What is it like being a long-distance touring rider?  Is it­ exciting?  Does it make traveling special?  Why do I ride?  I am asked these questions often while I'm on tour and I try to explain it­ to folks.

            On an emotional level, it's a sensory involvement with­ natural forces surrounding me.  It's a tasting of the wind, a­ feeling of the coolness, and the warmth—swirling clouds above me­ and grasses bending in soft breezes.   Touring puts me into­ intimate contact with sunrises and sunsets. 

            Along seacoasts, I watch waves charge their white fury ­against sandy beaches.  Touring, in its elegant silence allows me­ to see an eagle swoop out of the blue, and with its talons­ extended, grab a mouse and lift into the sky headed toward its­ nest.  Touring allows me to see a kangaroo hop across the road in Australia. Or, I may ride into the teeth of an approaching storm.

            I witness quiet and wild moments depending on nature.  When­ I am a long distance touring rider, I get caught up in the forces ­that swirl around me, and I feel at peace with them. The normal everyday occurrences of life, which seem extraordinary­ to many people, are normal to me.  Why?  Because I place myself­ in a wilderness orbit that synchronizes with­ the natural, the animal world—far away from the maddening din of humanity's­ cities.

            One of the things I enjoy as I ride along is the ease with ­which I move through the natural world, both plant and animal. ­My journey carries me through deserts, mountains, forests and­ plains.  As I ride along, three aspects of living become ­important with every turn of the pedals.  

 

           Whether I ride through­ a country or across a continent, I meet people and see­ the sights.  For me, the most important thing is my connectedness and a combination of what I feel is important in keeping my life in relationship with the natural world, and­ therefore, myself—and that is—keeping my body, mind and spirit­ in balance.  Like on a wheel; somewhat like a freewheel!  Even­ though I'm changing gears, whether it's the front derailleur­ chain rings or the seven on the back end, I'm keeping a good­ combination of changes and adaptations to the earth around me.

            I feel that life provides a moving drama that I enjoy exploring. ­A friend of mine, Duncan Littlefair said that when you walk ­forward, it's not that you walk forward, you fall forward, you're­ falling forward into the unknown, and the only thing that­ prevents you from falling down face first is that you put your­ other foot out and stop your fall, yet you continue to fall into ­the unknown with each step.

            I think bicycling replicates that metaphor.  I ride into each day ­having no idea what's going to happen.  I ride with a positive­ attitude.  Invariably, good things happen.  It's rare that I ever ride into a negative situation—because life is generally ­positive.  Some people may complain that it's raining out today,­ so that's a negative. 

             I see it another way.  Rain makes flowers bloom.  A mountain rises ahead.  I have to drop into­ granny gear.  My legs must power the pedals—yet that's a ­positive because it's a part of the process of moving into the ­unknown and experiencing it. I discover what it's about. ­It's a lot like anyone's life as they grow toward their own­ fulfillment.  Each day the pedals move around in a constant rhythm of adaptation to the different kinds of terrain, and so do I, with ­my body, mind and spirit.

            Starting with the body, a long distance touring rider ­concerns himself or herself with health.  That ­translates into taking care of it.

            My nutritional approach is vegetarian with an emphasis on­ raw natural foods—vegetables, fruits, nuts and grains.  I ­compliment them with whole breads and pastas.  This nutritional stance gives my body ­maximum clean burning fuel to push the pedals throughout the day. ­It makes me capable of responding to any physical needs whether ­it be deserts such as the Atacama of Chile, the Outback ­of Australia, or a 15,000 foot pass in the Bolivian Andes.  I can move through them with confidence because my body maintains a­ balance.

            The five senses play an important part of the day on ­a bicycle tour.  I feel everything around me.  I taste, touch,­ hear, smell and feel nature.  I taste the rain on my tongue and ­touch the bark on a tree.  I hear an owl hooting and smell a ­skunk.  My senses soar because I am involved with the swirling­ forces of nature.  I sweat in the desert and get chilled in the mountains.  I am wild on my bicycle with the wind blowing past ­me.

            Touring fills my mind with expectation.  Something new lies­ around the bend in the road ahead.  It can be confusing or­ frustrating.  Most of the time, however, it's a positive experience.  If you pinned me down, I would go with the ­word “serene.”  Nature creates inexplicable beauty.  I love seeing ­it for the first time and my mind swallows it in big gulps.

            Unfortunately, with the passing years, my mind has been­ forced to accept the incredible destruction wrought by humanity ­on this globe.  Human beings destroy our natural heritage at an ­astounding rate.  I am hopeful for a change of consciousness.

            Ultimately, my spiritual being moves through the natural ­world.  I pedal, change gears, drink water, see an eagle, watch a­ storm and sleep beneath the stars.  These activities affect something deep down in my spirit.  It's the balance in my life. ­It's something I can't really know, yet it seems to grow as I grow ­older. 

            It's a feeling inside me about life, which leaves me at ­peace with myself.  When I keep my spiritual life balanced, my ­spirit connects with the natural scheme of nature.  By keeping in­ balance I accept life on its terms.  If I win or ­lose, or I'm sick or healthy or whatever, I move forward with a positive feeling toward life.

            Bicycling is that beautiful vehicle that I can push forward ­at what that wise old bird in “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” ­called, "The perfect speed, and the perfect speed is being there.”  ­I'm definitely there on a bicycle—body, mind and spirit.

 

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 Excerpt from How to Live a Life of Adventure: The Art of Exploring the World by Frosty Wooldridge, publishes July 2011