Discovery: Journal Series Pt. 1
We’re entering Nebraska today. In the next weeks, we’ll probably see enough corn to feed even the most ravenous of cyclists; summit a 14,000 foot mountain; take on the desert; see the pacific ocean; and celebrate with our Falling Whistles family. It’s been a wild ride—but it’s only getting wilder.
This is an exerpt from my journal, written in Kansas City, MO after eight weeks on the road, inspired by all of the beautiful people I have encountered.
I am determined, always, above all else—under all circumstances:
to love and be loved;
to pursue what gives me belly laughs;
to be present, giving people the time of day so that they know they are worth it;
to recognize humanity;
to celebrate beauty;
to give infinite chances;
to offer a home away from home with a meal that will rival their own mother’s;
to discover my nation, my history, my community, my surroundings, and what it means to be
A LIVING, BREATHING, AMAZING HUMAN.
I promise to always be Emily.
Thank you all for welcoming me into your lives and aboard your adventure.
With love,
Em
“There were new lands. His heart lifted.” -Thomas Wolf, “Look Homeward, Angel”
I am learning that being a human, in a biological sense, is quite difficult, or perhaps the correct word is annoying. My stomach has an endless appetite and is constantly ravenous. Despite the 120+ ounces of water I consume daily, I find myself thirsty. With that, the guilty phrase, “Hey guys, so uh, can we stop in the next town? I, uh, need to use the restroom again,” rains through the air at an unfortunate frequency. At times my legs ache in the most foreign, uncharted areas. Areas where one is unaware of said muscles and joints until they are finally awakened with the sharp pain of crippling defeat. And at times, my eyes refuse to regain life despite the amount of pressure I apply while rubbing them.
My body is in a constant nagging conversation with my brain, and with that fortunately, my heart sings along nursing my physical discomfort. And what distracts my brain from consuming itself and fuels my heart to be such a calming element? It is the very complication that started the grumbling! Humans!
The blatant displays of humanity are what lift my heart and keep my legs moving. Humanity that allows my soul to be awake with or without my body.
People are constantly taking care of me, and for no real reason at all except for the pure willingness to do so. I am invited into caring homes to rest my tired bones at night and fed beautifully-crafted food from the people who host us. Twice, people have opened up their homes to us despite even being home! In Burlington, Vermont we were instructed to just lock the door up when we left and upon my inquiring on why she would trust us, mere strangers, our host replied, “You don’t fit the profile. It’s not like you can fit a big screen television on the back of your bike…plus I don’t own a big screen television.” As I write this very post in Toronto I am in a kitchen belonging to someone I’ve never met. She merely left her keys to her apartment in a friend’s mailbox and left directions on how to obtain them.
People in cars constantly pull over on the side of the road. If we are suffering the pain associated with wind, hills, or mountains, people try to scoop us up in their vehicles to take us home a feed us like common puppies, but in a non-condescending way of course. Some people pull over just to ask about what in God’s land we are doing. Some give us local pointers, like one man who encouraged us to stop at the next country market because they have the best wheel of cheese in the back of the store and we had to try it.
He was right, the cheese was excellent.
We get honked at followed with an enthusiastic thumbs up. Days it seems that everyone around us is cheering us on despite what the weather has planned. I receive text messages from former hosts or helpers who check on our status and make sure we’re doing alright daily. Some are signed lovingly, with, “Mom.”
I have been snuck coffee from Tim Horton’s after not having enough (Canadian) money on my person to buy a cup. I have been given bananas and brownies from a very lovely ice cream shop in Vermont just to further fuel our bodies for the day. After a defeating day in Ottawa, two men invited us to their home to use their Internet and aided us in finding a place to stay for the evening. People give us directions, and drive off in continuation with their days, only to return 15 minutes later with a paper map they found to further guide us. I was given a new saddle for my bike purely because the one I had was not gender-specific to a woman. Despite my shrugs and attempts at convincing them otherwise, I was told, “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. I know how painful that Medieval torture device is.”
A barista in Toronto wet a paper towel and wiped bicycle grease from my uninformed forehead yesterday.
Instead of feeling like a stranger in a strange land, a feeling sure to divide one’s soul and body, I have found an extended family. A family centered around humanism. I have found people to be oh so lovely, and it is their kindness that fuels me from city to city.
With Gratitude and Love,
Bess
Why bikes?
When you think of bike tours, your initial thought is smiling faces rolling through a carefree country, feeling the environment with nothing separating them from it. Finding and becoming the rhythm of the earth.
You think of a still lazy, yet adventurous summer fueled by curious eyes and hungry hearts.
This is romantic. Of course our motives for doing this tour on bikes don’t exclude these reasons, they aren’t the sole motivation. But our goals run deeper.
