Dharmawheels - Buddhist Bicycle Pilgrimage

If life is a long road, some days are smooth and easy, a winding descent with a cool breeze at your back. Everything's rosy. Conversely, there are days like last weekend, when Alden Mudge dismounted his Lemond racing bike and quietly said, "I feel like soggy tuna."
 
Riding a bicycle 150 miles from Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Marin County to Abhayagiri Monastery in Redwood Valley was no easy feat for Alden or for any of the seventy-five cyclists who braved the hundred degree heat for the second annual Buddhist Bicycle Pilgrimage. Bicycles broke down. Riders suffered dehydration and disorientation. And yet throughout it all, a sense of calm and goodwill prevailed.

Jennifer Holmes, a veteran of many weeklong California AIDS rides, volunteered to drive a van through the backroads of Sonoma County, picking up those who where too tired to continue or beset with mechanical problems. "It's hard to ride a hundred miles in 100-degree heat," she said, circling back to make sure the cyclists at the back of the pack were hydrated and safe. And yet, because the ride was taking place under the rubric of a Buddhist pilgrimage, Holmes said, "surrendering your physical self to your mind is the real goal here."

Perhaps that's why the participants kept pedaling, as road tar melted, innertubes popped and gears groaned. At the beginning of the ride, Ajahn Amaro, co-abbot of Abhayagiri Monastery, blessed the riders with chants and a few quick cycling puns. The riders departed from Spirit Rock Center on their "fellowship of the rims" and headed into the dawn's light. The weather was cool and the skies were clear. Everything was rosy.
 
At the first checkpoint, south of Petaluma, cyclists shed layers, grabbed energy bars for the road and headed north. For this rider, the ride's first challenge came on the ascent of Wilson Hill Road. I was overgeared, and the hill was steep. On the descent, I had my first flat. In the next day and half, I would have four more. Soon enough, it was noon, and the sun's heat began to take its toll.

Riding a bicycle 150 miles is no easy feat for a novice. Ride participant Rik Center said, "I never in my life thought I'd be doing anything like this." Rik had the look in his eyes of someone who's amazed, not only of the world around them, but of their own strength. He'd pedaled the whole way on a borrowed bike.
 
Franklyn Wu, who broke his arm in a fall while training for the ride, shifted roles to volunteer his time in a support van. "It opens my eyes," he said, gesturing with his cast. "I've never seen the other side of this ride." Franklyn went to high school at the City of 10,000 Buddhas in Talmage, where the riders stopped for lunch and a tour on the second day. Visits to the local Buddhist monasteries and cultivating the spirit of a pilgrimage were integral to this unique event.
 
Corry Wagner, this year's organizer, cultivated the group's sense of community as she pulled the event together. "I said, 'I think I can do this, but I need your help,' and there was a crew of people who said yes." Corry and her organizing committee formed a nonprofit called Dharma Wheels. Food was donated, a Web site was launched, and volunteers signed up. Piece by piece, the ride began to take shape. "Everyone pitched in," Corry said. "It's our cycling sangha."
 
The concept of sangha, or community, is fundamental to Buddhism. And throughout the weekend, someone was always there to lend a hand. Volunteers were stationed every twelve to twenty miles with food, refreshments and good cheer. Riders would pull in to these pit stops looking dazed, and they'd leave a few minutes later looking dazzled.
 
After cycling the second day's distance of fifty miles from Cloverdale to Redwood Valley--through vineyards and a temperature of 104 degrees--Ajahn Amaro reminded the riders that there isn't a hill in the world that's so steep and long that it never ends. There's always a crest. There's always a winding descent with a cool breeze at your back. Like life, cycling "can't be downhill the whole way; it can't be beautiful the whole way."
 
The cool breeze never materialized, but on the road home (in the comfort of a car) the effect of the pilgrimage was clear. We'd all achieved something personal: Rik had ridden farther than ever, I'd battled five flats, and our riding partner Cody, a San Francisco physician, had persevered on the ride's steepest climb. Most significantly, the pilgrimage had changed us, as Ajahn Amaro said, "to see the transient, translucent, cyclical nature of things."