8/30/22
Whew… what a whirlwind of a month. Where to even begin to describe an experience that words cannot fully encapsulate? The ride days, the build days, the strangers that became best friends, the towns and communities that treated us like family. It’s hard to fully grasp the broad scope of what we all just experienced as a team. But, like anything else we do in life, I’ll give it a try.
I was fortunate enough for this to be my second Bike & Build trip. Like with anybody else coming into a trip like this, it is hard not to let the nerves and anxiety pre-trip rattle you. I was asked, with three other former B&B alumni, to help lead a three-week bicycle trip across the Pacific Northwest for twenty-four young adult peers. It’s a lot to take on, on top of normal day-to-day life, 9-5 jobs, and various other non-B&B responsibilities. We were ‘hired’ to lead, but I think I can speak for all of my co-leaders when I say that we did not do this for a paycheck. We did this because we love the trip, we love the experience, we love the organization and the cause, and we love the odd assortment of 20-somethings that chose to come together to participate and become a team for a trip like this.
This trip was special. From the moment we started to work on pulling it together, we hoped that it would be. That being said, there are a million different moving parts, and a million different expectations to cater to along the road. Finding hosts, finding food and showers, managing riders before and during the trip, crafting safe routes for the team to ride along the road, securing various permits for camping, ferries, etc. There was a lot of stress and a lot of anxiety pre-trip that had us tossing and turning on the nights leading up to the trip. But that all began to dissipate once we landed in Portland and our riders began to show up for orientation.
As riders began to arrive in Portland at the beginning of August, few knew eachother, many were nervous, a number of them were shy (afterall, how could you not be? They were about to embark on a month-long trip where they’d be cycling 50+ miles a day, putting their lives in the hands of various strangers who also flew in from across the country). We checked everybody in, got them their gear, helped them assemble their bikes, and played a slew of ice-breaker games. There were name games, team-building activities, and whatever the hell ‘huckle-buckle’ was (Thanks Gen). We sat through a number of presentations on safety, a day-in-the-life, hygiene on the road, and detailed the plight of the affordable housing crisis in the United States. It was a marathon of slides and a magnitude of information to take in. We participated in an affordable housing-focused build day with a local non-profit in Portland, and we clipped our cleats in for a 20-something mile ‘shakedown ride’ across the various neighborhoods of Portland. Throughout the first few days of orientation, the team began to form. Then, after everything was squared away, chore groups were assigned, bikes were tuned up, friends were made, we set off on the road north from Portland towards Bellingham, two and a half weeks away up the road.
We dipped our rear wheels beneath the St. John’s Bridge in the Willamette River on August 9th, still fresh faces, unsure of what the road ahead would bring. We rode as a group across the bridge, and then made the turn north along Highway 30 as it followed the river north to the town of Longview, Washington. Quickly, the team learned what a ride day would look like. Cars passing, eighteen-wheeler trucks loudly whizzing by, debris and road-kill strewn across the shoulder of the road. It required constant teamwork, communication and looking out for each other to reach lunch, let alone the next host town down the road. But we made it, no matter how stressful, to the next town and knew that we could trust each other along the way.
After day one on the road, we continued northward into central Washington (shouts out Jean in Chehalis - those brownies live forever in our hearts); westward out to the coast along the Olympic peninsula (shouts out two nights of camping with no running water), north towards the farthest tip of the contiguous United States in Neah bay and back east towards the Puget Sound before ferrying to the San Juan Islands and ultimately finishing in Bellingham nearly three weeks later. The rides were an assortment of highways, back-country roads, farm roads and old truss bridges over meandering rivers. Road conditions varied, but we knew that as a team, we had what it took to overcome what unfolded ahead of us. At times during the rides we were chatty, got to know each other on a personal level; got to learn each other pasts, goals, fears, where we’d been, what we’d been through in life, and how that all brought us together on Bike & Build. Other times we were singularly focused on the road - calling out debris, cars passing, potholes and cracks; looking out for each other as if our lives depended on it (because they most certainly did). You can’t appreciate the gravity of a ride day on Bike & Build until you experience one.
