Indeed. Probably tens of thousands of dollars over the last 15 years. Before the motorist took of at the green light, he said he was planning to ride his bike to work soon, because of gas prices and the recession.

But this isn’t at all about saving money. That’s just icing on the cake. Which got me thinking…

There’s a lot of talk in the media about an economic slowdown, recession, depression, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it. And there may be some truth in what you’ve been hearing, although the jury’s still out on how bad it’s going to get.

But spending less money doesn’t have to mean lowering your quality of life. I put that in italics so you’ll remember it, and burn it into your brain. Most bike commuters probably ride their bikes to work by choice, not necessity. And even if your credit card debt, your salary cut, rising costs or some other economic factor compelled you to ride your bike to work, you’d still get all the benefits that lead to this choice by people who have other options.

You’ll pump oxygen into every cell in your body, burn fat and build lean, powerful muscle. You’ll get to work relaxed and happy, looking and feeling a lot better than the stressed out commuters who had to hunt for parking. You’ll see your town from a new perspective, and make discoveries that motorists miss. Every day is an adventure, because you’re using your mind and body and wits to overcome new obstacles that wait for you just around the corner. It’s fun!

Not to mention the self-righteous ego-boost you can indulge in, knowing that you’re saving energy, reducing pollution, giving your fellow citizens more parking and road space, and generally making the world a little bit better.

And you’ll save money. Maybe start getting ahead, paying off your debts and building up your net worth while people all around you are worried about defaults and bailouts and who knows what else. But that’s not the point.

Riding a bike is just one example of how downsizing your life, spending less, can actually improve your standard of living. The new economy (and that’s what’s happening here–not a reduction of total wealth but simply a transfer of wealth) may look scary on the surface if you’re stuck in old ways of thinking. But really it’s an adventure of new opportunity. Embrace the adventure.

Race you to the top?

I can only hope that when I’m 74 I’ll be able to ride from the UK to Greece, as Ian was doing when the fateful hit-and-run did him in. RIP, Ian.

For the rest of us, drive carefully. Ride free.

I woke up to a cold fog, and couldn’t wait to get back on my bike and start moving. I was in the Pontine Marshes, and the Romans were in a hurry to get through, too, when they built the via Appia.

Here the Appian Way shoots forward in a perfectly straight line.  the Romans probably could have established a winding route along sections of dry ground, but instead they pounded strong pilings into the water to support the road where they wanted it to go.

Two straight lines of Umbrella pines flank the road on either side, and I wonder if the Romans originally planted pines as shade for their travelers. Throughout my trip, these trees always seemed abundant along the roadside, and whenever I was unsure of the way I could go up on a hill and look for the clear green lines cutting across the land.

The Pontine marshes are drained now, and mostly used for agriculture. A drainage ditch runs along the road just beyond the trees.

It would have been easy to die here. Trucks emerged from the early morning fog, and there was no room for them to pass, and no space to get out of the way. The trees and bushes grow up flush against the roadway in most places. Lots of flowers and other monuments to the fallen dot the roadway.

I could have taken a parallel route about 10 miles south, through a national park. I recommend this to anyone else. But I’m a purist, and I wanted to follow the Via Appia as faithfully as possible.

Luckily, some of the most considerate drivers I’ve seen in my life drove the Appian Way. They would slow down and follow me, sometimes for as long as 15 minutes, until it was safe to pull over and let them go by. People are generally in less of a hurry in Italy, even on the Romans’ most important highway.

Beyond the thin ditch of water and the umbrella pines, endless pastures, crop fields, stone walls, vineyards and olive groves roll out among the occasional milestone or chunk of marble. It’s as if nothing has changed over the centuries The cars are an anachronism, as if some mischievous god dumped a layer of asphalt over the whole thing and let the drivers in as a great circus to entertain the masses.

Long before you get to Terracina, you see the Temple of Jupiter Anxur at the top of Mount Sant’Angelo.

I was destined to get to know Jupiter very well (to be continued…)

Fear not! I can show you a safe bike ride in your home town. I’ve been networking with bikers all over the United States, as part of a research project into safe and scenic bike rides. If one of them is near you, we can find you a ride. Just leave a comment if you’re interested in trying this out, and I’ll get back to you soon.

