USNA 1973 Ride-2-Remember

Post-ride, 18 October: Annapolis, MD

The last day started out much as the 63 days before it – EXCEPT – it was the final day of our Ride-2-Remember adventure.

It started with the same routine of an early breakfast of eggs and orange juice – EXCEPT – we were joined by a dozen Class of ‘83 riders who had arrived the day before from their own ride across the country.

The ride, itself, started out much the same as those over the past two months – EXCEPT – it started from Arlington National Cemetery where we participated in a moving ceremony recognizing “those who have gone before.”  Doug did a fabulous job of capturing the essence of OUR R-2-R mission in his comments – to “bring home to USNA the 138 brothers who had left us too early.”  I asked Doug for a copy of his remarks.  He looked at me kind of quizzically and said he had no notes – he did it extemporaneously, from the heart.  Well done, Doug.

SECNAV Del Toro – Class of ‘83 – followed with equally impressive remarks.  It was obvious he could “read the room” because his comments dovetailed perfectly with Doug’s.  We were all filled with pride and resolve as we started the 47-mile ride from Arlington to the Naval Academy in Annapolis.

Bill and Tes have done a great job covering the details of last ride in their blog inputs.  My personal take-aways were the view of 40+ red bike-lights, in single file, making their way along the Anacostia bike path.  We were not accustomed to riding in such a large group, especially with many joining the ride for the first time. There were five ‘83 riders that did the entire transit. Others did segments of the transit, and others joined just for that final day.  Caution and vigilance were the day’s watchwords. No one wanted to have a mishap on THIS ride.

We had acknowledged (in hushed tones so as not to disturb “karma”) our exceptional fortune over the two months with the “weather gods” smiling on us and only giving us a few “challenges” – including a 108.5-deg day in western Idaho, an 80-mile ride in a steady rain through eastern Idaho, a strenuous climb over the Continental Divide, and another day of rain in Illinois/Indiana. Obviously, Mother Nature wanted to make sure we understood SHE was in control and that we should not get complacent with our “luck.”

Our arrival to the Naval Academy can best be described as surreal, with police escorts and cheering family and friends along the way, culminating in a joyful reunion with Lynn and my daughter, Kristen, at the Columbarium; AND a surprisingly large number of widows and family members of Classmates we had done tributes for.  Doug gave more moving comments to those gathered, perfectly capturing WHY we had made the RIDE-2-REMEMBER.  As he spoke, Bill, Tes, Dave, and I held the gold chain with a tribute tag on each link for each of our 138 Classmates we had “brought home.”   There could be no better visual representation of our mission than that chain.  I dare say there was not a dry eye in the Columbarium.

When asked how I felt, the best I could do was being “tired”… physically tired the first day back on Thursday; and emotionally tired on Friday.  The Class Memorial Ceremony in the new Naval Institute building on Hospital Point was particularly moving.  It started with a streaming slideshow of each of the 138 passed classmates; followed by moving remarks by Doug, eloquently summarizing our RIDE-2-REMEMBER mission.  I, unashamedly, admit I could not hold my usual stoic demeanor.  It was obviously apparent because the widow standing next to me calmly placed her hand on my shoulder and whispered “thank you” in my ear.  The standing ovation was appreciated but THAT was reward and recognition enough.

That pat on the shoulder crystallized some take-aways from the last two months:

The view through the Columbia River, The Dalles, and Hood River passage was breathtaking.  Including winding our way through a half-marathon road race.

Although the Colorado Rockies are higher, the three mountain ranges (Coastal, Cascades, Cottonwood) we crossed in Oregon were more formidable, with the sole exception of crossing the Continental Divide at the Togwotee Pass in the Washakie Range in Wyoming.  35% of our ride total of 100,000 ft ascent was in Oregon.

The plains of Wyoming had a beauty of their own.  It was easy to imagine tens of thousands of bison roaming the grassy plains – with the deer and antelope playing (okay, I couldn’t resist).  I could see hunting bands of Cheyenne or Crow driving herds toward Hell’s Kitchen where they were trapped in the canyon – thus providing the tribes everything they needed to get them through the coming winter.

At one support stop in eastern Wyoming, we could see the ancient rail bed, old rail ties, and survey posts for the tracks of trains that thousands of Chinese immigrants toiled to build under the same hot sun we were then under.

We stayed at Fort Robinson in western Nebraska where Union Calvary were trained before venturing north and west during the “Indian Wars.”  We housed in the Officer Quarters that overlooked the Parade Grounds.  It was easy to imagine troops going through their drills on a field equal in size to Worden Field that we did so many Dress Parades on fifty years ago.  It is also the place Lakota Chief Crazy Horse was killed.  In later years, it was a training ground for mules and horses headed to Europe during WWI, and a German POW camp during WWII.

The hospitality of the locals was evident wherever we stopped.  You might (rightfully) think it was the Navy jerseys we wore but even in civvies we were welcomed – with no questions regarding political leaning, or even Tes’s New York accent.  Yes, there were a few drivers that – let’s say – were less than hospitable or 18-wheelers that came closer than necessary, but they were in the minority.  I will always remember the day in Nebraska, on a gravel road, a large (18-wheeler size) grain truck came lumbering toward me, creating a huge dust cloud.  I braced myself to be inundated by dust, dirt, grit and grime; but just before he reached me he stopped – right in the middle of the road – and waited until the dust had settled and I had passed.

The hospitality of everyone we met in Ainsworth, Nebraska – halfway in our journey – was amazing. We were taken into homes to meet family members; I don’t think we paid for a single meal the entire two days we were there.  We even got to ride horses in the County Fair Rodeo parade.

Crossing the Missouri at a point Lewis and Clark bivouacked was special, as was crossing the Mississippi River near Davenport.  A painting of that moment, presented to Tes and me by our 24^th Companymates, will forever be displayed in my living room.

Crossing the Eastern Continental Divide was also momentous.  Besides marking the point all waters would now flow east – meaning more downhill than up was before us – it represented the beginning of the final stage of our trek… which would be almost entirely on the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) and Chesapeake & Ohio (C&O) Trails.

From a more poignant perspective, I will always cherish the camaraderie that grew between eight individuals (5 riders and 3 Support crew) that barely knew each other before starting on a two-month venture that put them together 24/7 for 64 days – but sharing a purpose that culminated in a pat on the shoulder from the widow of a classmate whose Tribute Tag I had carried during a long, rainy day in Indiana.

Non Sibi.

Ron Bowman