About

Loretta Henderson was born on a lake in a small town in Eastern Canada, moved to the US and graduated from Ridgefield High School in 1990. She graduated from the University of Western Ontario 1995 and began teaching outdoor leadership programs seasonally in Rochester, NY and Lake George, WI for the Outdoor Wisconsin Leadership School. After graduate coursework in Outdoor Recreation and Leadership at Aurora University, on a quest for wilderness exploration, Loretta Henderson traveled to Alaska and began skijoring in the Arctic and working for the Galena School District doing Grant Management and Program Development. Tenyears of educational contract based employment led Loretta to develop programs for school districts statewide including matching Yurt Construction to 9 th grade algebra and geometry standards for the Kenai School District. Other contracts and programs include Recycling and Youth Development Manager for 52 schools statewide (YITWC). Loretta also served the role of Boys and Girls Club Youth Center Manager which included physical building construction, operation manager and program development. She was also an Outdoor Wilderness Survival Skills Instructor, Suicide Prevention Committee Member, Radio Show Host, Lifeguard, Ski Coach, Cross-Country Running Coach, Science Club Coach, Earth Day Manager, CPR-First Aid Instructor, and Vocational Programs Coordinator.

Loretta, having never cycled before, set off to cycle around the world alone on a route she believed had only been traversed by men. This journey was completed earlier this year after a 5 continent, 41 country effort covering Africa, Asia, Middle East, South America, Oceania and Europe. Loretta is the founder of the WOW (Women On Wheels) Wall on her website, www.skalatitude.com, which profiles 150 colorful pioneering women. The WOW Wall Book ranks first on google for numerous search terms including women bicycle touring, tents for bicycle touring, and solo female cycling, with 62,000 unique visitors (website readers) last year alone.

From Canada to Alaska and across five continents, Loretta Henderson has built a life of adventure, education, and fearless exploration. After a decade developing outdoor leadership programs, she set off on a solo cycling journey—despite never having cycled before. Over 41 countries, she faced the unknown, proving that women can conquer the world one ride at a time.

Her experiences led her to create the WOW (Women on Wheels) Wall on skalatitude.com, a thriving community of 245+ female cyclists, offering support, inspiration, and practical tips for women traveling solo. With 62,000 yearly visitors, the WOW Wall has become the go-to resource for solo female bicycle touring.

Loretta Henderson’s story has been featured in the LA Times, Chicago Tribune, CBS News, and international TV broadcasts, inspiring countless women to take on their own cycling adventures. Now an author and speaker, she continues to share her knowledge, encouraging women to embrace adventure, push boundaries, and explore the world—one pedal at a time. 🚴‍♀️

MORE MEDIA –

Her story has appeared in the LA Times, Chicago Tribune, Calgary Herald, CBS News archives library (Travel Tips), the Orlando Sentinel (articles written by MyschaTheriault), and Pedal Magazine. She has been featured on CJSR radio broadcasts, I-tunes and Touring Talk and on South African Broadcast Company and Geo News of Pakistan TV broadcasts. She was also the subject of a documentary about Tourism in Kashmir produced by India National Television. Her online articles have been picked up by over 100 bicycle touring blogs in 14 countries and 5 languages. Loretta Henderson (lorettahenderson.com) is an adventurer, speaker and author. Her book can be found here at skalatitude.com

Looking for More ABOUT Loretta Henderson?

BEST AND WORST TRAVEL EXPERIENCE…FOR IT’S OFTEN THE SAME THING

Being a solo female cycling around the world I do receive quite a bit of attention from men. It’s not every day that you get the opportunity to be mistaken for a Porn Star as I was in Egypt while cycling the length Africa. As much as I am flattered and utterly humbled by the mistake, it’s been important this year to laugh and pedal on. At times, the worst travel experience is also the best because anything that makes you laugh the most at exactly the right moment is always the best experience.

MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT

Google search the key words world-pissing-girl and the article I wrote while in Thailand called “Is Peeing In the Snow Really Considered Artwork?” will probably show up. After I was asked by the media and politely refused to talk about stupid plastic peeing devices for women, I wrote an article about how proud I am to pee like a girl. An expert, I have apparently become on road side peeing. Funny, because what woman or man that hangs out in the outdoors isn’t.

