My Trans Am Bicycle Trip
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In 1986, I bicycled across the US from Williamsburg, Va. to Portland, Oregon on the TransAm bicycle route. My trip was sponsored by Adventure Cycling and one of their scheduled cross-country trips that year. There were seven of us in the group--four men and three women. The oldest: Patty Poffenbarger, 53, who became a grandmother three months earlier. The youngest: Janet Locke, 23, who skipped her college commencement to do the trip. None of us had ever met beforehand but, by trip's end, we would share something truly extraordinary.
Following are a few pictures from the trip with brief descriptions of each.
Lake Renovia Campground,
Charlottesville, Va.
The trip was only three days old but already well
underway. We saw Patrick Henry's last home, lunched
at Kent's General Store, and even slept next to a
Civil War battlefield. Monticello was closed when we
arrived
but the University of Virginia, Thomas Jefferson's
other masterpiece, made up for it. Lake Renovia was
welcome respite from the earlier rains, and the next
morning was cool, misty, and very peaceful.
Pictured are the pond and pavillion where we slept.
The "Cookie Lady"
Afton, Va.
June
Curry, the famous "Cookie Lady," is legendary to the
cycling community and the thousands of TransAmers
who have passed by her door. (Charles Kuralt even
featured her once for his "On the Road" series.) Her
"Water for Bikers" sign has been a welcome sight for
all and she's provided food and shelter free of
charge, only asking for a
postcard in return. When we met her, she was nursing
her father's ill health, but still found time to bake
fresh biscuits and apologize for not spending
more time with us. She was a true friend to all of
us and a complete delight to meet.
Blue Ridge Parkway, Virginia
The Blue Ridge Parkway stretches for over 400 miles from Virginia to Great Smoky Mountain National Park and overlooks the Shenandoah Valley. We rode 30 miles of it, stopping often for breathtaking views into the valley below. The 4-mile descent into Vesuvius, Va. was equally breathtaking for me. I did it on a flat tire.
My Old Kentucky Home,
Bardstown, Ky.
We finally finished the Appalachians one week later
and were enjoying the rolling bluegrass regions of
Kentucky and its many attractions. (My Old Kentucky
Home was the private estate of a friend of Stephen
Foster's, and where Foster lived and wrote his famous
song. It's now a state park.) We toured Abraham
Lincoln's birthplace the next day, crossed the Ohio
River four days later by ferry boat, and crossed the
Mississippi river the day after that.
(Pictured, clockwise from top left, three of my
riding partners and me. Vince Montano, Jeff Thayer,
Patty Poffenbarger, and CJ Hughes.)
Hoosier Pass, Colorado
Approximately half-way into the trip, Hoosier Pass is 11,542 ft. above sea level, and the highest point of the route. I celebrated it with a beer. It underscored the breadth and scope of the entire country. The previous day was the toughest for me, with 4,000 vertical feet of climbing and terrible head winds. I was exhausted, but when I got to Hoosier Pass, I just wanted to go higher and higher. My next door neighbor's daughter and family, who live in Colorado Springs, even came out to meet me. I was flattered that they wanted to drive out to see me, and was thrilled when they arrived. It all made for a most memorable day.
Dillon Reservoir
Dillon, Colo.
After descending Hoosier Pass and taking the next day
off in Breckenridge, we rode 67 miles to Kremmling
and spent the night camped behind the police
station. (We were told that it was the only safe
place to sleep.) Dillon Reservoir was half way there
and a typical example of the area, with incredibly
blue skies, the Rocky Mountains, and rarified air.
Split Rock Station, Wyoming
Named for its cleft-like appearance visible for days by travelers, Split Rock was a landmark on both the Oregon Trail and Pony Express route. The Pony Express was the nation's first private courier service, the Federal Express of its day. Delivery was promised in ten days, and even though only one piece of mail was ever lost, it only lasted 18 months, replaced by the telegraph. Its recruiting slogan fit the work perfectly: "Dangerous work. Orphans preferred."
Wind River Indian Reservation, Wyoming
We spent the whole day riding through the reservation. All of it was completely undisturbed, incredibly quiet, perhaps maintained that way out of respect to nature. Sacajawea, Lewis and Clark's guide, is buried here with her two children. I also met two Aussies riding around the world. We lunched over sandwiches at a roadside picnic table and compared notes on our respective trips. They had been traveling for 1 1/2 years, were heading to New York and then to Europe. I had only been riding for two months, which didn't compare to their undertaking; nevertheless, it was neat to share my experiences with them.
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