The image of The Metolius River featured on our Deschutes National Forest cycling jersey was captured by Mike with the same large format film camera he uses to create all of his fine art photographs.

As a Landscape photographer, the Deschutes National Forest provides Mike with a stunning array of subject matter. Natural landmarks such as Three Fingered Jack, the Metolius River, Mt. Washington, The Three Sisters Mountains, the Deschutes River, Newberry Crater National Volcanic Monument, and Sparks Lake can all be found within the boundaries of this amazing national forest. To view photos of these and Central Oregon’s other Natural landmarks, please visit Mike’s Photography website. Bend Oregon Photographer, Mike Putnam.

Earlier this year, The National Forest Foundation teamed up with Sonadei, a unique apparel design company, to offer the first in a series of special bike jerseys dedicated to our National Forests. Thanks to ongoing demand, Sonadei has reopened the ordering process and shortened the turn-around.

Whether you love to bank long miles on the road or rattle down a mountain trail, this jersey will serve you well. And the best part? Proceeds from the sale of this jersey design will directly support conservation and restoration projects along two of Oregon’s most loved Wild and Scenic Rivers — Whychus Creek and the Metolius River.

Featuring a spectacular river image from Central Oregon’s Deschutes National Forest (by Bend photographer Mike Putnam), the jersey comes in a unisex club fit with short sleeves, a v-neck collar, and 3 back pockets. Cost is just $85 — a great deal considering you get a one-of-a-kind jersey while helping to revitalize two of Oregon’s beautiful rivers.

The NFF and Sonadei are now orders on a rolling basis with delivery planned for approximately three weeks after the order.

Stay tuned for more designs as well. Future jerseys will feature other forests where the NFF has Treasured Landscapes campaign sites — from Alaska’s Tongass to Florida’s Ocala.

ORDER YOURS TODAY!

About Sonadei
An apparel design company based in Seattle, Sonadei passionately supports the National Forest Foundation and donates a portion of all their proceeds to the NFF. Sonadei also works with local and international events and teams to help with their graphic design and apparel needs. Check out their unique t-shirt designs too! www.sonadei.com

my hometown, the town of the heavy sun. it had been a long time since i saw my family.

there is my mother, the eccentric artist. often wearing midriff shirts and falling in love with strangers on public transport. her stories of her youth, as free and inspired as any, give me purpose and a sense of self.

she has inspired me to love fully, travel everywhere and to never shave my legs. my young, half-sister is boyish, with long sun-blonde hair and a strong naivety. refusing to let go of her true self. she hides her gentle heart behind many layers of tough skin so that only a few know how selfless she is. my brother was diagnosed with aspergers and never finished primary school. he has never said hello to love, let alone gotten to know love, so his obsessive nature (that i share to an extent) feeds into gaming. lands and battles he talks about with wild passion, him the leader of a gaming cult. his skin has seen little sun and his chest sinks down past his ribs. but he is content.

then there are my many cousins, all so grown up now. when i saw them, all tall and talking of boys they’d loved who had broken their hearts, i almost cried. i realized the worst thing about traveling is not being there to see your family grow. they were strangers i’d once babysat every weekend and lived with for months. i was who they came to when they were hurt or sad. in a way, that is hard to explain without sounding weird, it was like they were my children and then suddenly they weren’t. i didn’t want them to grow when i was away, it broke my heart.

my house hadn’t changed. it was a chaotic mess that felt so much like home. under the house was my mother’s glass studio where she would make jewellery, and beside that were cages stacked up to the ceiling where crazed white rats with bright red eyes lived. me and my sister would collect grasshoppers and big insects to feed to them. watching what we imagined as the bloodlust staining their eyes. there was a fascination in watching them tear the grasshoppers apart limb by limb. watching the insects on the brink of death.

my room was at the back of the house, which is now my sisters room. it is pink, which i always hated and i’m sure my sister hates now. a lot of my old things were still lying around. it was a strange feeling. remembering that the girl who used to live and breathe in this room was me. my experiences since leaving home have set me a world apart from her. she was wild with feeling, crazed with passion. sometimes i get sparks of her and it makes me feel alive again.

but if i’d known back then, all i would do and how much life would frighten me, i would have never left my bed. i followed my dreams blindly, and i do not regret it.

i’m not sure if it was summer when i visited but it always felt like it. the sun was heavy on our skin. the girls all played with the hose in the backyard and we left the house when the sun was setting and the air was beginning to cool. those days you didn’t want to do anything but laze around, reading books and sucking iceblocks.

it was christmas eve and i was in the pool with my 8 year old cousin kaisy on my back, her arms safely around my neck. it was late and we watched the scattered stars in the sky, excitement in the air all around us. in an almost hopeless way she asked if i believed in santa claus. when i told her i did, her eyes lit up and she said whispered quietly ‘i do too’. she told me of nights where she’d heard sleigh bells and a deep laugh that had echoed into her dreams. then she was silent. lights on the roof lit up parts of the sky and we both saw the most magical thing. we saw the lightest sprinklings of snow falling slowly down in the air. bright white, like only snow could be. hush, i said to the other cousins and my sister in the pool, look. and all was silent. later one of the cousins insisted it was rain that was caught in the light in a strange way. but me and kaisy are certain it was snow from santa’s sleigh.

i got only a few hours sleep that night, waking at sunrise with the children. it’s funny how when you become an adult christmas is no longer about presents but about the children. the way their eyes light up and they don’t stop smiling, not even when they’ve fallen asleep exhausted that night. you want to do all you can to make them happy.

