Free at last

Back home many of my friends are bracing themselves for the first day of the new term. This year will be the first in ten I don't have those anxious school dreams but also the first when I am not looking for the ultimate notebook and pen that will make me happy, even when I'm marking books.

Thinking of you all - and can't help feeling genuine pangs of missing out seeing The City Academy, Hackney grow another year group and make that important step towards a full school and our first exam results. I will miss you this year despite the freedom of the open road.

Freedom is a complex idea. On the road today I pondered what it means for a human being. I couldn't escape the image of running naked through a corn field. Given the dried, dead and cut corn we keep passing this is not a pleasant scenario. When you don't have basic freedoms like food, housing, having a say or going to school you know what you need to be free. But there are other things that make us feel free or not free.

America is supposed to be the 'land of the free' where everyone is free to own land, set up a business or own a gun. Yet America is a land of many rules. Sometimes it can be hard to find land not owned by someone else. Last night we were stealth camping again. I love the term because if makes me feel like James Bond rolling under laser beams to avoid detection. The reality is no one really minds if in the middle of a cute little Kansas town if you put up your tent in the park and use the water fountain and rest rooms.

Last week, after the Katy trail with its flat path and trees and no views we were glad to get back on the roads. We arrived in Sedalia, Missouri as it got dark and our option for camping was the fairground site at the old railway station. This was a barren patch of grass with locked toilets and a guy with a big white beard who was camping in his teepee tent with his bike hidden inside. Despite several pianos on the now abandoned platform,(Scott Joplin's home town) it was not very appealing. Compounded by two days without a shower and a dusty trail, I really wanted a wash. We headed downtown passing a motor bike rally. We were about to join the bikers when we decided to head just a bit further to the main street. And we were so glad we did.

We cycled down the main drag and noticed that there seemed to be a lot of spectators. I spotted a woman in an election T shirt.
'What's the occasion?' I asked, presuming a political rally.
'You need to get your bikes off the street first' she told us.
Turned out it had nothing to do with politics though Phyllis was the Democratic candidate for the Senate, fighting the incumbent Republican. Her platform was however quite neutral and her cards did not mention the Democratic party at all.

This was the annual Sedalia bicycle race and the woman's race was underway. Each lap was around a mile. Pro-racers in packs sped past every 5 minutes. There was a great atmosphere on the streets so James and I took a table outside a pub. No sooner had we ordered a beer then we were approached by a couple Chris and Toby. They were brandishing an iPhone with our blog.
'Is this you?' they asked excitedly. I felt like a celebrity.

After a brief chat about our plans for camping we said goodbye. Ten minutes later Toby came back.

'We wondered if you wanted to have a bath at ours and stay in the office space ?'
I was delighted.

Toby and Chris lived down town in a property built in the 1880s. They were in the middle of refurbishment trying to keep the beautiful old features of the house. We sat and chatted in their living room, then Chris asked Toby.

'So, you gonna tell em?'
And then the story came out.

Toby had once been one of America's Most Wanted.

Toby was married for 28 years. Toby worked in a prison training dogs with prisoners as a form of rehabilitation. Over many years Toby had trained thousands of dogs and was completely trusted by the prison authorities. The job became Toby's life. And then Toby fell for an inmate who was in prison for murder - an accomplice in a car jacking. Together they planned to run away together. Meticulously orchestrated, Toby helped him escape in a dog crate. Two weeks later they were found at the address where the getaway van was registered. Toby had been too much of a law abiding citizen - 'I never handed in an assignment late, I was the perfect girl'.

After 3 years in prison she came out without a job but two business degrees. She met her husband Chris through a job and now together they are setting up a non-profit called With Conviction to help felons get work and get on their feet after they have been to prison.

Toby was certainly an unlikely ex-con. Chris summed up the situation. 'Prison set her free.' Certainly she seemed excited and positive about her new life in Sedalia. Some of her family do not want anything to do with her but some have kept close. Her advice to teach the world was 'Look forward, don't look back' and Chris pointed out how fleeting our time upon the earth.

It was inspiring to meet them both and a reminder that happiness comes in different forms.

After Sedalia we decided we would head to Kansas City - when else are you going to have the opportunity to go? My friend Jen from swimming had mentioned family in town. I sent her a message on Facebook and we were kindly set up with her aunt Vera and uncle Peter. 50 miles - no problem. Turns out that it was over 70 to the outskirts of the city. By the time we reached Peter and Vera, Peter had come out in the car to look for us and found us close to their home. 94 miles - close to our 104 record.

