Israel

Shalom, Israel!
For many years I longed to bicycle across the United States, and I have often wanted to cycle across Europe as well. I thought, "Why not kill two birds with one stone and take both trips in sequence?" In addition, I could easily extend the journey to visit a good friend in Israel.
In the summer of 1994 I made a 3,200-mile expedition from Montana to Alaska by mountain bike. On that trip I met several couples who were pedaling through Canada on recumbent bicycles. I thought, "Gee, that looks comfortable. I think I'll travel to Israel on one of those beautiful machines."

My loaded rig
Unfortunately, no store in my hometown of Bellingham, Washington stocked recumbent bicycles. I learned, however, that Brock Davis at Cambie Cycles in Vancouver, Canada, built custom-made recumbents.
I drove fifty miles north to Brock's bicycle shop and ordered a long-based recumbent constructed to my specifications. I wanted all XT equipment, a set of SPD pedals with cleats on one side and a flat surface on the other, a rack under the seat to hold my two small Ortlieb panniers, a dependable Avocet-Cross Kevlar tire on the 26-inch rear wheel, very strong rims with thirty-six thick spokes in each rim, a Blackburn expedition-quality rear rack to hold my large Ortlieb panniers, and a Sachs disk brake on the rear wheel.
My recumbent bicycle took more than two months to build, it cost just over $2,700 US dollars, and it weighed 55 pounds. My panniers weighed 65 pounds, and my flesh and bones weighed 175 pounds, so the total weight of my loaded rig was 295 pounds!

Bound for Israel
In mid-June I left Bellingham bound for Israel aboard my loaded rig. The first challenge of my journey was to ascend Rainy Pass at 4,855 feet, followed by Washington Pass at 5,477 feet in the Cascade Mountains. I had to push my two-wheeled mule up the last hundred yards of both passes but I zoomed down them like Snoopy on skis.
I paused in Winthrop, Washington where I had my first of three major breakdowns on the trip. A clever bike mechanic in that town replaced a small wheel on which my long chain rested, with part of a rear derailleur from another bicycle. The repair work cost just over $26 but it was worth every penny because the chain functioned well all the way to Israel. I camped for two days in Winthrop where I recouped my energy and met some friendly local folks who welcomed me warmly to their charming town.

The Rocky Mountains
Cycling through the Rocky Mountains in Idaho and Montana was an unforgettable, thrilling experience. Despite several rainy and chilly days, the scenery was truly spectacular and the solitude was a welcome change from my busy life in the city. Sometimes I felt so uninhibited that I sang songs from my childhood such as "This Old Man" and "Ba Ba Black Sheep." Several times I even did horrible imitations of Luciano Pavarotti by croaking "O Sole Mio" at the top of my voice. Soon I lost track of what day of the week it was simply because it didn't matter. I was a free spirit in tune with Nature's rhythms rather than with Humankind's clocks.
In Bonners Ferry, Idaho I mailed home 14 pounds of gear that I had deemed absolutely essential before leaving home. However, I never again missed those extraneous items: a small propane stove, several cooking utensils, a transistor radio, an extra pair of cycling gloves, and a small backpack.
Outside of East Glacier, Montana my recumbent suffered a second major breakdown. The shaft in the fork began to break as I was coasting down a steep mountain pass at 30 miles per hour in freezing rain. My body shivered uncontrollably. I wiped off my eyeglasses with my soaked gloves but I could see only blurry ./images through the lenses. My left leg warmer constantly slipped down; I pulled it up again and again.
In the meantime I had to switch gears occasionally, look for traffic over my windshield and in my rearview mirror, and balance my shaking recumbent. I knew that something was very wrong with the bicycle. It wobbled so much that it was difficult to balance. I didn't know what was causing the problem and I wasn't willing to stop in the cold rain to find out. I desperately wanted to reach the town of East Glacier where I intended to spend the night in a youth hostel. I pushed harder and harder on my pedals and rocketed down the highway that led into a deep valley and finally into East Glacier.
The next morning as I began to cycle to a nearby town, the fork shaft on my recumbent snapped in half. Unfortunately, there was no bicycle shop in the area. After staying another night at the local youth hostel, I put myself and my boxed bike on a train. I traveled 165 miles to Havre, Montana, the closest town to the east where there was a bicycle shop. An excellent mechanic there worked for five hours to repair my trusty steed. Afterwards I paid him $85 and continued my journey eastward.

