Interview with Neil Hanson, author of 'Pilgrim Wheels: Reflections of a Cyclist Crossing America'
by Neil Hanson
ISBN 978-0982639122
High Prairie Press, March 2015
$14.95
www.neilhanson.com
www.amazon.com
www.barnesandnoble.com
1. What was the original
inspiration for your bicycle trip across America?
I wanted to take a bike ride.
A long bike ride. Hundreds of miles, just me and my bike. Why? No particular
reason, it just sounded like a neat thing to add to the checklist of “fun and
exciting things I’ve tried.” The idea became an adventure. An adventure to plan
for and to move toward. A box to check off. Eventually, I was clipping into my
pedals in Monterey, California, pointing south along the coast on a beautiful
summer day, discovering America and me.
The trip didn’t take shape to
be a journey of discovery. I wasn’t trying to heal from a lost job, or a failed
relationship, or trying to discover myself. I just wanted to ride my bike a
long ways, with a really open mind, to see how I did riding 100 miles a day,
day after day.
But then things evolved a bit,
and I began to discover more about me, about my journey, about the people I
met. About America. It didn’t start off as any sort of pilgrimage or deep
journey, but rather as a bike ride. But it morphed into this journey that
discovered me, and a pilgrimage I didn’t really expect.
2. How far did you travel on
this journey and did you deviate at all from the route you’d originally
planned?
Total distance was just over
3300 miles, just under 125,000 vertical feet of climbing. My average rolling
speed was 14.2 MPH, the lowest temperature I rode through was 35F, and the
highest temperature I rode through was 119.
My route did evolve as I rode,
sometimes due to road closure, and sometimes just because I felt like trying
something different. This book takes me up to Medicine Lodge, Kansas, which is
almost exactly halfway, though Kansas is probably where I deviated from my
route more than anywhere else.
3. What surprised you as you
began your journey across the country?
The first surprise was how
easy the routine and the travel came to me. I joke a lot about how it was just
riding a bike—climbing into the saddle and peddling—but that really is a great
description. By the time I got to my second or third night out, I had just
fallen into this nomadic routine that worked really well for me.
That little surprise also
speaks to the nature of the adventure that this story represents. Too often, we
think of adventure as some wild and wooly ride down some class 5 rapids
in a raging river. While there were a few “wild and raging” moments I found
along this road, the vast majority of what I classify as the adventure
of this journey came from the steady nomadic rhythm that became my daily life,
quietly pedaling through something completely unknown, discovering an
interesting new person around the next bend in the road.
4. Are there any moments that
stand out as being especially meaningful or emotionally transcendent as you
travelled?
Beginning in the lush forests
of Big Sur, climbing over the coastal range, then spending a couple of days
drawn further and further toward the Mojave, really set me up for the depth and
meaning I found out on my own in the deserts. Standing on the side of a
deserted highway in the Mojave, not long after sunrise, feeling the power and
vastness of the desert around me, swallowed in the silence, was one of those
moments I write about in the book. Another was the afternoon ride through the
heart of the Sonoran, mesmerized by the sensual dance of distant dust devils in
the wind, fascinated by the cars disappearing into the shimmering heat of the
asphalt in front of me as oncoming cars would appear out of that amorphous
mirage.
5. If someone were to propose
a trip like yours, what advice would you give him or her?
First, take the time to decide
what it is you’re looking for in a ride. I really like the general route I
took, although in hindsight, I probably would make some small changes. What I
love about my route is that I was able to find some really fine roads to ride
on, I saw a wide variety of landscape, and I feel like I really experienced the
heart of American culture.
Second, I can’t stress fitness
enough. Be sure you’re fit to complete whatever distance you’re setting out to
ride. I’ve read several accounts of cross-country trips where a good percentage
of the joy was lost until the rider slowly became fit enough to do the ride.
Third, I’d recommend thinking
hard about the “style” or riding you want to do. Do you want to be fully loaded
and self-sufficient or minimalist? One of the things I noticed in the accounts
I read of other cross country trips was that sometimes folks didn’t think this
through a lot. It’s easy to overlook, and my “pack” dwindled considerably as I
rode, learning more as I went about what minimalism really meant. Too often
folks burden themselves with lots of gear, mostly because that’s their “vision”
of touring on a bicycle. Many of them then end up spending a fair number of
nights in motels anyway, and eating at diners.
6. How has this journey
changed your impression of our country? Do you feel the same about America as
you did before you decided to bicycle across the mainland?
I grew up in Kansas, a product
of Midwestern kindness. So I pretty much expect most people to be kind and
generous. Even with that as a starting point, I was continually humbled and
heartened at the generosity, kindness, and true concern that I encountered from
people across America. Sure there were some rude drivers, along with a few
other exceptions, but generally I was overwhelmed by the goodness and
camaraderie people shared with me. From the young woman I met at the airport in
Monterey to the old rancher who pulled over and gave Dave and me ice cold water
on a 100+ degree day in Kansas, the goodness in people warmed my heart.
7. Are you working on a sequel
to Pilgrim Wheels? If so, what can you tell us about it?
Pilgrim Wheels takes the reader up to
Medicine Lodge in western Kansas, and the next book will take the reader from
Medicine Lodge out to Annapolis on the east coast. From the time I left the Big
Sur coastline in California, all the way across the western half of the country,
I was nearly always riding in some form of “The West.” The landscape varied
from semi-arid to deep desert, the air was always dry, the views and landscape
big and sweeping.
But Medicine Lodge is where
that changed. I swept down into Medicine Lodge out of the big Medicine Hills,
with vast views across landscape that is iconic American West, and emerged
riding east into increasing humidity and rich farmland. From that point all the
way to Annapolis, the journey took me through various forms of the “Old
America,” one made up of lush farmland, deep woods, humid air, wide rivers, and
more history.
Thanks for posting Dorothy!
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