Bikes, Books, and Better Living
Epic Cross-Country Bicycle Trip Promoting Literacy, Healthy Living
Kevin Vrabel
Copyright 2011 by Kevin Vrabel
Smashwords Edition
On May 30, 2011, my nephews Andy Underwood and John Vrabel and I began an epic bicycle trip, pedaling east from Venice Beach, California on a ride of about 3200 miles that will taken us coast to coast through 15 states landing us in Asbury Park, New Jersey. We are riding to explore the power behind daily exercise, healthy eating, and feeding the mind and spirit through reading and/or writing. The tour is called Bikes, Books, and Better Living. For every 2 hours of riding, we spend an average of 20 minutes reading or writing. We’re also stopping at local libraries, schools, and bookstores along the way to participate in children’s reading programs and share the story of our trip.
The Bikes, Books, and Better Living (BBBL) website has more information about the trip, including the origin and inspirations for this unique journey, the planned route, and my blog detailing the many adventures from the road. Those who want to follow along virtually can do so by Liking the BBBL Facebook page. Below are excerpts from the story as told on the website and Facebook:
This is about an uncle’s promise to his nephews and their willingness to involve as many people as possible. It’s about family, fitness, and having fun. It’s about a grandmother’s resolutions and about being the change you want to see in the world.
An Uncle’s Promise
F
ile
this under “be careful what you say to your teenage nephews while
cycling the Blue Ridge Parkway”. Let me explain. About 6 years
ago, my nephews John and Andy cycled the length of the Blue Ridge
Parkway (Front Royal, VA to Cherokee, TN). I cycled with them and my
Dad, their grandfather, provided vehicular support. It was a
spectacular ride culminating with 105 miles through sometimes-heavy
rain on the last day. Apparently, in the giddiness of the moment, I
proposed a cross-country trip, whenever they graduated from college:
drive from the east to the west coast and then cycle back.
Andy graduated this spring (2011) from West Virginia University and John is a few credits shy from matriculating from University of Rhode Island. Andy was the one who reminded me first and the discussion went from there. (If you are an Uncle, or an Aunt for that matter, and you make a proposal of this nature and are unprepared to come through, then you are destined to be thrown to that ever-increasing scrap heap of aunts and uncles who have reneged on glorious promises. I refuse to join that crowd.)
Thus, the literacy and healthy living awareness transcontinental bicycle trip was born. Our official moniker: Bikes, Books and Better Living. Everyone knows that any transcontinental bicycle trip needs a cause. While discussing this trip with my college friend, Chris Barrett (Ryan), she eagerly proclaimed, “why not make it a ride for literacy?” This instantly resonated with me and brought me back to one of the most vivid memories I have of my high school teaching days.
While creating, organizing, and supervising opening day activities of a new school year at Moravian Academy, Bethlehem, PA in the mid 1990’s I had this idea. Why not take 30 minutes from our opening day and read. Bring a book you are reading for pleasure, find a spot on our 66-acre campus, relax and read, for 30 minutes. Students, teachers and support staff scattered around on a late summer day, reading - just for fun - at the appointed time. Close to 300 people, leaning against old trees, lying across the grass, sitting Indian-style, at benches, reading. The only sound heard were the leaves of the old trees fighting against autumn. The power of reading the written word can still be felt from that day.
My next image from my conversation with Chris was the running scenes from Forrest Gump. Forrest decides he’s going to start running and off he goes. Headed west from Alabama with no particular destination in mind, he’s joined along the way with others who just want to run with him. Some are curious as to his motives, but most just want to be part of the experience. That is precisely why I have written this and perhaps why you are reading it. So here it is, your official invitation: if you have a bike and a book, and you are so inclined, then come join us whenever you like.
A Grandmother’s Resolutions
There are several cardinal rules in cycling:
Always wear a helmet. (I have a bald spot on the back of my head to prove how lucky I was when not wearing one).
Ride in the direction of traffic and obey vehicle traffic laws.
Ride in single file and check behind you before you spit.
No underwear beneath cycling shorts and no shorts over the cycling shorts. (Shaving the legs will be discussed in a later blog but has very little to do with aerodynamics as some folks that shave might have you believe).
All these “rules” are based on pragmatic cycling logic.
