MAGNIFICENT

SEVEN Story by Warren Cornwall Photos by Caleb Kenna A SEVEN-WHEELED ‘SUPER-DUPER BIKE’ ADVENTURE IN

EDALING UP LOOMIS STREET tale seemed too on our way out of Burlington, extreme, a textbook PVermont, I passed a friend case of misguided standing in front of her house. She parental aspirations looked at me, pointed an index finger walking the fine line at her temple, and slowly turned it in of pushing too hard. a circle — the international symbol for In the coming crazy. At the moment, I suspected she months, however, the might be right. book’s bike-centric The epic family vacation is an family vision took archetypal feature of Americana. My hold. My kids were own brainchild on display that June outgrowing the trailer morning had all the trappings of a for trips around town. candidate for that genre. Take two On Craigslist I found kids under the age of 10; a tandem, an old, handmade tag-along, and bike trailer rigged steel-tubed Ibis together into a five-wheeled, 100-pound tandem. I adjusted behemoth; a willing if slightly bemused the stoker position spouse; and a plan to cross the state on with a crankset that 120 miles of roads through the heart of clamped to the seat the . Add me in the tube, a conversion role of a lycra-clad Clark Griswold, the kit that brought the hapless but well-meaning dad of the pedals within reach National Lampoon’s Vacation movies. of my nine-year-old Maybe I was nuts, but it would be a daughter Maya’s feet. family vacation to remember. Her brother pulled Shortly before we chugged past the up the rear on a Trek friend’s house, just 20 yards from our tag-along attached front door, my six-year-old son, Lev, had to her seatpost. The already tapped into the potential humor “Super Bike,” as we of the affair. From his position at the dubbed it, became Checking the map during an ice cream stop at one of Vermont’s many small-town general stores. back of our three-person bike train, he our chief mode of announced in a joking tone, “My butt transportation around idea of a more adventurous way of getting hurts.” Just wait, buddy. town. On trips to the grocery store, I to PapaJ and GrandDori’s house. They The seed for this trip was planted hitched the trailer to the back. The would remember this one. two years earlier when I picked up a “Super-Duper Bike” was born. After waving farewell to our friends copy of Mud, Sweat, and Gears, the 2010 It was only a matter of time before my on Loomis Street, we pointed our book by Joe Kurmaskie recounting his aspirations ran beyond the city limits. contraption south just before noon on transcontinental bike trip with his wife By spring of 2012, the kids had proved the first day of summer vacation. The and kids. He had patched together a themselves on multiday backpacking early miles led along a gently rolling ridge MAGNIFICENT Frankenstein of a bike to carry him and trips, and Lev was old enough that he speckled by subdivisions interspersed his three sons, ages nine, seven, and had the stamina to go a little farther. with green pastures. The hazy blue of one. Not across the country, but what about on our right mirrored I was a dedicated cyclist, racing to my in-laws’ house on the other side the blue sky. A gentle wind pushed at our road and mountain bikes as a teenager, of the state? We usually made the trip backs. With a full load tipping the scales working at bike shops, and later in 90 forgettable minutes, gunning the at over 400 pounds, including riders, competing in triathlons and bike car down Interstate 89 and watching we sped down the descents, slowed only commuting. I had already started the state whip by from inside our glass by my daughter’s pleas to not go so fast. SEVEN proselytizing to the next generation, and metal bubble. I set about tracing an At the bottom of the next hill, all that seating my kids on scoot bikes by the alternate route along backroads and small mass came back with a vengeance. I time they turned three. But Kurmaskie’s state highways. I pitched the kids on the downshifted to the lowest gear and began

ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 11 the slow, methodical chug up. L a We quickly settled into a kind of k e do-si-do with my wife, Shala. Riding on C A h D a A her own bike, she would trail behind on m N A p the downhills, then gleefully spin by on l Burlington C a MAINE i the way up, loaded down with just rear n panniers. VT Twelve miles in, we encountered NEW YORK NH the first chance to try one of our chief

S MA Monkton strategies for keeping little legs inspired K CT RI R N T to pedal. Every general store we passed, O I Y N Starksboro

O we told the kids, we would stop for an ice A W M E R cream bar. Vermont has a lot of general T 0 5 10 N E r e stores. V v N 89 i Miles R After fueling up, we left the last traces t U u ic of suburban sprawl and entered the Middlebury t O c e true Vermont countryside. Manicured n

n Ripton M lawns gave way to long stretches of fields o C decorated with tidy rows of hay drying Hancock

