RiseAlways

I've come across photos and a few short snippets of stories from tours some have done in the mid 1980s, the 70s and I think even one from the 60s?
So, after seeing these I've been meaning to start a thread (forgive me if this has already been done and feel free to simply point me in the direction of that thread),...but I thought for the sake of nostalgia, history and sheer fun,.. I'd seek out those who've toured on everything from "touring" bikes to racing bikes that "did the job".
The gritty, "I packed up myself and headed out to see what came next,.." type of stories and photos.

Let's see what becomes?....perhaps an overdue chronology of two-wheeled exploration and invigoration among the long roads, soft breezes and numerous sunsets?

Without further adieu,...
take it away gents!

Repack Rider

Chew on this.

The Golden Boy 

Hey Charlie!

It's really nice to see you here! I love reading all your adventure stuff.

Thank you so much for posting!!!

RiseAlways

Cool Charlie/Repack Rider,.. thanks for contributing!

qclabrat

boy and I'm still complaining my FS isn't soft enough

thanks for the good reads

you folks looked a lot happier than the guys/gals I see out on the trail nowadays

RiseAlways

I was just thinking the same thing!! haha....
to many grimaces from fellow riders...ha!

rhm

Somewhere in Montana in August, 1983. It's a composite photo; Dave (on the left) took the right half of the photo, with me in it; then gave me camera and I took the left half of the photo.

We took Greyhound bus from DC to Portland around the beginning of August, then rode east along the Columbia.



Cut north across the wheatfields of central Washington. Rode right through a range fire, which was exciting. I'm sure the story has been improved by many retellings.



Went through Spokane, Idaho, and most of Montana on the Interstate. I still have that jersey. It still fits. It's still ugly.



Then cut south into Wyoming and headed east on another Interstate. For some reason the mountains took an eternity to disappear over the horizon after we entered the great plains.



Dave didn't get much farther than that. He sprained his ankle walking down the street in Rapid City, had to take the bus home the next day. I continued on, riding a couple days with another cyclist I met along the way, but eventually found myself heading south through Iowa, wanting to avoid Chicago. But by this time I was pretty much out of time and money. I bailed, rode back to Omaha, and took the bus home.

1800 miles in 18 days.

RiseAlways

rhm,...
awesome!

"I still have that jersey. It still fits. It's still ugly."... haha...

Repack Rider

Just making sure, you do know that I wrote a book about my cycling adventures.

RiseAlways

Oh geez,..I saw this book and it caught my eye, I'll have to pick it up when I can.

RiseAlways

No, I think it's this crappy case of pneumonia that's go me pining to be riding!!! Grrrr,....

The Golden Boy 

Check out the movie about him and his crew:

Mountain Bike History

rootboy 

Is it mentioned somewhere on that page?

Repack Rider

Which page are we talking about?

BluesDaddy

@rhm ... was that legal Interstate use? I know in the past it was allowed in some states. How was that experience?

Prowler 

The OPs suggestion had me recall the trip I never took but lived vicariously thru my brother. Must have been 1967 when I owned a Schwinn Varsity but my brother owned the high end Schwinn Continental. He and 4 buddies decided to ride all that heavy steel from Schenectady to Provincetown and back. AFAIK there was no proper "touring gear" at that point nor did they own any. They just packed some cloths, a couple of sheets and some sundries and strapped them on the bikes somehow. No guidance anywhere, no internet, no points of reference, no reason to think they could not do it.

We saw them off and I just followed in my minds eye (I must have been a HS sophomore). They worked their way down to Route US 20 and turned east. Must have stayed on US 20 for days, staying in youth hostels along the way. (Are there still youth hostels out there?) In fact, were there any Interstate highways at that point - 1967? US 20 may have still been one of the major east-west routes in the northeast. I remember hearing updates every day or so: Pittsfield, Springfield, Worcester. They peeled off somewhere west of Boston where there is now some sort of beltway (2 of em now) and headed for the coast near Plymouth. Probably stopped to look at the Rock then on to Hyannis. Imagine what Cape Cod looked like in 1967 vs now. No traffic, no fast food joints, no tourist traps. Were there even any traffic lights? Imagine cycling thru open fields, small villages like West Dennis and out onto the dunes. Provincetown must have seemed like the end of the earth. Imagine camping out on the dunes prior to the USPark Service and all those fences and signs and restrictions.

I followed each leg thru phone calls and reports from the other kids parents as they turned and returned. I vowed to take my own trip, my own adventure some day. "Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back." I did come back eventually but it was on beemers and adventures in the mountains last 600 or 800 miles. But I often recall the dreams of a skinny kid about his brother 'venturin' on the Atlantic dunes on that blue Schwinn Continental.

rhm

It was legal until Iowa. Riding on the interstate was fun, and there's a predictable string of towns with facilities, supplies, etc, so to a couple kids with no touring experience and a tight schedule it worked out pretty well. Of course it gave us a pretty watered down experience. The interstate casts a kind of pall over the towns lucky enough to touch it. I kinda wish we had had the time, money and maps to do the thing differently, but I'd we'd waited for the perfect opportunity, we never would have done the tour at all.

CMAW 

Brilliant!

AZORCH

Sometime in the mid-80's, but I don't recall the exact year. I don't think I began to sport a beard until around '83 though, so no further back than then.