matt flew in and i picked him up from the airport, having not seen him in months. full of stories of foreign cities and cultures, wearing new scars (with volcanic ash buried under) and thousands of new photographs. he brought with him more presents then i’ve ever received. my favourites being a yashica t4 with film and a pashmina from india. i felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world.

i felt overwhelmingly like i belonged. this is my family, my past. i shared this quiet, homely life with matt and he reveled in it, sunk right down like i did. like we knew noplace else.

the next time i went here, weeks later, i was flown to be a witness for a court case. a part of me died those days. being forced to think about things i’d buried deep enough to be forgotten. watching it become so real. sometimes i wish i could confide everything in this blog, or even one person, but it’s just me alone with it all. i realise now i’ve never let anyone completely in. maybe i’ll always be lonely in that sense.

I usually react to bigger life events a few days, weeks, or perhaps years after the fact. After college, I went to live in London. The fact that I was moving to London didn’t become real until I sat in the airport, not a moment before. When I left everything behind to join the Peace Corps, it didn’t hit me until I meet my new Cape Verdean family for the first time. That night I came to the realization that I was living in Cape Verde for the next two years. And so, as I pack, box t-shirts I shan’t see again, and say goodbye to friends, animals, and city views that I might not see for a long time again, it still doesn’t register that I’m not just going on a noodle bike ride.

Nor am I flying to a country to bike tour for a specific time period. Nor am I going a bike tour and returning to my current life. Like others who have absconded to the lure and magic of bike touring for life, I will leave one life behind, and hope to find another in the wind, the small streams I bike by, the looming mountains, the rainy days, the long straight roads that don’t end, the ups, the downs, the feeling of life pumping through my constantly churning legs. So I imagine that this realization really wont happen for a few weeks, somewhere near Michigan.

I am excited. I am nervous. I am sad to leave friends I have made and others I have continued. I’m sad to have had struggled through a hardcore Vermont winter and not reap the beautiful summer rewards. Oh well. That’s life.

For four months, I’ll be biking solo through the north west part of the US, searching out the amazing landscape that has been slowly shaping this land. I’ll pass through some towns, maybe some cities. I’ll see other bikers, maybe ride with some, or leave some behind. I’ll camp, I’ll stay with people. I will be at the mercy of the planet, the people, the animals, my own body. I have never, nor will I ever, discover anything that is as magical, inspiring, teaching as the bicycle. And when I meet with Chris in Portland, Oregon, not only with the education continue, but I’ll have a companion to learn with and from, and to share, making a new adventure.

The openness of the adventure, of life, of the road all beckons. And I can’t wait.

The first week will take me through New York State, at times following the Erie Canal through Amsterdam, Utica, Syracuse, Rochester into Niagara, NY. From there, its across the Rainbow bridge into Canada where I will hug the northern shores of Lake Erie towards Michigan. Not sure how long that will take, probably about another week, so I should hit the US again in mid May. In Michigan I hope to start my National Park tour by visiting Sleeping Bear Dune National Lakeshore on my way towards the northern peninsula. Of course, I’ll be trying my dangdest to write as much as I can, but a little foreshadowing at this stage is ok.

For now, maybe one more ride in Vermont, a vegan bar b q, and then a wave goodbye. My first day out will have me leave Vermont, amongst other things, behind. The picture at the start of this entry is my bike with a draft version of my packing, with the trailer and panniers all on there. I already know that I have packed poorly and too much, and realize that the first week will be lugging too much stuff and then I will spend a few days trying to convince myself that even though I think I packed the bare necessities, I didn’t and that I will have to dump some stuff. But all in good time. Once I hit a big mountain, I’ll reconsider.

It’s a hard life growing up in the Forest Service.  There are streams to fish, cabins to visit and trails to hike.  You end up with way too many Smokey Bear shoelaces and pencils and have to go to potlucks at campgrounds.  Well, on second thought, I guess it doesn’t sound all that bad.  Actually, for me, growing up as the daughter of a District Ranger was really nothing short of wonderful.

The US Forest Service has defined my family from the very beginning.  First of all, my parents met on the Tahoe National Forest in California.  My dad worked in Timber and my mom was the only woman on the tree-marking crew.  Over the course of one scorching summer, the Fire Management Officer played matchmaker, sending them out on two-person lightning strike calls together.  In a few years’ time, my parents were married and living in southwestern Colorado where my dad was in charge of 250,000 acres of the Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison National Forests.  After seven years of living at 9,000 feet, they followed the “Call of the North” and my dad became the District Ranger for the Seward District of Alaska’s Chugach National Forest. And it was there, in the bright green fecundity of a rainy climate, that I came into the picture.

The thing about growing up in the Forest Service is that you always find yourself living close to National Forest land.  For my family, the Chugach was really our extended backyard.  When I was too small to hike into the many backcountry Forest Service cabins on the district, we flew in on float planes.   I’ll always remember the thrill of the plane touching down on the glassy calm lakes and fishing for Arctic grayling in the morning still dressed in my footed pajamas.&nbsp The most memorable of these trips would have to be the time my dad shot a bull moose during our evening walk.  It was moose season; he happened to have a gun and a permit.  And so we spent the whole night wide awake with the cut up meat stashed on top of the woodshed, nervously listening for the shuffling and snorting of bears in the darkness.  Second to that would be the time it fell upon my dad to empty another cabin’s pit toilet outhouse at the end of season.