Across the prairie
Flat terrain, strong tailwinds, and a renewed spirit of energy helped me to sail across central Montana and North Dakota on my two-wheeled prairie schooner. Along the way I met many friendly, hard-working folks who took great interest in my recumbent bicycle and my international journey. Some motorists waved as I pedaled along the highway, pedestrians gawked at me with their mouths wide open, and children raced me down Main Street, shouting "Cool bike!" and "Awesome!"
Nearly every day as I cycled past miles of corn fields in Minnesota, the temperature soared to over 100 degrees. In the small town of Cambridge the employees of a local medical center invited me to their annual picnic held in an air-conditioned building at the county fairgrounds. There I devoured a hot dog and hamburger with the works, macaroni salad, potato salad, baked beans, four large M&M cookies, an ice cream bar, and three Diet Cokes. I thought that I had died and gone to hog heaven!
The record-high temperatures continued as I cycled across Wisconsin, Michigan, and Ohio. I read in a newspaper that more than 800 people died in that unrelenting heat. To maintain a daily average of 60-70 miles on cycling days, I drank plenty of water, Gatorade, soft drinks, and chocolate milk. On a few days I even took a short afternoon nap under a shady tree well off the highway.
The winding, narrow roads of the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky challenged my physical strength and emotional stamina. Finally I decided to head northward through flatter terrain along the Ohio River and Lake Erie.

Eastern states
Biking in western New York State couldn't have been a more pleasant experience. The highways were fairly flat, the traffic was low, the temperature was warm, and the countryside was beautiful. Along the way I stopped at several fruit stands to load up on fresh strawberries as well as juicy peaches and plums.
As I cycled across central New York and Massachusetts, I met many hospitable people through a peace organization called Servas. My hosts and I did many different and interesting activities together. We attended a piano concert, we took walking tours, we picked tomatoes, we broke hallah bread on the Sabbath, and we went English country dancing. After cycling 4,100 miles across the United States for three months, I reached Boston in mid-September.

Across Western Europe
From Boston my recumbent and I flew to Amsterdam, Holland. The temperature there was in the lower 50s, but the skies were fairly clear, the terrain was flat, and the countryside was gorgeous. After I told an elderly woman in Valkensburg that I thought her country was very beautiful, she remarked apologetically, "But Holland is such a small country." I replied, "Maybe so. But diamonds are also small, and they are very beautiful."
As I pedaled across Germany and Austria, I satisfied my hunger pains by indulging in the local fare: Bratwurst, Wienerschnitzel, Apfelstrudel -- all washed down by a variety of refreshing cold beers and fine white wines. Occasionally I overnighted in youth hostels but I preferred to stay with Servas hosts who represented many different walks of life: teachers, farmers, students, journalists, and factory workers. Fortunately, I speak six European languages so I had little difficulty communicating with my new friends.
Relatively speaking, cycling through Holland, Germany, Austria, and Hungary was a breeze. Romania was more physically and emotionally challenging because the roads were often replete with potholes, rocks, and gravel. Some Romanians drove along those treacherous roads like bats out of you know where. They would come barreling down the highway at breakneck speeds, zoom around me -- barely slowing down -- then put the metal to the pedal to catch up for lost time. On the other hand, I found most Romanians to be extremely hospitable people. Several times I found myself in isolated areas or in towns without accommodations. On those occasions Romanian families, to whom I was a complete stranger, invited me into their humble homes, fed me, and gave me shelter without asking for anything in return. I was deeply touched by their attitude of caring and sharing despite the dismal state of their country's economy.

Old Man Winter arrives
After crossing the Danube River into Bulgaria, a massive snowstorm prevented my further progress by bicycle. Winter had finally caught up with me and my recumbent. From Bulgaria I trained through Turkey to Istanbul, then I flew to Tel Aviv, Israel. After spending a few days in that lovely city, I cycled to Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee to visit my friend David. The previous summer I had met David on Adventure Cycling Association's "North Star" expeditions from Montana to Alaska. It was wonderful to see him again and a joy to cycle in warm weather.

Journey's end
Unfortunately, the rough roads in Romania had completely loosened the shaft in my recumbent's fork. I was unable to repair the bicycle nor could a mechanic at a bike shop in Tiberias do so. He has no spare parks for my specialized two-wheeler. Moreover, I learned that it would cost about $550 to transport my recumbent back home. Reluctantly, I decided to donate it to the Nazareth hospital for use in their annual bicycle races once someone repaired it.
I toured the Holy Land for several days by bus, then flew home to Bellingham where I arrived on November 23, Thanksgiving Day. I certainly had a great deal for which to be thankful.
The most interesting feature of my five and one-half month bicycle journey was meeting hundreds of people who shared with me their friendship, their home, and their food. During the trip I also learned a great deal about my strengths ...... I looked forward to my next cycling adventure with great enthusiasm.

In Bethel, Ohio I met Steve Newman, the first person to walk around the world alone.

On the road to the Sea of Galilee with Jordan in the distance.

Saying good-bye to my recumbent in Tiberias, Israel