Crooked helmet? Yes, after an unfortunate run in with a tree branch stretching across the road, which ripped that stylish mirror right off my lid and led to me attempting to duct tape it back into place. Something went amiss with the straps after that and I constantly adjusted that d**n helmet for the next fifty miles. It didn't bother me much though, because shortly after this was taken my right cleat broke off and I was left to peddle left-footed for the remainder of the ride, while my right foot slid all over the place. As I recall, that was pretty much the end of me using racing shoes for any ride longer than thirty miles.

LeicaLad 

Hey Charlie,

I ordered this bike over the telephone with you in the summer of 1981.



This photo is from Northern Thailand in April 1982. I rode with the Thai Nat'l team from Bangkok to Chiangmai. The 180mm crank arms d*mn near killed me!

I ordered my copy of your book pre-publication. I like it very much. You kept excellent notes, not to mention some fine photos of the times.

Glad to see you.

Owen

bcsaltchucker

This was me in the 'disco era' late 70s. some or other bike tour our family did. Not always my cup of tea then, have to admit. Thus the surly 13 yr old snarl. Not my cup of tea now either, to travel with 50 lbs of gear. Wool, all leather shoes+cleats+toeclips, you name it you will not see this in 2015. I do miss riding without helmets though.

RiseAlways

What bikes were those?

bcsaltchucker

I don't really know the one in the pic - I think it is the guy's taking the photo, perhaps a Dawes. I think the one on the left is a Norco S.E., there is a Nishiki Continental out of the frame, and the tandem in the background is either my dad's Gitane or more likely a Santana. I cropped the photo a lot for privacy

RiseAlways

Oh it's cropped?..oh ok,.. I see.
Neat story and photo... thanks!

Doug64

This was not the tour I am about to describe. It was the start of a later tour, but the bike and gear are the same.


My first long tour in the mid-seventies was almost an afterthought. A simple conversation with a co-worker turned into a great friendship, and an 11 day “1100” mile ride. While talking with her about a family reunion she was planning to attend at Lake Pend Orielle, Idaho; we somehow got around to the idea of me attending it and then riding my bike home to Oregon. I was racing at the time and in really good shape; which was a good thing because the only bike I had was a Peugeot PX10 with a 52/42 crank and biggest freewheel in my kit was a 14-28.

I was an experienced back packer and climber so the camping was a known. What I didn't know is how my light bike, twenty-one pounds, would handle with a load. About 3 weeks before the start date I ordered a pattern for making panniers, and whipped up a pretty nice set of bags. It is a curse, but I was and still am pretty good on a heavy duty sewing machine. Most competition bikes of that era had eyelets for fenders so I fitted a Blackburn (I think) rack, and purchased a handlebar bag. I had the rest of the camping and cooking gear. My gear weighed about 20 pounds. I was ready--ignorance is bliss, but having an over abundance of self confidence also helps. Some people might even use the term "delusions of grandeur"

I did not have any idea what the distance was or the route I'd take back home. I planned to pick up a road map on the way to Idaho, and figure it out while spending a few days camping with her family. We loaded my gear, her car camping gear, and my bike into her Ford Mustang, and headed north.

After leaving the campground at Lake Pend Orielle, I wanted to start as close to the Canadian border as I could, so I headed north instead of south. It was raining, but I just wanted to get started. I got pretty close to the border and then doubled back on Hwy 95. I pretty much just shot down Highway 95 to Lewiston, Idaho on the border with Washington. It was a great ride down the Lewiston Grade, but one heck of a climb coming out of the Snake River. From there I cut through a small corner of Washington into Oregon.

I was getting quite a bit of rain and the second day in Oregon I peered out of my tent after one heck of a storm to see about 4" of hail on the ground. I packed up and headed toward the road. I was standing there wondering what I was going to do, when a rancher pulled up and said," I don't generally offer bikers rides because they are usually where they want to be, but today I'm making an exception; want a ride?" I threw my bike and gear into the back of his pickup. He dropped me off in front of a cafe about 15 miles later. My wheel bearings were taking a beating due to the wet riding conditions. A helpful gas station owner let me repack my bearings in his garage, and even furnished the rags, grease, and coffee. As is still true today, people are great!

That night I was planning on sleeping in a small laundramat where I was drying my clothes and sleeping bag. However, the owner came in to close up, and I was a little too bashful to ask; so I pitched my tent on public land just outside of town--just before the rain started. This was pre Gore-Tex days, and things tended to get wet.

From John Day I headed west toward Redmond with a short detour to the Fossil Beds. After reaching Highway 97, I made a left turn and headed south toward Diamond Lake Junction. I thought my last day, my longest day and crossing the Cascade Mountains, was 169 miles; but recently rechecking with Google Map it turned out to be only 139 miles. This ride took place before bike computers, so all distances where taken from the road map at the time, and should be suspect. I had been bragging about my long-day for almost 40 years, and technology finally caught up with me. I also suspect that the total ride was a little shorter than I had calculated, at least by 30 miles for sure! I'd be pretty proud of that except for the fact that the first 30 miles was a gentle uphill, followed be a 20 mile climb, and then generally downhill the rest of the way home.

Despite 5 days of rain and inadequate gearing for the terrain, what started as a training ride turned into a life-long passion—bumming around the world on my bike.