BEST LOCATION DESTINATIONS

In Party Like A Rock Star I pedaled into the party scene of SE Asia. SE Asia is a great destination for a 2 pannier bicycle tour or swinging trapeze intoxication. Cheap, fun and accessible, you can’t beat Vang Vieng, Laos in SE Asia for a hangover or a first, second or third adventure.

BEST TRAVEL LESSON

I became convinced that despite having only met three in person that women on wheels are growing in numbers. So, I started the WOW (women on wheels) Wall, where women can share their solo female cycling experiences. Best travel lesson? There are a whole lot of amazing women out there, all of whom I could nominate as my picks for best of the best.

I’ve Got Boobs, I’ve Got A Bike

Happy International Women’s Day (IWD)! Check out the many updates on the

WOW (Women On Wheels) Wall!

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I’ve Got Boobs, I’ve Got A Bike

(an article written for the IWD 2014 website)

“Solita? A woman alone?” The middle aged Chilean man asks. His faded denim shirt buttons barely hold back his protruding belly. The ‘mute button’ on my natural wit switches on, smothering a half dozen wise ass remarks in response to a question that has become as repetitive as a chronic case of travelers’ diarrhea.

“WHY, are you alone?” He raises his left hand to rub his shiny wrinkly forehead. His scratched wedding ring clashes with the gold plate of his bucked front tooth. I have decided to call him Bucky.

“I am cycling around the world alone, at night I sleep in my tent, estoy viaje para bicyclete a totos mondo, a la noches me dormir en me carpa” I say to Bucky.

The early morning breeze ricochets through the bakery’s wooden shutters, cooling the smoke from the red brick oven. His wife stands silently by his side. Her modern designer black leather purse is strung over her delicate shoulder.

I really do prefer my ‘lone women are unsafe especially if travelling by bike’ lectures after my coffee. I only stopped my bicycle at this bakery because I wanted some delicious Chilean flat bread. It reminds me of the bread in Sudan and I don’t even have to wear a headscarf to eat it. While pedaling across Africa, The Middle East, Asia, Oceania and The Americas, I’ ve often wondered if I have been cycling forward or backward in time.

“WHY are you alone?” Bucky the Belligerent man persists with his interrogation. The sarcasm starts shaking my torso, erupting through my muted laughter. I can no longer stop myself. It escapes.

“Herpes” I say and then chuckle.

“I have big problems down there, mucha grande problema” I grin as I point my cycling gloved hand to the rusty safety pin on the zipper of my well warn ‘nomad’ ex-officio grey cargo shorts.

“It’s not safe to travel solo! You sleep alone IN A TENT?” Bucky’s face appears to twist into a sexist spasm. The smell of fresh bread permeates the bakery’s newly painted Kermit green walls.

“Well, other than my ovaries keep getting caught in the zipper of my tent door, things work out ok. My only complaint is these damn tits keep knocking me off balance when I cycle. You would think at age 41 after cycling solo across 5 continents I would have the hang of it by now.”

I utter almost laughing at how ballsy my estrogen is this morning before coffee. His wife laughs, Bucky The Belligerent does not. The energy behind his wife’s smile, an international sisterhood, speaks my language. Her modern black designer purse brushes her husband’s over-sized shadow as she steps forward and says,

“Felicitaciones, Congratulations!”
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Women From Around The World
(International Women´s Day Tribute in Photos)

Why I Love Bicycle Touring

On the muddy road to Uyuni, Bolivia (4100m/13400ft) on the third day of 24hr/day of non-stop freezing rain/hail I decide while significantly stuck in the mud that about all I can do is practice positivity. I start laughing when my altitude frazzled brain decides that all the frozen snut running down my face really isn´t all that bad. I feel so pretty, I think to myself and begin convincing myself that the dripping snut quite nicely complements my high tech plastic garbage bags. My cold hands and feet are tucked tightly underneath my ´oh so sexy´ plastic bag fashion statement. My weeks theme song for cycling into Uyuni during the rain season of Bolivia, the song lyrics “If you´ve got to be dumb, you got to be tuff”, spirt from my frozen sticky lips.

