March 15 Decatur and Vicinity

First ride on my bike carrying all of my gear. The bike was nice and steady, felt comfortable on the bike, but quite sore after the ride. Will need to get into better shape before starting the real thing. Felt it in my shoulders more than anything. Have a lot of conditioning to do before I tackle this ride.  My knees have been bothering me lately. Has nothing to do with the bike riding as this seems to have started with the weather change.  Getting old is simply not for sissies!

Route

“If all difficulties were known at the outset of a long journey, most of us would never start out at all.”  Dan Rather

In Jack Canfield’s words “Everything you want is on the other side of fear.”  Stalwart persistence...resolve...fool heartiness...how to describe the thoughts that weigh while contemplating the “what ifs” that scurry through the mind when planning such a daunting trip.  “Why travel alone?”  Quite simply, so no one can see...  One peddle at a time, hour by hour, day by day, week by week...no one to judge weakness or strength...and just maybe after endless peddles...there it is...the journey and then the destination.

So...what’s planned?  Gear, bike, body, and spirit will be conveyed through the night via an Amtrak Sleeper to Washington, DC.  Awaking in the morning at Union Station, I must somehow find passage to the hotel carting a crated bike, packs, and miscellaneous gear all of which must be assembled before getting a night’s sleep.  Starting early, to avoid traffic, it is off to the Vietnam Memorial as the starting point.  After a time of reflection, I will then course through city streets, capital trails, Georgetown, and hopefully connect to the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Towpath.  This recreational trail, once a navigable waterway long ago rendered obsolete by rail technology, will be the route for the next 185 miles.  If all goes well, arrival at Cumberland will mark the connection to the Great Allegheny Passage.  Built mostly on an abandoned rail bed, I’m prayerful that the grades will be relatively gentle albeit, warnings noting “be prepared for ruts, tree roots, mud and mosquitoes” abound.  After 153 miles of this, Pittsburgh is to be the destination which, by the way, is reputed to be “America’s most livable city sporting a plethora of museums, medical centers, parks, research centers and cultural diversity.”  This said, “Cabbies, take note, I’m an old man on a small bike in a very big city so show me some of that ‘livable’ and give me a little space alongside those city roads!”  Surviving this, it is onto the Underground Railroad Pittsburgh Spur that combines paths, roads, trails to Erie, Pennsylvania for yet another 153 miles.  This portion of the route remains a bit ambiguous and in need of study...as well as prayers from those who wish me well.  Let’s leave this for now and move on to the Lake Erie Connector portion of the trip that courses across Michigan for yet another 492 miles.  I hope to catch at least two ferries, one of which is reported to be intermittent in its service, in order to give my legs a rest.  Hope that pans out!  Next is what is called the North Lakes Route that snags a bit of Michigan before taking on the width of Wisconsin in its entirety.  In Stillwater, bordering Wisconsin and Minnesota I will catch the Northern Tier, an assemblage of back roads that will then go on forever...and ever...and ever...through Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Washington.  4400+ miles will be the grand total.  Completing it in its entirety will be challenged by fleeting interludes to attend ceremonies marking my younger daughter’s completion of her surgical residency, the birth of my older daughter’s second child, and my wife’s family reunion.  How all this plays out will require precision, endurance, patience, and the guidance of “road angels.”

Dedication - Bicycle Ride Across America

“We are all the same in the fact that we will never be the same.” C. JoyBell C.

It was a chance encounter in the early 1980’s that set into motion the idea of a bicycle trip across the United States.  Glancing over at the park that lay just across the street from our home is where I first saw Clifford Barrett Peaugh straddling a loaded bicycle looking a bit lost and certainly exhausted.  Given our location and the draw to this park, my young family and I were used to seeing just about everything.  Clifford stood apart from the norm.  With garlands of sweat and road dust, dressed in riding clothes he nonetheless displayed an air of elder nobility.  “Looks like you could use a cold drink.”  “I certainly can!” was his reply.  “Is overnight camping allowed in this park?”  “Unfortunately, it is not.”  “Where are you headed?”  “Boston.”  “Hummm... you have a long way to go…”  “Where did you start?”  “Great Britain…but biking since San Francisco.”  This represented a distance of more than 300 miles.  As chance encounters sometimes play out, he did come in for that cold drink, enchanted us with his charm, and ended up spending the night.  His story was unique; as a WWII British Paratrooper, Clifford had been severely wounded and told that he would never walk again.  His “plucky” wife, having none of this, came to his aid, forced him into a wheelchair, then a walker, and ultimately onto a bicycle.  The latter built up his legs to the point that he was ultimately able to walk again and through this process he developed a love for bicycling.  With this union of bicycle and man, he proceeded peddling across Great Britain, followed by Europe, Australia and ultimately to this trek across the U.S.  Given a second chance at life, he chose to live it to the fullest and “give back” as his talents dictated.   His was a life of a “School Master” and his bicycling to Boston was to be a reunion with friends.  Upon retirement, he chose this trip as fitting way to begin this new phase in his life.  Captivated by such an ambitious endeavor, we prevailed upon Clifford to carry a picture of our family on his journey so that we could, in some small way, live it through him.  This he did, sending postcards all along the route.  In his last letter he wrote “We were successful and you journeyed with me throughout my entire route to Boston and have even made it to Great Britain where your photo now resides upon my mantel.”  Clifford Barrett Peaugh, here or with your maker, I salute you and all my fellow soldiers who picked up their lives after war, reconciled as best they could, and  marched into whatever the future held in store for them. 

SSG Stephan E. Speer, U.S. Army, Vietnam 1969-1970