DELL
CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER SHEILA SNYDER, CPA
that’s essential to winning the competition. focus firstly on one aspect of the program CHIEF PEOPLE & CULTURE OFFICER NICKI BAILEY
In my career now as an executive director, we hope to grow: partnering with local bike MEMBERSHIP BRIAN BONHAM
GEOFF MCMILLION
I’m not trekking through knee-deep mud groups and providing stipends to cover KELLY FEHN
DEVELOPMENT JEFFREY MIZELL
very often, but I do see more than ever how expenses for campsites and food. HAYDIN GROTZ
navigational skills are essential to leading a As you continue on the route, check the MAXTON CAPLANIDES
BROOKE CAREY
friend, a team, a group, and an organization map, and take one leg at a time because MARKETING & COMMUNICATIONS TERI MALOUGHNEY
CAROLYNE WHELAN
through transitional times. sometimes you need to Reorient Your DAN MEYER
LEVI BOUGHN
It all starts with how you Plan the Route. When you start heading toward that ALLY MABRY
DANIEL MRGAN
Route. Thankfully, we have a building full attack point, you can’t always tell if that JESSICA ZEPHYRS
KATE WHITTLE
of people who know a thing or two about road is flooded out five miles ahead, so you LAUREN HUDGINS
finding and planning a route to ride. And need to be prepared to reorient as needed. INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY CLIFF OLIVER
RICHARD DARNE
as we continue our work in the future, our This is where your navigator really needs to DAVID BARTH
GAGE POORE
focus on developing routes, both long and shine — they need to know where you are so TOURS MIKE LESSARD
REBEKAH ZOOK
short, will continue to be core to what we they can figure out where to go next. MELINDA BALCHAN
do in the organization. Over the last few months, I’ve had a chance SAM BOCKIUS
EMMA WIMMER
Once you have the route, you Identify to really get to know the organization more REED SALLANS
ROUTES CARLA MAJERNIK
the Attack Point. This doesn’t mean you and have had some great conversations with NATHAN TAYLOR
AMY WALLY
are physically attacking someone; rather, several of you, our members. It’s been really DAN QUINN
it’s like spotting that red barn up the road helpful to make those connections as we HALEY BRUECKMAN
COMMUNITY IMPACT KATIE HARRIS
that you are going to ride toward. For figure out what’s next for Adventure Cycling. MELISSA MOSER
JENNIFER HAMELMAN
Adventure Cycling, our attack point is The best part is that we have a great team, CARMEN AIKEN
REN PARKER
creating a pilot program with entry points we have passionate supporters, and we have CYCLOSOURCE MAX SIEBERT
for new bike travelers. all the tools we need to continue bringing JULIETTE MATTHEWS
ADMINISTRATION BETH PETERSEN
Which is why it’s important to Always bike travel experiences to people. I’ve got JAKE FLAHERTY
Know Where You Are. It’s easy to miss a my compass and I’m ready for the next leg! BOARD OF DIRECTORS
turn because you’re looking at that cool PRESIDENT MARIA ELENA PRICE
VICE PRESIDENT ELIZABETH KIKER
waterfall, so you need to keep checking the Jennifer O’Dell SECRETARY/TREASURER NOEL KEGEL
map as you go. We recently Checked the Executive Director BOARD MEMBERS JOYCE CASEY
JENNY PARK
Map with our Bike Overnights program jodell@adventurecycling.org RICH TAUER
ERICK CEDE O
SCOTT EDWARDS
06 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2
EXPLORE CANADA
Atlantic or Pacific
freewheeling.ca Small groups, nice bikes, hand ground coffee! 800-672-0775
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RO U T E
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 07
Waypoints
Stuck in the Middle
HANGRY HANGRY HIP-PO
Grubhub founder pedals the TransAm
BLM PUSHES NEW TOOL TO UNLOCK
and lives to tell the tale TRAPPED PUBLIC LANDS
➺ If public land can’t and Water Conservation Fund
be accessed without (endowed with profits from
crossing private land, is it offshore oil and gas leases)
really public? Nearly two to increase public access
centuries after the federal through easements, rights-of-
government’s railroad grants way, or sale of private lands.
created a checkerboard An omnibus public lands bill
pattern of land ownership passed in 2019 requires the
across the West, many agency to solicit the public
sections of public lands every two years for a decade
remain stranded amid for help targeting stranded
large private holdings. This public lands for access
means that hunters, cyclists, improvements.
and other recreationalists In May, the BLM unveiled
lack legal access to more a new tool aimed at making
than 9.5 million acres of this part easier. The BLM
publicly owned lands, Dingell Act Priority Access
according to a report by the List Portal allows users to
backcountry GPS app OnX easily nominate areas using an
Mike Evans, the founder of Grubhub, is coming out with and the Theodore Roosevelt online map and to see the 712
a memoir this year called Hangry: A Startup Journey. The
Conservation Partnership. parcels of public land already
MIT grad created Grubhub out of a hankering for pizza and
The Bureau of Land selected for consideration
grew the business from simply an idea all the way to an IPO
on Wall Street. Right when he reached this major milestone, Management, which from 2020’s more than 6,000
he walked away from the company and rode his bike across controls 93 percent of such responses.
the country, following Adventure Cycling’s TransAmerica “landlocked” public tracts, The portal closed June
Trail. It was a shock to many in the business world that wants to do something about 30, so if you still have your
the founder left it all behind. Hangry is a story of both the it. Under newly minted eye on a piece of public land
business and the bike trip, and how spending months on director Tracy Stone- stranded behind private,
his bike helped Evans reflect on the lessons learned, get Manning, the agency hopes make a note to submit in
perspective on the never-ending hunger for success that to use money from the Land 2024! –Izaak Opatz
drives many entrepreneurs, and dream up plans for another
new venture. Hangry will be on bookshelves this fall.