We are, as I mentioned before, becoming a part of a legacy. Two years ago, three men biked from St. Augustine, Florida to Los Angeles, wanting their voice to be heard by anyone who would listen. When I was an intern in the garageoffice, one of the walls was completely taken over by a map of the United States tracking their progress.
Last summer, five men biked from sea to sea, from North Carolina to Venice California.
Now it’s our turn. With the help and knowledge of our predecessors, we have learned from both their successes and mistakes, while we experience our own. Already, although I have only just begun the tour, we have experienced the highs of affecting people’s minds and hearts, selling whistles, acquiring signatures on the petition and meeting beautiful people who have so generously taken us into their homes. We have experienced a lot of pain as well as our bodies try to get used to the heat, our muscles to the strain and our minds to the magnitude of this tour.
Each day we know that we accomplished something we would not be able to the day before.
We are building on the legacy that initially inspired us.
Still, though. apart from wanting to experience our country in a slow, more organic way and becoming a member of a most-empowering group of people, there is still a greater drive.
In the 1800s, when King Leopold had successfully infiltrated the Heart of Darkness, his Congo, he found incredible wealth in natural resources in the region. They were valuable and previously untouched. Although Leopold never actually physically stepped foot in the Congo, he knew that, for its time, the greatest untapped resource in Congo was rubber.
This was at a time when Europeans were beginning the popularize the bicycle and the automobile, unknowingly beginning over a century of colonial rule and neocolonial business practices, all resulting in the exploitation and massacre of millions. From 1891-191, 10 million people were killed.
Rubber. It could be found raw, in the rubber trees. It works a lot like maple syrup, leaking out of the tree like sap. The enslaved Congolese (under Belgian rule) were given a required amount to collect daily. If the standard wasn’t met, they would face brutal torture by their white superiors.
When they learned of this, a coalition of whistleblowers rose up. Mark Twain, William Shephard, Arthur Conan Doyle and E.D. Morel campaigned for over a decade and successfully ended the rubber trade.
Now.
As you might know, the main natural resources that come out of Congo now are coltan, tin, tantalum and tungsten…all which go into our electronics. It affects the Congolese in a similar way. And most westerners re unknowingly funding the largest war in the world since World War II.
We are trying to emulate the same movement as our activist forefathers.
So why bikes?
The bike is an amazing vehicle, so simple in engineering and so simple in function. It requires human power and force to build momentum, and drive to keep moving. And that’s our goal—to use our own drive to reach out to more people to help change elections in Congo this November.
If our wheels are moving, the Falling Whistles wheel will move and together they will build a collective momentum. We are the advocates. We can work to keep the wheel moving toward education, congregation, dissemination and rehabilitation.
Unlike its origin, it doesn’t have to be used in vain, instead we are reversing the once malicious intent of material for the bicycle to use it instead as a symbol of hope, a tool for advocacy.
Keep the wheel moving,
Mallory
@FWfreetour
A common thread.
Over 210 miles, 50 hours of biking, 3 states, 7 cities, minimal sleep, and endless hills. Our first week of the Freetour is almost over, and we all feel it - our bodies, minds, and hearts have been exhausted, inspired, and growing. Despite just how young this adventure is, I have encountered so many inspiring individuals and communities that have defied stereotypical preconceptions. Within the course of a mere twenty four hours we travelled from inner-city Boston to an elite preparatory high school in a small Massachusetts town which costs almost three times as much to attend per year than my college - in short, two polar opposite environments. In both places, I felt out of place - a 20 year old white male college student born and raised in a middle class home and society. Compared to those from the inner city, I grew up with enormous privilege - racial privilege, gender privilege, educational privilege, and opportunity. Compared to those who attend Groton School, I’ve never quite had the resources or opportunities that they have had.
Despite the socioeconomic differences between us, we are connected by a common idea, a common thread, a common feeling of compassion, humanity, and that ever-important global perspective. I saw inner-city residents promote peace and sustainability through biking and a teacher push her students to develop a global consciousness and cultural sensitivity. I feel there is an innate positive nature to humanity and we are working to make that essence shine through. The people at Bikes Not Bombs, who send bikes to countries such as Ghana, Tanzania, and Guatemala for purposes of economic development projects and also provide local teenagers with vocational training and work opportunities in order to promote peace and social justice, they are working to make that essence shine through. The teacher at the Groton School is working to make that essence shine through.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
In Hanover we encountered a Congolese native who left Congo for Washington, D.C. when she was young to get away from the war with her sisters. Recently, she has worked with Falling Whistles. Her mother is still there, and she will be visiting Congo for the first time this summer. In Montpelier we stayed with a woman who organized a bike tour from Vermont to Washington, D.C. to protest war. In Burlington we had a potluck with a college student who has worked for Food Not Bombs, an organization that protests war and poverty by providing free meals.
