A note from Pam ~ I had signed up for the bike packing and photography class at AK Cycle Chic awhile back. This is where I met Krystal, the fabulous owner of the shop. Before my arrival I had sent an email asking if I would be able to bring my bike inside. She was very accommodating to my needs, namely the need to not have my bike stolen! She commented that it was awesome of me to ride in. With a sigh, I explained my situation to her. She was fascinated by it. This was the first time that I had felt a sense of achievement from my struggle. I am indebted to her for this opportunity to tell my story, from what grinds my gears to a pushing tailwind.

This is an epic tale about how my family and I came to embrace a car liberated lifestyle. The highs and lows, the fast and the very slow, the good and the exhausting struggle forward. They say change is constant, but they say a lot of things. I say that our choosing to change was one of the best and hardest things we ever did. I would love to blow smoke up your ass about how it's been sunshine and roses everyday, but it hasn’t. Watching people go past you in their climate controlled automobiles while you struggle your way home with groceries or the looks that you get from people driving by while you wait for a bus that isn’t on time is not a pleasant experience. Many times I was waiting for my knight in a shiny vehicle to pick me up, buy me a coffee, and take me home. The lessons learned through the struggle and the pain have been the most powerful teachers in the world. I learned way more about myself and I’ve benefited from my life slowing down to a walking pace.

When I am asked about how I commute, there is always a sharp inhale and exhale before my answer. I guess that’s just a way to stop myself from saying “it sucks!” My mind goes immediately to all the downsides of this choice. I don’t consider myself a pessimist, though. In actuality, it hasn’t been all bad. There have been many positives to this choice. Choice is going to be a major theme in this lifestyle, so much so that it's almost a daily mantra. It’s a choice to see the silver lining where it isn’t easily visible. It’s a choice to dance in the rain or get soaked. It’s a choice to order a pizza or eat whatever is in the fridge for dinner.

I cut my teeth on two wheels. My Dad taught me how to ride a bike on a ball field near our house. He got me some girly pink bike with a banana seat. (Yes, I’m that old.) He wanted a partner to ride some sweet Rail to Trail trails in Pennsylvania. We had some fun rides together. Ah! To be young again, to ride blindly into a pitch black tunnel without a care in sight. Even into my teen years, I rode my bike, but this time a sweet black and purple Diamondback Topanga. Fully rigid to boot! One winter I took her out in a blizzard to get to the corner convenience store for some pop. Those two-inch tires in several inches of snow and harsh winds didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed a much fatter tire, then I would have my ice cold pop. Tons of fond memories later, I gave it all up for a car that my Aunt sold to me for $1 - back when that dollar could buy you a gallon of gas. It wasn’t fancy but I could now go with friends and get to my destination way faster. When I say it wasn’t fancy it had one speaker in the dash and no power steering or power brakes. My arms ache just thinking about it. My bike was placed in the garage and I never saw her again. I’m looking for a Topanga frame so if you know anybody with one, hook me up, size medium would be perfect.

Let’s fast forward to March 2020, shall we? As Anchorage and the world was shutting down, so was our family’s Ford Expedition. This vehicle, aka Scrooge, had a grocery list of issues and several hefty bills to get it all fixed. As our money pit was slowly crawling home from the store, we knew this was it. Our bank account thanked us as we both made the decision that we were done. Felt like a million bucks when that monkey was off our back. That elation was short lived, however, replaced with “WTH now?” We had just returned from the store, so we had provisions for a while. We sat down to a family meeting, informed our two teens that we would be without a car for a bit, and included a moment of silence for dead Scrooge. (This, of course, went over like a lead balloon with them.) My husband worked from home, kids were doing school at home, and me, well that left me open to be the pack mule. I can be a real arse at times, so it made sense.

I had a 42-liter backpack that I used for hiking trips. “This will be the same” I thought to myself. That first trip felt like an adventure. I was never any good at Tetris, so trying to fit everything in the bag took some time. When I got home the kids helped put the groceries away and I told them all about my journey like I had just taken the ring to Mordor. I may not have crossed paths with orcs, but I did cross Jewel Lake Road and Dimond Boulevard safely. Believe me, it’s roughly the same. As a pedestrian, the danger is crossing streets. Even as a novice, I made it back in one piece! I was looking forward to making more trips. Not only was I doing my part, I also had some free time to myself. I could listen to explicit songs and curse loudly as the traffic rushed past.