08 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2
edited by Dan Meyer
DERVLA MURPHY DIES
The Irish travel writer Dervla Murphy, Afghanistan and Pakistan prior to Soviet and
whose candid and colorful account of her American meddling.
solo bike trip from Dunkirk to Delhi in 1963 Reading Full Tilt, anyone who has traveled
inspired generations of adventure cyclists, by bike will realize that the zeniths and nadirs
died in May at age 90. Full Tilt: Ireland to of bike travel have remained constant since
India With a Bicycle was the first of 26 at least 1963, including the strong bond
adventure and travel books Murphy would formed with one’s bike — Murphy referred to
write, each turning on her casually intrepid her companion across roughly 3,000 miles as
personality and no-nonsense approach to Roz, short for Don Quixote’s horse, Rocinante.
COURTESY TOM BUNNING
new people and places. Perhaps more impressive than the climbs
Murphy’s keen eye for detail and clear, she conquered, the weather she endured,
sometimes sardonic writing voice remains and the men and wildlife she had to fight off
electrifying to read and easy to trust. Her during her travels was her willingness after
insatiable curiosity and open-eyed reporting long days on the bike to pick up a pen at the
led readers to places most would never visit, end of each day and record all that she had
including the high mountain kingdoms of done, seen, and felt. We’re so glad she did. –IO
Hit Us With Your
Best Shot
IT’S TIME FOR THE ADVENTURE
CYCLIST 14TH ANNUAL BICYCLE
TRAVEL PHOTO CONTEST!
➺We’re looking for your best images from
around the world of bike travel. So dust off
your camera lens, pull up a stool in your
darkroom (or Lightroom, as it were), and get
to work! This year’s categories are Best Cover
Photo, Adventure Cycling Route Network,
Epic, People/Portrait, and Around Camp.
We’ll publish a winner and an honorable
NIKO KROEGER
mention for each category, and every
winner gets a cash prize. Learn more at
adventurecycling.org/photocontest.
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 09
CYCLING • WALKING & HIKING • RESPONSIBLE WILDLIFE • CULTURE
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10 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2Final Mile
Anthology
It’s fitting, in a sad sort of way, that Dervla Murphy 12
passed away during the compiling of this year’s Final Detour to Haida Gwaii
Mile issue. A woman after our own heart, Dervla Story by Denise LaFountaine
pushed fears aside to live the life she wanted. And Illustration by Jaimie Shelton
of course, that comes at a price, doesn’t it? To do
what we want, we must also live with the aches and 14
discomfort. Dervla and I share a broken (untreated) Mile 5,000
Story by Brooke Marshall
coccyx (and some other traits), but that never stopped Illustration by Rachel Hendrix
her from pushing forth. Rather, her aches and ailments
were a sort of liberation: if she was uncomfortable 16
all the time, then it didn’t matter if she were in a bed Serendipity Abound
or on a floor, and she might as well ride her bike and Story by Rachel Rosenbaum
see what’s out there and be in pain than sit around Illustration by Pablo Iglesias
and be bored and still feel lousy. The tenacity of that
90-year-old woman is inspiring to me, and so are these 18
stories. In this collection, we celebrate the decision Steel Reserve
to keep going, to sit with the discomfort rather than Story by Izaak Opatz
Illustration by Samantha Mash
giving up and choosing the easier, less fulfilling path.
It’s a big world out there, and we’ll never know what 20
it has in store for us if we let some rain or flat tires or
Forty-Two Bridges
heartache keep us home. –Carolyne Whelan Story by Deb Werrlein
Illustration by Yuke Li
22
Roll with the Punches,
Go with the Flow
Story by Ally Mabry
Illustration by Daniel Mrgan
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 11Detour to Haida Gwaii
STORY BY DENISE LAFOUNTAINE | ILLUSTRATION BY JAIMIE SHELTON
O
n a Sunday morning in mid-July, after eight Part of the reason for this trip, apart from experiencing the
days of pedaling through rain on the island of beauty of northern Canada, was to regroup after a breakup
Haida Gwaii, the wettest place in Canada, I had that felt like being hurled against a wall and left comatose in a
had enough. I lay on my back inside my tent and heap of grief and despair. In a single phone call, I was thrown
watched the water cascade down either side of the rainfly. into darkness. I imagined that a three-month trip into the
I felt a pool of water swelling up under the footprint. I was long days of the far north would give me the light I needed to
certain it was only a matter of seconds before I would be clear my head, process the pain, and revive my crushed soul.
carried out to sea. As the downpour picked up, I asked myself I needed solitude but craved connection. An important
what the hell I was doing. In that moment, I had no answer. part of any trip for me is meeting new people, getting new
I had decided to make a detour to Haida Gwaii on my perspectives, and sharing new experiences. I need long
way from Seattle, Washington, to Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest stretches in nature to help uncover buried fears and expose
Territories, Canada. Haida Gwaii lies 93 nautical miles from outdated stories, but I also need people now and then to
Prince Rupert, off the northern coast of British Columbia. give me a sense of belonging. Wet, dark, dreary days were
It takes eight hours to get there in good weather on the not conducive to chance meetings. The loneliness was
BC ferry system. It had rained nearly every day since I left undermining my newly found sense of balance and harmony.