E in the sun. McMansions ceded the way T R Royalton N I to white clapboard houses, some bearing MIDDLEBURY GAPRochester O H S M P signs dating their vintage to the 1700s. R E M Bethel A sweeping descent led to a covered V A ROCHESTER GAP Sharon H wooden bridge. Cars were virtually N W absent. The pastoral quiet was broken E E N only by my labored breathing and my E West Hartford kids’ carefree chatter. As we climbed a R Quechee particularly steep hill outside the little G “PapaJ and burg of Monkton, my daughter delivered a dissertation on cattail fluff while my GrandDori’s” House son sang “America the Beautiful.” “Pedal (huff) harder,” I gasped. For LIPPUS AMY MAP: a minute, the climb eased as two pairs a new song that would soon become our day’s destination. Camp Common of legs strained against the gears. Then, the anthem for the trip. Inspired by Ground, a retreat where we had taken the gradually, the boost faded away and the confusion over the identity of some family for a weeklong family camp the talk resumed. The extra strain was eased livestock, the kids composed a ditty: “I previous summer, lay dormant. But the by having the kids in such cheery moods see a donkey and a ponkey and some owners let us pitch a tent at the edge of a after 16 miles on the road. cowsies, too. And an ow-ow-owooo!” Up sprawling lawn dotted by cabins. We spent By the time we traded a quiet country ahead, a general store in little Starksboro the late afternoon lolling in the grass and road for State Highway 116, energy beckoned. Time for more ice cream. strolling to the swimming pond to wash levels were waning and talk of soreness A final short dash through town and off the day’s grime. The tension of getting began in earnest. But we had acquired down a half-mile dirt road brought us to on the road dissolved in the sun.

12 ADVENTURE CYCLIST july 2017 That evening, after s’mores around a joined by the Red Streak, modeled on my needed to freshen up for the two days campfire, Maya discovered a luna moth wife, who sailed past us up every hill, her ahead, which included crossing the struggling in the grass. We marveled at red jersey matched by the red panniers Green Mountains. its enormous furry body, tattered jade- and red frame of her bike. By western U.S. standards, Middlebury green wings, and fringed antennae. We When we arrived at our inn at Gap doesn’t sound so bad, climbing 1,600 finally left it clinging to a blade of grass. the edge of downtown Middlebury, feet in eight and a half miles. But coming Its journey was almost over. Ours had I was ready for a little pampering. out of East Middlebury, six miles into just begun. Before the trip, we had decided to Day Three, the first slope came like a The next morning, we pulled out alternate between camping and more slap in the face. Within 50 yards, Shala with an entire day to ride just 21 miles luxurious accommodations to give the was walking her bike. I kept chuffing to our motel room in the college town kids a chance to recharge. Though I along, knowing walking would be even of Middlebury. The short distance, usually played the role of family drill slower — but not by much. coupled with a tinge of soreness, was an sergeant, even I didn’t mind a little air We had turned east into the invitation for frequent breaks. Our minds conditioning followed by pizza and a mountains. The tame landscape of farm were easing into the unhurried pace of a showing of Madagascar 3. Besides, we country gave way to the wildness of kid-driven bike tour. Landmarks that we would have flashed past in a car invited NUTS & BOLTS Across Vermont with kids small, serendipitous adventures. A stop at a roadside pottery studio turned into Vermont is laced with reliably good weather in SPECIAL PREPARATIONS? a grand tour of the massive, wood-fired beautiful country roads, Vermont, although it can Cycling with kids is a joy, kiln. At the New Haven River we sunned but many don’t go very far sometimes be cold and rainy. but it takes extra planning, ourselves on slabs of marble in the river and can turn to dirt without For more certainty, start particularly when riding an bed, sculpted and polished over the warning. Spend time on in July. Good weather can unorthodox bike. Take trial centuries. Maya and Lev chased frogs Google Earth stringing hold into October when crisp runs to ensure the kids are and soaked themselves in the freezing together combinations that nights bring gorgeous fall comfortable. In addition water. will get you from A to B, foliage (and the occasional to daily around-town trips, The last 10 miles of our day presented and bring a bike capable of dusting of snow). we did a one-day, 25-mile a ribbon of rollers through classic navigating unpaved roads. test trip to work out the Addison County farmland. In the State highways are often WHAT KIND OF BIKE? kinks. Keeping the days to picturesque and surprisingly We used an Ibis tandem bite-sized chunks helped. afternoon heat, we crept up each hill, low on traffic as well. on 26 x 1.5in. Schwalbe We averaged 20 miles a day the silence broken only by the occasional Finding a place to camp Marathon tires. The stoker and never felt rushed. We cricket and car. Their brains addled by can be a challenge. There position was converted to fit stopped whenever the kids the heat, and inspired by the occasional are some public and private a child using Tandems East’s said they wanted a break, eruption from the front of the bike, campgrounds, but we chose Kid Back conversion kit and the trip was fueled the kids conceived the first of the trip’s to stay at inns on two nights, (tandemseast.com). A Trek partly with promises of ice superheroes. Fart Man, they decided, partly to bridge the camping Mountain Train tag-along cream. Finally, be sure the could rocket himself about, subduing his gaps. Consider knocking on a with a 20in. wheel followed, bike is geared properly. Our enemies with overpowering smells. His farmer’s door and asking to with a Burley D’Lite two-seat lowest gear was a 30 x 34. nemesis was the Leech, an homage to a pitch your tent in a field. trailer as the caboose. My I would have welcomed surprisingly big leech we had discovered wife rode a Lemond road something smaller. WHEN TO GO? bike with 700c x 25mm tires at the swimming pond the previous June is the first month of and Arkel rear panniers. night. By the end of the day, they were

ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 13 descending with the long, multijointed rig quickly disappeared. With all that weight, it felt glued to the highway. By mid-afternoon, our tent was up along a small creek in the Green Mountain National Forest, just outside the town of Hancock. Day Four was the Queen Stage: 27 miles and a climb over Rochester Gap led us through the final hurdle of the Green Mountains. Instead of fading, the kids seemed to be hitting their strides. We stopped for a second breakfast in the small town of Rochester, sandwiched between the mountain range’s two prominent ridgelines. Maya inhaled a Belgian waffle with strawberries and The “Super-Duper Bike” might be as long as an SUV, but it was fueled by ice cream and silly songs. whipped cream. Lev ate three pancakes and bacon the forests. We slowly crept up State seclusion in a cabin there could do a soul and then asked for a second helping. Highway 125 through sunshine turned good. But we were called onward by the A woman in cycling clothes sitting at emerald by maple, beech, and birch mountain at the other end of the valley a table nearby struck up a conversation. trees. These mountains were living up to and the campsite that awaited us on the “You went over Middlebury Gap?” she their name. other side. asked the kids incredulously. “That’s We slogged along, cooled by mountain The kids had been champs all day, but insane,” her companion declared. “One air and ice cream at the Ripton General as the grade steepened, Lev asked, “Are day you kids will realize your parents Store, with its weathered, wooden front we at the top yet?” every few minutes. are crazy.” Perhaps. But right then, they porch and antique signs advertising With a few miles to go, my pulse seemed pretty proud. everything from 7-Up to Old Gold pounding, I banned the question. It was The trip over Rochester Gap was a cigarettes (“Not a cough in a carload”). all I could do not to topple over, we were grueling repeat of the day before. We Halfway up, we reached a small valley moving so slowly. crested the summit by noon, plunging painted in a multitude of greens. A sign The reward came on the downhill down the other side to the weary former declared that the poet Robert Frost as we swooped through long curves, mill town of Bethel. It wasn’t the only had spent many of his summers there. riding the brakes to keep the speed thing that was tired. As we pedaled I could imagine that a few months of under 40 mph. My concerns about the last few miles to our inn outside

14 ADVENTURE CYCLIST july 2017 Royalton, Lev complained that he was Sharon next to Highway 14. Both kids It was seven miles to the finish line about to fall asleep. Shala reported that bundled themselves in enough fleece to — up and over the dirt road on Clay his head was drooping. I imagined him stock a Patagonia store, and we finally Hill, the one we had driven so many toppling off the bike. I kept shouting got back on the road. There was little times. At the summit, a feeling of elation back to him, “You’re doing great, Lev!” choice. The only way to reach the end began to sweep over us. Just a few miles, He managed to stay in the saddle, and we was to get on the bike. all downhill and flat. Lev gave out an climbed the dirt road to our inn with the A few miles later in West Hartford, exultant “Yeah!” And then we were there. sun still high in the sky. the plot was rescued by the miracle I pumped my fist in the air as we reached We had been extraordinarily lucky for of yet another general store. There’s a the dirt driveway in front of the house at four days: blue skies without a flat tire formidable power in chocolate milk, the edge of the River. After or a kid meltdown. Day Five started with Danish, and ice cream bars. As we stopping, we all hugged, exchanged high a little taste of how things might have pulled out of town bound for the final fives, and marveled at what we had done. been different. We woke to clouds and long climb of the trip, we were edging We had scaled two major mountain a cool breeze. Within a few miles, Lev back to normal. The kids added their passes, given superhero alter egos declared that he was cold and donned own superheroes. Lev, a kid who was to everyone in the family, composed a fleece jacket and pants. At a stop a constantly leaping, spinning, and ridiculous songs, eaten countless ice few miles later, Maya turned sullen and scaling trees, invented Bird Boy, with cream bars, and discovered how a refused to speak. As we started rolling the power to transform into any bird. landscape reveals its secrets if you step again, I could hear funny sounds coming Maya, an introvert with a solitary streak, outside the cocoon of a car. Most of all, from behind. I looked back to see Lev chose Ghost Girl, who can camouflage we had learned that our family could crying as he pedaled. Things were perfectly with her surroundings and embark on a challenging adventure and lurching off the rails. I worried that this make herself ethereal. not just survive, but flourish. would become the memory of the trip, The climb ended in a joyful reunion four days of glory drowned by a final day with the in-laws at a bakery in Quechee. Warren Cornwall is a freelance journalist now of misery. We had reached that scene in People there were astonished at news based in Bellingham, Washington. He still uses the the Vacation movies when everything of how far we had come. The kids tandem for family cycling adventures. Learn more at warrencornwall.wordpress.com. seemed bound for disaster. both grinned and walked with subtle We huddled together on a lawn in swaggers.

ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 15