"My father had the same crazy idea..."

This past summer Marielle Lemal '87and her father, Dartmouth professorDavid Lemal (Albert W. Smith Professor of Chemistry) bicycled fromcoast to coast. This is Marielle's reporton the ups (many) and downs (few) oftheir Oregon-to-New Hampshireodyssey.

Growing up in Hanover is a wonderful experience, but what lies beyond South Main Street? I was bitten by the travel bug a few years back and my Dartmouth experience was much enhanced by two terms Down Under. I got a bit itchy once again about the time of graduation in June. Being in no hurry to don the nylons and permapress of the 9-to-5 world, I decided that a bicycling trip across the country could be an acceptable way to put off the real world a bit longer—and it might even be fun. Broaching this, far-fetched idea with my parents, I learned that my father had had the same crazy idea in his head for 15 years! Well, that sealed it. We'd do it together. Few fathers and daughters get the opportunity to share such an adventure, and my mother was very supportive, even though she declined to join us.

Hoping to be helped along by the westerly winds (remember that lecture in "Oceans," or was that the one you missed?), we decided to ride from west to east. Our goal was to find a direct and relatively flat route, as we were under some time pressure from dad's teaching schedule (Chem.1, Senior Seminar). Consulting topographical maps in Baker Library confirmed that the builders of the Union Pacific railroad had had much the same goals as we did. The railroad would be our guide through the mountains in the western U.S. Telephone calls to 15 police stations across the country revealed that it is legal to ride bikes on interstates from the Oregon coast to the eastern edge of Wyoming (a valuable fact in retrospect). Further east we would use U.S. 30 across the plains of Nebraska, lowa, and Illinois. Curving northward on U.S. 20 to hug the shores of the Great Lakes, we would then catch a corner of Pennsylvania, traverse New York State, southern Vermont, and New Hampshire, and reach the shining sea at Portsmouth.

Shortly after graduation I drove to California with my college roommate, my bike in the back so I could do some training en route. As is generally the case I did less than planned, but the hills of California were sufficiently formidable to prepare me psychologically, if not physically. I covered 450 miles during the summer, a distance we matched in the first four days of our trip—with loaded bikes.

My dad flew out to California and we took a bus to Lincoln City, Ore., where we began our odyssey on August 13 in the rain—he on his modified Peugeot, I on my 18-speed Lotus.

Oregon was very good to us and broke us in gently with strong tailwinds, well-graded interstates, and beautiful scenery along the Columbia River Gorge. Unfortunately these conditions spoiled us a bit and set us up for future disappointments—principally the disappearance of westerlies between Idaho and New York. Physically it was easier than I'd expected to get back on the bike day after day. We had no health problems and only a couple of minor injuries (sore knee and ankle and temporary loss of feeling in a couple of fingers).

We averaged 15 mph for up to nine hours a day with frequent breaks—usually to eat! Although we were rarely breathing hard, we burned about 5,000 calories a day, which allows for a lot of eating. In fact, eating became one of our favorite activities and enhanced the experience tremendously. We might go so far as to say that the highlights of our trip were the unrestrained sessions of indulgence at The King's Table," a smorgasbord restaurant chain we sometimes went out of our way to find.

A bed in a motel was another glorious experience, as we spent most nights in a tent with only a couple of layers of nylon between a sore body and the hard ground. One night in the tent we were treated to the "Magic Fingers" effect as the ground vibrated with each train that passed not 50 feet away. Unfortunately for us, western railroads still do a very good business.

The low points in our trip? Saddie sores, flat tires, and Nebraska. First of all, you don't develop callouses against saddle sores. There are only so many ways to sit on a bicycle seat, and even with some imagination the options are soon exhausted. The solution: pain tolerance training or frequent breaks. Flat tires are frustrating and time consuming and seem to occur with impeccably bad timing. We had eight between us in the month's ride—but met a couple who had had up to nine in a single day.

Classification of Nebraska among the low points needs little explanation. There are few psychological challenges to compare with four days of riding against strong headwinds with no hope of deliverance in sight. And in Nebraska, "sight" is a long way.

All in all we were very lucky and things went smoothly. Till the last day the weather could hardly have been better. Never was a day too hot or too cold for riding and we only got thoroughly drenched twice. We had few mechanical problems and were able to find a bike shop when necessary. We packed surprisingly well, using everything that we brought (about 35 pounds per bike) and lacking no necessities and few comforts.

The most difficult terrain wasn't the Rockies but central New York State, where for 200 miles there is no flat ground. For scenery Oregon is neck-and-neck with New England. Indiana wins for surprises, Wyoming for wildlife, and you can't beat Inkom, Idaho, for pancakes.

The trip took 30 days of riding and covered 3,372 miles, for a daily average of 112.4 miles. We reached the Atlantic on September 13 symbolically as we started—in the rain.

The itch is still there and future trips are definitely in order. Just think, it's only a two-day trip from Hanover to Montreal. Three will take you from Tokyo to Osaka, and in five days you can pedal from Sydney to Melbourne. Got two weeks? How about Rio de Janeiro to Buenos Aires?

Despite saddle sores, flat tires, and Nebraska, Marielle Lemal '87 recommendsriding a bike from coast to coast.