Several months and countless trips later, the novelty of carrying crap back from the store wore off. It seemed like everything hurt on my body. It’s not easy, when on the wrong side of 40, to muster the get up and go energy this takes. I should note that I was exclusively walking everywhere. I find riding a bike with a full backpack to be awful. “But Pam I’ve seen you riding with a small backpack on?” Yep, I do. It’s light and was a gift from my best friend. Honestly, at this point I feel naked without something on my back. As the days grew longer and the sun grew warmer, it made the pain go away. Heck yeah, an Alaskan summer!! I had a new spring in my step and ice cream that I am pretty sure was melting way too fast in my backpack. (Pro tip, buy ice cream in the early morning or late at night. Actually better yet, walk or ride to an ice cream shop and eat it there. This way you get the added bonus of some exercise, so get some jimmies and whipped cream.) When summer turned to fall for two weeks, I was on cloud nine again. I have always loved fall, the leaves changing, the breeze turning cold, and Halloween. Pumpkin spice is everywhere. Now my husband would call me crazy, but the smell of the season changing is a perfume that I will never stop savoring. This is where my soul belongs. 

As hoodies were put away for winter jackets, and shoes turned into boots with cleats, my problem of ice cream melting was gone. What took its place was even worse, slipping and falling on ice and snow. This new lifestyle that I was fully embracing comes with problems that can be solved in simple ways. Altering times of the day grocery runs take place, keeping things warm by putting them inside your jacket, or learning to live without. I’ll give you a perfect example, when you want to make lasagna and forgot to buy the noodles, but you did buy chicken, flatten out the chicken and use it in place of the noodles. Voila! This isn’t a new life-changing recipe but when you just can’t just drive back to the store to grab what you forgot, it kind of is. Walking is great for your health, but when you’re physically exhausted and beating yourself up mentally because how could you forget the noodles, the dam will break at some point. We are lucky that we live a 2-mile round trip from Carrs and Fred Meyers, and it’s a 4-mile round trip to Costco. Now let’s talk about our precious toilet paper! It is 2020 after all! Winter is of course the best time of year to use our ice fishing sled to drag it home. Besides, I don’t know how to fit that amount of TP into the backpack, and I’m not strapping it to my back like a turtle shell. I can imagine the looks from the motorist watching me cross the street, and saying “damn that lady really needs to go!” Actually if you ever had the pleasure of seeing me walk back from Costco, you wouldn’t see the T.P. I use a sheet to cover the top of the sled, its tie-dyed, a relic from college with a sun on it… you know the type.

I don’t consider myself high maintenance, but there are two things where I draw the line. One: I won’t go camping without a decent sleeping pad. I need my beauty sleep. Two: I will not defrost a turkey. It's a fresh turkey or no turkey! I have to backtrack on this, September 1st of 2020, I received the best gift that my teenage-self screamed for so many years ago, a Trek Farley 7 fat tire bike. Oh My Darlin’! She has all the bells and whistles, 4.5” winter tires (Gnarwhals that I studded myself), a 1 X 12 Sram NX Eagle drivetrain, and an air-cushioned Mastodon fork. Go ahead and look, she’s sexy as hell. Her name is Clementine. Clementine and I both classify as PHAT, pretty hot and tempting. Every ride is like the first time. Now, back to fresh turkeys. Natural Pantry has fresh (or at least not frozen) turkeys, so this involves one of my kids or husband to ride with me. One paper, rock, scissors later and my daughter is riding with me. Before heading home, I put the main attraction for dinner in the backpack. This 15 pound succulent bird is pulling at my shoulders and sucking my soul away on the trip back home. I’m sweating like a sinner in church because it’s a bit warm this Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My mind wanders to “great I’m cooking my bird on my back” so I take off the jacket and roll my pant legs up. The turkey makes it home in its cool condition and so do I. Thus began our annual turkey ‘trot’, but I eventually ditched the backpack for panniers. Best decision ever! I have considered making this ride in a turkey costume. I haven’t found one so I just wear the same worn out pants. Totally lame, but whatever. My husband has panniers now too, so maybe this year I can give him the bird.

My family and I love a good laugh, so it makes complete sense that we chose April fool’s day as our car liberation day. No one can remember the exact day the car died anyway. It seems fitting. We were fools thinking we would be car-less for just a few months. As it stands now, we’ll be celebrating four years in 2024. The ups and downs of being without a car are the same as having a car. Oil changes are now lubricating bike chains, new tires are new shoes, and car washes are the soaking we receive when motorists drive through puddles. (Just kidding!) In my case, gas money is coffee money. Knowing a good mechanic is the same with a bike as it is with a vehicle. My mechanic’s place takes good care of Clementine and me. I always have a rental bike waiting for me, they swap out saddles too. I was even handed an orange when I came back to pick up Clementine. (A touching gesture that made me tear up.) It's thoughtful gestures like this that keeps me coming back. It would be neat to see more businesses embracing cyclists. I recognize all the good work people in this cycling community are doing to make Anchorage move past training wheels. Thank you!

