Water all around us

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!

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