Magazine Writing
Major Article
Nov. 20, 2001
By Tammy Marsh

I am one of many who has pedaled my way through Europe. But I am one of 10 who has done it on a unicycle.

Unicycling has been my passion and hobby for the past three years. When I was invited to join the 1,000+ mile tour from Cologne, Germany, to Barcelona, Spain, with a group of other enthusiastic and experienced unicyclists, I knew I would rearrange my summer and do whatever it took so I could go. A trip like this was a perfect combination of everything that I loved best: traveling, seeing other cultures, speaking other languages, and, of course, unicycling.

Why unicycle? I have been asked countless times. Why not take a bike? Or, as my mom asked, take a train? As co-organizer of the tour Andy Cotter says, “If we wanted it easy, we wouldn’t be unicycling.”

For our group of 10, riding a bike is almost unthinkable. I spend so very little time on a bike that every time I try to ride one, I have to take a few minutes and learn how to get on, get going, and turn. Sure, it’s a way to get from place to place, but a unicycle is what makes the journey magical. It’s our thing. You could say we’re hard-core. Our token New Yorker doesn’t even know how to drive a car. He simply rides his unicycle everywhere.

Having never done long-distance bike riding, I can’t really compare, but I know a major point that makes unicycling more challenging is the fact that you cannot coast. We were riding as many as 70 miles a day and pedaling every inch. However, the cycles we were using were not your average garage-sale unicycle – they had 36” tires, short cranks, and modifications including an extension from the seat post to hang onto, a brake for slowing ourselves down on hills and seats meant to be more comfortable.

I trained hard all summer in anticipation of the event, though I found it hard to believe that I would be in Europe soon. Our tour began in Germany and took us through Luxembourg and France, ending several hundred kilometers later in Spain. The tour lasted 23 days, 19 of which were actual riding, with four rest days in between.

My sister Tanya and I were the only females participating in the event. I loved having her along, not because I felt outnumbered by men, but because we have always wanted to travel together. Our close friend Aaron Svec, who is like the big brother we never had, was also along on the trip – the three of us represented South Dakota. Others came from all over the map: Andy Cotter and Elijah Parker from Minnesota, Chris Cline from Michigan, Scot Cooper from California, John Stone from New York, Javier Ruiz from Puerto Rico, and co-organizer Christian Hoverath from Germany. Minnesotan unicyclists Constance Cotter and Dana Schneider formed our vital support staff. They faithfully drove a van along our route, carrying our luggage and helping in emergencies.

We arrived in Germany a couple of days before the start of the tour, visiting other unicycling friends. This was my first time to Germany, but my second time in Europe. We spent the first few days taking it all in – the terrifying speed of trains, the pear yogurt, heaps of chocolate Kinder Eggs, 190-kilometer-per-hour autobahns, and German, German, everywhere. It was incredible. We knew already that our plane ticket home had a much too early return date on it.

July 24, 2001, marked Day One of the European Unicycle Tour. At 4 p.m., after a date with the press, Connie counted down to make it somewhat ceremonial, and we took off from the Cathedral and pedaled down to the bike path that hugged the beautiful Rhine River. We could hear the water lapping. The sun was shining brightly. The first day was meant to be an easy one. Though we were on nice bike trails most of the way, most of us managed to get lost at some point. Scot, Tanya and I were riding together during the first part of the ride. Somehow we took a wrong turn and ended up in a train yard with German workers yelling at us. We turned around to head back, and Scot had to dismount so fast he dropped his unicycle – otherwise a train would have run him down!

As we all rode different speeds, we broke into groups and separated from each other. We generally rode with at least one other person, in case something would happen. If we had an emergency, we had to find a pay phone and call the support van. In France, our group had access to cell phones, which made the whole process much easier. Plus, there are few things that make you feel as cool as pulling a cell phone out of your pocket and answering it as you’re riding along on a unicycle.

