“Katie, grab the trailer, grab the trailer!” We had almost summited the 2,000-foot climb when my daughter Maude’s bicycle trailer completely broke.

A few hours earlier we had started pedaling from the northernmost ferry dock on the island of Cres, a gorgeous hunk of rock and scrub brush in the Croatian part of the Adriatic Sea. We passed shimmering aquamarine water, wild fig trees, and goats and cows in pasture, relishing in the happiness of our exercise-induced endorphins, thinking this was the best day ever... when the rear axle that supported the weight of our five-year-old daughter suddenly SNAPPED! All 100 pounds of the trailer were grinding hard against my husband’s left leg, and he was struggling to keep Maude from falling onto the pavement. 

Hours later, when the dust had settled, we reflected on how incredibly lucky we had been at that moment. We had been riding on a small country road, with no cars in sight, going very slowly due to the steep uphill grade, and not one of us had as much as a scratch. A few miles from where the trailer broke began the descent, and at 25 miles per hour, both Maude and Joe would have crashed hard. Yikes!

From the moment we stepped out of the Amsterdam airport last August, my husband, daughter and I challenged ourselves to travel in a way we had never traveled before. Our goal: traverse the continent of Europe by bicycle in three months! Our adventure was self-supported, which meant that we had to physically carry with us everything we needed. In the trailer attached to my bicycle was our tent, sleeping mats and bags, cooking gear, and some of the clothing - totaling about 60 pounds. Joe pulled Maude, a lot of water, our solar charger, and rain gear. We were in shape and ready for anything!

Each day presented us with a sundry of questions: Which path or road should we take? Where can we source water? How do we navigate around this construction? Will I be able to communicate with locals? Where do we buy food? How do I ride on cobblestone? Do we have enough fuel to cook dinner? Where should we set up our tent? When should we stop to get some gelato? This last question was, of course, Maude’s favorite, and she fully participated in making that daily decision. In fact, by the second month of our travels, Maude became an indispensable voice in our problem-solving conversations. By the time her trailer broke in Croatia in the third month, she had learned how to offer her ideas during our group brainstorming sessions in a way that made her parents' hearts swell. We were deepening our trust and respect for each other with every discussion. 

Europe has invested heavily in cycling infrastructure, including bicycle-specific ferries, great signage and even bicycle-only roads, and each day we marveled at how easy and fun it was to move between the villages, towns and cities. My favorite section of the route was the Alpe Adri cycle path in northern Italy, which was created by the local government from an old railroad gauge to promote cycle tourism in the region. The approximately 100-mile-long, mostly downhill cycle path took us through long dark tunnels, over roaring turquoise rivers, through tiny mountain towns and delighted us for four days until finally, we reached our goal - the Adriatic! The feeling of joy and accomplishment we felt upon our arrival at the sea carried us the extra miles to a beautiful campground on the island of Grado. It was time to relax for a few days and soak in the fact that we had just ridden our bikes over 2,500 miles, across Europe!  Our days were rich with movement, learning, beauty, and human kindness, and we fell asleep each night with smiles on our faces.

“Life is risk,” my Dad often says. “Assess the risk, then live fully.” I love this piece of advice and thought of it many times throughout our three-month bicycle journey through Europe. What is important to add, however, is that our ability to take the risks necessary for this great adventure hinged on the support of our families, friends, and, of course, Moravian Academy. Without the incredible opportunity to take a sabbatical for personal development afforded to me and my family by Moravian Academy, our dreams of cycling across Europe could not have become a reality. For that support and for all the love and encouragement we received along the way, I am incredibly grateful. 

This story originally appeared in the fall 2020 curiosity issue of the Moravian Academy Journal, which can be viewed here.