Landrider

WorldRiders2.com

Bed, Breakfast and Bike/Northern California

Web journal

Adventure Cycling

campaign to rid bike routes of these hazards

Miles From Nowhere

July 2002

Worldbeaters: Home is where the bikes are
by Naomi Bloom

On April 12 Pat and Cat Patterson climbed on their unbelievably heavy Landrider bikes and pointed their front wheels north. It was the first day of a round-the-world trek they hope to complete in 1000 days.

I caught up with the Pattersons by phone and email when they were laying over in Rapid City, ND in June. "We completely sold out to do this," Pat said. "Sold the business, the cars, rented our house, gave away the furniture.

The days leading up to departure were filled with the stress and physical difficulty of that closure. When the water heater burst and flooded the entire downstairs of the house, they figured it was a test for their ability to handle stress. After all, they'd be handling plenty stress on the road.

But were they really ready? Pat had already made a solo bike circumnavigation several years ago, but he was admittedly out of shape. Cat had recently recuperated from a surprise heart attack.

Had they trained? Set realistic goals? Were they familiar with their bikes? Knowledgeable about camping or motels on their route? Aware of the pitfalls of blazing their own, untried routes?

Answer to all the above: a resounding "No!"

"Our training was: Load the bikes, get on and go," Pat told me. "Sure, we're carrying too much weight, but we chose to do that." Actually, they're testing the bikes for Landrider, which had never designed their auto-shifting hybrid-type machines for the special needs of long-distance traveling. Triple chain rings, rack eyelets and water-bottle braze-ons were all new concepts to a company that normally caters to the ultra-casual cyclist.

To appreciate the magnitude of what the Pattersons are up to, check out their route at WorldRiders2.com. After traversing the US, they'll head up through Quebec, touch down in Greenland, then ride down through Europe before taking an extended break, probably in Spain. Then they'll cross into North Africa and make their way to South Africa, taking long breaks wherever the fancy strikes them. Then Antarctica(!) before returning home through South and Central America.

The first pedal strokes out of Oxnard were predictably awkward. When Pat attempted a video shot from the seat of his bike, he couldn't get out of his toe clips. "I became the first Worldrider to hit the ground."

Realizing they'd never make their first night's goal of El Capitan State Beach, they holed up in Santa Barbara. The next day it took over an hour just to get to Goleta. And so it went all that first week. They began hitching rides to destinations, then doubling back to make up the "rubber on the road."

But Pat and Cat were undeterred. Other than one broken spoke, their equipment has held up beautifully. They've learned to distrust maps, not to mention advice from locals. They're willing to lay over an extra day here and there to revive, reconnoiter or just enjoy getting acquainted with family and friends. And they're learning the ropes as they go.

For instance, they had no clue they could take advantage of California State Parks bicycle campsites. Arriving at Pfeiffer-Big Sur they were alarmed by the "Campgrounds Full" sign. But the ranger simply asked them for $2.00. Then, when she realized they were sharing the same tent, she said, "Oh, in that case it's only a dollar."

Of course, they're not camping every night. They don't seem to be referring to motel or B&B guides, however. Otherwise, they would already have known about their "discovery" of Zaballa House in Half Moon Bay. It's featured in my book, Bed, Breakfast and Bike/Northern California, not to mention numerous other B&B guides.

As for choosing their routes, "we're beginning not to trust maps," Pat wrote in his Web journal. "We gave up on [local] motorists a long time ago. They always say, 'It's just a short way and it's flat, or downhill.' Because they wanted to cross the country far to the north of Adventure Cycling's Northern Tier, they couldn't use that organization's highly informative TransAmerica maps to find the best roads, rest stops and campgrounds.

Lacking information about best routes has given Pat and Cat more than a few scares. Like taking the freeway between Santa Maria and Arroyo Grande. "Our two greatest hazards were trucks screaming by at 70 mph and those pesky on and off ramps," Pat reported. At Arroyo Grande they found the off-ramp closed for landscape maintenance. That's when the Highway Patrolman showed up and told them they couldn't ride on the freeway. Never mind that they'd just passed a sign that said that stretch of 101 was part of the Bicentennial Bike Route. Maybe they'd passed the "no alternative route" section of the freeway? If so, where was the "Bicycles Must Exit" sign?

Another surprise was those nefarious "rumble strips" on many rural highways. Although there's more than one campaign to rid bike routes of these hazards, the Pattersons had never heard of them and didn't even know what they were called. Cat dubbed them "ZZZZTT, ZZZZTT bumps" because that's what they sound like riding over them.

But the worst experience was the stretch of Highway 80 between Tahoe and Reno. The surface was old concrete with loose sand overlapping the narrow shoulder and heavy truck (and gambler) traffic. "I could see a sign, 'Reno 20 miles,' when I heard Cat scream," Pat wrote. She had stalled in sand and crashed.

As luck would have it, it wasn't five minutes before friends they'd made several miles back (who were dogging their route "just in case") picked them up. And therein lies the secret behind the WorldRiders' modus operandi: They make friends rapidly -- and enduringly.

"On a bike, everyone wants to talk to you," said Pat. Pat and Cat want to talk to everyone in return. Even off the bikes, at restaurants and points of interest, they engage others in conversation and inevitably end up exchanging email addresses and telephone numbers. It's their address book -- not guidebooks -- that will get them through.

When facing the kinds of daunting challenges that WorldRiders must face almost daily, friends are a requirement. Like Pat's coming down with altitude sickness between Nevada City and Donner Summit. Or making it through the Nevada desert and over the passes to Wendover on the Utah border.

Wendover was even sweeter because they were still eating dinner at 9:30 pm (normally sack time for worn-out WorldRiders). They'd hadn't just reached another border, they'd also crossed into a new time zone.

There will be many more borders and datelines to cross in the next three years. But keeping score is not what the WorldRiders are about. Instead, they've taken on a new lifestyle.

Pat was first inspired to pedal around the world after reading Barbara Savage's book Miles From Nowhere. Although Barbara died just before her book was published in 1983, Pat found her husband Larry's number in the Santa Barbara phone book and called him for advice. "Don't make too many plans," Larry told him. "Just go."

"That's what we're doing," Pat said. "Our home is where the bike is. We tell people we're homeless just like so many others on the streets. The only difference is we have more options."

"You have to have a lot of patience," Pat told me. "You have to be up for whatever happens." Something different happens every day, she said, and, "It's just so fantastic."