Bicycling adventure-seeker is a hero to us all
Published: November 17, 2006
A few days ago I told you about Jason Hill, a 35-year-old guy from Anchorage, Alaska, who is on a two-year bicycle jaunt that will take him across much of America and then to Argentina. [The Complete Book of Long-Distance Cycling: Build the Strength, Skills, and Confidence to Ride as Far as You Want]
He’s ridden more than 15,000 miles since starting out in June 2005. Despite packing more than 70 pounds of gear, he averages around 20 miles per hour.
This fellow is hard-core. He camps out most nights and rides off-road whenever possible. In Colorado, he got the hankering to go mountain-climbing, so he parked his ride and conquered a 14,000-foot peak.
Jason told me he doesn’t have much of a master plan, that he “makes the route up as he goes along.”
He’ll spend the winter with friends in Cincinnati, and pick up some paychecks as a landscaper and bartender before heading out again in March.
And get this. After returning to Alaska to relight the home fires, he might ride across Africa.
I flagged him down near Montgomery, Ind. It was almost a shame. He had a better pace than some cars I’ve owned.
He talked about purifying his drinking water, repairing his drive train and eating wild mushrooms.
Jason said he’s in no hurry to find a real job, and that he’d much rather pedal the ridgelines of Colorado.
I gave him the name of a good place to eat in Loogootee, and hoped the gypsum trucks outside Shoals don’t get as close to his hind parts as they did mine when I biked across Indiana on U.S. 50.
And he was off, possibly the most self-sufficient human being since Mr. Lewis and Mr. Clark.
Admit it. You’ve thought about leaving the work-a-day world behind and heading into the horizon, free as the tooth fairy.
But you don’t get any farther than the end of the driveway. There’s the mortgage to think about. And the moles that are threatening to plant their victory flag in your backyard. And who’s going to watch the dog while you’re in Costa Rica?
So you stay, your roots sinking yet another inch.
When it comes to adventure-seeking, Jason Hill is our elected official without the vote-counting and swearing-in ceremony.
We’re not quite willing to take off for two years with nothing for certain other than we’ll need a boatload of water-purifying tablets.
We’re not quite willing to pedal in the driving rain for 10 hours, sleep on a bed of pine cones and wake up the next morning with creepy things on our carcass.
So we let guys like this Mr. Pistons For Legs represent us.
When he dips his bike in Prudhoe Bay in upstate Alaska, he’s doing it for us.
When he’s pumping up the Andes Mountains, he has our dreams in his saddlebags.
Happy trails, Jason.
We’ve got to stay behind to pay into our health plan, but we’re with you in spirit.
May the wind always be at your back and may no mushroom give you gastric distress.
You’re the champ in my eyes, pal.
Lewis and Clark were good … as far as they went.
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