I loved Alaska.  Sixty degree summer days were perfect for running through the sprinkler, and rain was just a fact of life.  Whole years of my life were probably spent in either full rain gear or snowsuits.  But my parents knew the temptations of life in the “Lower 48,” and in particular, the allure of the rolling prairies and dramatic peaks of the Rocky Mountain West.  And so, after 11 Alaska winters and 10 grey Alaska summers, we found ourselves driving southeast on the Alaska Highway, leaving the “Last Frontier” and headed towards the “Last Best Place,” Montana.

It wasn’t hard to fall in love with the blond plains and wide-open blue skies of Montana. I put up a good fight though, missing my friends, worrying that kids would ask me if I lived in an igloo.  But we certainly couldn’t hike in shorts and tank tops for weeks at a time back in Alaska.  When I got big enough to carry my own overnight backpack, we began to explore my dad’s district on the Helena National Forest and the other Forests nearby in a new way.  More memories were added to the list: cooking freshly caught rainbow trout and freshly gathered Lactarius Deliciosus mushrooms beside an alpine lake in the Spanish Peaks, waking in the night to see the striking granite of the Wind River Range glowing silver in the moonlight.

I left Montana for college in Northern California after deciding I wanted a change of scenery and the chance to live beside the ocean again. 
There I continued to explore new National Forests on my own: backpacking in the Trinity Alps Wilderness, hiking on the Six Rivers.  After graduating, I returned home to Montana last fall.  It turns out the place had quite the hold on me after all. My dad just retired after some 40 years of working for the Forest Service.  He’s looking forward to getting out full-time on the lands he protected for so many years – skiing, hiking, backpacking and rafting his way through public lands across the West.  And as often as I can, I’ll be right there beside him and my mom, the three of us forever a Forest
Service family.

Originally posted on the National Forest Foundation website on March 24, 2011 by Darcy Poletti Harp

Sonadei, LLC donates a portion of all proceeds to the National Forest Foundation.

You can learn more and donate here.

As I grew older, I was eventually introduced to the neighborhood bike gang. My brother and his friends were the bullies of the gang, and rode around the cul-de-sac like Hells Angels. My childhood friend, Brian, and I found refuge in the drainages on the sides of the roads. At first, we were just trying to escape my brother and his evil cronies, but then we realized the joy of riding through the water that flowed past our ankles. The children of my neighborhood would ride until they were beckoned by their families for dinner. Riding around the neighborhood became an afternoon tradition.

This morning, we biked 45 kilometers to a small Peruvian community, Checacupe, where we encountered the neighborhood bike gang. About 10 kids were riding around the main plaza of the town, quite similar to my cul-de-sac given the smallness of the town. They were playing the same bike games we played and had the same sibling bullies.

The bikes were a bit different. There were mountain bikes, old fixed gear bikes, cruisers, and bikes I would classify as only two wheels and a chain. The bikes were in bad condition but it did not matter to the kids. As long as the bikes moved forward as the kids pedaled, the laughter and fun continued.

The most wonderful image I saw was the smallest kid riding the largest bike. The little boy could not even reach the pedals if he sat on the seat properly, in fact he had to rotate his hips side to side in order to get enough length in the leg to reach the pedals.

Although we are far from home, and many things are different here in Peru, that bike gang brought me back to my childhood. I realized that kids all over the world get the same pleasure out of the simple things in life. Maybe one day, these kids will grow up to cycle around the world or maybe just continue to bike around their small village. Hopefully, their love of biking will continue to grow and will be an influence on their adult lives.

By: Rayna (Queen)

Those who consider themselves knowledgeable of the finer details that make winter riding what it is, can and do have varied opinions regarding gear, tires, clothing, etc. Of course, these same people have these same varying opinions about biking no matter what part of the year, so really, it best to just ignore them all together.

As there are such fewer bikers on the road in the winter, it lends itself well to each biker creating their own style, their own preferences of how to best proceed in the winter landscape. There are really two main areas of concern for the winter biker. The road and the fear of freezing to death. Let us examine the road.

Normally, the road is dry (or wet) and hands out traction like it was kittens at a shelter. Even if it rains, the tires you have are most likely already prepared to handle it. But, dear reader, the winter road is paved not in sugar snaps and childhood dreams, but in slush, black ice, snow drifts, disgusting dirty snow, hidden bike lanes, salt and dirt. That once peaceful bike lane has become a mousetrap of hell for you. The bike lane is gone. The slippery slush makes your back tire spin out of control, sliding left and right as your grip becomes ever tighter hoping to regain what little control you had. Your turns mimics of turtles not knowing if that shiny patch is ice. Your bike is covered in what one could only describe as modern post colonial Dada-esq neo art. That hill you normally shift up to conquer like the hero you are, nope. Derailleur is frozen. Downhills become cathedrals full of prayers that your brakes will work, oh please oh please…

Whew! You made it to the coffee shop. You locked up your bike on top of three feet of piled snow, and walk inside. Oh..my..god..its 1,000,000 degrees inside!! This leads us to the second concern of the intrepid winter biker: Clothing.