As someone who uses an alternative method of travel, I often don’t feel seen by cars. I have had several dozen near misses and two of those were particularly traumatizing. Broad daylight, too. If this happens to you, it's okay to break down on the corner or sidewalk in a safe spot, I did. This isn’t easy by any means physically or mentally. You have to make sure the driver sees you, or you may have to wait another light cycle to cross safely. This does take more time and on inclement days it sucks. Jay-walking can be a safe option in my humble opinion, but that changes in the winter. Grocery store runs take at least an hour. I get allergy shots at Providence Hospital, which requires two buses each way. This whole trip takes three hours from my door and back again. Nothing about this is fast, quick, or be back in a second. I can be forgetful, having to walk back for my wallet, often in the worst weather possible. I have fallen on my knees more times than I care to admit. I have cried and screamed at the state of sidewalks in the winter. You know when the plows push all that lovely fresh road snow on the sidewalk, making it a nightmare for anyone to get through. It’s atrocious. A usually walkable sidewalk instantly turns into a struggle fest with the RingWraiths. Your choices are limited to crappy options. Walking in the roadway is by far the most dangerous of them all. This past winter, we all can agree, was horrendous. It’s frustrating and dehumanizing to say the least possible about it. But, then again, it’s not hurricanes and tornadoes, am I right? My day’s journey can be considered a success if I make it in one piece. I don’t ask anyone to understand why I’m a pedestrian, but I do ask for patience, please. Everyone should take the time to read the Anchorage Municipal Code of Ordinances 9.14.040.A.1a. and 9.20.020, which defines pedestrian rights-of-way at intersections and crosswalks. It is a quick read, by the way. Motorist and pedestrian familiarity with these codes leads to more responsible users and safer facilities. Anchorage can be a walkable and rideable city but it takes effort by everyone to make it that way.

I love Alaska and want to see all of it. I want to go dip netting on the Kasilof. I want to be lulled asleep by the melodic sound of the ocean on the Homer spit. I want to go to walk myself into a stupor around the state fair. (Why no buses to Palmer for this? The train used to run this way, but sadly it doesn’t anymore.) Experience a summer solstice above the Arctic circle. Fly fish Tangle lakes? Yes please! Bike the Haul Road. Wonder if it would be possible to ride through the tunnel to get to Whittier? That would be like being a kid again. Basically, I want to spend as much time as I can outside the Municipality of Anchorage. My heart has longed to do it all, but I just can’t get anywhere without a car. I have had people let me borrow their cars and I am forever grateful to them. We just can’t afford a car right now. Rental cars are spendy AF. If there are other options then I’m just not aware. When the wanderlust is irrefutable, I ride out to the bench just past Earthquake park and I sit. This puts me square with all points North. Maybe if I’m lucky Denali will be visible. When my heart longs for a more southern vista, the bench at Campbell Creek Estuary is the spot. Now I’ve thought about using Clementine as a makeshift raft, but it's probably not a good idea. I consider myself a strong rider but I’m not sure I’m brave enough for the Seward Highway, either. This sucks and I’m just stuck. I don’t blame anyone for my choice. I’ll live with the consequences. I sit beside myself and let Mother Nature work her magic. It’s the kind of enchantment that you have to sit quietly and let your mind go to understand. So expect the unexpected and relax. Something will snap me out of my funk. Nature reminds me that I may not be where I want to be, but where I am is pretty good too. My heart shifts to gratitude again. My mind is content with the thought of “I’ll get there soon enough.”

This lifestyle isn’t for everyone to stick with. It has many benefits, but it has a lot of challenges too. Money saved on gas is just money that is used somewhere else. This blog isn’t about changing anyone’s mind. This is how my family and I have played the cards that we were dealt. Results will vary. I don’t consider myself an environmental activist, I’m just trying to take care of my family the only way I can. There is no high horse in my driveway or parked in my garage. (There are some sweet bikes in there though.) So if you want to see what this is like give it a try. Make it something that has a reward at the end, like lunch or coffee with a friend. Try it both on ‘good’ and ‘bad’ weather/mood days, see which one you like better. You may be surprised or learn something about yourself that you didn’t know. You can determine what constitutes a good or bad day for yourself. There is no right or wrong way to do this. There is also no failing at this. Take a loved one with you or don’t and enjoy the alone time. So no need to go balls to the wall and sell your car. There isn’t the perfect bike for this either, work with what you currently have. Do not feel that you need to walk across town to prove anything to anybody. Whichever way you go, go with a light pack.

A note from Pam ~ I had signed up for the bike packing and photography class at AK Cycle Chic awhile back. This is where I met Krystal, the fabulous owner of the shop. Before my arrival I had sent an email asking if I would be able to bring my bike inside. She was very accommodating to my needs, namely the need to not have my bike stolen! She commented that it was awesome of me to ride in. With a sigh, I explained my situation to her. She was fascinated by it. This was the first time that I had felt a sense of achievement from my struggle. I am indebted to her for this opportunity to tell my story, from what grinds my gears to a pushing tailwind.

Originally from Pittsburgh, PA, Pam has lived in Alaska with her husband and two kids for the past 14 years. When not out riding or walking, she enjoys fiber arts, fly fishing, and writing.

Share your thoughts: akcyclechic@gmail.com