As proved to become a theme at each day’s end, finding the youth hostel was the hardest part. Once we made it to Bonn, we rode to the town center, looked at the map, asked someone for directions, set out, rode up a long, wicked hill (youth hostels are almost always perched atop an extremely exhausting hill), asked again, turned around, and at last, several hours from the time we took off, found the pizza-providing youth hostel. I survived the 45-kilometer day with no problems, just a little soreness. In the evening, we walked a half-mile down the hill to a restaurant, because the hostel ran out of pizza. We all shared our comical or traumatic stories of the day.
One project each night was putting together the web page. Tanya and I were in charge of writing up a summary of the day and posting digital pictures so our friends and family back home could feel as though they were with us. By the end of our trip, the web page had received numerous hits and our guestbook was overflowing with well wishes.

My first night in a youth hostel was a good one. I was extremely impressed with the rooms, the beds and the breakfast. I loved being in a big room with bunk beds and five other people – it was even better than a hotel. But most of all I loved the atmosphere of all these young adventurers traveling from place to place. We were all in the same boat, with nothing but a wheel (or two) and a small pack of stuff.

The second day we headed for Koblenz. We were again treated to breathtaking scenery that made me shiver – the river on one side, with small villages nestled among greenery across the water, a tall steeple poking out above the rest; steep banks on the other side, with vineyards cutting into the earth creating a vertical sort of farm. Certainly different than the landscapes of the Midwest where I have lived my whole life. Though we split into groups again, we all managed to hook up for lunch after 30 km. We often took a midday break to eat at a restaurant along the road. Eating outside in Europe was one of my favorite experiences. The atmosphere was warm with no bugs or wind.

The afternoon’s adventure was when seven of us accidentally strayed from the bike path and found ourselves on a rocky, off-road path that ran alongside a 15-foot brick wall. Hoping we would eventually find ourselves back into the trail, we kept riding/walking until we faced up to the fact that we had gone the wrong way. We noticed that there were ladders built into the edge of the wall, so one of us climbed up to see where we were. Sure enough, we were right along the bike bath, just on the wrong side. What else could we do? We formed an assembly line along the ladder and passed up seven huge, heavy unicycles and rejoined the bike path.

For the tail of the ride, Tanya and I found ourselves riding with Aaron. We reached Koblenz and got directions to the youth hostel, which was an ancient castle. I got quite good at approaching Germans asking, “Enschuldigung! Wissen Sie wo ist die Jugendherberge?” We could see the hostel from where we were – but the tricky part was finding the bridge to take us across. After wandering and searching, we gave up and paid to have a boat escort us across. When we got out of the boat, however, we realized we had only traversed the Rhine. Once we crossed the Mosel River, we still had to find the hostel. In great frustration we wandered around some more, crabby and sore. And then suddenly … like a mirage, there was Connie. She had the support van and she drove us up the steep hill into the youth hostel.

That night, we sat on top of the castle on the ledge overlooking both rivers, the Rhine and the Mosel, watching the sun set over the boats and the city of Koblenz.

I started out great the next day by running into a prickly bush when I couldn’t stop on a steep downhill. John was nice enough to pick the thorns out of my face. Lunch was at 55 km, and that was only the halfway point. It was unbelievably hot. We all sweated so much we had salt lines on our clothes and CamelBak water carriers. After a lunch of chicken burgers, we had to get going again much too soon.

Here we had a choice – climb a terrific hill, or ride an extra 20 km to go around it. Not many were looking to add more mileage to the already long day, so a pack of us started up the hill. Almost all of us were walking after the first stretch of the hill. It was steep, cutting and winding through the mountain with lots of added distance thanks to the switchbacks. At the top of the hill, the paths split and we disputed about which to take. Six of us decided to take the gravel path that looked like it led down the mountain. The steep downhill on gravel with lots of switchbacks made it necessary to bail out on many an occasion – but it was the most fun I’d had on the trip yet. The scenery was charming, the riding a challenge. Around one sharp corner, we heard John cry out behind us, “Oh no!” We rushed back to see his unicycle about six feet down the cliff, luckily caught in a tangle of trees and nettle.

By the time we had conquered the hill, it was two and a half hours later. We had to stop several times for water, bathrooms, food, and just to take a break. We ate fruit and cookies, looked at the map, and kept cruising. We also had to stop from time to time for photo opps that were just too good to pass up. This day was the most beautiful yet – we were unicycling right through vineyards, and the towns along the Mosel were quaint and cute, like something you’d see in a postcard.

It was dark by the time we made it to the support van, which carried us the final 20 km to Bernkastel, our home for the night. Ridiculously sore all over, I wondered how I would be able to ride the following day.