In every city we have cycled through thus far we have discovered a common urge for peace. And that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? That’s why we’re doing this? For peace. And everyone is working towards it. I can’t even believe how inspired I have been so far. I can only hope that I will be just as inspiring.
And to think…it’s only the first week.
-Brandon
(Also, as a nice little aside, the northeast is absolutely gorgeous. Here’s a picture:)
The Final Rider, Bess Kretsinger
“Adventure out!” was the reoccurring phrase my soul whispered and later demanded of me once I graduated from the University of Missouri this past December. I have this undeniable urge to know exactly what it means to be a human. To feel like a human, breathe like a human, and feel the suffering that humans go through. I continually found my life filled with seemingly petty problems, whether it be common dramatics of being young, or greater tragedies such as the loss of a grandparent. Either way, whenever I was feeling hurt I would eventually get angry with myself after putting my problems into perspective. My pains in life are nothing in comparison to the world.
Eight months ago I decided I needed to go on a journey, perhaps even a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage into enlightenment and maybe, just maybe if you squint, wisdom. I need to know exactly what it feels like to truly experience the air around me, and as I exhale, I want to find myself out of my comfort zone.
This idea first manifested itself in the form of a walking journey. I wanted to walk from Columbia, Missouri to St. Louis on the Katy Trail over Thanksgiving break. Naturally, I wanted to end the “pilgrimage” on that very Thursday so I could sit around a table and eat turkey and soak in the gimmick and symbolism of it all. However, after my friend’s father, Andrew Marting, wanted to get in on this pilgrimage, and looked at the logistics of it all, it was very clear that walking 4.5 mph for ten hours a day sans breaks was unfathomable. I remember the email Andrew sent in order to let me down easy: “this might be too much logic for your little heart, but…”
After graduation my brain started working on the idea of a bike tour. I was considering even doing it alone until one day Mallory contacted me about this very Free Tour. The reasoning seemed so clear, “So you want to do a bike tour? Why don’t you do it for something that matters?”
“Yes? Please go on…”
Like many people in the United States, I was unaware of the magnitude of issues in Congo, the wars over conflict minerals, and the need for free and fair elections. I started filling my days feverishly researching exactly what was going on, because I thought, if I’m going to ride to promote this, I need to believe it. I also need to breathe it.
The problems in the Congo are real. They are not a hard day at work, the laundry piling up in the corner, or a disagreement with someone you care about. However, I am in control of when I visit the local laundry mat, while they are not in control of their government or safety.
My first two days of riding on my bike have so far gone exactly as I expected. My legs are riddled with bruises (mainly after a good couple tumbles), I’ve been experiencing nightmarish calf cramps right when I’m in my deepest sleep, hills have been never ending, and my pride was injured when I did have to indeed walk my bike to the top of a couple of them. But, with the hardships have come countless tears from pure joy and laughter, the feeling of endless freedom while zooming 40 mph down a mile long hill, reactions from the communities of Massachusetts and New Hampshire after lending their ears to our stories, and the loveliness of Columbia, Missouri. After being supported and sponsored by Walt’s Bicycle Shop and Josh Oxenhandler, the wheels started moving for this adventure. This tour is reminding me to believe in humanity.
Just hours ago a woman pulled over in her car after witnessing the three of us absolutely dogging it on a mile long upwards hill and made sure we had somewhere to stay for the night and offered to give us a lift. She had no reason to take time out of her day to check on us, yet she did. And no, we did not “cheat.” We made it to the top, and floated back down to the bottom.
This is a journey my little heart can handle. This is a journey to promote humanity.
This is my story on how I became a whistleblower for peace — peace within myself and peace in Congo.
With Love,
Bess Kretsinger
Meet Brendan
Hey I’m Brendan. I just finished up my first year for grad school at the University of Rochester. A few months ago I thought I would be spending my summer studying for my qualifiers and teaching my first calculus class. Instead, I’m in Maine with my old friend Brandon and my new friend Bess on our last stop before we head to Boston to start a 4,700 mile journey to LA by bike.
So why am I riding my bike across the country instead of making smart career moves?
First, I have a habit of getting in over my head and a cross country bike tour for FW was too good of a crazy idea to pass up. With a little optimism and a lot of help from friends and family, crazy ideas usually work out. With researching, training, routing, and fundraising on top of school, I really needed that support network.
The second, more important reason is Peace in Congo. If you think about what that means and you try to pick one concrete step to begin with, then you realize you’re in way over your head and that you’re going to need a lot more friends and a way bigger family if you’re going to make any progress.
So that’s why we’re on the road - to reach out and build the support network we need to help Congo hold their elections free and fair.
-Brendan
Northern route assemble!!!!
Bess, Brandon and Brendan!