Better yet,  sign up for free biking tips–just leave your name and email at the right. —–>

In fact, you are in a ring, the Grande Raccordo Annulare, the highway that circles the outskirts of Rome. Several main roads cut across this ring and merge in the center of the city, dividing all the area into wedges like a giant pizza.

I almost became road pizza. There are places where the Appian Way has no shoulder and there’s a sheer stone wall on each side. So you literally can’t get out of the way of a moving vehicle.

Eventually you’ll reach the Porta San Sebastiano, the port of St. Sebastian in the Aurelian Wall. If you happen to be there between 9 and 2, look for a door with a buzzer on the right. If you push the button they’ll let you into a museum dedicated to Roman engineering. But the best part is you can climb up to the battlements on top of the wall and walk along it for a good kilometer or so. Watch out for Sabines, Samnites, and Barbarians!

A bit further on you’ll be at the Catacombs, and you can cut through the catacombs of St. Calixto to get out of the traffic for a while. This takes longer, but you’ll be looking at gardens instead of stone walls, and you’ll have clean air and some shade.

On my trip I got past the catacombs and headed into the via Appia park, where the original road bumps along for almost 10 miles, past fields of wildflowers and crumbling Roman ruins. This park is the history buff’s dream!

If you go there you’ll see the tomb of Cecilia Metella that looks like a castle, the stone skeleton of an early Church, aqueducts and endless monuments to people who died centuries ago. You can stop at the “Domine Quo Vadis” church and see footprints in the marble–thought by true believers to be the footprints of either Christ or St. Peter. You’ll see the ruins of old houses and villas and you might even get a wheel caught in the ruts left by hundreds of thousands of carts and wagons.

When the Appian way hit a dead end (actually the route was still in a straight line but it was closed off by walls and fences), I took a few side streets that I knew would lead to SS7, the modern highway equivalent of via Appia.

There was a strong stench of sulphur coming from a fountain at the intersection. The water was pierced with tiny bubbles and tasted tart. An old man told me these natural minerals are good for the health. I’m still alive.

I had lunch in a small park with a picket fence. A sign on the fence informed me that this was “A place clean and civil.”
The afternoon was a whirlwind of vineyards and fields of crops and a huge viaduct at Ariccia.

Just outside Genzano, another long section of the original roadbed was exposed, and I followed this past still more crumbling marble pillars.

When Seneca traveled the Appian Way, he often camped, saying, “The mattress lies upon the ground, and I upon the mattress.”

I ended my first day the same way, pitching my tent in an empty field.

“Impossibile!” he insisted, pronouncing the word with long vowels: eem-poh-SEEEEEE-bee-lay!

Nobody knows how many millions of nobles, senators, philosophers, soldiers, merchants, prisoners, slaves, poets and bandits have followed the route of the Appian Way from Rome to Brindisi or vice versa. They’ve been doing it for 1,300 years, on foot, in litters, by wagon, buggy, horse, pony, mule, and more recently in cars, motorcycles and trucks.

Surely one enthusiastic biker could make the journey.

Dr. Grello is, as far as I can tell, the chief archeologist for the Parco Reggionnale dell’Appia Antica on the outskirts of Rome. If you try to sneak out of Rome behind the Coloseum, through the ancient walls at the Port of St. Sebastian, you’re at the start of the Appian Way, and you’ll soon see these park headquarters on your right.

Even if you’re not planning to ride the via Appia by bicycle, if you’re in Rome this park is well worth stomping around a bit. They close the road to motor vehicles on Sunday, and you can usually find someone offering bikes for rent near the Colosseum.

I went to the park headquarters and asked in uncertain Italian if I could talk to the leader. A young woman barely set down her lipstick-stained cigarette as she directed me to Dr. Grello.

When I explained that I wanted to bike the entire length of the Appian Way, and he finished assuring me that it could not be done, he asked why I would ever want to do such a thing.

This is the hardest question to answer, even in English. I did my best to explain my fascination with the Mediterranean, ancient history, and the desperate need we have (I think) in the USA, to rediscover some common roots. Archeologists will never finish scraping the ancient world out of the soil and gluing it back together, but there’s always still an energy you can feel when you’re alone in these ancient places.

I want to see marble columns rising out of misty fields in the dawn, and remember what the Romans forgot when they became too powerful as a civilization and too weak as individuals, the power the barbarians came to understand when the Romans had forgotten and the Greeks were just a memory.