A few hours later while super extra significantly stuck in the mud…

I sure am grateful that the buses honk with the vengeance of a projectile missile before barreling towards me while I wade across rivers up to my knees. It is important to practice gratitude I think to myself as I heave Pandemic´s back end sideways in the river´s mud with about as much force as I can muster. I surprisingly succeed in sending the loaded back wheel out of the way, just in time to duck before getting splashed with the gritty dirty river. The words to the song ´´I am so sexy and I know it´´ bounce through my head like a spastic eighties rocker. The frozen snut continues to uncontrollably roll down my face. My attempts at actually using a tissue prove futile. 3 days of continuous frozen rain has drenched the inside of my pockets and their pockets. However, my rain jacket needed a good cleaning anyway. All this mud is moisturizing, great for my complexion, it IS all the rage at the local spa, I think to myself as the bus barrels by, the dry driver happily waves through his dirt stained window. The mud chuncks stick to my face, the chuncks are not as coarse or sharp as the last ones, things are looking up, I chuckle to myself.

The following morning somewhere near Uyuni, Bolivia, it is still raining.

Wow, que bonita (how beautiful) this morning´s foggy rain sure is sparkly…how puuurdy, I think to myself as I crouch down over my bicycle, my cold wet gloved hand secure my tent inside my pannier. Pandemic The Magic Bicycle is covered with mud but my rohloff gears are hanging tuff and ready for the final kilometers into Uyuni. Ahh, Uyuni, land of popcorn, lentils, apple juice, I laugh at my hungry self. The last few weeks at altitude has considerably shrunk my 103 pound(47kilo) frame. I am still HUGE compared to an Asian, I chuckle as I tilt my hooded head to the right, then peer to the left, my tracks that led me to last evenings camping spot in a gorgeous patch of mud have disappeared in the nights rain.

Ah fuckity, this can not be true, am I lost? In the distance I can see what looks like a road drainage pipe and/or rail road tracks. They must lead to Uyuni I think to myself as I begin dragging my bicycle in a large circle through the mud for ½ kilometer looking for the road. The landscape appears endless, a beautiful endless sea of adventurous mud sure to entertain as I carry on north through Bolivia. A country full of ´´mui adventura (lots of adventure)´´and a beautiful kind hearty people who are quickly warming my heart and reaffirm everything that I love about bicycle touring in Bolivia.

What Motivates The Long Distance Cyclist?

A guest post by WOW(WomenOnWheels) Cyclist of the Month- Antoinette Morgan

Since my childhood days I always liked cycling. We only had one bicycle that we shared between 4 kids, but I always won the fight for the bicycle. Additionally, I learnt that the best way to provide my sister privacy, when her boyfriends came to visit, was to ‘bum’ their bicycles for a ride. In those days youngsters did not have fancy cars when courting. Yes, I hail from way back in the previous century.

One of the first things I bought myself when I started working was a bicycle. At college most of my friends wanted to buy their first cars, I reckoned that if I owned an apartment and had a bicycle, I have everything that I needed. In fact, I only bought my first car at 28, although I had my drivers’ license since I was 18. Everywhere I went I cycled, I even took my cat to the vet in a back pack on my bicycle.

It had always been a dream of mine to cycle from Cape Town, South Africa to Port Elizabeth (800km), which I did in 1986 with friends. This was a supported trip and I always harbored a wish to do a solo, self-supported trip….owning panniers just seemed so cool.

Then just before my 30 th I decided to move to Johannesburg. Not a cycle friendly city, geographically as well as attitude wise. Although, I still wanted to do cycle touring. I traded my racer for an all terrain bicycle, I studied maps and then shelved the idea because of work expectations. In fact, I shelved it so well that my bicycle did not see the light of day for years. The only thing I kept doing was to read about cycle touring.

Then in 2005 I landed in hospital with an emergency hysterectomy, 3 days in the hospital (I was let out a day early because of good behavior) and 8 weeks of bed rest. ‘Rest’ did not seem like a good idea. I was ‘forced’ to read to keep busy. After reading Anne Mustoe’s Cleopatra’s Needle, I was so impressed by this 69 year old that had done 9600km by bicycle, I thought to myself if she can do it at that age, I can cycle to Cape Town. Then I promptly thought what a great idea, I think I’ll do just that. At that stage I have not cycled for years and it was still going to be 2 months before I would be allowed to even look at my bicycle, but my mind was made up. I was going to cycle to Cape Town. I used the rest of my recovery time planning my trip and figuring out exactly what I needed to do. I pestered my doctor to tell me when I could start physical activity. Off course, he was most curious as to why I so dearly wanted to start training, when I told him, he just about fell off his chair.

