As I watch the remarkable athletes bike around the course in Hamilton, this mediocre athlete will enjoy a moment of private satisfaction, knowing that I’ve done something these top cyclists have yet to attempt.

As a boy, I dreamed of winning a bushel of gold medals at several Olympics. But I arrived at 50, no gold medals to my name; I never fulfilled my athletic dream.
At 50, my un-optioned screenplays gathering dust, my pitch to the World Bank for eco-development in Africa dying on the competition short-list, I asked myself what is an enterprising baby boomer with no money, but a desire larger than his talents, to do?
The answer was called Tour d’Afrique, a bicycle journey almost 11,000 kilometres long. And it had never been done before. The idea was born when the frustrated athlete shared a car ride in the magnificent mountains of Ethiopia with a former Canadian Olympian; we were watching the Russian cycling team training for the Olympics. “What if . . .?” I asked. Yes, it was an incredible long shot, but what if we created the toughest, longest, most exotic bicycle race in the world, crossing Africa from Cairo to Cape Town in 100 days of biking. Thus, after a restless 50th birthday night, I placed a call to a much younger friend who shared my madness for bikes and my anti-car philosophy: “Mike, it is now or never!”
We had discussed the idea a decade earlier. He had even taken a yellow marker and drawn the route on the Michelin map of Africa. Now, it was time to act. With an e-mail to The Guinness Book of World Records — to inquire whether they would recognize a new record for the fastest human-powered crossing of Africa — we were off.
There were only two problems — no money and no participants. The Globe And Mail came to the rescue. A story about our plans (with a map) was published, and dozens of e-mails from as far away as Australia and Japan followed. Most were encouraging. Some signed up immediately, others thought we were either out of our minds or “con men trying to extract money from the gullible.” We were warned about non-existent roads and difficult border crossings. A letter to the editor from an old African hand suggested that “we better not forget to take bulletproof vests and army helmets.” A more official letter from Canadian External Affairs asked us to reconsider, “due to political and security considerations.”
But one does not enter history books by kowtowing to naysayers. On Jan. 18, 2003, three weeks short of my 51st birthday, 33 individuals from eight western countries stood in front of the Great Pyramid at Giza, under the gaze of the immortal Sphinx and the lights of Egyptian television . One by one, we passed under the makeshift start gate, attempting to cycle into history. Collectively, we ranged in age from 21 to 63 — mostly male but several determined females as well, athletic and non-athletic. Among the latter was Sandra Macmillan, a 54-year-old PEI real estate agent and mother of five, who bought a bicycle after reading the original Globe story. She would later confide that she had never ridden a bike in traffic; there in Cairo, she was navigating through one of the most frenzied cities in the world.
The journey took 120 days as planned, 100 days of biking and 20 days of visiting the sights. We travelled through deserts and savannahs, in searing heat and driving rain, on good roads and non-existent paths.
While the rest of the world was preoccupied with the Iraq crisis, we calmly pedalled from one country to another. No, it was not easy — quite the opposite. The night before we arrived in Nairobi — our symbolic half-way point — Fred Promoli, a mountain of a man, a former Canadian Navy diver, veteran of the famed Montreal-Ottawa ski marathon and an educator, organized an Indian circle. Fred set the tone when he broke into tears describing the difficulties we had faced making it that far. Others followed. Greg Wells, armed with a new PhD in sports physiology from the University of Toronto, recounted his experience working with Olympic athletes. “Believe me, this is tougher than anything they go through.” Scotty Robinson, a Toronto spin instructor, also broke into tears, and later wrote to his sponsor: “I have never been more tired, more disgustingly dirty and more happy, calm and exhilarated on any bike ride in my life. This must be euphoria and I’m hooked. What a ride! It’s great to be alive!” The race was won by Sasha Hartl, 26, an Austrian and a vegetarian to boot; he covered the 10,957 km. in 430 hours, 22 minutes. Of the 33 riders who started the trip, 31 managed to finish, hugging each other on Cape Town beach with majestic Table Mountain in the background. We had done what few thought was possible. We had conquered the Mount Everest of biking. We had set the bar higher.
I did not finish in the medals. Nor did I even try. After all, at 51, a man has lived long enough to acquire a little wisdom. A couple of others and I — we called ourselves the “back pack” — spent a not insignificant amount of time each day visiting local tea shops, beer hangouts and chatting with the locals, or just resting and enjoying the scenery. But each day, whether we had to climb the mountains of Ethiopia or push the bike through the sand of a Sudanese desert, we arrived in camp tired but exhilarated, completing our personal quest.