Before embarking on your trip, you are warm but have devils dances in your head of the cold awaiting. Some wear “performance” clothing, crafty creating layers according to instructions. Others, have three long sleeves shirt that when worn all at once mimics what they mean by the word warmth. Regardless, once outside, for several minutes, the bone chilling cold and winds reduce your temperature to a laugh of what it once was. Ahh, but that varied terrain is much harder to bike in, and your blood starts squirming, your head starts a rolling and before you know it, you are warm. Pretty much. Your exposed face is nearing frostbite, you realize that your plumber’s crack is getting tickled by the cold, but more or less, you did it! You are braving the cold! Warm and confident, you pull along side the coffeehouse, silently mocking all those poor bastards not riding their bikes,. Leaving the best parking spaces available for you. So you walk in, prepared for applause and tinker tape, when the heating system set at nuclear levels, hits your layers, sweating, bike hot body. In a tizzy, you dance your self out of layer upon layer of clothing that at one moment was all that was between you and instant death, and now mocks you by threatening to boil you alive.

Coffee. Its so good. A mug, a friend, some comics and maybe a game of Othello and its time to part. Ahh crap, all your cloths are a bit wet form the snow and ice that froze to them during your ride only to defrost during your enjoyable coffee. Oh well, you re-don your chilly damp gear, smiling nonetheless, as you know that you are a winter biker.

I went from coast to coast, inland over mountains, along streams and rivers, around lakes, and up and over the Alps. And so, my first thought when I stopped in the water side park that I would camp in that night in Osaka was, “ Thanks god I don’t have to pack up my tent one more time”. The routine, the rout aspects of touring, and I suppose of any long endeavor, were wearing me a little thin. Striking the tent each morning only to pitch it later that night, over and over again. Taking everything off my bike only to reload it the next morning. These daily occurrences, while part of the overall touring experience, had lost their excitement after doing it for two months.

What hadn’t lost its charm however, was pedaling for hours upon hours upon hours each day. From before even coming to Japan, I had been biking for nearly a month in parts of Europe and Ireland. I had been sitting on a saddle, churning my legs, finding the hand position that kept my pinky fingers from going numb, non-stop. And it never once wore thin. Sitting at this computer, there are daily things I do that aren’t exciting, but are part and parcel of my life. What keeps me going, what keeps those routines from taking over and dulling me, is that each and every day I get on my bike. It might not be for many miles, but not a day goes by that I don’t crank it out a little.

Every time I hit the jagged coastlines of Japan, I was overwhelmed by their beauty, by their cutting grace. Every river I pedaled alongside gurgled and flowed within me. Every mountain pass I struggled to overtake, every downhill that I swore I was going to crash, pulsed through my veins. Every cookie cutter clogged city I sped to get through, every small fishing village I slowed to enjoy were roadside attractions enticing my along my way.

Throughout my time in Japan, I was being spoken to by more than one language I didn’t understand. Each pedal stroke though helped me decipher what was being said, and as I appreciated each day and each offering that was given, I slowly became more fluent (my Japanese remained shitty). Getting bummed early on in Hokkaido, getting soaked and distressed in Kamikochi, being nearly blown off the map by a typhoon; were all just not-so-gentle conversations. They, along with all that I saw and experienced, were really saying the same thing over and over: Smile.

So I smile. I get on my bike and I smile because I love to bike. I close my eyes and dream of Japan, and I smile. I plan future bike tours, and I smile. I brush my teeth, cook my food, go to work and do all the other things needed to be done, and I smile. I see others on bikes and I smile. Its hard work to be grumpy on a bike, and for that I smile too.

I was heading toward Matsumoto where I was going to make my fabled Japanese Alp crossing. I had started looking at my Honshu maps while on the ferry ride down and decided that a bike tour of Japan really isn’t a bike tour if you don’t cross the Alps. Plus, what could be more fun then trying to ride a 60 pound loaded touring bike up and over the Japanese Alps? Well, I discovered what could be more fun.

The day that I planned to tackle the first half of the alps it started raining, lightly. I was in Matsumoto, foot of the Alps, and decided to wait a bit to see if it let up. I gave myself an abort time of 10am. If I hadn’t left by then, I would have to camp the night in Matsumoto. However, by 10 it looked like the rain had stopped, so I decided to make my push for Kamikochi, the half way point and where I wanted to camp for a few nights and do some hiking. I had heard only marvelous things about Kamikochi in my travel book. And so, I began the ascent, after of course buying a few pounds of apples that I thought would come in handy.

As I made my way up, what had appeared to be clearing skies turned out to be darkening skies, and the rain once again began. And this time, it didn’t seem like it would stop and it was too late for me to do anything about. I donned my rain jacket which meant that as I pushed hard up the hills I would sweat and basically get soaking wet regardless. From the light drizzle to a steady downpour, I toiled upwards as the cars and trucks splash, sprayed and generally caused me extra havoc as I couldn’t see with the water in my eyes and my tires slipped on every metal sewer cap or bridge joist I came across.

Somehow, I made it to the last tunnel I had to squeeze through to Kamikochi. This tunnel proved to be consistent with those I had previously encountered so far on my Honshu journey; that being a tunnel with no shoulder or sidewalk, four lanes of speeding angry cars that sound like trumped up spaceships hell bent on doing one thing: hitting me. And this one had an 11% incline and was slippery. I did the saddest, wettest, coldest thing: I walked my bike. The entire 2 miles of tunnel. Two Miles!!

At the other side of the tunnel is was still raining, and getting to be late afternoon. As I was freezing at this point, I jumped back on the bike and tried to go a bit faster so I could attempt to get warm, but the rain and slippery twisting road, sometimes uphill then strangely downhill wasn’t having any of it. I did arrive at Kamikochi, to the cheers of one group urging me onward to the campground (and by “campground” I actually mean swamp land). An hour of heartbreaking searching got me to a small tangle of tree knots that weren’t under half a foot of water, and so I began removing the largest of the stones in the area I could find and thought I might be able to scrap enough flat ground to pitch my tent.