Meet Kevin
I have a vision borderline-fervent desire for a world where each individual is given the freedom to pursue a life that makes his or her spirit soar. I want to live in a world unfettered by conflict and strife, where the word ‘tyranny’ does not cause alarm and instead sounds archaic. I yearn for a human race that sheds more tears for joy than pain. This desire of mine has people understanding the worth of humanity against paper assets, whose precepts include dreaming and passion rather than banking and capitalism. This is the world I conjure late at night when it’s just me and the moon, and I’ve been searching for an opportunity to make this concept that’s been too long confined to dreams a reality.
This journey across the country is an opportunity to do just that. A few months ago, the world opened up to me, and it whispered in my ears and told me that my sole purpose in life is to go out and burgeon humanity’s ideals of freedom, and love, and the whole spectrum of what inspires the best moments to exist. Grounded to a park bench with my eyes skyward and my soul feeling bigger than it ever has, I understood that I had to leave school, hit the road, meet the vast gamut of people in this country and learn firsthand what this life had to offer.
But epiphany and reality don’t always collide well. I had a few months left of a semester, and as it wore on the weight of its monotony broke me down. What began as an impassioned ache towards unification and artistry and finding my place in the grand scheme of things became a questionable and delusional effort towards ridiculous sentiment. By the end of the semester, what was once a raging flood of motivation trickled down to nothing, and I was left feeling absolutely and utterly lost. I resigned myself to following my scholarly pursuits with the knowledge that keeping stationary was exactly the opposite of what I needed to feel whole. I promised myself that if the chance to quench my wanderlust and work towards what I knew was right in the world ever presented itself I had to take it.
Well, it did. The pieces fell into place in a fit of serendipity, and I find myself sitting at home with one day left before I finally learn that anything west of the Hudson River isn’t theoretical.
With nothing standing between me and the world now, I’m ready to take it in my arms and spread the story of people so much stronger than I could ever be who deserve so much better than what sheer luck dealt them.
I can no longer sit idly by and live in a world that I know is not living up to its potential. I refuse to have our children read of contemporary events in their history textbooks and ask why didn’t anybody do anything? In a world polluted by grief and self-interest, I want to go out there and meet the people that redeem it. We want to meet the people who redeem it.
One person cannot bring about change. It takes a group of like-minded individuals with a common goal. It takes a coalition, a collaboration of artists and freethinkers, activists and people with good intentions and small business owners and mothers and brothers and those who breathe deep and dreamers who can’t keep to themselves. This world of solidarity is our dream, and we’re going to do everything in our power to make it come true.
We hope you dream the same way too
Freetour 2011: Meet Nick
Hey y’all, my name’s Nick. My story starts in April 2010.
[[rewind]]
On a whim I applied for a Falling Whistles internship after my friend Justine kept raging about its magnificence. After weeks of anticipation, I received a phone call from the office inviting me to spend my summer with them. Needless to say, I was hyped.
I spent the most amazing time of my life in Los Angeles that summer working for the most inspiring organization I had ever come across. My time was coming to an end and I was being forced back into the collegiate world, but I wasn’t ready to stop pushing for peace in Congo. I had found a family in this organization, a driving force like none I’ve ever experienced. I reluctantly returned to my little college town of Geneseo, NY and decided to keep my eyes peeled for my next opportunity to jump in.
I was reading through a book that my friend recommended when I stumbled upon this quote –
“He said that what we were doing was beautiful but then added, ‘But we are only little people. We are like roaches, and they can crush us with their big feet.’ I said to him, ‘But there are many of us, and enough roaches can run an owner out of the house!’ We all laughed. We are a modest revolution of roaches that can run money-changers out of temples or politicians out of office. And we can invite them to join us in creating another world.” – Shane Claiborne
I was filled with inspiration and for one reason or another I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming on. The next day, Justine was back with me sipping coffee when she said “Hey, wanna set up the bike tour this summer for F-dubs?” I jumped at the idea, and not a week later we had our first recruits and were beginning to fundraise and plan.
[[fastforward]]
It’s May 17th, 2011. Two days before I embark on the journey of a lifetime. I’m going to be biking from our nation’s capitol all the way to Los Angeles, where my story began.
Far too often we don’t reach for our goals, far too often we forget that our realms of possibility are endless. We can achieve anything if we only try. No more waiting around to be told where to put our passion, no more missing opportunities to evolve, no more asking for permission. This is our world, and it’s time we took notice. This generation, our generation, is unbelievably unique. We are connected like none before us, with a vision of hope and peace that few have ever believed possible. It’s our turn to take a stand for what we believe in and make this world our own, and this summer that’s exactly what we’re going to do.
This summer, we’re turning the wheel for peace in Congo and we can’t do it without you.
We’re coming through your city and we want to meet you. Send me a message at nicksloper@gmail.com to book an event with us or if you just wanna meet and hang out!
Em D. from the southern route got to D.C. a few days early to explore the capital and represent bike tour D.C. style!