Seattle three weeks earlier, but the sheer volume of rain on As I lay in my tent at Hidden Island RV Park and
Haida Gwaii was more than I could bear. Campground, all I could think was that I wanted to scrap the
12 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2whole trip and go home. My usual resilience in the face of drink tea. As I sat there, lost in my novel, the young girl from
hardship and discomfort was gone. I just wanted out. My first next door walked up and offered me a freshly baked cupcake
step was to get from the tent to the shelter of the restroom. she had just frosted. My spirit meter sprang forward again.
Maybe just being dry and warm would shift my mindset. The next day, I wanted to get back to the main town
As I ran to the bathroom, I was surprised to see a man in of Queen Charlotte to see if the ferries were running on
his 40s at a table in a covered area nearby. Next to him was a schedule and find a dry place to stay. I rode the 42 miles
backpack and a pair of hiking boots. When I came out of the nearly dry. About five miles from town, a gigantic cloud burst
restroom, he was still there, staring off into space. open and unleashed its fury upon me. I rode
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked. to the gazebo outside the tourist office, which
“This sucks,” he said. His monotone voice I decided didn’t open for another hour. Inside the gazebo,
barely acknowledged my presence. to give it in bright yellow rain attire, was a man from Cuba
“You got that right,” I said. three days. If and a young French boy. Each had sailed down
Looking closer, I saw that his tent and sleeping things didn’t from Alaska with their families.
bag were in a big, wet heap on the table. drastically Mario, the Cuban, asked where I came from
“Is that your tent?” I asked. improve by and where I was going. His eyes sparkled when I
“It was,” he said. “I just called the Boy Scouts on then, I would told him. He excused himself. Ten minutes later,
the island. They’re coming to pick up all my gear, he returned with a steaming cup of coffee in one
call it quits.
including the backpack and hiking boots. I just hand and two dark chocolate bars in the other.
want to get the F out of here!” “I want to celebrate with you,” he said, beaming.
“How are you getting home?” I asked, shocked that he was “Bravo, for being persistent and making it this far.” My spirit
carrying out the same plan I was contemplating. barometer bounced up to half mast.
“I booked a flight back to Vancouver from Masset airstrip When the tourist information office finally opened, I went
across the street. It leaves at 10:00 AM. From there I’m flying in to scour the local listings for accommodations. One hotel
back to Northern California.” had space, but the price was exorbitant. When the rain calmed
He made it look so easy. After he left, I called my hardcore down a bit, I rode around to see if I could find anything else.
outdoorsy friend, Linda, to tell her that I was done with the trip. As I was getting on my bike, I recognized Jean, a woman I
“You’re done? Are you kidding me?” she said. “Why don’t had chatted with on the ferry to Haida Gwaii. I waved as she
you just find a dry place to stay for a couple days? Regroup was walking into the store. She stopped to ask how I was doing.
and then decide. Don’t make a rash decision based on a few “Not great,” I confessed. “Finding shelter around here is
crappy days of rain.” proving more difficult than I anticipated.”
She was right. I would probably regret just hanging it up. “I have a studio out in the backyard,” she said. “Why don’t
I decided to give it three days. If things didn’t drastically you stay there?”
improve by then, I would call it quits. I found out that the ferry back to Prince Rupert wasn’t
I wanted to ride to Towhill Viewpoint at the end of the leaving the island until the following evening. Jean invited
island, but I was hesitant due to the rain and muddy road. I me to stay as long as I needed. We had coffee together in
sat at the sheltered table until there was a break in the rain. the morning and talked about the history of the island and
Then I rode to the bike shop at the airstrip to put air in my how she and her family had landed there. I cooked a hearty
tires before deciding what to do. meal and washed and dried my wet, dirty clothes. By now the
As I was filling my tires at the pump outside the shop, needle on my spirit gauge had swung straight over to the far
the owner, Tom, asked me where I was headed. He told me right where it landed with a resounding yes!
he was going to Towhill in a couple of hours and would be It was still cold and wet on the island, but the warmth and
happy to give me a lift back if I wanted one. camaraderie of the folks I bumped into turned my feelings of
That was all I needed to motivate me to go for it. After loneliness and isolation into a warm blanket of community
riding to Towhill, I found Tom right where he said he’d be. and inclusion. The support I felt over those three days gave
We threw my muddy bike in the bed and drove back. I had me the faith I needed to continue the ride. Linda was right:
a delightful ride with him and his three-year-old daughter, giving difficult situations a little breathing room is often the
Hazel. He dropped me off at the campsite, gave me a big best way to let go and embrace the suck long enough to let
hug, and wished me well on my journey. That simple act of the unexpected surprises of the journey find you and lead
kindness nudged my spirit gauge forward a notch. you back to the reason you are there in the first place: joy,
I gathered my things and rode 26 miles back down the discovery, and connection.
