Posted on February 05 2020
A few snaps of our friend Edd cycling the TransAmerica Bicycle Route in his Silverstick. Edd started at the Atlantic coast and finished by dipping his bike in the Pacific Ocean, a cycle migration of 4,300 miles. We asked him what his journey meant to him?
'The TransAm was my right of passage. I believed that if I could cross a continent unaided, it would gift an endless sense of capability and fulfilment to draw from whenever things get a little 'meh'. Did it work? I don't talk about my journey much, but I don't think a single day has passed where my mind hasn't returned to those 3 months on the bike. It's funny how even saddle sores and thunderstorms convert to fond memories.
Having toured by bicycle a couple of times before, I'd learnt how to cut out the unnecessaries from the kit list. At least that's how I'd kid myself as I churned over the Appalachian, Ozark, and Rocky Mountains, or when out-pedalling the particularly frothy dogs of Kentucky and Missouri. I needed the little clothes I carried to protect me from an angry sun, perform well, and feel comfortable. My long sleeve Silverstick t-shirt ticked these boxes and helped me look semi-respectable when staying with 'trail angels'. The bird logo got a lot more compliments than me, let's just leave it at that.
I'm grateful to my Silverstick goodies for looking after me and remaining in great nick, even after being grubbier than I care to remember. I'm quite sentimental and still enjoy their warming nostalgia whenever I pull them on. I'm really glad the raccoon that robbed me didn't manage to get away with them. Before I get too soppy, though, I'll keep this short. Steering clear of cliches about 'getting off of the treadmill' and 'life not being an audition', do consider challenging yourself in a form and duration that is personal to you. Make yourself proud.
If your adventure requires active equipment, I recommend Silverstick.'