B i c i t u d i n e

· 2004-12-12

Sono molto più felice

Pensa che idiota: andavo in bici fino a vent’anni ma poi il motorino, la macchina eccetera e ho cominciato ad usare la bici solo ogni tanto, poi me l’hanno fregata almeno 7 volte e l’ultima la tenevo apposta male e quindi era scomoda e pesante. Tipo due mesi fa, invece, J’aphar(d) mi invita: vieni alla Critical Mass, ogni giovedì alle 21.30 in p.za Mercanti vicino al Duomo di Milano, si va in bici per la città tutti insieme. Da allora la mia vita è cambiata, i miei capi mi rispettano, mia moglie è soddisfatta di me in tutti i sensi, i miei figli crescono responsabili e anche le macchie più resistenti scompaiono nel bianco più pulito. J’aphar(d) non mi ha spiegato, J’aphar(d) mi ha detto: vieni con me. Come muoversi per la città sembra una piccola cosa. Invece è una cosa importante. L’essere umano vive perché respira, anemos è la radice di anima e in latino significa respiro. E il respiro è movimento. Tutto ciò che è vivo si muove, cioç che è morto cessa di muoversi. Muoversi è dynamis, che poi guarda caso la bici ha la dinamo… Va bene, d’accordo, sembra un discorso retorico e di partito, invece sono sincero, anche se non riesco ad esprimermi meglio: Come muoversi significa come stare nel nostro luogo allargato, la città, e io ho aspettato 32 anni perché un cazzone di amico (non è vero lo amo) mi dicesse vieni, e dopo che mi ha detto vieni io adesso vado sempre in giro in bicicletta, sono molto più felice, ci penso tutti i giorni, ci vado sempre appena posso alla CM perché mi sento tranqui?lo tra persone aperte e si può andare in giro quà e là liberi come bambini e ognuno come gli pare. Dio, mi sento stupido a non esserci arrivato da solo, al bello della bicicletta da mettere tra me e il mondo che scorre, però insoma ora vado in bici, ora vado in bici per la spesa, per uscire la sera, anche per andare lontano, per andare al lavoro (anche se non lavoro) e la uso sempre. Cioè. E’ bello anche andare a piedi. Ma la bicicletta scorre, scivola, va da sola quando smetti di pedalare poi non devi stare attento a pestare la cacca. Insomma è una cosa semplice, usare la bici per muoversi, ma mi sento diverso. Non voglio essere retorico ma è proprio così. No, se ci penso bene non è questo e basta: se non avessi provato a essere in bicicletta in tanti senza meta non sarebbe così: la cm è una cosa diversa, non è solo andare in bici: è come riscoprire dall’atavico subconscio il piacere del branco che insieme si sposta per la prateria, il nomadismo di una tribù che lentamente vaga per il mondo. Una grande famiglia che viaggia dolcemente nel tempo. Beh io sono un pò mieloso, e infatti mi incuriosisce molto sapere se anche te o gli altri vivono questa cosa incredibile così o perché ci credono razionalmente come forma di sviluppo umano/sociale, o perché semplicemente fa bene alla salute e si cucca. Tutti ottimi motivi, del resto, e magari come ho scoperto tramite J’aphar(d) il PEDALARE TUTTI INSIEME COME FORMA DI AMORE, magari parlando con altri ciclompagni scoprirò che ci sono altri motivi profondi. Per adesso sono contento, e poi mi posso vestire come voglio perché anche nel costume si può ritrovare una libertà che la città conformista ha sepolto, ma questo è un altro discorso, adesso però devo andare e questo discorso lo finisco poi. Così dice Yuri

