by William Smith
(Originally written November 2006 from notes compiled in summer 1989)
When my cycling friends and I were in our early twenties, often we spoke of how much fun it would be to ride our bicycles across the USA.
“From Sea to Sea in ’83”. “From Shore to Shore in ’84.” And, as most youngsters do, we placed our dreams behind us. Life got in the way: we got jobs, some of us got married, we moved away from home. Our dream was all but forgotten.
In the Autumn of 1988, my buddy Hugh (Johnson) phoned me one night from his home in New York State and proposed that we ride cross-country the following summer. I thought about it a little. I asked Vicki, my wife, what she thought about it. She felt that I would regret not doing it, and that I should seize the day. I am still amazed that she responded in this manner.
The Winter of 1988-1989 was spent making preparations: getting a leave of absence from work, upgrading the Fuji Del Rey bicycle, purchasing the maps from Bikecentennial (now known as Adventure Cycling Association) and tracing the route on state maps across the USA. It was settled early on that we would take the Northern Tier Route. This would begin in Washington and traverse Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Illinois, Ohio, Pennsylvania and then finish in Maryland.
Hugh’s bike was already touring-ready. He waited until the Spring to request a leave of absence, as he wished to get to the other side of his performance review. Unfortunately, his supervisors did not agree with him that eight weeks away from work would be a good idea, and they turned his request down.
I was very disappointed, as Hugh and I have always been very compatible cycling-wise (except he always crushed me on hills) and have been good friends since fifth grade (1968). I briefly considered canceling the trip, but feared that, with everything in place for a late-June departure, that if I did not jump at it then, I never would. In retrospect, I am fairly certain that I would not have undertaken it until retirement, if at all. Looking back now, I am grateful to him for launching a process that led me to this trip. (At this writing Hugh has not undertaken such a trip, but he works in the government and shall retire long before I’ll be able to – perhaps then his time will come.)
I spent the spring and early summer of 1989 training for the ride. Centuries (100 miles) and even a double-century (200 miles). But I only did one ride with the bicycle loaded with touring gear. That proved to be a mistake.
On the morning of June 28, 1989, I found myself climbing onto my 4-year-old Fuji touring bike, loaded down with tent, sleeping bag, four stuffed panniers (saddle bags), camp stove, clothes and supplies, very nervously pedaling away from the ferry terminal in Anacortes, Washington. I would not see my wife, Vicki, for six to seven weeks. I did not know, nor was I prepared for, the mental and physical challenges that laid ahead. I was 31 years young and about to embark on a great journey, one whose end was uncertain.