What a welcome. Vera had been on Lance Armstrong's website seeing what champion cyclists eat and following his recipe. She'd made a chicken pasta dish and bought Gateraid especially. She also taught us some yoga stretches for our cycling legs.

Vera called their daughter Daniella who used to be student president of the local high school and arranged a visit for us. Galen and Carolina showed us round and then we spoke to a student council leadership class. One student asked the all important question,
'Don't your butts hurt?'
The answer? A bit, sometimes. Sudo Creme is the best thing for any rash. And you just need to stand in the saddle occasionally so that blood flows to the parts that some times aren't reached. We are also now travelling lighter having posted a big box to Hawaii. You realise over time how little you need.

Shawnee Mission Northwest High School was more like a university than a school. It had about 6 different sports hall for everything ranging from wrestling to gymnastics and football. School started at 7.40 and finished before 3. The school had a relaxed feel but there were clearly a lot of routines and rules that went into making the place run like clock work. If you are late to class you go to the tardy table, first time warning and the sanctions increase. Academic performance is also linked to sport. Two Ds or one F and the coach won't let you play on the soccer team. You won't be allowed to practise but he will watch you during practice time whilst you do your homework. Now that is an incentive to work hard.

Back in Hackney, east London the most successful school has been labelled by some a 'prison' because it is so strict. And yet this year 89% of their students achieved at least 5 good exam passes including the all important English and maths. Well done Mossbourne. Gives me goose bumps thinking how this breaks the mould and shows what any young person can accomplish with the right help. These students will have freedom to choose what to do next even though they may have had less freedom during their time at school. I'm happy with that. True freedom.

We passed through Topeka the other day. Topeka was the location of the famous court case Brown versus the Topeka Board of Education. Linda Brown was not allowed to enrol in a school a few blocks from home and was told to go to the black school 7 blocks, across the rail road and a bus ride away. The case went to the Supreme Court which eventually ruled that 'separate but equal' was not true because even though separate schools had broadly the same facilities it said:

'Segregation of white and colored children in public schools has a detrimental effect upon the colored children. The impact is greater when it has the sanction of the law, for the policy of separating the races is usually interpreted as denoting the inferiority of the negro group. A sense of inferiority affects the motivation of a child to learn. Segregation with the sanction of law, therefore, has a tendency to [retard] the educational and mental development of negro children and to deprive them of some of the benefits they would receive in a racial[ly] integrated school system... We conclude that, in the field of public education, the doctrine of "separate but equal" has no place. Separate educational facilities are inherently unequal.'*

How you believe you will do, has a huge impact on how you do at school. Instilling a belief of possibility and ability takes all of us further than we might otherwise travel.

America has always been an aspirant nation. Yesterday we met a man called Mr Hoffman in a lovely coffee shop in St Mary's, Kansas. He had worked on electric rockets for NASA in the 70s and told me that Neil Armstrong had died. A man on the moon - that took some dreaming before it became reality.

After the 1954 judgement when segregation in schools was ruled illegal it took another 3 years before the Little Rock Nine made desegregation a reality and President Eisenhower took over the Arkansas National Guard to escort them to school.

So as I meet more people who are envious of the freedom I have to ride the open road, the more I question what freedom really is. Somewhere around the freedom to love the life you have dreamed of whatever that may be. That said however freedom is not doing whatever you want, whenever you want. Right now I'm in an air conditioned bar in Glasco, Kansas and as much I want to stay out of the sun, I know that there are 30 miles to go and one step at a time will mean I achieve something of which I will be very proud.

Time to hit the open road.

Adendum

And no sooner had I written that then James got chatting to a lady called Joanna Cool whose Grandmother, Vester Williams was from Merthyr Tydfil. Never forget you're Welsh wherever you are. She lives in a big white house - a homestead - a mile out of town. Beautiful apparently. So that's our bed for tonight. 40 miles done - so we'll make up a few tomorrow.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brown_v._Board_of_Education

The hare and the turtle

I suggested to James that we could write our own perspectives on what riding with the other person was like. He said that he thought I had a pretty good idea of what he was thinking so here goes.

The hare and the tortoise. They both got there. That's the point surely. For those of you who know us well, you'll know that James and I are good at different things. I'm good at organising fun, history, cooking and talking to people. James is good at cycling, fixing things, maths and making people laugh. When you decide to spend a year cycling together you spend a lot of time in one another's company.