island to the small hamlet of Port Clements. I checked into a
small hostel with two dorm rooms above the Bayview Market. Denise LaFountaine lives in Seattle, Washington, and works at Renton Technical
I was in one and a family was in the other. I took a warm College. When she is not on a bike adventure, she enjoys swimming, dancing,
reading, writing, and sharing stories with friends and family.
shower and sat in the common area to read my book and
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 13Mile 5,000
STORY BY BROOKE MARSHALL | ILLUSTRATION BY RACHEL HENDRIX
I
wobble and veer along the gravel bike path. It’s a scenic I gaze at it and frown. This isn’t working. When I thru-
route gradually making its way up to Snoqualmie Pass hiked the Appalachian Trail a few years back, mile markers
in Washington, but my eyes are glued to my phone. were a cause for celebration. What’s wrong with me?
Strava ticks off the miles one-tenth at a time until it I started this tour three months ago in Raleigh and made
reaches the magic number: 32.4. I come to a stop. With that, my way up the East Coast to New England, then headed
I have pedaled 5,000 miles. west. Along the way, I met with admissions counselors from
I smile expectantly, waiting for whatever emotion 18 universities to tell them about the tremendous potential
happens when you ride your bike 5,000 miles. A light of students from the economically developing world — in
breeze shuffles the leaves overhead, and a few birds chirp. particular, a former student of mine from my days as a Peace
I clear my throat. I’m not feeling much of anything: tired Corps volunteer in Malawi. It’s been a deeply rewarding
mostly, kinda hungry. journey, but also a deeply solitary one. The AT is a communal
Aha! I snap my fingers and smile: I’ve got just the thing. I experience, even hiked solo. You hike with an awareness of
lean my bike (I call her Lucky) against a tree and gather up every other thru-hiker who has walked the same path, and
some pine needles, twigs, and rocks. Squatting in the middle you finish with the same communal celebration of having
of the trail, I carefully arrange them, and then nod and stand completed something iconic and unifying. But this tour is
up to admire my handiwork: mine alone. There’s no one here to celebrate with me, on the
5000 path or from the past.
14 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2I try to drum up a sense of pride, accomplishment, This patch of gravel bike path, with
something, but all I feel is a pang of melancholy. This patch of trees on one side and a fenced-in
gravel bike path, with trees on one side and a fenced-in field field on the other, means nothing to
on the other, means nothing to anyone in the world but me. anyone in the world but me.
That’s okay, I think. I bet this little spot would be pretty excited
to find out it meant anything at all to anyone, let alone something
really significant, even just to one person.
That’s the emotion you feel at mile 5,000, I guess:
consolation. I lean in the shade next to Lucky and take this
moment to appreciate something unremarkable. We grin at each other like a couple of runaway inmates.
Around mile 5,003, I cross paths with a perfect mystery. And then he shares that today he’s been “putting Pee Wee
A guy on a loaded touring bike, so he must be on a long trip Herman in movies where he doesn’t belong. Like Pulp
… only he’s wearing a plaid button-down, jeans, and Keds. So Fiction. And then playing it out!” He clears his throat and
maybe he’s just going to work? But what commute involves continues in a Pee Wee voice: “A Big Mac’s a Big Mac, but
a remote bike path on a Wednesday afternoon? We share a they call it Le Big Mac.”
smile and come to a stop. For a moment, my mouth hangs agape in an astonished
“How far are you going?” he asks. grin, and then I throw my head back and laugh. “Jim, my
“Seattle!” I say, and then add shyly, “I actually just passed dude, it was a pleasure to meet you,” I say, and then we go
5,000 miles. You’ll see my marker a little ways down the trail.” our separate ways.
He meets my eye and says, sincerely, “Congratulations.” Bike tours are therapeutic, a perfect chance to clear the
“Thank you. How far have you gone?” junk out of the attic of your mind. But given enough time,
Cocking his head and squinting up at the trees, he says, you run out of meaningful things to think about. That’s when
“This is … probably … 48,000 miles.” you play weird brain games, like putting Pee Wee in Pulp
“Are you kidding me?!” Fiction, to amuse yourself. There are people I’ve known my
Meet Jim. He’s been touring for three years. He pedals whole life who wouldn’t understand that, but this stranger
until he runs out of money, and then he makes his way to does. Which raises the question: Is he really a stranger at all?
L.A., where he works bike delivery gigs and sleeps on the Aren’t we cut from the same cloth?
beach. When he has enough in the bank, he takes off again. Nomadic hermits are a strange community. The things
Kinda like me: I do seasonal jobs for six months at a time, that keep us apart — rootlessness and solitude — are
save every penny, and spend the rest of the year traveling. paradoxically what unite us. And we wouldn’t have it any
“I used to work in an office,” he admits. other way. Here I am, with a lonely 5,000 miles behind
“Me too!” me, and here is Jim, with 10 times more. Two strangers on
“It’s unfulfilling, isn’t it?” two different paths sharing a moment of recognition of our
“Dude, it sucked!” common journey. Smiling at that chance conversation and
“I had a Toyota Camry.” pedaling my way through Mile 5,004, I finally feel the wave
“I had a Honda Civic!” of pride and accomplishment I had been hoping for.
