Every year for the past five years, between Memorial Day and Labor Day, you can find
me in the saddle biking the hinterlands of the American or European continent.
My initial bike ride four years ago was only 2,500 miles in length, but since
then has gradually stretched out to over three times that distance per summer. Besides
my physical passion for adventure cycling, this carbon neutral self-propelled annual
touring event has a greater purpose, which perhaps is even more important to me
than the recreational activity itself.
I ride for water, along oceans, lakes, rivers and streams, symbolically
representing over a billion people on this earth that lack access to safe
drinking water. It is my passion for humanity that takes me on the road to
create awareness and raise funds to reduce this human crisis and in the process
help a local community somewhere in the world with a water system, a community
well, or a pipe-line from a distant water source, subsequently giving them
life, hope, pride and a sustainable future.
At first, on my maiden cross-country tour, not knowing much more about adventure
cycling than having to spin my legs in a circular motion for weeks on end, I envisioned
bicycle touring not to be too strenuous other than perhaps battling some jet streams and an occasional rainstorm. After all it will be summer time, when the
living is easy! Being from The Netherlands I can handle that, because that’s
what I was used to during all of my teen years, commuting through
fog, rain and wind, back and forth to school and work. However with the
exception of rain and wind bicycle touring in America wasn’t anything like
biking in the low lands. The longer my trips became and the more regions I
covered, the more extreme the weather I encountered.
Needless to say over the years I have weathered the storms and experienced the extremities of
our North American climate. On the open road in Kansas, ahead of a tornado that
partially destroyed the town of Joplin, I was towing an overweight trailer
under a pea green colored sky, pedaling as hard as I could to hopefully make it
into town before giant size hail would unleash its wicked fury. Sixty miles per
hour cross winds hampered my efforts somewhat but never diminished my zest for
life, as I constantly looked for a ditch to jump in or a small space to hide under
along the rail road tracks.
Following Route 66 from beginning to end I thought for sure that crossing the Mojave Desert
would be one of my biggest challenges this year because of the heat, the potential
dehydration problems and the longer distances without shelter or services. But later
in Virginia, North and South Carolina and Georgia, where I biked long days through
this drought torn region during a heat wave with record breaking temperatures
in excess of 117 degrees, this outdoor bicycle adventure without any
air-conditioning became almost unbearable, exhaustive and almost life
threatening.
Near Cape Girardeau, Missouri and Minot, North Dakota flash floods caused the
Mississippi and Souris River to overflow. Here floodwaters spilled or seeped through
levees inundating entire neighborhoods and leaving nearby cow pastures with
livestock standing knee-deep in murky waters. Many snakes and small rodents fled
onto the road and often became road kill, leaving a trail of cadavers giving
off a putrid smell and dense clouds of small pesky flies. Roads were blocked
off and caused numerous detours sometimes taken me miles away from my
destination.
During hurricane season in Florida I had more than my fair share of severe weather
storms. Although I paid close attention to the daily weather alerts, I also had
a fairly tight schedule to meet and mostly hit the road no matter what. Fair weather
cycling was not really an option. With gale force winds, loud thunderclaps and
frightening lightening strikes bolting straight down into the ground, I at
times would have to dig deep to stay the course and coach myself to the next
town as fast as possible before the weather would move in.
On my way to Fort Lauderdale a cloudburst wreaked such havoc on traffic conditions
that it made me question my sanity for being out there and potentially putting
myself in harms way. Traffic was hectic as dusk darkened the early evening hours,
and the rain further limited my visibility. After a while the storm drains
could no longer handle the runoff, causing me to ride in ankle deep water, unable
to see potential potholes, debris and road markings. I was getting hosed
several times by cars passing me at a reasonable clip spraying huge waves of
water straight in my face and all over me. When I accidentally hit a curb and was
not able to get out of my clip-ons fast enough, I lost control and crashed onto
the pavement but managed to survive the incident without a scratch.
In Bacons Castle, Virginia I stopped at a local grocery store to buy lunch. With a
chicken sandwich and a bottle of ice tea in hand I walked up to the counter to
pay, but to my dismay discovered that my wallet was missing. After checking all
my panniers several times over, I finally came to grips with reality that with
2,000 miles to go, I had lost all my cash, credit cards, driver’s license and
medical i.d. cards. As I was about to leave, the storeowner came out and handed
me the sandwich I had ordered but could no longer afford. She had watched me
panic and search as I was looking for my wallet and knew it wasn't a ploy. Two
local men had overheard the conversation and Michael, a big bearded man walked
over to size up the situation. He asked me what I needed and offered to pay.
“It’s hot out there and you need to hydrate,” he said. We went back in the
store where he loaded me up with several cool and refreshing drinks. I was very
upset with myself for having been so careless with my wallet but at the same
time now experienced a care and kindness from several people that was truly
heart warming.
On Tuesday September fourth after one hundred and twenty days on the road, I made
it back home. I was wind torn, water logged, sunburned and 25 pounds
lighter but content to have made the journey. It had been a long tour via
Chicago to Los Angeles on Route 66 and along the Pacific Coast route to the
Mexican border. As a crew-member for the Race Across America I traveled back
east to Annapolis, Maryland, where I biked south on historic US bicycle route 1
to Key West, Florida and from there followed the Atlantic Coast route via the
outer islands in NC to Bar Harbor, Maine.
During the course of the ride, I stayed with Warmshowers and Couchsurfing hosts,
checked in at fleabag motels, camped out in the craziest places, and had the
good fortune to have several of my friends and family on the route. Homebound
from Bar Harbor to Michigan I made several unscheduled stops to connect with
friends I hadn't seen for a long time. There were again so many wonderful Blue
Planet moments re-enforcing my believe in humanity and America. I am profoundly
grateful to have safely been able to tour around the country on a 7,700-mile
bike ride and bring attention to a charity I am very passionate about. Through
it all I have experienced the goodness of the land, the kindness of its people,
seen beautiful scenery, overcame personal and physical challenges and made many
new friends. It has been an incredible journey and I am forever grateful to all
who have supported me, and by doing so supported my charity ride. The 2012 Blue
Planet Ride is done but the work to stop water poverty continues. Water is
life. Pass it on!