In the literary world, unlike cycling, the list of “absolutes” is more personal and emotional. For example, my list of “must-read” books begins with Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath. (While we are visiting California’s finest, Travels with Charley, also makes the list and will be our first book on this epic trip). Breakfast for Champions, by Kurt Vonnegut and Laura Hillenbrand’s, Unbroken, are as different as two books can be, but both make the list. No literary life is complete without reading Garth Stein’s The Art of Racing in the Rain or Golfing with God (On Heaven and Earth), by Roland Merullo. And so it goes, from classic to contemporary, fiction to non-fiction, we all get to build our list of literary “to-dos” based on some emotional response we have to the writer’s words.
The literary choices we make are multi-layered. (I picked up Racing in the Rain because of the eyes of the golden retriever fixed upon me from the cover.) In younger days, it’s the dreaded “required” reading assignment that becomes a personal joy (Grapes of Wrath). Recommendations from friends (Breakfast of Champions) or listening to an author interviewed (Unbroken) are all common pathways to the written word. Sometimes, and quite magically, the book chooses you. Such was the case this fall as I helped my father (82) repair the roof on his garage and subsequently clean out the contents.
There, amongst the treasures and rubble, was a tattered and stained elongated, tabbed address book. It was buried in a leather-strapped box that doubled as my father’s suitcase on a cross-country, hitchhiking trip at age 19 (1947). It had been untouched for years, hiding out with other relics like family photos, report cards and letters from home to a family’s first college boy. Although it drew my attention, there was work to be done, so I laid it back in its place.
A
t
the end of the day, I went back to that musty box and sifted through
the papers to find that odd-looking book. After a few turning of the
pages, I realized I had the handwritten journal of my father’s
mother. The entries she made were between her mid-teen years and
chronicled history and emotions of a girl living in Bayonne, NJ circa
1918-21. My grandmother’s thoughts, as a teenager, I was instantly
hooked. Furthermore, as I carefully turned 90 year old pages, my eyes
settled on the following entry:
December 28, 1919
...these are my New Year’s resolutions:
1. Never be late (meaning first period)
2. To read the best books by the best people about the best things in life.
3. To keep my mind and body clean and free from weeds.
4.To keep good thoughts growing.
5. To fix my will upon a useful purpose and stick to it until strength is gone and the last day has come.
6. To be more friendly and consider other people besides myself.
7. To save money and not be stingy.
8. To find and give the best in life.
9. To do my work faithfully and earnestly.
10. To increase my vocabulary...why not?
I sign and set my seal to these promises this twenty-eighth day of December in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and nineteen, to be kept during the year nineteen hundred and twenty.
Signed
Catherine Rita Cochrane
...these ought to make me an angel..but we’ll see. So long til next time I make an entry.
She may not have the skills of Steinbeck or Stein. However, her new year’s resolutions, penned or penciled when she was 13, have weight and great value nearly a century later. Furthermore, her words establish the “voice” that resonates throughout her writing, a spirit that is filled with adventure, hope, self-awareness, curiosity and promise. It is that very spirit that we use as inspiration for Bikes, Books and Better Living. Catherine’s resolutions will be a daily part of our trip and I’m sure that’s something she would write about.
May 30, 2011: let the Biking Begin!
The ride east begins.
A
fter
a relaxing night staying with our friends Lori Asburry and Jonah
Weinberger, we headed to the Venice Beach Fishing Pier to begin.
Since the start day was Memorial Day, I thought it was fitting to
begin at the place where our good friend,
Brian Dunn, had lost his life the previous summer. I think it was a
proper tribute to a young man who would have celebrated our sense of
adventure. I had walked the previous day and was overwhelmed with
sadness for his loss and also inspired by his presence.
Lori helped me carefully plan our route out of LA, through Hollywood and into the San Gabriel mountains, via the Angeles Crest Rd. It was 26 miles to the foothills and then 34 miles to the other side of the mountains.
It was a perfect day, sunny and mid 70’s.
The first mishap of the trip occurred at a light not 3 miles from our start. I was demonstrating a track racers “standing start”, where you remained clip in your pedals, balanced and motionless at a standstill. I fell. A nice gentle, “here we go down” to my left. No more standing starts.