Everyone decided to sleep in a bit, planning to ride later into the evening like the previous day. As we didn’t get going till 10 a.m. and the day was much, much longer than we had planned on, it was pitch black before anyone made it into Luxembourg. We two females wimped out on the last 30 km, not wanting to ride in the dark along steep and winding hills with headlights coming at us. I will always remember waiting with Tanya for the van to pick us up in that small town just inside Luxembourg, watching the children playing soccer and go zipping around on their bikes late into the night.

A fun diversion that made the middle part of the day go faster was the appearance of Simon Greenway, a British unicycling friend of ours who made plans to join us for several kilometers between Trier and Luxembourg City. We rode at a fairly slow pace, partly because we had to stop and check the map every so often to make sure we weren’t getting completely off track.

The following day was our first day off – we had time to walk around Luxembourg City, do some shopping, sightseeing, eating, and just enjoy the day without riding our unicycles. It was a day for ice cream, unicycle maintenance and smelling like something other than sweat.

The following day we had the pleasure of crossing the French border. Already we had unicycled in three countries! I was greatly enjoying being able to talk to farmers we met along the way. The part of France that we rode through was surprisingly like South Dakota – long stretches of farmland, cows, and tiny towns spread far apart. I loved riding through the small towns where we’d often get a round of applause, a “Bravo!” and a rainbow of smiles. The towns were often made up of only a church and a few houses with cows in the backyard.

After one particularly hard day for me, over 100 km, I collapsed on my youth hostel bed, dehydrated, cold, sore all over and exhausted. I had pushed myself to the limits and was on the brink of emotional breakdown. On top of all that, I accidentally broke my glasses and tried to laugh but ended up crying. Andy gave me a hug and said, “Ok, you’re taking a day off tomorrow.” The following day, I rode with the support van and stayed busy with various tasks.

Back in the saddle again: I had a fabulous day when I returned to riding. I was refreshed and ready to ride. I spent most of the day riding alone, at my own pace, a bit ahead of the threesome I usually rode with. I thoroughly enjoyed the time to myself to think, smile at the cows, and have little conversations with people in French or Spanish. I asked an older French woman and a girl for directions to the youth hostel, and they proceded to walk me all the way there so I wouldn’t get lost. I was amazed at the generosity of people. If I asked someone if they knew where I could find water or a bathroom, I was almost always invited into that person’s home for anything I needed.

During our evenings, we developed the custom of finding a pasta restaurant to load up on carbs. We would always follow that with ice cream and crepes. France has the best desserts.

The day we arrived in Lyon, France, was long and wet. It rained for the entire morning. Some riders who had had enough took the train, while others of us bought rain gear and kept going. Personally, I love riding in the rain, as long as I can stay warm enough. The rain keeps me cool and gives the atmosphere a cozy feel.

Our group spent the next day roaming around Lyon with unicycling friend Olivier Dupre who lived there. He showed us, among other sites, the Roman amphitheater ruins–now used for rock concerts.

The following day was another one of my favorites. I was in high spirits and at the end of the day I remember thinking for the first time, “I could go farther.” I also had my first wipeout, but it didn’t dampen my mood. Somehow my foot came off the pedal and the next thing I knew, I was running, then rolling, then sitting in the grass watching blood accumulate on my knee. A kind French couple pulled over and offered assistance, but I was able to jump back on my unicycle and continue riding, blood running in little rivers down my leg. The same day, John crashed too, managing to scrape up nearly every part of his body. He was determined to keep riding, however. Hardly anyone got through the trip without losing at least a little blood. On the positive side, though, we experienced no major catastrophes either. Considering we often reached pedaling speeds of over 30 kilometers an hour on downhill stretches, that’s not bad.

Cruising speed for us averaged between 18 and 25 kph. We wore limited safety gear (cycling gloves were about as extravagant as we got) due to the fact that unicycling is safer than biking. We don’t go as fast, so we also are able to run our way out of most dismounts, instead of scraping along the ground after a fall. Unlike a bike, a unicycle has no frame to pull the rider down with in the event of a crash.