James is definitely the hare. I am less the tortoise, more the food obsessed, break fixated and expert faffer. I can extend any one minute break into a good 15 minutes with the mere click of a camera, the opening of a cereal bar or a quick sun cream reapplication.

When we stop James will ask himself 'Why am I still waiting whilst Mari ...
a) cycles up this hill?
b) rummages in her bag?
c) looks at a map for the 50th time when we already know where we're going?
These are all unanswerable questions.

That said we have found a happy medium. I generally set the pace, we chat and we get there at the same time - both happy that we have done it. We also stay off highways and take the hills slowly meaning James knees will be stronger not blown out. We meet more people and the sum of our bicycling partnership creates more of an adventure. Today on the flat bicycle trail - the Katy trail that follows an old railway from St Louis along the Missouri river we made good time and I genuinely did try my hardest - peddling harder when I fell behind. We managed 75 miles in 7 hours of cycling. And there was a bistro with a live band, a special of ribs and home made baked beans and wine at the end - result. We are camping in a bandstand in this small town, Hartsburg near Jefferson, Missouri.

The trail follows the route of Lewis and Clarke. They were sent by Jefferson to 'explore the West'. The native Americans who lived there were obviously familiar with it as were the French who owned the territory before they sold it to the American government in the Louisiana purchase. A huge chunk of the states was sold by the French for 11 million franks. The trail is interesting as it points out how Lewis and Clark were helped by the native Americans to survive in this new environment. One thing I have noticed is that when Europeans came into contact with the native Americans there was a strong sense of dependency. It is when people do not make connections and think of people as 'the other' that they are willing to treat the inhumanly. This reminded me of the Milgrim experiment

Stanley Milgrim was at Yale university and began his experiment in 1961 to test human being's willingness to obey instructions. A year after the trial of Adolf Eichman in Jerusalem, he wanted to test whether then perpetrators of the Holocaust were just following orders. In the experiment all volunteers were willing to administer electric shocks to others and 60% were willing to administer lethal shocks in the name of science. His experiment also found that people were more willing to hurt others if they were telling someone else to do it. If you believe all human beings are the same you cannot do anything but treat them with love. *

The Katy trail begins in St Louis. Finding the start trail was not easy. We were cycling through Forest Park, the second biggest park in the States when a fellow spandex-clad cyclist came alongside us and asked us where we were heading. Wesley very kindly took us all the way there via his friend Marvin's house who supplied us with Gaitorade (the American equivalent of Lucozade) and stories. There is something about the kindred spirits you find in cycling. Good people. Wesley had met his wife in Forest Park. She was cycling. He asked her 'Do you want to race me?' She replied, 'Sure, on one condition - if you win - you wait for me.' He did and the rest, as they say, is history.

So the trip is more than just the cycling and ultimately our duo together is more than it would be if we were alone. It might be slower, longer, more calorific and slightly delayed but hopefully we will make more connections, enjoy the shared experience and develop greater tolerance of each other.

The first night camping in the Shwamae forest, Illinois, we had an almost disaster. James had said to me his stomach did not feel right. We were nearly at the camp site but it was very hilly. He said he might have to stop at the side of the road. He was a little way ahead so I looked out for him as we passed a small town. No sign. I continued, then the bike route was sign posted to the right. No sign of James. We have a rule - you never turn off without the other person. No James. I continued up the road to see of he had missed it. I flagged down a car to ask them to look out for him as I wasn't going any further. I went back to the turn off point. I cycled toward our final destination. I cried and sang Bonnie Tyler's 'I was lost in France...' Even though I wasn't in France perhaps because she's from Swansea it felt comforting. Eventually I found James who had stopped off in a church to use a toilet and so I'd gone past him. Like the prodigal son I was just delighted to see him again. With no phone, tent, money or passport - would not have been a great solo trip.

That night we were looked after by a Christian ex-prisoner living in a caravan next to our tent who printed T-shirts qnd grew his own peppers. He made us coffee in the morning and was incredibly hospitable.

We have just enjoyed our second rest day in St Louis. We were really lucky to stay with Rich and Julie. We arrived late after a 104 mile cycle into the city. Rich is a keen cyclist and an English teacher. Inspired by our question 'If you could teach the world one thing, what would it be?' He asked his students to answer the question. The 19 year old students gave the responses ranging from the profound to the practical. My favourite was 'you can't change people and if you try you force them away'. I am guessing this was the response of a love burnt teenage experience.