No harm there, a stop in Hollywood for photos and up the road to the foothills.
A half mile into our ascent appeared a sign, “ROAD CLOSED”. We continued until we came upon a very sturdy gate crossing the road, with another closure sign.
A cyclist headed down was walking his bike under the gate and assured us it was fine to proceed. It was all National Forest grounds and he had passed several parks vehicles that did not bother him.
“It’s fresh-paved road and will be opened in 3 days”, he said. “In about 8 miles the road opens again and you’ll have road with traffic, but this is all yours”.
What he didn’t tell us was we were looking at a climb from just above sea level to 3000 feet in a little more than 15 miles of climbing.
The RV had taken the freeway route to our destination of Acton and the mountains prevented any cell phone use. We were on our own.
What followed was spectacular vistas, both into the endless mountains and back to LA and Hollywood. The views were as majestic as I have seen.
Unfortunately, the usual ebb and flow of ascending and descending, was replaced by constant climbing. After 15 miles we had a mild 2-mile descent, then more climbing.
Two big problems here. After 7days of riding in an RV and eating and sleeping our way across the USA, we were not ready for this ride on day one. Second, there is nothing but three rangers stations on this stretch and one was closed like the road itself.
At the second station we found water and an unfriendly ranger. When Andy asked if she had some sunscreen she said tersely, “No. “ Then quickly added, “ and I don’t have any pizza or food either”. Maybe she was having a bad day or was miffed about us being on the closed road; whatever the case, she earned the title “Ranger Bitch”.
A much friendlier encountered happened at our next station where we found Ranger Garcia who assured us we were 3.5 miles from the summit and then gave us the downhill shortcut into Acton.
We were shattered physically and mentally at this time and in need of fuel. It was the best news of the day. So as my cycle computer ticked off the tenths of miles to 3.5 we were inspired. At 4.0, we were pissed. At 5.5, we were beaten. Finally at 7 miles from the spot friendly Garcia gave us our hope, we reached the summit. We decided we would like to meet Ranger Garcia again and give him some lousy directions.
The next 9 miles into Acton was a joy; pure descent and plenty of it. I can assure you, no three people have ever been so excited to roll into the Californian RV Park of Acton, CA.
Notes: In what I believe was an illustration of the age group that frequents this RV park, was the following sign in the mens room shower: “Please do not dye your hair in the shower. Thank you.”
May 31, 2011: the Flat (Windy) High Desert
After a great sleep and some time in the Jacuzzi at the RV park, we were ready to go. We had a seemingly simple 57 mile run into the town of Victorville and a final destination of the Mojave Narrows Regional Park, where we were one of two groups camping.
Victorville has some interesting distinctions as a town. First, it is located along that famous stretch of road known as Route 66. Second, Orson Welles, producer and director of Citizen Kane chose it as a spot of seclusion. It seems one of the writers had a drinking problem and Welles thought banishing him to Victorville in 1940 would keep him on task. So the first draft was written in the Green Spot motel along route 66. You can look it up.
Well , the Pearblossom highway may sound very sweet, but we were challenged by a narrow shoulder and heavy traffic both leaving Acton and nearing Victorville. We did pick up a stiff tailwind and made decent time with stops nearly every 10 miles to freshen water when available.
The fun began when we entered town and found it to be one massive urban sprawl. Mojave Narrows was not known by many locals and we tried piecing our way together by calling the RV, who had already arrived, and by asking locals. We also found a map at a local gas station that added to our puzzle as the entrance to the park was not clearly marked.
A local gas station cashier seemed very sure and confident and sent us on our way with written instructions. It was only 5-6 miles to the camp, but the first 4 was a gradual ascent into 40 mph headwind. We crawled and cursed our way through the wind and made it to the campsite, less tired than the day before, but just as frustrated.
Danielle had prepared a great meal of chicken, rice and broccoli and I was in bed by 8:30 with the others soon to follow.
Notes: The Mojave Narrows Park was nothing special but it provided great views of the San Bernadino mountains and the hottest showers we had seen to date. Thank God for the person who invented hot water.
June 1, 2011: the Good Folks of Lucerne Valley
Have you ever lost your wallet? I have, several times. Actually, only one time where it actually stayed lost. The rest of the times I found it after some time of searching. Well, my morning started by searching for my wallet that included the debit card linked to the account for this trip.
