Travel Stories

Biking Solo from Maine to Pennsylvania.
by Bob Neubauer

For two weeks I pedaled alone through New England, meeting people, getting invited into their homes and learning about their lives.

North Barnstead, N.H.--The pickup truck rumbled past me on the pebble-strewn dirt road, kicking up a thick, brown cloud in its wake.


Grimacing, I ducked my head against the dust storm and peered down at my feet on the pedals and at my tires spinning in the loose dirt. My balance wavered and I threw down a leg to keep myself, my bike and my 50 pounds of gear from toppling into the thick, thorny underbrush at the road's edge.

And this was supposed to be my vacation?

I was five days into a two-week, 800-mile solo bicycle trek from Maine to Pennsylvania--and things were not going as planned. I had anticipated an idyllic romp through fragrant meadows and small villages. I hadn't counted on sweltering heat, bugs and dirt roads that seemed to have no end.

So much for idealism.

I approached a small cottage at a dirt crossroads, surprising an elderly woman out watering her garden. She gaped at me, a tall, unshaven, sunburned 27-year-old on a ridiculously overloaded bicycle, bumping along a dirt road in the woods.

"How far to the nearest paved road?" I asked.

"About seven miles," she yelled back.

My heart stopped. Seven miles! I'd die of heatstroke!

"Awful hot to be doing that, isn't it?" she chastised.

"Well, I've come this far," I countered. "I'm sort of committed now."

"If you don't watch out you will be committed," she muttered.

At that moment, the security of the rubber room would have been a welcome relief. That was where most people thought I belonged anyway for undertaking this little excursion.