 

Portait of the Artist as a Bike

· 2004-11-01

Upright

It never fails. As soon as November rolls around I start to re-live the time I had to pose for over five hours a day for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t something that I would have readily volunteered to do, no matter how much begging is involved. I remember as if was just last month the sweet warm weather that we were enjoying throughout Ontario that summer. I had tried very hard to resist the “posing” gig. I kept trying for weeks to entice him to head off for the winding roads of the Canadian Shield and ride along the many shimmering wind swept lakes. I even enlisted the help of the others in the local velo club, hoping that someone could get him to leave the brushes alone until later in the fall. But he would have none of it. I was constantly cajoled and reminded daily that sometimes one is expected to make a small sacrifice. Especially in the cause of art. And so finally I relented and spent August all spruced up and upright on my rack. And every year since I am thankful that I did make that small sacrifice. In fact I wouldn’t trade that month for a year of the open road. For during that sitting we got to know each other in a way that couldn’t have happened on the road. We each saw a side of the other that we would have never seen had we been spinning along country roads. Like the sufi said, sometimes it’s in not moving that one goes the furthest. Oh and I also got some new pedals.

Biographical Notes – Greg Curnoe:

Artist, musician, writer, collector, political activist, and cyclist, Greg Curnoe was born in London, Ontario, in 1936. He was a founder of the Nihilist Spasm Band, the Forest City Gallery and the magazine Region. He practised his art in London, Ontario, somewhat removed from greater Toronto. He did so by choice, by conviction, and with a stubbornness motivated by a desire to establish artistic practice outside great city-centres, traditionally viewed as the meltingpots of all forms of artistic creation. Curnoe, accompanied by several other artists, proved that artistic practice outside such centres was both legitimate and viable. For Curnoe, this was an essential condition for the emergence of regional cultures, whose distinct contributions suggested the development of a national culture rooted in all the nation’s communities. Greg Curnoe died tragically, hit by a car while cycling with friends in November 1992. November 17, 1992 CURNOE, Gregory Richard, 55, London Ontario. >>>

 

A Dali Dream

· 2004-09-01

Summer Rides

I had a strange dream last night. We had headed out to Spain, my two-legged friend and I, to wheel about Spain, and to perhaps chance upon the Vuelta for some fun. We had arrived in Madrid under a blazing sun. We immediately headed out for Figueres, along the dusty back roads of the Madrid plateau. And then suddenly it happened. I began to have a strange sensation in the tyres. It felt as if I was rolling along on toffee. And then the sky started to change to a glowing sea-green. All signs of the road and the countryside vanished in a flash, and from within this overwhelming green out flew a dove shouting: Dali Dreams! ….

 

Livestrong

· 2004-07-06

Wear Yellow

Every one is wearing a Yellow wristband these days. To find out more click here …

 

Tires to the Sky

· 2004-05-31

Sail Away

I love this time of year. The sun begins to share it’s warmth. Blue skies and warm breezes greets us most days as May turns to June. And for some of us at this time of year thoughts of the Giro run through our tires and we dream of what might have been. It seems like just yesterday that we were road training through cold and rain, climbing ever steeper mountains and rolling along expanding stretches of roads. We were young and our tires pumped to the max as we set our sights on the Maglia rosa and the Maillot jaune …. ah, but best to to forget all that now. Best to just lay back with our soft tires pointing to the sky and warming our chainrings under May’s gracious warmth. It is a much different Giro for us now.

 

Percorsi ciclistici

· 2004-05-12

Un giro per le colline di Rimini

The pedal pushers had been talking about going on a little bike tour of the hills around Rimini for quite some time. When they finally decided to take a tour laid out by one of the local cyclists, which they had found the year before on the web, the route and map had vanished. One day it was on the web, then suddenly it was not to be found. Or so they thought. Luckily, in addition to a bike mechanic, we had amoung us a net archeologist who was able to unearth an old cached itinerary. With this information in hand we set off on our ride. We all enjoyed a lovely day of spinning :

percorso 1: Gatteo a Mare – Verucchio – Gatteo a Mare 58 KM.