Rich and Julie made us feel hugely welcome with a whole basement to ourselves, washing, breakfast and a great dinner - Julie cooked clam linguine. They invited three friends round for an impromptu dinner party - Christine, Angela and Steve who were also great fun. Julie is one sixteenth Cherokee, Jewish and the rest somewhere between Polish and Italian - very American to have such diverse roots. Enthusiastic Democrats, Julie's mum was a life time campaigner and was stopped from riding the Freedom Rides because she was pregnant. Those were the buses that activists rode to make the point that black and white people could sit on the buses together and the world wouldn't end. This reminded me of a clip I had seen of a white guy being beaten up from being a Freedom rider.

Jim Zwerg was a white guy from an ordinary Christian white family he ended up going to a college in where he shared a room with a black guy and saw him suffer discrimination so he made the decision to apply to a black college in Nashville. He got very involved in the civil rights movement and started doing crazy things like going to the cinema with his black friends. The Freedom Rides were organised to challenge segregation on interstate buses. Federal law said segregation was illegal but state law said differently. Jim risked his life on many occasions to stand for a principle but on one occasion when he was being beaten by police and was saved by a black passer by. Zwerg recalls: "There was nothing particularly heroic in what I did. If you want to talk about heroism, consider the black man who probably saved my life. This man in overalls, just off of work, happened to walk by as my beating was going on and said 'Stop beating that kid. If you want to beat someone, beat me.' And they did. He was still unconscious when I left the hospital. I don't know if he lived or died'*

So as we follow the Katy Trail on the route of Lewis and Clarke who navigated the Missouri river to find new lands and explore the Western territories I am mindful that in fact there is more depth to people in your own place. We may have different customs - the Americans find it weird when I say half past 8 not 830 but that is as different as many other cultural differences that develop over time. People are fascinating and the minute you think there is a simple way of understanding them - be it ethnicity, nationality, gender or age then you immediately limit your own understanding.

Like the tortoise, people take time to understand.

(The reference to the turtle by the way was because we have seen two on the road)

*http://www.simplypsychology.org/milgram.html

**http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/peoplescentury/episodes/skindeep/zwergtranscript.html

Trails of tears

A few days ago the day I expected would come. The day - probably the first of many -when I thought to myself. 'Why did I do this? Why have I left my job which I am good at and enjoy? Why did I think cycling 60 miles a day would be enjoyable?' This followed a long night camping at the back of a church disturbed by a noisy night wildlife, a phone call in the middle of the night and stressful thoughts that expand to epic proportions when in 2 square metres under canvas.

The spot was surreal. A big white church with a beautiful view. Amish horse and carts passed periodically on the road with their 19th century outfits. Yet here we were. Close by was the town of Lebanon where we stayed the night before. Lebanon was the centre of the Corn Bread Mafia and where 100 men we arrested in 1991 for their part in 'growing 182 tons of marijuana on 29 farms in 10 states, ....which federal prosecutors considered to be the largest domestic marijuana syndicate in American history.'* Thanks to Charles for a great night his bar with Ashley and Richard where we learnt about this notorious history.

The day after this sleepless night neither James and I were not well rested, though somehow I found my cycling legs and actually found the miles therapeutic. I wondered to myself if this is why people isolate themselves. To face the thoughts that work and day to day life make you put to one side? Too much introspection cannot be a good thing but maybe time on the road will be give me more calm. Just one night in a hippie town and I'm already sounding like I have flowers in my hair.

Just when it seemed like the day could not get any worse we reverted to McDonald's in Beaver Dam for their free wifi to find out where we might stay. Come on world. Why doesn't someone start a campaign to have no passwords on wifi? The US is better than the UK but surely that would democratise the Internet?

As we left a car pulled up and told us a storm was coming. We'd seen the weather report and the front looked big.

