In a little town in Northern Romania, two boys laughed as they wheeled up and down the street. I’m sure they would have been pedaling bikes if they’d had them. They didn’t. But they had a wheelbarrow. It had a metal wheel that squeaked so loud you’d swear a 700-pound hamster was exercising in its cage. They took turns pushing each other around. The smaller boy had quite a difficult time pushing his larger friend up the hill, which only made them laugh harder.

No doubt the ride would have been smoother if their wheelbarrow was equipped with a shock and a top-of-the-line long distance touring tire. No blisters on their hands if they had custom gel gloves. And they could have mapped their progress up and down the street if they had a GPS-enhanced wheelbarrow-ometer. They didn’t.

Their smiles challenge me. Okay Mr. Traveler, can you have as much fun as we do?

We are assaulted with so many choices and upgrade options. How can you proceed until you get the ultimate touring bike? The best digital camera? The lightest tent? The perfect panniers or tricked-out trailer?

Sometimes it’s good to be reminded that you are way ahead if you simply have a bike.

Go out and pedal with as much joy as two boys sharing a wheelbarrow. I double dare you.

Originally posted on the Adventure Cycling Association’s blog.

The photos below link to those posts. If you see a photo that intrigues you … click on it. It will take you on a little mini-adventure. You could find yourself on the dramatic coast of Portugal or up in the highlands of Lesotho. You could end up listening to a impromptu violin concert or the final seconds of a rugby match. And you just might find yourself dreaming of your own travels.

When you do travel, I’d suggest you do it by bike. But that’s not necessary. Even if it’s been decades since you’ve pedaled a bike, I’d bet you could still find beauty and inspiration buried in these links. Browse, click and travel. Enjoy!

At home in Seattle last winter the New York Times travel section fell onto my lap and sun-drenched images of Portugal with it’s rustic, old-world promise of simpler times, charmed me into turning our travel plans upside down. In my fantasy of this place, it wasn’t just a landscape, but a feeling the land would evoke. I pictured the warmth of the late summer summer tinged with the crisp, dryness of fall. I pictured falling leaves, heavy loaves of bread, knarly old olive trees, wide-open landscape, intense blue sky, starry nights, dry earthy wines, white-washed stone villages on craggy hillsides, castles high overlooking the land they keep. I imagined good food simply prepared.

I had found elements of my vision all over Portugal, but today, in this place, it became all that and more. We are camped at a farm just around the hill from Castelo de Vide. Sitting outside our little yellow tent, we watch the sun set over the plains sprinkled with olives and cork oaks below. This land is baked by summer suns, but we are gifted with autumn warmth that remains cool in the shadows. It is perhaps the quality of the air that most of all fullfills my expectations.

Today we bicycled to the mountain-top fortress of Marvao – a picture perfect ride rolling easily through the landscape before the final burst to the top. Unemcombered by our panniers, it was more like sailing and we arrived at the top giddy rather than exhausted and marvel at the world that lay at our feet. The view in all directions – Spain just a few kilometers in the distance, the river Tejo bound by mountains to the north, the wide alentejo plains to the West.

Coasting down the mountain and back to Castle de Vide and a mid-day meal of roast goat and potatoes. It’s robust, earthy flavors completing the sensory delights of the day.

Back at our camp site tonight, we are surrounded by darkness illuminated by stars. Content with the perfect day. This is the Portugal that I dreamed.

That’s me. On my bike. On Earth.

The artist is Zak and he attends a primary school in Washington state where I presented an assembly entitled “The World’s Greatest SUV”. It introduces kids to the magic and wonders of bicycle travel.

If you haven’t ever talked to young students about your bicycle travels … you should.

You may think your trip across your state or across America pales in comparison to the hundreds of blogs and posts of epic world travelers. But to the students you take the time to visit … you’ll be Columbus, Magellan, Neil Armstrong, and Amelia Earhart all wrapped into one. You’ll rock their world.

The following is an excerpt from a column I wrote for Adventure Cyclist magazine in 2000 (pdf):

The question remains, how do today’s students get introduced to the bicycle as a vehicle of travel and discovery? Most are driven to school in SUVs until they reach the age where they can buy their own car. The media is saturated with advertisements about adventure, nearly all of which are connected to sales of automobiles, jet skis, and snowmobiles.

For the generation growing up today, the bicycle is something you put on top of your Ford Explorer until you reach a recreational trail. It is a toy, not a viable means of transportation. Just this past year I revisited my primary school while classes were in session. I walked onto the very same courtyard once saturated with bikes. It contained one lonely bike rack occupied by a total of three bikes.

But kids and students can only get excited about what they’ve been exposed to. One of the most rewarding experiences of my life came, not on a mountain pass in a far away country, but with my relationship with a third grade class in San Francisco.

Before I left for India, I promised Jennifer, a teacher friend of mine, I’d visit her school. I have to admit I wasn’t too excited about the experience. I figured that compared to video games, Power Rangers, and extreme sports, a guy on a bicycle was going to go over about as well as cold oatmeal.

I rode into her classroom with my bicycle fully loaded. To my surprise her students were totally enthralled with my bike, the same type of vehicle most of them already owned. After I talked about my planned journey, dozens of hands shot up when I asked if they had any questions.

Throughout my five-month journey I sent letters to the students. When they received them, they had to locate from where they’d been sent on a giant map of India in their classroom captioned, “Where’s Willie?”

Three months into my journey, I pulled into the city of Indore in central southern India. I had arranged to have mail sent there. There were a couple of letters from family and friends, and one large packet. Enclosed was a bundle of letters … every kid in Jennifer’s class had written to me.

Upon my return to the States I visited Jennifer’s class again. I had to break through a large “Welcome Back” banner held across the doorway. I spent the day with thirty future travelers, answering questions about tigers, mountain passes, and strange foods.

Then it was their turn. They all stood up and sang a song they had written for me and presented me with a gift, a hand-painted t-shirt of a bicycle wheel with the caption “The World for Willie.” The back of the shirt was filled with the pastel colored signatures of the kids. I stood in that classroom, tears rolling down my face, relishing in what has become one of my dearest travel memories.

I hope one day to open up my mailbox and pull out a postcard from a foreign land. I won’t recognize the name, but I’ll smile and laugh and cry. It will begin something like …

“Dear Willie,

Do you remember talking to my class several years ago?”

Will there be a next generation of adventure cyclists? There won’t be, unless those of us with a passion for bicycle travel find ways to share our passion with others.

Your passion … pass it on.

Originally posted on the Adventure Cycling Association’s blog.