I have developed a strategy for locating my lost wallet over the years. First, I believe that is isn’t lost and just misplaced in the inherent chaos of the RV. So I begin my search in the back, where I sleep and have stored my clothes. No luck. Now I go to step two which is ask if anyone else has seen it; again no luck. Next step is to search previously searched areas, followed by searching every inch of the RV.
All along these steps there is an emotional shift from, “I know I had it with me and it’s here somewhere” to “my bleeping wallet is gone and we will starve to death”; not a cozy feeling.
I send the boys out on their bikes to start the climb out of the park as BF, Danielle and I retrace our steps from the end of the day with the two gas station stops as our primary goals. Approaching the first stop, I recalled that we congregated across the street at what appeared to be a abandoned business, to make plans and ask directions. I noticed as we pulled to the light that the corner stop was actually a busy auto repair shop.
Two thoughts occurred to me nearly simultaneously. “I might have dropped it there reaching back for my map “and “there’s no way I dropped it there and someone would have picked it up and left anyway since the shop was closed”. As a result of the two thoughts in conflict, I almost didn’t make the following request: “Danielle, can you go check with the auto place while I check this gas station?”.
So when I walked out of the gas station and saw Danielle waving her arms I knew one of two things happened. Big Frank had taken off in the RV in sheer frustration or the wallet had been found. “They have it, but they won’t give it to me, they want you to go in so they know it belongs to you”, she said.
(The oldest trick in the book to further the loser’s humiliation).
Tim asked to hear the story behind the trip and refused my offer for reward saying, “consider it our donation to the trip, you are doing a good thing.” So if you ever find yourself in Victorville, CA to write a movie script or cure a drinking problem, go to Certified II Tire and Auto Repair on 7th and D St. Say hi to Tim because I know he’s doing great things there.
So we found the boys 10 miles into their ride who had found their way after some faulty directions by me (great start to the day) and we battled cross-winds, bumpy shoulders and finally a gusty tail wind to cruise into Lucerne Valley 25 miles from the Narrows..
We treated ourselves to lunch at Café 247 who offered their parking lot as a resting place for the night and got some supplies at the local Super Market, which is the actual name of the place. ( A family owned business, in the middle of nowhere, opened from 6am-10pm, every day. You can find anything from fresh produce to chain saws in this store with aisles neat, orderly and clearly marked, even indicating who the person is who is responsible for that aisle). We bought food, small gas barbecue grill, and two books.
The Janice Horst Public Library was our first library stop for our trip. Danielle had organized some photos into a slide show and we planned to interact with the children and read some of what we had been reading to them.
Eryn Griffin, the Library manager was great in getting the word out and posting signs for our arrival and seemed nervous that no one might show.
As the 4:00pm hour arrived, a few children wandered in followed by a slow trickle of a few more and soon we were setting out more chairs to accommodate a group of 15, or more, ages from 5-late teens.
Some classic quips from the kids:
“I read because I’m forced to”
“I like to read about blood and gore and violence and naughty things”.
“Literacy is like when you litter”
“Literacy is when you use someone else’s words for your own”.
But the showstopper and quote of the trip thus far came from Nicky a six-year-old, who whispered to her young mother who was holding him, “I like to read because it makes movies in my head”.
We interacted with this group for an hour or so as kids and adults filtered in and out and Andy, John, and Danielle gave them a tour of the RV and showed them the bikes and of course, Yarvin, the yellow M&M mascot of our trip who was featured in our slide show presentation. Many of them wanted their pictures taken with Yarvin.
At the end of the presentation, Bob Lien, who happened to come to the library with his son, Elijah, approached us.
Bob was very enthusiastic about our trip and spent 30 minutes or more with us. When he mentioned he was a runner, I told him that Andy was currently reading “Born to Run”, the Christopher Mc Dougall account of the Tarahumara Indians and their history with injury-free running.
Bob’s eyes sparkled: “that book changed my life” and he went on to explain the mystical, magical journey that is his life including the planning and construction of his ecco-dome. Bob likes his domes in pairs, so he has a double.
