Wait, What?

I pedal a bicycle.

Far.

She’s an overlong cargo bike, and I know her as the “Big.”

Some miles, her payload is little more than the 20 or so pounds of the groceries I’ll consume in the next week. I do the eating, pedaling, and steering. She does everything else, including introductions.

More miles, her payload expands to 90 pounds of everything we need for multi-month journeys. Then she outweighs me by 20 or so pounds. Which is why we fall over, now and then. Always to the right, for some reason.

That heavier payload includes a telescope. It, plus the other astronomy kit she carries, defines our ongoing astronomy-outreach mission.

And that’s the Pedaling Astronomer Project.

The August 21, 2017, solar eclipse — the first coast-to-coast total eclipse in 99 years — was shaping up to be the astronomical event of our lifetimes. I worked as editor of an astro-tech publication, and we worried that most media outlets were focusing only on the narrow 71-mile-wide path of spectacular totality.

Theirs was an understandable omission. I’d have done the same, were our roles reversed. But that approach ignored the rest of us in the U.S. mainland, where everyone else could enjoy the rare coast-to-coast celestial phenomenon as a partial eclipse.

The Big and I set out with the goal of sharing telescope views of the Sun with folks in each of the 48 mainland states. While at it, I was to explain how the eclipse would appear from their locations.

But by August 2017, we’d managed just 37 states. From the perspective of a bike, the U.S. was much bigger than I remembered from crisscrossing it repeatedly by automobile.

In truth, there was no eclipse-related reason to continue through the remaining 11 states. But I doubted I’d have another chance to experience them by bicycle, if I didn’t.

So I did.

There have been other eclipses since, and there are other astronomical highlights ahead. But eclipses or no, the Big and I carry on.

When loaded for travel, she doesn’t look like most bikes. Her odd lines encourage people to ask about her, so meeting new folks is easy, even for this introvert.

And we encounter lots of people! So far, more than 50,000 have enjoyed their first telescope views of the Sun, Moon, and planets thanks to the Big.

Their breathless gasps of wonder make every mile worthwhile.

Plus, there’s something more human — open, engaging, life affirming — about bike travel. It instills a sense of connection with every community we visit. Without the Big, I would have missed all those inspiring folks. Bypassing towns via interstate highways secluded within the steel-and-glass cocoon of an automobile? Turns out, that was a poor way to encounter new friends.

But I’m 70 now, and 40 to 60 miles per day have become 30 to 40. Hills and mountains feel a bit steeper, too. Regardless, the Big and I still manage to travel far, if not as far.

I hope your path crosses ours someday. And on that happy occasion, if you haven’t seen the Sun through an exquisite telescope, would you like too?

Until then, clear skies, friend.

Gary

PS: For more on what inspired this project, see Small Reunions.

PPS: If you suggested 20 years ago I’d someday anthropomorphize a bicycle… Well, I would have worried a bit about you. In hindsight, should I worry about myself?