The days ticked by. We saw a crocodile farm in Pierrelatte, the Coliseum in Nimes, and the Pont du Guard aqueduct on our way from one to the other. It was hard to believe, but soon we had ridden all the way through France and reached … the Mediterranean Sea.

We walked down to the beach the next day during our day off in Sete. For my sister and me, this marked our first time swimming in the ocean, our first time tasting its salt. Following the example of a bunch of kids, we ventured out onto rocky cliffs and leapt 15 or 20 feet into the ocean.

We continued our journey through France, more or less following the coastline. We spent a few days riding on limestone and gravel canals. We spent several evenings in hotels that led right out to the Mediterranean. Our nightlife started with swimming and eating supper, then walking around that night’s town having ice-cream-eating contests, and strolling along the sandy beach looking at the stars. I found it comforting that you can see the Big Dipper whether you’re in South Dakota or France.

I think everyone agreed on the climax of the tour: the Pyrenees. We had one day that was dedicated completely to conquering the Pyrenees. We had planned the trip so we would be riding right along the coast, hopefully cutting off the worst of the Pyrenees. However, the mountains didn’t seem to settle down much even at the sea’s edge. Riding up and down the hills was the most rewarding part of the trip for me, and also the hardest. The steepness wasn’t even the worst part – the worst part was that the hills were relentless, winding higher and higher with no end in sight. I climbed and climbed and just as I thought I couldn’t possibly get any higher, there was one more hill around the next curve.

There was only one road through these mountains, so we had to share it with traffic. The constant bends and switchbacks in the roads, in an attempt to ease the grade, made it a challenge to see the cars coming at you until they were upon you. We tried to stick to the shoulders.

We took breaks at the top of each steady, uphill climb. Sitting on top of these beautiful peaks, we could look back at how far we had come on the road. Its constant curving side to side and up and down easily tripled the actual distance from point to point.

Going down again was like flying. It was a huge rush, but just as challenging as going up. We had to be extremely careful not to let the unicycle get out of control. We could, after all, only ride as fast as we could safely pedal. The steep grade of the road made it difficult to slow down, and tight corners became particularly nerve-wracking. Our biggest stretch of up and down was a challenging 8 kilometer climb followed by an 8 kilometer descent.

Another concern to add to the situation was the possibility of falling off the edge of the cliff. At times, there were small half-fences lining the road, about big enough to stop a unicycle while the rider would go hurtling over and down. Other times there was no fence at all. “Falling the wrong way could mean death,” John commented, with a little too much truth to be overly funny.

The danger gave an excitement to the day’s ride. I couldn’t take my eyes off the fabulous views. I think it was the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen, so gorgeous it made me dizzy. Around every corner I would exclaim “Wow!” even if there were nobody to listen, and I had to stop and take pictures to capture the moment. I liked looking over the edge of a sharp cliff with no railing – just grass, rocks, trees, down, down into the valleys.
Somewhere in the midst of the Pyrenees, we crossed the Spanish border. We made our way to L’Escala for the night. We arrived in early evening and immediately hit the beach.

The next day we slept in before going out on the town, enjoying listening to the Catalan language of the area. It’s a mixture of French and Spanish which I find quite interesting. We spent hours on the beach again, swimming and renting paddle boats.

The following day we were up early, jetting off from L’Escala like a row of 22-kph ducklings following Andy, the mother duck. At one point, we actually had our entire group riding together, something that rarely happened during the tour.

After one more day of riding, the tour was over. As happy as we were to reach our goal, most of us also felt sad that it was ending. We rode the final 10 km stretch into Barcelona as a group, and gathered at the Christopher Columbus statue where our loyal support staff, Connie and Dana, were waiting. We all hugged Dana until her shirt was soaked with sweat, then posed for group pictures in front of the statue. Then we had to mount our unicycles once more and ride to our hotel. Most of us spent the next three days there, hanging out with our now very-close-knit group, enjoying the sites, the tastes and the beach.

The trip was everything I had hoped it would be and more. I loved the opportunity to see more of Europe, experience the people, and try out my language skills. I gained so much confidence when I realized that I could successfully ask directions in German, give an interview in French, and buy train tickets in Spanish.
I proved that if I want something badly enough, I can do it. The tour was a physical and mental challenge for me, and I loved every minute of it. I am often asked if I would do it again. In a heartbeat.