It’s best you google “lien tatooine” to see this structure or look at our photos for they are nearly beyond description, but here goes. Think of two igloos connected by a corridor. Now to get a picture of shape think of a hat worn by a smurf or a gnome, then add some protrusions at the base of the hat for doors and windows and color them tan and you got it.
Bob looks like a college professor, which he was at Cal Riverside, sociology, I believe. He wears a reddish/blonde/grey scruffy beard on his face and his thin-rimmed glasses. He wears a bandana covering his hair which is probably thinning as with most men in their late 50’s or early 60’s. Yet, it his spirit that embraces you. He is warm and open. He is genuinely enthusiastic about life and is thrilled about adventure and wanted to know more asking thoughtful questions and responding with great joy.
As there were no established camping areas in town, since there really wasn’t a town, we were without a place to park the RV overnight. (Cafe 247 did offer their parking lot for our use; unsolicited and graciously).
Bob approached us as we were leaving and offered us a night at his “domes” property and gave us directions. He also gave us a tip on a cheap dinner stop near the library, The Coyote Loco. A name like that was too good to refuse and we enjoyed an authentic, family-cooked Mexican meal.
The domes were 7 miles from our dinner stop and appeared like a scene from, well, a sci-fi movie shot in the desert of California. As we bounced down the dirt road that led to his dirt driveway, I checked the sky to make sure the mothership wasn’t ready to suck us into their spacecraft and whisk us away. (Not that we could do much about it anyway, when an alien culture wants your RV, they take it).
Bob was happy we took up his offer and 10 year old Elijah wandered out later with baseball bat and ball in hand. Bob told the crew about the construction of the dome; a truly hand-made home of earth and cement, a labor of love by family Lien, father, daughter and son. They battled heat and wind while shoveling earth into 18-inch wide bags, mixed with stone peat and cement and tamped one on top of the other. In between layers is #12 barb wire to help reinforce.
While Bob was starting the inside tour, I noticed Elijah, tossing his baseball into the air and hitting it into the desert filled with creosote bushes. He would then trudge after his ball, turn and face the direction he came from and repeat the process.
I couldn’t resist offering to throw a little batting practice in the desert. How often to do you get to play America’s National pastime in the bush?
“Want some thrown to you, Elijah?” I asked.
He smiled. “Ok,” he said. “But I hit hard,” he warned.
He missed the first two probably because he wasn’t used to seeing the ball coming toward him instead of up above his head in the air.
On the third pitch, he connected. A solid ping to his metal bat and a rocket, low and to my right. It skipped by me into a creosote 50 feet away. “My little league coach usually runs away from those”, he said with a grin. “But he’s a little fat”.
It was getting dark and I was reminded of my youth when we would squeeze the last ounces of daylight in order to finish a game, at-bat or inning.
“How ‘bout my knuckleball. Wanna see it?” I asked.
“What’s a knuckleball?” Eli responded.
“Here it comes, see if you can tell me”.
As the ball came toward him, not tumbling like a real knuckler, but not spinning either, his eyes widened and he connected like a pro. It was a high lofting shot, disappearing into the darkening desert sky and plopping down in the center of a creosote, miles away in his mind.
“I love the knuckleball”, he said. “That’s a home run in my little league park”.
Behind him was his Dad leading a group of road warrior readers into his funky domes. Behind them, the San Bernadino mountains looming as a majestic backdrop to the desert evening show.
Miles behind me, lying in the middle of a creosote bush was a baseball with the name Elijah scrawled on it.
For more tales from the road, including adventures already had (How to Move a Wolf Enclosure Without Moving the Wolf) and those still to come, follow along on Facebook or on the web, and feel free to drop us an email with your thoughts!
Author Bio
Kevin Vrabel is a coach, teacher and owner/director of Snowbird Softball and Snowbird Lacrosse in Myrtle Beach SC. He has three rescue dogs: Clyde, a 95 lbs black lab, great dane mix found near the beach in Myrtle Beach, Boo, 35lbs border collie mix who was left at his house and Sarge, golden retriever, a recent, “tied to a tree in PA” rescue.
Kevin has been cycling most of his life beginning as an amateur “stunt” rider, crashing his cruiser intentionally in front of the Hayward family’s home in hopes of gaining the attention of their daughter, Teresa. He has also raced as a USCF road racer and lead tours in California and the Northeast.