It was still raining, so I thought what could be more clever then for me to try to pitch the tent with the rain-fly attached to the body to keep it from getting wet inside. Being in the initial stages of hypothermia, this didn’t work out as well as it did in my head. The stakes didn’t hold. The poles refused to go upright under the fly. And so, 15 minutes of agonizing, shivering, gut wrenching almost-giving up-ness, I had a pitched tent filled with water. A few mumbled (a few yelled) profanities and I threw all my gear in the tent and waded over to the one highlight of the campground: the bath house.

The Japanese Bath house is, after the first experience, one of the most pleasant, relaxing things. The basic principle is this: You enter the bath house to a locker/changing room where you remove all your clothes. You then enter the cleaning area where, sitting on a small stool, you wash your body very very well. There are little faucets and shower heads, and usually a thing of soap. All the men are sitting on little stools washing themselves as well, its a big room. After washing and rinsing, you are now ready to get into the bath. Traditionally fed with actual hot spring water, it can range from soothingly warm to blood boiling hot, sulfurously smelling to obviously just heated water. No matter what, once you are in, its 20 minutes or so of just relaxing and letting the hot water do its thing.

So I found myself at the end of this wonderful ritual, dreading getting out of the hot, anti-hypothermic water and back into my wet clothes and back to that sopping wet tent. So I sat for another 20 minutes. Eventually, I got out, dried off and put on the cold wet clothes. The rain was a little less, but still coming down. A row of sinks by my tent was roofed and I had left my bike there so I went over to it and saw the only other person camping cooking some food. He noticed me and thankfully asked me in better English than I speak Japanese if I wanted any of his soup. I said no, but he did heat up some water for me and gave me some sake and hot water. I gave him an apple. We talked for a bit, him giving me more and more sake, and eventually we headed to our tents.

Having the lulling effect of sake in me, I zipped open and zipped closed the tent quickly, grabbed anything with sponge like qualities and pushed the puddles of water to the edges of the tent and quickly sank into the wet cold earth under my tent hoping to never relive this day again.

I learned one of the hardest lessons I learned during my tour the next day. I awoke to clearing skies, birds chirping, and a musty wet tent. But getting out and seeing the sun, hanging up everything to dry and going for a hike, I felt elated. I realized that the day before was most likely the most miserable day I could go through, and while it certainly sucked, there was still the element of the experience, of living. It took the sunshine, the birds, and my stinky stuff to dry over the next few days for me to see that the miserable day was actually a test, a gentle way for the universe to make sure that I was paying attention and truly appreciated what I was doing. While I certainly didn’t pray for rain afterwords, I realized that when it rains, I get wet. But I keep biking. Of course, that is unless a typhoon comes along…

To be perfectly honest, PEDAL began because Rayna and myself wanted to bike from Ecuador to Tierra del Fuego in Argentina. Though we realized that we are not the first to tour the world via bicycle, we wanted to prove to people that traveling and seeing the world is not only possible on bike or foot, but also more enjoyable and a life-altering experience.  The idea grew and progressed into developing community, collaboration, and environmental learning because these are all things we believe will help change the world for the better. One thing we realize completely, is that we are extremely privileged.  We have had the opportunity to travel outside the US and spend significant amounts of time learning about cultures around the globe. We believe our drive to help initiate change…change in the way we live our lives, change to be more sustainable, and change to be more environmentally conscious overall has stemmed in part from this global perspective.  We want to act, therefore, as a feed to others as we attempt to initiate change, and that is how the classroom communication aspect of our movement came about.

Tell us about that part of your project; the classroom communication part.  How will PEDAL plug into students and classrooms?

An aspect of our project is partnerships with classrooms throughout the United States.  Currently we are partnered with two classrooms in Colorado and we are working on 4 more in Vermont.  Like I said previously, our goal with these classrooms is to help students relate environmental issues they see every day to those across the globe, and thus broaden their global perspective.  We hope to act as a feed for them, help them to see the issues they are studying first hand.

I think its valuable to realize that with privilege comes responsibility, and it seems that you are using your privilege in a great way by trying to leverage it to allow those that are often ignored have a voice. Why do you think something like “PEDAL” is important in today’s environmental and global context?

In our minds, the most important things related to environmental issues and environmental change today are community collaboration and connectivity, stewardship, education, and awareness.  The youth of the world is the generation of change for tomorrow.  They (we) are the ones with the most potential for change within ourselves, our communities, and our lives.  We all need to be stewards to the environment and it starts with an awareness and appreciation for our surroundings.  This respect can only be complete when our perspectives are broadened beyond ourselves and expand to a global recognition.  The mission of PEDAL and the South American journey is to encompass and accomplish global collaborative environmental awareness through community and the students of the United States.

It’s interesting that you say that it is the youth that have the most potential for change.  I have seen examples of this, but I have also seen the older population being leaders through change, of embracing new ideas.  Do you think that certain expectations and preconceived notions will be tested during your trip?

