Moving Forward and Giving Back (A More Convenient Truth)

By Ilana Panich-Linsman

I spent May to August adjusting and readjusting my bum on my bicycle seat. My friend Colin and I went on a grueling cross-country journey from the Atlantic to the Pacific, on bicycle, raising money for Hurricane Katrina victims.

My decision to make the trip evolved gradually. At first, I was part of a crew, not biking, but documenting through photography what was sure to be an adventure of a lifetime. Then I realized that I could probably do it.

In the months leading up to our departure, all of my energy, time, and money was spent preparing for the trip. There was the fundraising. There was the promotion. I had to find the right bike(s) at the right price. We had to get all the right camping equipment. My local REI
practically knew my name when I walked in the door. We made countless lists: things we had to do/buy/plan/map. And, after my daily hours were logged planning, I had to go to the gym and train. My daily life was consumed with preparation. I felt exhausted but excited.

The trip began and we hurt and we whined and we rubbed cream on our butts and took ibuprofen by the bottle. I kept thinking (because there's not much else to do when you're on a bike for 8-12 hours a day) about my reasons for biking all these miles. I wanted to make a
difference in the lives of people who lost homes, dignity, and families during Hurricane Katrina. I wanted to accomplish something for myself. I wanted to document just how wonderful/interesting/beautiful/unique/sad this country and this trip were.

In Missoula, Montana we took two days off to cool our heels, eat sushi and see a movie.

"I heard this was good," Colin, my partner in crime said, pointing to the movie theater marquee. I had never heard of “An Inconvenient Truth.” Actually, I was surprised Colin had heard of it — considering we had been limited to only each other's company for weeks.

We sat in the theater, enjoying our respite from the heat and our few moments without the responsibility of our bikes and our belongings. (bikes were locked outside the theater and our belongings awaiting us at our campsite) We watched intently as Al Gore clearly and plainly explained not only global warming, but also, inadvertently, the purpose of our trip.

You see, never before Missoula had I considered why the trip seemed the right thing to do. I knew about global warming (well, I knew it was happening — somewhere out there). I knew about Katrina and I knew that by making myself extremely uncomfortable for an entire
summer I was somehow doing something good for the world and myself. But I hadn’t put the pieces together.

Al Gore pulled all the aspects of our trip together into one neat package. Our trip was symbolic. It was a symbol of the solidarity we felt with our fellow Americans who were victims not just of a natural disaster, but also of our government. The trip was a symbol of our personal futures, and the future of our nation. After all, as Mr. Gore explains, if not for global warming caused by the world's pollution, Hurricane Katrina may not have been quite so devastating.

We traveled East to West, just as our forefathers and foremothers did hundreds of years ago. We literally saw what western expansion looked like. We saw the land of this truly beautiful country rich with history. We saw that this same land, once home to Native Americans, was now paved over and clogged with thousands of RVs. These were the RVs that nearly ran us off roads, and the very same RVs that contribute to global warming.

We were taking a stand against global warming and for the first time I knew why that was important. And when people asked Why Bikes, instead of saying Why Not? I could tell them how biking positively changes the world. Even if just a tiny bit.

It was a sad trip in many ways. We saw how the country's lack of protection for its land and its people have caused overdevelopment, the worst excesses of corporate America, poverty, and sadness. But we also saw a land rich with people who encouraged us on our journey and
literally picked us up if we were down.

We learned that each of us determines our future relationship with the earth. It is up to us to inform ourselves, and others, about the human footprint on this earth.

With our bikes beneath us, and our bums only slightly more comfortable, we pedaled to the future: a place where we might save our mother earth by joining the crew that will lead to sustainable energy. Moved by the generous humanity I saw on this trip, I am inspired to help others when they’re down.