We share a laugh.
“It’s all just stuff,” he says. “I used to have a whole house Brooke Marshall is the author of Lucky: An African Student, An American
full of stuff.” Dream, and A Long Bike Ride. She has ridden a bicycle on seven continents.
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ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 15Serendipity Abound
STORY BY RACHEL ROSENBAUM | ILLUSTRATION BY PABLO IGLESIAS
“W
e’re not cyclists. We’re just people who take it anymore. We laughed. They were serious. This short
cycle.” This is how Liz and Duncan conversation left us wanting more; we ached to hear their
described themselves when my friend stories, ask them about their lives and their past adventures.
and adventure buddy Bailey and I met As new tourers, on our first cross-country trek, we were
them for the first time at a rest stop near Libby, Montana. enamored by their calm, their confidence, and their realism.
Little did we know that over the next few weeks, Liz and Unfortunately for us, they were not so taken by us curious,
Duncan would become so much more than just “people who bubbly Americans, and we soon parted ways. We watched
cycle” to us. Their friendship — however brief — continues to them pedal east, their Scottish flag waving off the back of
be a reminder that just because a friendship isn’t long doesn’t their bike, and thought we’d never see them again.
mean that it’s not impactful. That rest stop near Libby was the first of many for
We had heard about this 71-year-old Scottish couple riding a Bailey and me that day. Thirty minutes later, we were off
tandem bike across the country through the touring grapevine. our bikes again to ooh and ahh at the Swinging Bridge in
We’d been keeping our eyes peeled for them ever since. To us, Kootenai Falls. As we neared the last town on our route a
they were already icons, and we couldn’t wait to meet them. few hours later, we stopped to grab a few quick groceries,
Our first meeting was nothing special. We didn’t even only to realize we’d just reached our first milestone: 500
exchange names. When we asked where they were headed, miles! We had to celebrate. We found a local brewery, shared
they said they were riding until their asses and legs couldn’t a flight (at this point our tolerance had plummeted), and
16 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2When we asked where they were headed,
they said they were riding until their asses
and legs couldn’t take it anymore. We After a surprisingly magical night in Hinsdale, saved by
laughed. They were serious. a local angel named Carol, we hopped on our bikes early,
determined to beat the heat. We had just 30 miles to ride. A
wrote postcards to friends, happy for another excuse to get distance that after 115, felt like a warm-up.
off our bikes for a while. Finally, we decided we couldn’t As we rounded the bend, before the town, Bailey stopped
procrastinate pedaling any longer. suddenly in front of me. I slammed on my brakes, unsure
The last hill leading to the campsite was brutal. It started of why were stopping. My eyes followed her hands as she
to drizzle as the road wound farther into the sky. By the time leaned down to the ground to pick something up. And then I
we pedaled into the beautiful campsite, we were too tired to understood. It was a Scottish flag. Liz and Duncan’s Scottish
enjoy it. That is until we heard the sounds of bike wheels and flag. Our hearts and minds began to race. Were they okay?
Scottish accents in the distance. Acting on a burst of energy, How had they gotten in front of us? They were planning on
we walked down to meet our not-yet friends. We chatted a riding many fewer miles per day.
bit, scrummaged for a few extra dollars to pay for the sites We picked up the flag and carried it with us to Glasgow.
together, and hung their food with ours after they told us We were determined to find them, make sure they were okay,
they were planning to sleep with it in their tent. and return their memento. Luckily, we’d exchanged email
In the morning, we said our goodbyes — again — this time addresses at the B&B.
believing it was for real. They were headed south of Glacier At a sweet little coffee shop in Glasgow, I opened my email
National Park, we were heading through it. with the intention of writing a note to Liz and Duncan. But
Over the next week, Bailey and I took our first day off with they’d beat me to the punch:
friends in Whitefish, pedaled through the snow into Glacier,
climbed up the extraordinary Going-to-the-Sun Road, Hi Rachel,
spotted our first bears, rode through a border crossing into Good the email is working. We reached Glasgow very late last
Canada, and experienced our first piercing crosswinds (or night but on the back of a pickup from two miles outside Saco
side winds as we liked to call them) into Cutbank, Montana. where we were going to camp. The heat and the hills were
Out of Cutbank, we rode our first century: 115 miles making us slow and we had three punctures within an hour. We
through the blistering heat across the Hi-Line. We’d ran out of inner tubes and could not find the puncture hole. It
planned to stop around mile 80, but when we arrived, we felt was 7.30 and we ran out of water so we flagged down a pickup.
uncomfortable with the camping options. And so, with just a The couple came from Glasgow and offered us a lift right
few hours of daylight left, we filled our bellies with grocery- through so we took it. Stayed in the Cottonwood hotel and will
store bagels and avocado, and put our butts back on our bikes. stay tonight to sort out the bike and put a new tire on. Hope you
The next campsite wasn’t for another 35 miles. made it ok in that heat. We had a beer with a British cyclist who
We took turns feeling sorry for ourselves and captaining had done 130 miles and looked fresh. What are we doing wrong?
the positivity train — a rhythm we were grateful came so Liz and Duncan
naturally to us as pedaling partners.