My first training was not cycling, but walking. I was seriously unfit. Everyday I walked 5 KM’s. I did this for a month before I could start cycling. My first cycle outings were not very far. At first, I was so impressed with myself that I could manage 15km’s. I was adamant that I was going to cycle to Cape Town, a 1600km bicycle tour from Johanesburg. I would have celebrations every time I managed to add another 5 or 10 kilometers to my distance (not even on a daily basis). The day I managed to cycle 60km’s I thought I was the bee’s knees. I stuck to my plan and in June 2006, I set off to cycle to Cape Town, solo and self supported.

While on my way to Cape Town, I decided that cycling through Europe could be fun. I had never been overseas and what better way to see Europe, like a real European. Before I reached Cape Town, I was already well into the ‘planning stages’ of my European trip. So in 2007, I cycled 2500km solo and self-supported through North Western Europe (main land only).

Other Adventures?

2008 – I did a 4000km Scooter trip on my 150cc scooter (yes all on my own).
2010 – After a 400km kayak trip down the Orange River, with a friend, I picked up my good old trusted steed and cycled 1300km solo along the back roads of the Northern Cape and the Kalahari desert all the way to the Sendelings Drift.
2012 – I tackled the Northern Border of Namibia on a 1600km solo and self supported bicycle your from Ondangwa to Livingstone via Ruacana, doing the wild camping thing and having a blast.

What’s next?
I sill want to cycle through Siberia. I had hoped to do it as a treat to myself for celebrating my 50 th this year, but I believe that the great universe has its own plans. -Antoinette Morgan

Looking for motivation to get off your duff and do something in 2013?

Check out the WOW (WomenOnWheels) Wall

Just a Traveler on a Bicycle

While pedaling the serpentine hills of Ethiopia, I find myself pedaling with a man from Germany who I have affectionately nicknamed Stat. Stat comes equipped with maps of every country he has cycled. The entire map series from Germany to Ethiopia fills his 6 panniers, outweighing my kit by at least two fold.

Stat has a GPS spot tracker strapped to the front pannier, announcing his position hourly to the satellite company. A Garmin mounted on the handle bars provides the exact elevation, and a well glanced at bicycle computer provides climbing speed and mileage. Stats tech gear is topped off with a smart phone full of downloaded Google maps of the Europe and Africa continents.

In contrasts, I have a hand drawn map of Ethiopia, a not missed, no longer working distracting bicycle computer and 3 little panniers. Ethiopia and many countries are one road countries, a commercial map, I find unnecessary. My homemade map written on a scrap of paper has village names and I have enough information stored in my brain from looking at a map on the internet to know there is amble water and food on route. Freedom camping is possible, although a little tricky due to overpopulation. Inexpensive guest houses are also a possibility in most villages on route from Sudan to the Kenya border.

As we crest the hill near Bahra Dir, I admire my first glimpse of the lake. “Stat did you see that beautiful lake”, I shout over my shoulder, Stat looks down at the handle bars and says, “it is 4 kms away”. I smile and say, “right on”, and keep pedaling.

As we approach a village fresh out of water, Stat says “the next village is 12km away, let’s get some water.” With the village welcome to sign in my line of vision, moments later we stand amongst the hustle of daily life in the village, I smile and say “let’s eat something and get water”.

The darken cloud hangs over head as the dry hilly terrain darkens the afternoon sky. “ I think it is going to rain”, I say to Stat. Stat responds with full confidence, “the weather report says it won’t rain for 4 days. It won’t rain until we get just north of Addis Ababa”. As we sit and drink a cola on a scheduled break, the sky opens and drenches our bicycles. I smile and say, “this rain will be good for the people living in these dried brown hills, have you seen the attire and colors of the different tribes in the villages and the amazing women carrying huge jugs of fresh water on their heads”.

Stat loves to talk about all the hills up ahead, altitude tackled, meters climbed and most importantly the KM’s cycled and distances up ahead. I will be cycling all of it anyway, so I can’t really imagine why it matters. Pedaling prepared, open for anything into the unknown, with some food, water and a tent is what I enjoy most about travelling by bicycle.

Perhaps, it is Stat’s spandex squeezing things too tight, rendering statistical overload onto his brain, I am not really sure but spending time with this all too familiar bicycle touring character will certainly keep me smiling in good company for a while. I understand Stat quest for clicking kilometers as a daily focus, I too was ridiculous about these things for some time. The first 6 months of my tour, you could not of dragged me off the magic bicycle and I used to keep pedaling just to watch the numbers roll over 100km a day on the bicycle computer. Funny enough, most days even now almost 3 years later, I usually pedal 100-150km a day, I just don’t let it distract me from travelling so much anymore.