Time finds a way of becoming relative during a ride day on Bike & Build. I often tell folks that each ride day ends up expanding to become something like three full days: wake-up and route meeting to lunch becomes one; lunch to the host is the second; and then whatever happens after showers and dinner is a whole other event in-and-of itself. The mornings after route meeting, we’re eager and fresh (at least after a cup or two of coffee) on the road. We’re optimistic for the day and where the road will take us. Throughout the first few hours on the road before lunch, we’ll be put through the ringer. That cycle of chattiness on quiet roads and bike paths will be punctuated by the focused communication and teamwork along the louder, busier roads and by the time we make it to lunch, we’ve already experienced more in a few hours than most folks will experience in a few days (if ever). Lunch then becomes a time of regrouping, experimenting (with whatever leftovers you can fit in a tortilla for the necessary calories), and perhaps a quick nap. It most certainly includes some assortment of rehashing the morning, what we experienced on the road, the odd side adventures we discovered, the dogs we pet, the deer skulls we picked up and the curious people we experienced along the way. From there, the back half of the ride begins. By the post-lunch portion of the ride, lunch legs has set in , we’re exhausted, we smell pretty bad, our feet are numb and our butts are likely in some degree of pain. With that in mind, we know we have to make it to the host as soon as we can so we can shower, maybe get a nap, and get ready for dinner.
The arrival at a host is truly something to behold. As groups roll in, after placing their bike inside on a tarp (to protect our host’s floors) you can find riders in all levels of exhaustion. Some are chatty, buzzing with excitement of the day in a ‘runner's high’ sort of delirium, others are keeled over in a ball, some are starfished out napping on whatever horizontal surface is closest to them. There used to be a ‘Bike & Build Naps’ instagram that documented the bizarre ways we all create in order to catch up on sleep. Trust me, we get pretty creative (desperate even).
After riders have showered and gotten settled in, (depending on host) we are often greeted by the local community for dinner. Food aside, this has always been one of my favorite aspects of Bike & Build. It is truly humbling when we as a group roll into a town that we’ve most likely never been to, or maybe even heard of, and are greeted with folks excited to shelter us, feed us, and learn about what we are doing. In places often disparaged as ‘fly-over’ country, we find some of the most kind and caring folks, willing to go out of their way to host us for an evening. We learn just as much from them as they learn from us, and it’s hard not to find yourself at a loss for words for the hospitality and grace that folks show us. I am forever grateful for the numerous communities that work with us along the routes and treat us as if we were family.
Build days along the route are no less demanding. The other half of the ‘Bike & Build’ combo consists of ‘Build days’ where we volunteer with local Affordable Housing organizations to address the needs of their communities. We learn through their organizations about facts on-the-ground where they are, the needs they seek to address, and learn from the beneficiaries of these organizations the impact they have. Whether we’re clearing brush, swinging hammers, painting, framing walls, or whatever else we can help with, its hard to overstate the impact of 25-ish sets of hands all focused on one job can have on a job site. Seeing homeowners or soon-to-be homeowners’ emotions after we roll through is humbling and awe-inspiring.
So as I sit here and type this out, after the trip has come to a close and I’ve unpacked my duffel bag full of smelly chamois and dirty Patagonia baggies, I am beyond grateful for the trip, the team, and the experience we have all had. I am grateful for the friendships we’ve formed, the family we’ve become and the rides we shared. I am grateful for the early morning wakeups, the route meetings before the sun rose, the ride days, the van days and the build days. Heck, I’m even grateful for that one nail that punctured my tire through one side and out the other and instantly deflated my tube on that long ride day to Port Orchard.
It’s hard to finish a trip like this and be one of the last ones to leave. After we arrived in Bellingham the other day, we hugged, we celebrated, and we had one last round with each other. The day after dipping our wheels in the Pacific waters of Bellingham Bay, folks started to go their separate ways. As a leader, one of my final tasks was to return the rental truck we used during the trip as a support vehicle back to Portland once everyone left. I didn’t necessarily grasp when I agreed to the role that it would also require me to be one of the last to leave and watch as all my fellow riders departed, one by one, back to their respective parts of the country. It’s hard to describe the bond a trip like this creates in a group of otherwise strangers. We all volunteered through a mutual sense of service, not knowing each other a mere three weeks ago. But after the day-in, day-out of life on the road, looking out for each other, sleeping on the same floors and commiserating the trials and tribulations of each day, you really become something akin to a family with these folks. Chore groups, Inside jokes (bonking), stories from the rides, the sunrises and sunsets, working together on build sites, all culminate in a shared experience that is unique to each team and impossible to take away.
I was at a Bike & Build wedding just before the trip, and I was speaking with my former leader about how anxious I was about the new group of riders I was about to help lead. Wondering if the trip would go well, if I’d do a decent job, and whether I could possibly love them as much as I loved the folks from my first trip. I am happy to discover that the love that these trips and this organization create are not mutually exclusive. I will forever love each and every one of these riders, will be there for them regardless of our differences, and would be willing to drop anything to help them in times of need. To each and every one of you on Drift West ‘22 - know that you’ve got a friend in me, you’ve always got a place to stay if you’re in my neck of the woods, and you can always give me a call if you need any inspiration for what leftovers you need to put in your tortilla in order to maximize calorie intake and shock value.
Much love Drift West, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.
-“Nasty” Nick Hales, DW'22, SUS'16