As we turned down the dirt road that led to the B&B we “Wahooo!” I thought. “They were okay!” I quickly
were going to camp outside of in Dodson, Montana, my eyes responded, letting them know we’d found their flag and
settled on an oddly familiar site: a long, gray, anteater-like tent. asking if they wanted to meet at a brewery to grab a drink.
A huge smile spread across my face. “It’s Liz and Duncan!” I They agreed, saying they hadn’t realized they’d dropped it.
shouted to Bailey. We couldn’t believe our eyes. We’d split ways They asked if we’d hung on to it.
over a week earlier, traversed completely different terrain at The brewery would not, in fact, be the last time we saw
different speeds and with changing plans. Crossing paths again Liz and Duncan, though that day seemed to cement our
felt like sweet serendipity — a phenomenon we were learning status as friends. Each time we left them on the road, we’d
to love about bike touring. say goodbye and hug a little harder wondering if this time,
In the morning, we exchanged stories over breakfast in it was for good. Friends on the road are not meant to be
the B&B, soaking in the air conditioning and other-than- forever, after all. It’s their serendipity, not their longevity
oatmeal breakfast. It meant we’d get a late start on a hot day, that makes them so magical.
but at the time it felt worth it. P.S. We still keep in touch every so often with Liz and
Again, we said our goodbyes — laughing this time as we Duncan over email, exchanging memories and sharing
wondered whether it would actually be the last. cycling dreams. Scotland is definitely top on our list.
That day, Bailey and I made it about half the distance
we were intending. We’d dreamed about making it to a Rachel Rosenbaum is a Design Researcher living in Detroit, Michigan. She spends
Warmshowers host in Glasgow, but by 2 pm we began to as much time as possible on her bike, whether on daily commutes or longer tours.
Follow adventures like this one on Instagram at @RachelsOnTheRoad.
accept that the heat and headwinds had other plans for us.
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 17Steel Reserve
STORY BY IZAAK OPATZ | ILLUSTRATION BY SAMANTHA MASH
S
omewhere in western Greece, the spokes on my back mistakes than I could count. I’d ripped myself multiple new
wheel started to break. The first one snapped without ones and salted many kilometers with hissed, obscene self-
my noticing, and the light chime it made swiping the recriminations.
chainstay took 30 minutes to auger into my awareness as I pedaled as gingerly as I could with the broken spoke
the harbinger of annoyance and detour it was. I stopped and and prayed to the God of Flat-Bed Pickup Trucks. But after
squeezed each spoke for tension and felt a billowing sense of about 10 minutes, I saw a cyclist cresting a hill, earbuds in,
doom when the bad one gave. pumping a carbon-fiber racing bike. He looked determined
It didn’t take long to realize my mistake. At the bike shop not to acknowledge me beyond a brusque dip of his futuristic
in Athens a few days earlier, I had insisted on a steel rim helmet, but I waved him to a stop.
and didn’t reconsider when the shop owner retreated to the I wore iridescent blue Spandex dance shorts, a tortured
basement to dig around. What he came up with was 40 years pair of old running shoes, and straddled a 14-speed Giant
old and, it would turn out, as brittle as phyllo. “Vintage,” he road bike older than he was. He wasn’t eager to engage until
said, charging me extra. I spoke to him in English. He perked up, told me his name
This trip, a solo bike ride across central and eastern was Panos, and asked where I was headed. The sodden
Europe, denied me any chance to share blame when things printer paper I pulled from my handlebar bag was folded in
went wrong. Six weeks after starting in Berlin, I’d made more quarters and more closely resembled a used bandage than a
18 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2map. The ink had bled through, deltas and kappas melting in high school Spanish, the safest way to get out of town on a
across unmarked rivers and roads. I tried to show him where bike. Rather than try to speak to me, he leaned out the door
I thought I was, but his pity kicked in before I could finish. and waved down a neighbor chatting on the sidewalk.
He’d gone far enough for the day, he said, so he could turn Adriano was an architecture professor in town and spoke
around and help me. His coach owned a bike shop in nearby a little English. I pointed to a park on the map where I
Agrinio and he’d lead me there. Plus, he needed to practice planned to camp that night. A stricken look crossed his face
his English. and he told me it would be too dangerous to go in the dark.
As we rode, he told me he was 16 and training for a road Ah, it’s fine, I said. He said I could stay with him. Ah, it’s fine, I
race. If he could earn a place among the top three amateur said, but I was already wilting. It was dark, I was hungry, and
riders in the country over the next two years, he’d be given a the spoke crises had tired me out. He practically prodded me
10 percent bonus on his entrance exam to Greece’s air force into his garage, and I let him.
academy. He wanted to be a pilot. An hour later, I was showered, eating a mushroom pizza,
His foresight was impressive. On our way back, he and watching old home videos on VHS with Adriano’s family.
asked if I wanted to ride in the road to avoid the glass on His wife Marcella poured me wine and pushed a slice of cake
the shoulder, but I shrugged him off. When I got a flat, he in front of me. To have slipped so suddenly from grimy dirtbag
neglected to gloat, but I could almost hear him thinking, to sheltered guest sent me into a fugue state of contentedness.
