Unbeknownst to one another, Lynn Atkins and I both intended to write a column last week about bicycles. She said I would probably take a totally different angle on it than she did, and she’s right. And that is what interested me.
My angle is frustration.
She has fond memories of her bike-riding beginnings, as do I. As a child growing up in Colorado, my father would take my older sister and me on bike trips. We frequented places like Moab, Utah, and Grand Canyon National Park in his company issued Chevy Caprice with his hand-crafted bike trailer in tow.
There is nothing like pedaling through Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah while the sun is setting and the already orange hoodoos are even more fiery than usual.
I gave up biking as I got older and never really returned to it, even after I moved back to Colorado from Arkansas after graduating college.
Now, I am a distance runner at heart. I love the pavement, the sun, the long hours on my feet. I love the camaraderie of running, the feeling of accomplishment from crossing the finish line of a marathon, the healthy lifestyle it carries with it. But after an injury a little over a year ago, I had to quit. Ihad to give up running altogether for a period of time.
I thought I would not live to see another day.
Enter my old friend, the bike. My friends were into triathlons and road rides, the kind they would start in the morning and head to a town 25-plus miles away and stop for breakfast before turning around to ride home. I was desperate for some activity that would put me outside for hours on end, get my heart pumping and sweat pouring.
Today, as the temperature is getting warmer and the days are getting longer, I daydream equally about running and riding. Months of rehab have found me running again, though recovery is a very slow process.
My former 10-milers have become only three-or-four-milers. But I have the bike for the distance.
A favorite road ride is Arkansas Highway 72 from Bentonville out toward Gravette. It’s relatively flat, the wide shoulder provides safety along the dangerous highway while getting you out toward the country, the inside roads provide for nice scenery and rolling hills when you get out there. But with the great and powerful Bella Vista Bypass in the making, there is no shoulder. Once you hit the nice, newly paved surface, there is no more safety. I’m all about taking risks: I’ve jumped off mountain tops on my skis without thinking twice, not knowing where I would end up. But I know better than to take on traffic as a cyclist.
So as a backup, my other favorite place to ride (and run!) is the Pea Ridge National Military Park.
The paved loop is almost seven miles around and offers a challenging hill on the back side. Trees provide shade and protection from the wind, and there are plenty of places to take a break and enjoy the scenery. I love a Sunday afternoon ride out there with friends, and have spent many hours rounding the loop again and again on foot.
But wait! The park is no longer open on Sundays!
Due to the federal sequestration, national parks are suffering. The park is closed on Sundays, and the trails are no longer going to be maintained. No guided tours, no re-enactments, no Sunday bike rides.
It makes no sense to me why something that provides education and recreation would close on a day the public might frequent it most often. This world - this country - could stand to have more education and recreation of all things!
Have you ever looked into the history there? It’s very interesting. If you haven’t been to the Visitor Center since it was remodeled a few years ago, you’re missing out on a brilliant retelling of a battle that helped shape this nation’s history.
If you haven’t circled the tour road - by foot or pedal, in my opinion - you’re also missing out on some lovely views.
Thinking back on my childhood bike trips with my family, a good portion of them were spent in national parks. It’s sad to see such national treasures being compromised.
People don’t take advantage of national parks as they should. The parks’ beauty and history are gems to Americans, and to those who are just visitors to this country.
Take advantage while you can, because what happens when there is no more money? What happens when there is no more national park? That’s scary and sad.
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Cassi Lapp is a reporter at The Weekly Vista and teaches writing at Northwest Arkansas Community College.
Opinion, Pages 4 on 04/03/2013