I would say yes, we will be testing some of our presumptions.  We do believe that everyone has the potential to change, and we do believe that everyone has the opportunity to live their lives more sustainably and more simply.  This project is geared towards youth not because they are the only ones who can promote change, but because they are the age group who is just now learning about how important change is.  This age group has not even begun to live their lives on their own, they have a million options in front of them, and we hope they choose the greener path.  If they decide they are going to dedicate their life in such a way from the get go, the majority of their choices will be oriented in this manner…and they have long lives to live!  We may learn, however, that it is an older, wiser population that is inspired from our journey and in that case, yes, we will be testing what we do and changing what we do for our future journeys.

How do you feel that the bicycle touring aspect of your project relates to the overall theme of environmentalism and culture awareness?

Above all in an environmental sense, we are travel on a carbon-neutral basis.  Most importantly though, is that bicycling slows everything down.  On a bike, one becomes very in-tune with his/her surroundings…notices sounds, smells, and sites that we would otherwise be blind to on an airplane or even on a bus.  The perspective and awareness I have spoken about as being so vital is epitomized by the ability to notice these aspects of our environment.  Additionally, this slow-paced travel allows us to connect with people.  It is much easier via bicycle to stop and speak with anyone and everyone we desire to learn from.

I have experienced this during my travels through Japan and Europe on bike, and even on the daily basis of bike riding.  Plus, the simple aspect of being on a bike makes you seem much more interesting to others.

In what ways do you hope “PEDAL” will raise awareness and affect significant change?

Our efforts are geared towards fostering global environmental awareness within United States high school classrooms.  We hope that the students we work with will live vicariously though us, learn how issues within South America correlate to those the students face locally, and be inspired to foster changes within themselves and their communities.  Our goals are to instill sustainable living methods, environmental collaboration principles, and an ambition to build global relationships.

The goals and objectives of “PEDAL” extend beyond this first project in South America.  Can you tell us about what the plans are for “PEDAL” after this first project, and how biking might be incorporated?

During our South American journey, we will be filming the landscape, capturing environmental detriments we encounter, interviewing individuals regarding these issue, and recording the PEDAL members learning skills from locals.  At the end of the journey, a year will be dedicated to making the footage into a documentary.  The second project PEDAL is looking to plan involves cycling across the US, showing the documentary to the partnered classrooms from the South American journey and others, and working with students on local environmental service projects.  Beyond the US cycling trip, we plan to travel to other parts of the world, cycling and learning as we did in South America, and we plan to continue and broaden classroom partnerships throughout the US.

Your goals are certainly ambitious.  I imagine that with something as broad and sweeping as your project that there has been a lot of learning as you move forward.  What are some of the hurdles that you have faced so far in your organizing?

While the brevity of our ambitions has challenged us in many ways, the most difficult things we have faced involve the creation of our non-profit and our sense of planning.  We are two girls with A LOT of passion and no idea how to start a movement.  Our drive continues though, and with the never-ending push of knowing, “everyone began somewhere.”  To be honest, in starting all of this we didn’t know what we were doing at all.  Pretty much every decision we have made has been backwards, and the order in which we chose to name our non-profit, apply for grants, and plan the route was opposite from what it should have been.  But like I said, we have passion and we have drive. We want to do our part to make a difference and do it in a big way.  We started this project with ideas for change and pretty much nothing else, but with good friends and believers in a cause, we will make this dream into a reality…no matter how round-a-bout the way of getting there is.

Finally, can you share your views on biking and its relation to being a tool for social change?

Today we live in a fast-paced world where technology and the simplicities of invention run our lives.  Socially, we are very much more disconnected from not only the environment, but also one another.  Via text messaging and email we don’t even need to speak to have conversations. Cars and airplanes have allowed us to live thousands of miles from our family members, creating a disconnect from the sense of home and the community of family.  Though I very much want to change and am working slowly to do so, I myself am subject to this lifestyle just as much as most of the people surrounding me.  Riding a bike not only slows things down as previously mentioned, but also simplifies movement and promotes a healthier life style.  Though a bicycle is a machine, it is one our bodies work; and we respond to how much it works our bodies just as much as it responds to us pushing down on the peddles.  The bike creates a physical connection to the earth and a visual connection to the land.  This perspective is unattainable from any other vehicle or invention.  It is a tool for social change because of the simplicity it brings to life; thus, one who bikes, notices more, breaths more, observes more, learns more, takes more time, leaves more time, has the ability to connect to others more, and needs less to do so.

And so, with a push off Emily pedals into the setting sun.  The 4,000 ft Green Mountains of Vermont might not be the grand South American Andes, but with the vision and passion that Emily and the entire PEDAL team has, they can certainly make them be.

To help this movement and learn how you can get involved, check out the PEDAL website www.pedalforchange.org.

You can buy a special Sonadei designed t-shirt to show your support!

English Translation: Original Spanish Interview Below

Can you tell us a bit about your background and how Pericos came about?

We are from a country town near  San Jose city called Santa Ana in Costa Rica.  We were all friends since we were 8 and were pretty close all of the time. Of course when you start growing up and settle down a little bit, we separated; but that’s the reason after more than 10 years doing nothing we decided to  change our lives in a healthy way. I  was the first one who decided to buy a mountain bike in January 2009 and then started Pericos MTB (the name comes from my nickname, Perico).  Soon  my friends got bicycles and joined the team. Later on I decided to create the website (along with a Facebook page, twitter, blogs, etc) to let the people know that they can enjoy us too and share good rides over here in this beautiful country.

I think its great that you were able to see the lifestyle you were leading and that a healthy, fun, way to change it would be through mountain biking.  How does Pericos help it’s members and others begin working toward a healthier way of life?

