Were it not for COVID-19, Erik Andrews would be hefting a hammer right now to help families in rural West Virginia.
Instead, he found himself watching the sun rise Friday over Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona. He was just over 1,000 miles into a roughly 3,300-mile trip from Vandenberg Air Force Base in southern California to Cape Canaveral in Florida.
"I've always wanted to bike across the country," said Andrews, 60, who has called Oberlin home for 14 years.
"But it's not something you do in a week or two. Once you start getting serious about having kids, suddenly taking two or three months out of the summer and stopping your work-related activities, that becomes problematic." With the nest empty now, the COVID-19 pandemic provided an unlikely opportunity to get out on the road.
The virus canceled a pilgrimage that Andrews has made every summer since 1997 — he was supposed to leave June 7 to take part in the Appalachia Service Project, a Christian ministry that puts thousands of volunteers to work repairing homes in impoverished communities in remote areas from Pennsylvania to Alabama.
The annual missions project was halted, and Andrews said ASP has taken a huge hit to the income it uses to support people in need. So he decided to still strap on his work boots, and he's wearing them as he cycles from sea to shining sea in honor of the Appalachia Service Project.
The trip is also a way to raise funds for ASP. Online donations have poured in for his cause, with $3,093 pledged as of Friday.
Visit tinyurl.com/ErikAndrews to reach his fundraising page, where a $10,000 goal has been set.
Andrews started pedaling from the Pacific Ocean's edge near Vandenberg Air Force Base in California on June 7, the day he had originally planned to depart for duty in West Virginia.
The trek started with flat riding south along the coast in the salty ocean breeze. Then Andrews turned east, taking the famous Route 66 through the Mojave Desert and Sierra Nevadas.
"That's where your uncertainty is," he said. "I said, 'Am I going to be up to this?' I'm not 30 anymore. That first 90-mile ride across the desert, you're not sure how your body is going to react."
When he was younger, Andrews was no stranger to the road. In high school, he toured the Midwest and Canada, and in 1981, during college, he completed a monthslong ride with his brother, Geoff.
These days he's a mission software systems engineer working with NASA on satellite launches. Most recently, he helped put ICESAT-2 in orbit to study the retreat of ice at the poles. His job has taken him to both Vandenberg and Cape Canaveral before, and during prolonged trips for launches in Florida, Andrews said he kept up his stamina by cycling.
Still, at 60 and with an ankle that needs surgery, he said he's not pressuring himself to set a record pace. "A lot of people I talk to along route, I say, 'Boy, this would have felt different when I was 25,' " Andrews said. On Friday, he had made his first big climb through the mountains, hitting the thin air at 7,000 feet above sea level, and he was preparing to cross the Continental Divide.
It was not an experience that riding the flat streets of Oberlin had prepared him for. But it felt good.
"Once you've done that first big climb, and once you've done those first 90- or 100-mile days, the confidence builds," Andrews said. "You go up and down a lot of hills. You work your way into shape if you're not already in shape."
Approaching the New Mexico border, he marveled at the geological wonders he'd seen in the past week. They included the Grand Canyon, all but deserted because of the pandemic.
While the national park was open, COVID-19 travel restrictions were keeping tourists away, Andrews said.
"There was no one there. It was just me and the canyon. It was remarkable," he said.
Andrews said his wife, Michele, has been incredibly supportive, rearranging summer activities to travel with him to California to kick off the odyssey. "I'm not sure this would be possible without her support," he said.
The trip is set to wrap up by Labor Day.