As I pedal with Stat, up and down Ethiopia’s hills, he has many questions I cannot answer. Such as, how many brake pads I have had, how many kilos I am carrying, how fast I climb hills and how many KM’s I have pedaled, etc. I tire of answering, I don’t really know and just smile and say “I am just a traveler on a bicycle, I am not a statistic.”

5 Reasons To Celebrate Valentine’s Day

Pitter patter my heart, oh la la, it’s Valentine’s Day. My e-mail box was loaded this week with links galore in the celebration of Valentine’s Day throughout the cycling world. After all my recent talk about my reunion with my hubby Mr Rohloff Wheel, I am not surprised.

A survey by Bike Magazine confirms this week that 50% of men and 58% or women prefer their bicycles to sex. One funny commentator states the obvious when he mentions they must have bad sex lives. Into the google search box I went, and googled everything from bike love to bicycle pornography to uncover the connection between bicycles, love and the coining of the term bike porn.

Bike porn defined by the bicycle tourist glossary of terms as…spending hours drooling over photos of bicycles and/or touring equipment found either on the internet, in print or on the street…harnessing a deep seated desire to fondle and/or ride while groaning oh la la at the possibilities. Other symptom of this seductive affliction include, salivating over maps and telling everyone who will listen that you want to go on a bicycle tour.

The google search was fruitful and came up with a spectrum of information ranging from the history of Valentine’s Day to tandem bicycle riding dates. However, I do not suggest goggling bicycle porn for my eyes blushed wide with an entourage of truly explicit photos of bicycles in all sorts of ludicrous scenarios of oh la la on a cross bar. A quick click of the mouse and I remained on track in my quest for some bicycle porn photos to share. Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone, here are 5 reasons to celebrate!

It’s the first date that matters

Flowers never hurt, although no relationship is without hard times

Nothing better than spicy up the relationship (photocredit)

Those who ride together might just stay together forever

Somewhere On Earth

Adventures Of A Solo Cyclist, An Article By Vaugh Himmelsbach

I was interviewed for an article about women’s adventure travel by Chick Savvy Travels, a CA based travel website. I thought I would share the article written by Vawn Himmelsbach here as well.

Loretta Henderson was not a cyclist, nor was she a traveler, but she had been obsessing over a dog-eared book about adventure bicycle travel for years — and coming up with every excuse why she couldn’t do something like that. But at the moment, the Cobourg, Ont., native is pedaling her way through Cyprus. In fact, she’s been pedaling since 2009, putting 33,000 kilometres on her bike through 18 countries to date. And she’s doing it solo, on a shoestring budget.

“If you had asked me as a kid if my major relationship at this point in my life would be with a bicycle I would have laughed,” she said in an email interview. “But here I am, happy as can be, deeply committed and grateful to be attached to a bicycle wondering how I got so lucky.”

After years of coming up with excuses, she flew to England, bought a bicycle, which she called “The Pandemic” (after the bird flu that was prevalent at the time) and decided to give it a whirl.

She admits, however, she skipped over the “getting in shape” step, with exactly zero kilometres of cycling experience and zero amount of time invested in getting fit. The bicycle mechanic who sold her the bike even made a sarcastic comment as to whether she was a “real” cyclist. Not that that stopped her.

“I am a big fan of going with what you’ve got. There are thousands of top-end gear choices on the market and most people could work for a lot of hours to be able to afford them,” said Henderson.

Her advice? Put your money into the best tires you can afford and pedal out the door. “People from around the world have been pedaling one-speed bicycles up mountains wearing flip flops since the beginning of time. Just go!”

At the age of 37, she started cycling along the coast of Wales and on to Ireland. She has since been traveling across the world by bike and boat through the South Pacific, Asia and the Middle East on her way to Africa, and is currently in Iran. “I would love to wake up from my tent door and see a zebra or a giraffe somewhere near Capetown, South Africa, in the next year or so,” she said.

Her adventures — and her thoughts about whether women really do this sort of thing on their own — became the motivation behind her bicycle touring website skalatitude.com, which chronicles her travels. She also created the WOW (Women On Wheels) Wall, where solo female cyclists can share their experiences.

“I am convinced, despite having only met three so far, that solo women venturing off alone by bicycle are growing in numbers,” she said, pointing to the fact that some of the best bicycle touring books have been written by women, such as Dervla Murphy, Josie Dew and Anne Mustoe.