We decided procrastination would be the best strategy. It was time to find food. We were in a little place called Hartford. The town has the amusing slogan 'home of 2000 happy people and a few sore heads'. Sore heads is not a reference to having hangovers as it is another dry town as we discovered when we happened upon a great little restaurant - in fact the only non-chain-fast food place in town - Capers Cafe - run by David and his wife Kim. David had been a chef in restaurants in Alaska for 15 years before moving back home to Kentucky. He met Kim, originally from South Korea working in the local hospital. They had two staff waiting on tables - Madison and Chandler who were delighted that two Brits, and cycling Brits to boot had popped in to their place. The food was freshly cooked, healthy stuff. I had fish tacos and James had breaded chicken - though nothing like the fast food variety. Of course we got chatting and we were about to leave to find the local campground when the crazy wind started blowing the door of the restaurant open. Kim appeared from the kitchen. With the concern of a mother she insisted we could not go out in that and as the rain and the the lightening came it was clear she was right.

A swift plan was made and soon we were leaving our bikes in their restaurant and bundling in to the back of a truck to the home comforts of their countryside home. After a hot shower with a clean towel, our washing being whisked away by Kim, camomile tea and meeting the very cute Kiko - a Boston terrier I was having a wonderful night's sleep in contrast to the night before. How quickly your mood can change, fired by the kindness of more strangers.

Our luck then seen to have changed. I had hit the two week wall I was expecting and after we were on our way. Thank you so much to you both.

So we were off. Heading west again with food in our bellies (scrambled egg and fresh vegetable stir fry breakfast cooked for us by David at the restaurant) and we were back on track. After 23 miles at a stop in Walmart where we tried to get the American cell phone we bought 10 days ago to work

Walmart man 'Sorry you can't talk to a person on a weekend'
Me 'But it's Friday'
Walmart man 'I know. Friday, Saturday, Sunday I only ever get a waiting tone'
Oh well.

It was whilst waiting for this palaver to be taken care of James noticed he had 4 broken spokes on his back wheel. We cycled on but he didn't feel safe - especially with all that weight on the back. The wheel could just crumple at any time. A few miles further we found some wifi and located the nearby 'Bubba's bikes'. Google maps told us where to go. We couldn't find it and knocked on someone's door. 'Oh, you want the 181 north. This is the 181' south' Guaranteed the hills around Greenville were steep. Another 3 miles and we got there.

Unfortunately Bubba's bikes is a Harley Davidson motor bike shop. Despondent we sat outside and had our lunch. The next nearest bike shop was 40 miles in the wrong direction. Just where thought our luck had run out a truck pulled up and a friendly 19 year old Sexton Steele got out. Son of the owner we chatted to him and soon he was making a few calls. A friend who knew a guy who owns a bike shop 70 miles away. Next thing we knew Kirk was arriving in a jeep and taking us and our bikes to his home. Whilst I chatted to his wife Becky, Kirk fitted James' bike with a new wheel, chain and gears. Guardian angels - the lot of them.

We managed a few more miles on the brand new wheel and ended up at Paula and Bobby's - The Short Family restaurant. Paula's great grand father - Cowhard - had come to America via Ellis Island. The men went, leaving the women who never followed. Paula had been to Liverpool to try and find these lost family connections but got nowhere. She let us camp, use the shower and donated the cost of our dinner to our one fundraising efforts for schools in Africa. A girl Allie and a grandma called Cathy looked up our blog and gave money for the cause on behalf of the 'people of Kentucky'. Thank you Kentucky. For everything.

Today we covered 60 miles with improved cycling formation. Part of our route follows the Trail of Tears - a shameful period in US history. America has a relatively short white history and it constantly shocks me what a short time it was that this land was not 'our land'. The Trail of Tears has been also called ethnic cleansing and genocide. Following ominously titled 'Indian removal act' of 1830, President Andrew Jackson sanctioned people being rounded up into camps, then the forcible removal of thousands of native Americans from their lands in the south including around the 17,000 from the Cherokee tribe - 4000 or more of whom are estimated to have died in the camps and on the march. This policy changed by the 1860s and an attempt was made to 'assimilate' all native Americans. This meant banning their ceremonies and celebrations, converting them to Christianity and forcibly removing children under five to attend boarding schools.**

In 2010 Congress passed and Obama signed a bill that included the line “apologizes … to all Native Peoples for the many instances of violence, maltreatment, and neglect inflicted on Native Peoples by citizens of the United States.” It was part of a defence bill and Obama never said the words.

Tonight we are enjoying the hospitality from a baptist church that has welcomed cyclists since 1976. The pastor here talked to us and answered our question what would you teach the world with this. 'Never doubt that anyone's heart can be changed'.

Words of kindness and of apology mean a lot.


*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornbread_mafia **http://www.crystalinks.com/trailoftears.html
**http://www.amnestyusa.org/node/87342