0 KM GATTEO MARE
- Incrocio di Viale delle Nazioni con l’Adriatica: direzione Bellaria. Dopo neanche 100 m, a dx. Dopo la sottovia della SS Adriatica, prima a dx, poi a sin. per Gatteo.
5.5 KM S. ANGELO
- Si incocia la SP 33 a sin. per Savignano.
10.5 KM SAVIGNANO
- Al semaforo attraversare la Via Emilia; dopo 100 m, al successivo semaforo, girare a sin. e proseguire nell’abitato per circa 1 Km, indi girare a dx per Canonica.
16.0 KM CANONICA
- Seguire le indicazioni per Poggio Berni e Verrucchio. All’incrocio con la provinciale Santarcangelo- Ponte Uso (Km 17,5) attraversare e proseguire per circa 2 Km. Al successivo incrocio girare a dx per Ponte Verucchio.
26.0 KM PONTE VERUCCHIO
- Passato il ponte sul Parecchia, a dx. Dopo 1 Km si incrocia la SS 258 (Marecchiese). Attraversare perpendicolarmente: si incomincia subito a salire.
30.0 KM VERUCCHIO
- Dopo la piazza si scende su Villa Verucchio dove ci si immette nella Marecchiese (Km 34).
39.5 KM S. ERMETE
- Si lascia la “Marecchiese”: girare a sin. per Santarcangelo.
43.5 KM SANTARCANGELO
- Di fronte all’arco girare a dx e portarsi sulla Via Emilia. Prendere a sin. e proseguire fino ad incontrare (45,5) l’incrocio per Bellaria (ind. S. Mauro): a dx.
50.0 KM VILLA TORLONIA
- Girare a sin. e dopo 100 m a dx per Bellaria.
55.0 BELLARIA
- All’incrocio con l’Adriatica prendere a sin.
58.0 GATTEO A MARE

DIFFICOLTA’: I 3 Km di salita che portano a Verrucchio.
RAPPORTI CONSIGLIATI: 39×21. »

Some good advice. Plan on making a quick stop for some light refreshments at the Caffè Torlonia, which you will come upon on your return, near the end of your ride. It is located nearby the Villa Torlonia. The lovely women behind the counter are fellow cyclists, who can provide information on other more challenging rides. I know they have done the “Nove Colli – Fausto Coppi & Marco Pantani” ride! Be sure to tell them that Mr. Click-Click sent you!

UPDATE: new course map courtesy of

 

Fishy Rider

· 2004-03-19

Supper

Summer time and the riding is easy. Well not quite as easy as it could be. But I am not complaining too loud. He did stop at two. Nice ones for sure, but they do add some extra weight to bear.

 

Ghost Rider

· 2004-02-18

Pantani

Era il giorno di Valentino, and il pirata rode off with his demons to his final summit. One of the great pure climbers of our generation, unable to get off the “high of the mountain” and coast with the lowlanders, had plunged into the abyss of a deep depression. Recently Pantani had told his local Rimini newspaper that “You can forget about Pantani the athlete. I still ride my bike, just to turn my legs,” he said, “But cycling is the last thing on my mind. I haven’t been to the gym for months. I’ve gained 15 kilos and I have the physique of a little bull”. For cycling fans around the world he will not be forgotten. He was a giant among a select few in the pantheon of the cycling world. I had seen it coming for sometime now, and on our rides together I had tried to encourage him to enjoy the simple joy of spinning along country roads. I was not able to convince him of this during our recent outings. And now, also for me ends the spinning joy. I have been retired:

Pantani’s bicycle to museum

One of the bicycles belonging to Marco Pantani will be exhibited in the Museo dei Campionissini in Novi Ligure, Italy. The bicycle will be delivered by Felice Gimondi and Francesco Moser on March 20, the day of Milan-San Remo.

 

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