How did this guy manage to get this far? The next day, I decided to test my luck on a day trip. I
When we reached Agrinio, I followed Panos through a packed a pannier and rode from Lecce to the tip of Italy’s
maze of side streets to the bike shop. He hopped the curb boot heel, where the Ionian and Adriatic seas merge. It was a
and rode through the front door. His coach quickly and ably great ride along an empty, gorgeous coastline but took longer
got to work replacing my broken spoke. than I had anticipated, and it was evening by the time I
Panos, another mechanic or two, and some jovial bike shop turned around. I had bitten
loafers made a comfortable cadre, and I relaxed as they asked The ink had bled off more boot than I could
me about my trip and chatted among themselves. I used the through, deltas and chew.
bathroom, refilled my water bottles, and enjoyed the warmth About halfway back, a
kappas melting across
and orderliness inside the shop. It was dark outside and had spoke broke. I rode a while
started to rain. I reveled in a fuzzy sense of accomplishment unmarked rivers and longer, panting expletives
and safety, feeling another mistake metabolize into memory. roads. I tried to show at myself, until another
When he finished, the mechanic charged me a negligible him where I thought one snapped and the wheel
five euros for the job and threw in some extra spokes in case I was, but his pity suddenly warped into a
I broke more, which he seemed certain I would. I shook kicked in before I helix, jamming me to a halt.
hands all around and pushed off into the rain. It was dark by then, raining,
could finish.
The steel rim held for another day and a half. The and I was still 30 kilometers
next time, feeling the spoke snap on a pedal stroke, I was from Lecce. I had no way to
reminded of losing a tooth as a kid. Then another one get a hold of Adriano and Marcella, and the back tire was so
broke, and another one. I hopped off before the wheel failed warped that I couldn’t even push the bike. I hoisted it onto my
completely and, after groaning into my fist for about five shoulder and walked the few kilometers to the nearest town.
minutes, stuck out my thumb. Luckily, there was a train to Lecce in 30 minutes, enough
A couple of Germans gave me a ride to Igoumenitsa, a time for me to inhale a panini and swill a cold Peroni,
port town in northwest Greece. I had weighed the idea of the best I’d ever had. When I finally got to Adriano and
continuing north into Albania, but it was Friday evening, Marcella’s apartment building, I reached for the buzzer.
and any bike shops were already closed. After eating dinner Before I could push it, Marcella was there, swinging open
with a cyclist who was getting on a ferry that night for Italy, the door and ushering me in, relief flooding her face. Adriano
I decided I couldn’t bear to sit around waiting for the bike appeared at the top of the stairs in his bathrobe, telephone in
shops to open on Monday. Italy it was. hand, mid-call to the police.
In Brindisi, I had my lucky steel rim fixed again. I hadn’t That was it for the wheel. I let Massimo replace it with a
counted on ending up in Italy or made any plans to be there, new aluminum rim and didn’t have any mechanical issues
so I asked the mechanic where I should go. He said Lecce, 30 for the rest of the trip. But I’ll be forever grateful to the lucky
miles south, was pretty. steel wheel for introducing me to Panos, putting me on a boat
Just as I rolled into Lecce, another spoke snapped. Lacking to Italy, and leading me to my surrogate Italian family.
a phone, I began to introduce myself to the locals, asking for
directions to the nearest bike shop. After a few busier shops Izaak Opatz is a musician and leatherworker from Missoula, Montana. He’s
passed me off, I made it to Massimo’s, a one-man affair run by currently this magazine’s intern and pursuing a master’s degree in journalism. He
a sour, efficient mechanic who would hardly meet my eye. I left a bike in Italy eight years ago and plans to reunite with it soon. Find his music
bought an area map while he fixed the spoke and asked him, and leatherwork at izaakopatz.com.
ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG/MEMBERS 19Forty-Two Bridges
STORY BY DEB WERRLEIN | ILLUSTRATION BY YUKE LI
I
n 2019, I rode from Miami to Key West with my sister, would present bigger challenges. The first came on Day
brother, and 15-year-old niece. My brother and his One when we reached the Card Sound, which separates the
daughter were new to cycling, but I lured them in mainland from Key Largo. We stopped for a quick lunch of
with the prospect of a great adventure. My sister had fried conch and a beer while the acrophobes wrapped their
been cycling for a few years and needed no persuading. All heads around the mountain of road rising up like a great wall
three of them have a fear of heights — a family trait that, between us and the magic of the Keys beyond.
thankfully, had skipped me. In order of severity, my sister’s fear is by far the worst.
I’d chosen this ride because you can’t get flatter than She avoids climbing anything as high as her attic ladder. I’d
Florida, and when you plan a ride for newbies, flat helps describe my brother as nervous about heights rather than
sell the idea. I hoped the trip would be easy and fun, but I phobic, and my niece ranks somewhere in between.
didn’t consider the number of bridges in the Keys and what To cross that first bridge, we assigned teams. I would ride
crossing them would involve for people who don’t like to with my sister and my brother would ride with his daughter.
look down. It’s not a long bridge, but it’s 65 feet tall in the middle,
With a little research, we determined that most of the has no shoulder, walkway, or other accommodations for
42 bridges we’d have to cross were low and flat. “We’ll just nonvehicular traffic, and the railing opens at the bottom,
deal with them,” said my sister, but she worried two of them exposing a horrifying sliver of the distant water below.