Our vision is to create a recreational team which everyone can enjoy; not in a competition matter, there is a lot of people that just want to ride and have fun, that’s the reason why we began and keep planning rides for everyone, including our soul mates (wifes) and sometimes kids. Everyone can enjoy us for free and be part of this team, we have pictures on galleries, videos and also the Perico of the week which means that you can be the one on the website main page for one week, This is to motivate the people, you know, not everyone is in excellent condition to be part of a competition group, that’s why everyone is welcome in our team. We create rides every weekend or if not we just get involved in other tours that others teams create. So doing all this you start seeing how people  changing their  lives, people start quitting smoking to be in a better shape, also because you have to wake up early to go ride they start quitting drinking at nights because they have to go early to bed.  I mean, it is a big change here and I’m glad to help.

It’s quite a feat that through mountain biking and the openness of your team that you can change for the better people’s lifestyles.  That’s what biking, in all its forms, can do and it seems that Pericos really takes that to heart.  Can you tell us a little bit about mountain biking and road biking in general in Costa Rica?

Mountain biking in Costa Rica is very famous, all the time there are more people outside riding bicycles because I believe that people have started thinking about their lifestyle and mountain biking is an excellent sport with all the wondrous ecology in Costa Rica that we have: mountains everywhere, trails, routes, and more that you can’t have any excuses to do not do it. One of the negative aspects of mountain biking is that it does highlight  class separation, and the value of mountain bikes is known so there are some theft issues.  Another issue is that there are certain areas off limits to mountain bikers, either because of the protection of the site or because the sport isn’t yet taken seriously or seen as a potential form of economic value.  Another thing that we have is the war on the streets between cars and bicycles.  Like one month ago a drunk driver killed a guy on the autopista (highway) and fled, so people are marching and protesting to change some laws in order to create awareness and respect for all cyclists.

Seems that cyclists and cars, no matter where you are in the world, continue to clash.  usually the biker gets the short end of the stick, but thanks to advocacy work and people demanding cleaner healthier places to live, the tide is slowly turning toward more friendly modes of transportation.  How would you compare biking in Costa Rica with other places?

Well, I can’t compare too much but I know that some places have more infrastructure for people who ride bicycles, like special trails on the road, or signals like “share the road”  in Las Vegas, Nevada where my brother lives. So I would like to have more of that here and hopefully some day we will.

How do you see mountain biking in the global context?

This is the time when you have to think green; pollution, traffic jams, accidents, heart attacks, too much going on lately in the entire world, so I believe that the people are creating more consciousness and mountain biking is an excellent tool and option to start doing something for this world. Costa Rica is a nice country and we want to keep it that way, always green and beautiful, so thanks the easy access to great areas for biking there is big chance to have more opportunity for the riding community to keep growing.

Lastly, what is the future for Pericos in Costa Rica?

We are going to continue biking because it is our passion.  We love it!!! and there is no way to go backwards. So at this moment every day we create forums where  people can share thoughts, rides, info, etc. We improve and change our website always and we have a plan to start selling our own clothes having an e-commerce plan, but we are still working on that, we want everyone using a Pericos MTB T-shirt in this country and we want to create events where we can help communities and foundations like SONADEI. So you guys are a big example for us.  We have some plans  that I have to share with you later on, but at this moment that’s all i have to say, and like we say on our slogan, “Hagale, Hagale, Pedalee!!!” which means “do it, do it, keep going, pedal!”

With the crackle of spitting oranges shimmering on the canopy, the setting sun emits a sigh as another day in Costa Rica comes to a close.  Frogs, crickets, flocks of birds can all be heard, along with the singing cheers of gleeful bikers getting one last run in before the night.  Hágale, Hágale, Pedalee!!!

- Original Spanish Interview -

La brisa mece suavemente las largas hojas de plátanos, mientras que en el despertar de la mañana los gritos y abucheos de los monos llenan el arie húmedo y mojado.Es otro nuevo día en Costa Rica, y por lo general y como acostumbra, el sol brillará con la posibilidad de chubascos por la tarde. La flora y la fauna de Costa Rica son muy variadas, coloridas, y fácilmente se asustan cuando un grupo de ciclistas de montaña vienen luchando en una arboleda, dejando unas cuantas plumas a su paso. Tuvimos la oportunidad de hablar con uno de estos bosques tropicales rambos, Fabián Durán, quien inició Pericos MTB en Costa Rica sobre su organización y ciclismo en Costa Rica.

¿Puedes contarnos un poco sobre el background Pericos y cómo surgió?

Somos de un pueblo cercano a la ciudad de San José llamado Santa Ana, en Costa Rica. Desde la infancia teníamos un grupo de amigos muy unido, con los que solíamos pasar muchas horas. Claro que con los años, cada uno fue tomando distintos rumbos y a sedentarizarse. Pero esa es la razón por la que después de más de 10 años de inactividad, decidimos convertir nuestras vidas a una manera más saludable. Yo fui el primero (Fabián Durán, apodo Perico Faduco) quien decidió comprar la primera MTB en enero del 2009. Así empezó todo esto, lo que hoy se llama Pericos MTB. Mis amigos empezaron también a montar en bicicletas y así se unieron al equipo.  Más tarde decidí crear el sitio web para que la gente que disfruta de muy buenos paseos en este hermoso país pueda compartir experiencias con otras personas, y crear así una gran red de trabajo con facebook, twitter, blogs, foros, etc, etc.

