‘Greatest personal achievement’: Palatine cyclist shares memories of 1976 Bikecentennial ride

In 1976, 18-year-old Jim Michie packed his front and rear saddlebags with tools, clothes and camping gear for a coast-to-coast biking adventure. The Park Ridge teen left for the Oregon coast two days after high school graduation and was among 2,000 U.S. and international riders who biked more than 4,200 miles in small groups from west to east, or vice versa.

This month he headed west again to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Bikecentennial, originally organized by a nonprofit group to honor America’s 200th year since its founding. The group adopted its current name, Adventure Cycling, in 1993, said Jessica Zephyrs, vice president of marketing and communications.

Flying this time versus cycling, Michie and his wife, now living in Palatine, gathered in Tucson Jan. 9-12 with 350 Adventure Cycling members, where he renewed friendships with fellow riders.

According to Zephyrs, this Jubilee in the Desert is the organization’s kickoff event, heralding 50 years of organized cross-country bike touring. The weekend was filled with camping, hiking and biking activities, well exemplifying a group whose mission is to inspire, empower and connect people to travel by bicycle.

In 1976, more than 4,100 riders participated in 300 Bikecentennial trips, either riding the entire Trans-America trail or various segments, according to a 30th anniversary event history. All 50 states were represented, with about 10% from overseas, including 200 from Holland.

Over coffee recently, Michie admitted it was “his greatest personal accomplishment. It was about the adventure and the experience, seeing the country from a biking point of view. Unlike driving a car, you know every hill up and every hill down, every road condition, too.”

Friend and fellow teen rider Chris Saulnier from Massachusetts echoed similar feelings of accomplishment and wonder. Describing the exhilarating, 26-mile descent from Colorado’s Hoosier Pass, the route’s highest point on the Continental Divide, he noted, “Growing up on the East Coast, we had nothing like that.”

Originally, the idea of one enormous mass of bikers snaking their way cross-country yielded to practicality with smaller, manageable cohorts. Michie, Saulnier and 13 others dipped tires in the Pacific near Reedsport, Oregon, before pointing their handlebars June 12, 1976, toward Yorktown, Virginia.

Inspired to ride

At 16, a Tribune Magazine story recounting two bikers’ cross-country journey inspired Michie and a buddy to attempt the same after graduation. A weeklong biking/camping trip to Minnesota changed his buddy’s mind. The next summer, Michie bike/camped solo to Door County, Wisconsin. When Bikecentennial’s registration form arrived, he mailed his $750 fee for the three-month trip.

Nicknamed the “Dutch Apples,” Michie’s cohort comprised six Dutch and nine Americans, including group leader Bob Norbie and assistant Joke van Zee, who fortunately spoke Dutch. Ages ranged from late teens to early 30s.

Norbie explained that managing dynamics in a small group was critical, balancing the spirited youngsters racing ahead, sometimes off-route, versus Dutch riders seeking a real morning coffee after breaking camp.

With no sag support, bikers carried all their gear, including clothes, tools, tents and sleeping bags. While everyone camped together, riders split up during the day. About once a week, the group enjoyed a sheltered overnight with facilities for showering and laundry.

According to Michie, key towns were designated as mail drops so families could send items and messages. At each of these trailheads, group leaders picked up any mail and route segment maps and packets — what Michie termed the 1970s equivalents of GPS and Wikipedia. No cellphones existed, just payphones, but even they weren’t too common along back roads and small towns.

Norbie explained that each morning leaders briefed riders on the day’s route and their end-town. Bikers then pedaled off singly or in small groups. Clear plastic sleeves on handlebar pouches allowed riders easy map access.

Michie’s red Schwinn Le Tour 10-speed still displays its Bikecentennial label affixed to the top tube. Having hauled his three toddler sons on the rear child seat, the Schwinn’s sentimental value has grown over the years. Michie walks with his wife more than he bikes now, but still pedals the Palatine Trail or Chicago’s lakefront trail with his boys.

Daunting challenge

Given the distance, had he any doubts, physical or mental, about finishing? “Not really, although leaving the Pacific coast, it was difficult to start climbing and fairly daunting the first several days. We had to walk bikes up some hills approaching the coastal range.

“At the beginning as a group, Bob and Joke discussed expectations,” he continued. They counseled about homesickness and getting down. “That happened to everybody. There was a stretch where I wanted to just ride by myself. But I never thought ‘I can’t do this.’”

As for weather, “It was pretty remarkable, just a couple stretches where we got caught in rain. Of course, being hot in July and August, we woke early and put miles under us before the day became too hot.”

Helmets, uncommon back then, weren’t required. According to Norbie, Bell, one of the first helmet companies, had donated several to the venture. He luckily received one, wearing it most of the time, though a wide-brimmed cowboy hat did a better job on sunny days.

While the trip’s allure was celebrating the nation’s bicentennial, what dominated the ride was the daily pattern of riding and camping, making it more personal than patriotic. One exception: spontaneously sporting American flags while riding in an Independence Day parade in tiny Ennis, Montana, before its rodeo.

• Join the ride. Contact Ralph Banasiak at alongfortheridemail@gmail.com.