20 ADVENTURE CYCLIST a u g u s t/s e p t e m b e r 2 0 2 2I told our crew we would ride in pairs and take the whole to climb a ladder, magic does not come to mind. How would
road to prevent traffic from passing us. My brother and I my sister and niece control their fear for seven long miles
would ride on the outside so my sister and niece could stay as with a drop to the water on one side, heavy traffic on the
far from the railing as possible. other, and another 65-foot hump looming out front?
We pedaled onto the bridge at a good pace, but halfway It didn’t help that many folks we met on the trip regaled
up, the incline proved steeper than it looked, and we slowed us with warnings about the dangers of this crossing. One
considerably. As my brother and niece fell behind, I stayed happy storyteller called the bridge a “death trap,” and
with my sister. Someone once told her that singing can another suggested we’d never get four bikes across without at
ward off panic, so she frantically least one flat tire because of all the shoulder debris.
belted out “Yankee Doodle” as we The day we planned to cross, my brother emerged from
pedaled. She’s never been known his tent rubbing a stiff neck. Worry about what he’d gotten
When we
for her singing voice, and it didn’t his daughter into had kept him up all night. Over breakfast,
improve when it turned screechy
reached we revised our original crossing strategy. This time, we’d
and hysterical in the crosswind that land again, I ride single file on the shoulder and my sister would lead so
caught us at the top. I could feel the realized I’d she could pedal herself to safety as quickly as possible. She
bridge swaying and thumping under been smiling worried that if one of us stopped in front of her, she would
the weight of the northbound traffic. so hard my lips panic. My brother and his daughter would go next, and I
Still, I took a second to appreciate were stuck to would ride in back so I could perform any quick tire changes
my first real view of the Keys and my teeth. if the warnings about debris proved true.
marveled at how their blue-green Just before crossing, we stopped for a “scared selfie” and a
water glowed like Easter egg dye in high-five. Then my sister zoomed off, already singing “Yankee
a bowl. I took it all in to a chorus of Doodle.” The rest of us followed. Within a quarter mile, my
“and called it macaroni!” niece and I saw an iguana on the shoulder trying to climb
My sister relaxed once we began our descent. We the Jersey wall. My niece hopes to become an exotic animal
pedaled off the bridge and coasted until we found a safe veterinarian someday, and she yelled over her shoulder, “Oh
place to pull over and regroup. When I dismounted and no, poor thing!” At that moment, I knew she would be just
turned around, I expected to see my brother and his fine. If she could worry about the iguana, she wasn’t worrying
daughter, but they weren’t there. I didn’t know that their about herself. Maybe she would even enjoy it.
first hill with loaded bikes had overwhelmed them. They’d Like every other day of the trip, we had a tailwind that
gotten off to walk, which, my brother later explained, only day, so we sailed on a westward gale at over 20 mph — quite
heightened their feelings of instability as the road swayed a clip for a novice teen cyclist on a fully loaded hybrid. The
and rumbled under their feet. wind was so strong I hardly pedaled.
My sister and I stared at the top of that bridge, willing them Meanwhile, the 65-foot hump approached quickly. This
to appear. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I whispered. If they couldn’t time, my niece had no trouble climbing. She was more
get over, what would that mean for the rest of the trip? prepared and less afraid; plus, the tailwind propelled us
And then, there they were, two small blotches on the tippy straight to the top where it scooped us up and slung us down
top. My sister and I threw our fists in the air and screamed the other side. “We’re flying!” I yelled.
with joy. We watched as they remounted their bikes and My niece hollered, “I knooow!”
pedaled over the crest, taking the whole road to cruise down When we reached land again, I realized I’d been smiling
to the Key side of the sound with a long line of traffic trailing so hard my lips were stuck to my teeth. We’d crossed in 20
behind. As they descended, I jumped and cheered loudly, minutes. Euphoria electrified all of us, and I felt so proud
tears springing to my eyes. When they caught up with us, of my sister and niece I thought confetti might shoot out of
we all hugged for an adrenaline-induced laugh-cry before my ears.
hopping back on our bikes so my sister and niece could ride The trip ended two days later in Key West. We’d kept
the jitters out of their knees. count of interesting things along the 180-mile route — one
We had two days to enjoy that victory before facing the aggregation of manatees, two leaky tents, one five-pound bag
next big hurdle: the Seven Mile Bridge. This bridge is flat of gorp, three drunk campers, one crocodile — but the best
except for one section that also rises to 65 feet. If you’re not by far and the greatest source of pride: 42 bridges.
afraid of heights, crossing presents a thrilling prospect: ride
for seven miles over expansive emerald water under an arc of Deb Werrlein is a freelance writer and editor located in northern Virginia. When
blue sky and feel the magic. But for the person who’s afraid she should be working, she’s almost always daydreaming about the next bike tour.
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