Creo que es grande que se haya podido ver el estilo de vida que llevaban y que a fin de cuentas es una sana diversión, una forma de cambiar el modo de vida a través de la bicicleta de montaña. ¿Cómo ayudar a Pericos y a sus miembros y a que otros comiencen a  cambiar hacia una vida más saludable?

Nuestra visión es crear un equipo recreativo que todos puedan disfrutar. Existe una gran cantidad de personas que sólo quieren viajar y divertirse, esa es la razón por la que hemos creado y planificado paseos que también incluyen a nuestras almas gemelas (esposas) y a veces a los niños. Todo el mundo pueda disfrutar con nosotros de forma gratuita y formar parte de este equipo. Tenemos fotos en las galerías, videos, así como el “Perico de la semana”, que significa que usted puede ser el número uno en la página web principal de una semana. Esto ayuda a motivar a la gente, ya sabes, no todos tienen una excelente condición para ser parte de un grupo de la competencia, por eso todos son bienvenidos en nuestro equipo. Creamos paseos los fines de semana o, sino acabamos por participar en otras vueltas que otros equipos de crean. Así que haciendo todo este trabajo se puede notar cómo la gente empieza a cambiar su manera de vivir la vida y la de los suyos, la gente comienza a dejar de fumar, a estar en mejor forma, también porque hay que levantarse temprano para ir a montar empiezan a dejar de beber por las noches en las fiestas porque tienen que ir temprano a la cama. Es un gran cambio que está ocurriendo aquí y estoy encantado de ayudar en ello.

Es toda una hazaña que el ciclismo de montaña a través de la acitud abierta de su equipo pueda cambiar los modos de vida de las personas a mejor. Eso es lo que andar en bicicleta, en todas sus formas, puede hacer y parece que realmente se necesita a “los pericos” de corazón. ¿Puedes contarnos un poco acerca del ciclismo de montaña y ciclismo de carretera, en general en Costa Rica?

MTB en Costa Rica es muy famoso, en este momento hay más personas que salen fuera a andar en bicicleta porque creo que en este momento la gente empieza a pensar más en sí mismos y MTB es un deporte excelente. Con todas las zonas naturales que tenemos en este país, montañas por todas partes, senderos, rutas, uno no puede tener excusas para no hacerlo. El problema que surge aquí el por el valor de   la MTB en este momento y el aumento de la delincuencia, tienes que ver a dónde vas a montar, porque hay algunos lugares donde no se puede ir ahora. La verdad que es una lástima; otra cosa que tenemos es la guerra en las calles entre coches y bicicletas. Hace un mes un conductor ebrio mató a un hombre en la autopista y salió corriendo; desde entonces la gente está creando marchas para cambiar algunas leyes y para crear conciencia y respeto hacia los ciclistas.

Parece que los ciclistas y los coches, no importa dónde usted está en el mundo, continúan chocando. Por lo general el ciclista obtiene el extremo corto de la vara, pero gracias al trabajo y a la perseverancia de la gente exigiendo lugares más saludables para vivir, la marea está cambiando hacia más modos de transporte. ¿Cómo comparas el ciclismo en Costa Rica con otros lugares?

Bueno, no se puede comparar mucho otros paises con Costa Rica, pero yo sé que algunos lugares tienen más posibilidades para la gente que monta bicicletas, como pistas especiales en la carretera, o las señales como “compartir el camino” como en Las Vegas, Nevada donde vive mi hermano. Por supuesto que nos gustaría tener más de eso aquí, pero esperamos que algún día lo conseguiremos.

¿Cómo ve el ciclismo de montaña en el contexto global?

Este es el momento en que usted tiene que pensar en verde, la contaminación, los atascos, los accidentes, heartquates, demasiadas cosas últimamente en el mundo global, por lo que creo que el pueblo es un encajonamiento y MTB es una herramienta excelente como opción para iniciar y hacer algo por este mundo. Costa Rica es un país bonito y queremos mantenerlo de esa manera, siempre verde y hermoso, por lo que mantener un acceso fácil a estas áreas incrementaría la oportunidad de que la comunidad de ciclistas siga en aumento.

Por último, ¿cuál es el futuro de los Pericos en Costa Rica?

Vamos a continuar con la MTB, porque es nuestra pasión, ¡nos encanta! y no hay manera de ir hacia atrás. Así que en este momento todos los días hay que crear foros donde la gente puede compartir pensamientos, viajes, información, etc, etc, etc, podemos mejorar y cambiar nuestra página web siempre y tenemos un plan para empezar a vender nuestra propia ropa así como contar con un plan de comercio electrónico. Pero todavía estamos trabajando en ello, queremos que la gente use las camisetas Pericos MTB este país y queremos crear eventos en los que podemos ayudar a las comunidades y fundaciones, como lo está haciendo SONADEI. Así que ustedes son un gran ejemplo para nosotros, tenemos un plan que queremos compartir con ustedes más adelante, pero en este momento eso es todo lo que tengo que decir, y como dijimos en nuestro lema, “Hagale, Hagale, Pedalee!”

Con el crepitar de las naranjas brillantes, escupir en la copa, la puesta de sol emite un suspiro como otro día en Costa Rica llega a su fin. Las ranas, los grillos, las bandadas de pájaros se pueden escuchar, junto con los aplausos de los ciclistas alegres cantando mientras pedalean una última vuelta antes de que llegue la noche. Hágale, Hágale, Pedalee!