When you travel by bicycle you don’t just “see” things behind the glass of a museum display or a windshield. You feel the air and the moisture and the contours of the land. You’re exposed to the people and the energy of the place. You drink in the nectar of the world, and anything is possible.

Halfway through my rant, Dr. Grello understood. You could see it in his face. And here’s a secret to communicating with Italians. Even if you don’t know the right words, if you speak with passion and move your hands around in big circles most Italians can read your mind and they’ll usually produce whatever you want on the spot.

My new archeologist savior was already pulling out topo maps, old photos and drawings, and giving me a stream of directions and names and numbers in rapid Italian. He told me that a lot of the Appian Way was on private property, covered over by new roads, even freeways. He mentioned floods and swamps and mountains. Also many places where people simply don’t know where the via Appia ran.

I frantically scribbled as much as I could understand in my notebook. I wasn’t looking for perfection, just adventure and fun and new learning and experience. If I couldn’t retrace all of the Appian Way, I would still see most of it, do the best I could.

Dr. Grello assured me once again that I was attempting something impossible. The he shook his head, shook my hand, and solemnly wished me good luck.

If you’d like to receive free email tips on traveling by bicycle, send a request to Jacob@BicycleFreedom.com.

This content is copyright 2008 by Jacob Bear.

Why do we make these trips, anyway? You’ve got your own personal reasons when you travel by bicycle. The more obvious benefits, like saving money, saving gas, cutting pollution and possibly improving your health are just icing on the cake. That’s not why you really do it.

Maybe you’ve been through something like this. I was in a confusing period in my life, where everything I wanted or thought I needed was either too easy or completely out of reach.

In times like that you need something to take you outside the box you’ve built around your life. A bit of challenge and adventure, the possibility of romance, a little bit of danger and a lot of fun. Touring southern Italy by bicycle, riding down the Appian way, gave me all of that and more. That’s why we do these things. That’s probably why you’re reading this.

Either you’ve done this route or something similar, or you have a craving for it. I’ll tell you the whole story on this blog, in little installments. You can follow along, get good route notes, and hear the tale, warts and all. “In Appia is my salvation,” I wrote, and I was right.

Now there’s a biker who is riding for the life of animals. When a person gets cancer, they have a lot of options. For animals, sometimes the best they can hope for is to be drugged beyond the reach of pain. But when Ted’s dog came down with cancer, he sought out cures and treatments, and wrote a book for other dog owners.

But now he’s doing something great. He’s riding his bike across the country to raise money to help dogs with cancer. On his website you can learn more about the story, and the scores of fellow dog owners who are grateful for his work. You’ll see some videos of the ride, and you’ll have the chance to donate funds to help dogs who have been stricken with this disease.

Here’s the link: http://www.dogcancerride.com

But I’ve found a way to really benefit from the saddle time I have.

Nearly all of my bike riding time is commuting in the city. I get a short stretch of biking in between traffic lights and stop signs. Normally I would take the whole route at an easy pace, the kind meant for bike touring, and get restless and frustrated whenever the usual urban obstacles forced me to stop.

Now I look at my daily bike route as a series of sprints through an obstacle course. Now when I hit a red light I’m breathing hard, my thighs are burning, and I’m grateful for the 45 seconds of rest. The results:

• More fun on the way to work, and less frustration
• I might end up in better shape after a few months of this
• I’m learning how to handle sharp turns, potholes, and bumps at faster speeds
• I get to workearlier

This connects with a very popular philosophy of bike touring. Use what you’ve got. On a tour this means fixing a bike with duct tape, broken pens, or anything you can find because the only other alternatives are walking or hitchhiking.

In an urban bike commute, you practice this philosophy through better training. The “duct tape” is the time and circumstances you have available. Use what you’ve got.
Try this. Seek more challenges, fun, and rewards without changing where, when, or how long you ride. The secret is to change how you ride the bike.

I’ve been getting a lot of emails (as well as a few comments added to old posts) from people wanting tips and advice on biking in southern Italy. Some of you are riding (or even hiking!) the Via Appia, and it’s a shame that it’s so hard to get a group of people together when our schedules, wills, and finances are all in alignment.

We’re basically all doing prettymuch the same ride, just not at the same time. So… (more…)