Henderson wanted to do something worthwhile while she was cycling her way around the world. While she funds her travels through donations from individuals and small businesses (she has a “donate” button on her website), she’s also raising money for BEN Namibia through the sale of her Be The Adventure t-shirts.

BEN (Bicycling Empowerment Network) Namibia partners with community-based organizations to construct bicycle ambulances (at a cost of around $500 each), which are used to transport people to clinics and hospitals.

A bicycle ambulance includes a removable stretcher with adjustable backrest and sun shade, as well as a carry bag for medical supplies.

Traveling this way has allowed her to see a different side of countries that are portrayed a certain way in the media. When one thinks about Pakistan, for example, one often conjures up images of the Taliban and roadside bombs. Henderson views Pakistan as a must-see bicycle touring location.

“As a traveler, I was shielded by my adventurous spirit and rewarded with a hospitality that quickly detonates any misconceptions the media has fired up about the place,” said Henderson. “Mongolia had always been my favourite destination, but I must admit Pakistan now holds that spot for my favourite country. The people are great fun!”

So is it safe to travel solo? Henderson does garner a lot of male attention, but she shrugs it off. “Not often does it happen in life that you are mistaken for a porn star. And, as much as I am flattered by the mistake, it is usually best to laugh and pedal on,” she said.

Henderson camps for free, whether in family gardens, farmer’s fields or dried-up river beds — generally where she can find a hiding spot for her tent. She keeps her bike as close to the tent as possible and occasionally ties a string from her bike to her arm if she’s unsure of her surroundings.

Her most courageous moment, however, had nothing to do with anything dangerous or life-threatening. “I dropped my camera in a pit toilet near Tibet in Western China. I actually went after it and saved my photos and YouTube video blogs,” said Henderson. “Retrieving that camera from the pit toilet and saving thousands of photos and video is by far the most courageous thing I have ever done.”

The original article was written by Vawn Himmelsbach and posted at Chick Savvy Travels.

Possible

With my head light flickering with the last of its battery, I continue to pedal into the night in the mountains. The glistening snow and clear cold starry night illuminate my way as I head up through the mountains just east of Tibet.

As my light freezes over and losses its battery, I spot an abandoned cabin. Warm, dry and comfortable, I close my eyes and rest. As the morning sun lifts its head over the mountains, I awake and head out to continue up through the hills, three 4000plus meters passes lay ahead.

As I wind my way up over the second of the third 4000plus meter pass, I begin to cry. These are not the first tears to fall onto Pandemic The Magic Bicycle, however these tears are different. At each turn, the glaciated view and snow peaked mountain blurs my vision with tears, sweat and wonder. I am just east of Tibet and the Himalayan Mountains and I am crying.

Two years ago when I traded my well read adventure touring book for a new bicycle and my first bicycle tour, I truly didn’t believe that any of this was possible. But I did know I was going to try to pedal from the bike shop in England through Wales to Ireland. Almost 2 years later, I am pedaling through the mountains on a 60 kilometer climb at altitude just east of Tibet.

The few tears I am shedding are from a place of surprise and amazement as to what apparently is possible. I stop at the crest of the second mountain pass of 4200metres to take some photos. A group of Tibetan Buddhist monks are eating lunch and wave me over to join them. My water bottle sprung a hole a few hours ago and most of my water was lost, my breakfast, the last of my dried noodles a distant memory. The mountains are far too alluring for me to be all that concerned about being thirsty and hungry for after all, the road will take care of you.

I sit among my Tibetan Buddhist monk friend in amazement and gratitude of what is possible and enjoy a hearty lunch of yak cheese, boiled eggs, red bull, orange drink, flat Tibetan bread, pepper and herb hot paste, pieces of raw pork and salty milk tea. My new monk friends insist that yak cheese will help me throughout my journey, perhaps they are right. While full of gratitude and lacking sufficient room for my lungs due to how full my happy tummy is I say the biggest thank-you ever and part ways and continue through the pass.

The magic continues as I crest the third 4300 meter pass and come across a place of prayer. The beautiful chilly tranquil breeze is replaced by the flapping of thousands of prayer flags. I sit quietly on the top of the mountain, smile, and while peering down at a 30 kilometer decent down into a valley and the predominantly Tibetan town of Deqen, I finally realize that this is all indeed possible.

Who’s On First, What’s On Second, I Don’t Know’s On Third

Wide eyed, full of excitement, like a kid in the candy store, I admire my new passport. 48 fresh pages to fill, a candy crazed child’s delight, my sweet tooth for travel only satiated by future travel plans. If only the logistics of acquiring visas were as simple as choosing your favorite colored gumball.

Chew I did all day, not on gumballs but on phone calls, internet searches, scanners, e-mails, letters of invitations and thank you responses. Getting visas arranged for 3 countries while visa time is ticking away in the fourth is time consuming enough to watch blue gumball chewing children mature into white peppermint eating adults.

Who’s On First. Russian Visa, new passport scanned and e-mailed to a Russian friend and her mom. In two months processing time, I will be pedaling to the Almighty, Kazakhstan located Russian Embassy to apply. What’s On Second. Pakistani Visa, The Karakorum highway, Northern Pakistan. With a letter of invitation from my girlfriend’s father from Pakistan, I pedal off to the Pakistani Embassy in Laos. I stop to buy a pen on the way, make 3 tuk-tuk taxi drivers and 2 travel agents laugh as together we discover, I am 2100km (about 1278miles) lost. The Pakistani Embassy is in China with only a web address in Laos. Stop at a internet café, receive an e-mail that Russian friend’s mom will need a 70 day itinerary. I don’t know is on Third.

Double Entry Chinese Visa, What’s on second. Pedal from Kasgar, China over the Karakorum Highway, Pakistan and then back to China, continue through Kazakhstan and Russia. I break the pen as I hand write an enormous fictitious list of villages and cities throughout central China because if I mention Kasgar or Tibet, the visa will get denied. Who’s on first. No, what’s on second, I don’t know is on third. Go buy another pen, pass lie detector test and arrive at 3:30pm to the Chinese Embassy. I am 4 hours late, they close at 11:30am M to F, baffling convenient business hours that I missed, as I sorted out who’s on first, what’s on second and pedaled around looking for I don’t know.

Abbott and Costello, are you busy tomorrow? For I hope to be chewing on bubble gum and less comical confusion as I sort this one out.

Super Seniors, Taking Adventure Travel To A Whole New Level

With Pandemic The Magic Bicycle securely loaded onto a wooden boat to cross the Mekong river to the western banks, I follow in the steps of the thousands of monks who have ventured here on pilgrimage to the sacred historic site of Wat Phu. A national heritage site of tremendous anthropological and spiritual importance that is located on top of a hill overlooking the Mekong River. I begin the trek down a dusty stone foot path then begin to climb up, up and up a huge stone “staircase”.

The site is a three level 2km by 1.8km ancient city build as a tribute to the Hindi god of Shiva dating back to the 6^th century. I pass many tourists resting at the first level and others who have turned back from the second level. As I reach the summit, out of breath from the hot arid climb, I find some stones, sit, and have a rest. As I peer down below at the majestic view beneath, I begin to wonder how old the rocks are and how long these rocks have lasted.

After a rest, I meander east through the hill top rocky region to see the sacred stone elephant pictograph and come across Nancy and Ray Feldman. They are climbing on the rocks and laughing about the Hindi god Shiva and the design of Wat Phu. The three level historic site protrudes north from the top of a hill into the sky, Shiva’s lingam shape celebrates the magical energy of life and fertility within us all. I begin to chat with the Feldmans who are from Oklahoma, USA. I make a comment that I can’t believe how old the rocks are and how long they have lasted. Nancy laughs and says that’s what we wonder about us sometimes too.

As it turns out, Nancy is 89 and Ray is 88, Nancy and Ray got into adventure travel when they were 50. As well as their 2 ½ month independent overland trip of South East Asia, Nancy and Ray also enjoy white water rafting, travelling through remote regions of Turkestan and trekking through the Himalayas’ of Nepal. I tell the Feldmans that they just took “Be The Adventure” to a whole new level as we climb down the stone embankment past folks half, some maybe a quarter their age, who are out of breath and taking a rest before venturing any further up the rocky climb.

As we make our way further down the rocks, Nancy shares some travel tips she learned from her mother. Nancy’s pro-tip on how to dress for adventure travel? Never go anywhere without clean underwear, Nancy’s black cashmere sweater is known as her “underwear”. Therefore, the next time you step out of the house off on your next adventure; don’t forget your black cashmere sweater or your clean underwear.