When Ben Sollee set out on a run of shows through the Front Range last fall, he left his van back in Kentucky. Instead of driving from gig to gig, the soulful singer-songwriter and versatile cellist strapped his instrument and gear to the sides of his Surly Big Dummy and pedaled between venues. Riding to shows in Fort Collins, Boulder and Denver was part of the Ditch the Van Tour, a cross-country, self-supported bike tour that had Sollee, drummer Jordon Ellis and his road manager pedal over 1,500 miles to gigs on both coasts and the Midwest, while connecting longer stretches by train.
For Sollee—known for a genre-bending blend of rootsy folk with the classical undertones of his instrument and the R&B flavor of his unexpected Motown croon—touring by bike wasn’t meant to be an environmental statement. Instead, it’s a chance to break the tedious monotony of an independent musician’s required lifestyle. To make a decent living, Sollee and countless others of his ilk have to tour constantly, which requires long days on the road staring at similar stretches of highway.
“When you drive into a town, put on a show, and then leave, it can be very formal and business-like,” says Sollee. “But when you ride through on a bicycle, there are no windows to roll up. You interact with the people around you.”
For Sollee, the best part about bike tours is getting to know locals in the small towns he passes through along the way. He’s trying to “feel human about the pace of touring,” even if that means hauling 124 pounds of gear while riding an average of 50 miles a day. During last year’s tour he stopped to chat in bike shops and community centers, played a show at a rickshaw station, and even stayed overnight in a fan’s yurt, as opposed to the usual cheap interstate motel. In Colorado, he played at a school house in Salina, partied with the freaks at Tour de Fat in Fort Collins and then huffed it 71 miles south for a gig at the Oriental Theatre in Denver.
“There’s an investment that you get when you pedal up and down canyon roads with a full trailer and sleep in someone’s backyard,” Sollee says. “It’s a whole different experience, and it’s not just about the physical challenge. We found a way to tap into these communities. I’m able to enjoy the journey and immortalize each of these trips.”
Indie folk collective Blind Pilot had a similar experience in 2008. Before the Portland, Oregon,-based group broke out with the acclaimed album “3 Rounds and a Sound,” they were fighting for new fans one at a time in small joints. To make things interesting, they booked a West Coast tour and pedaled the length of it from Vancouver down to San Diego. Band members each pulled their own gear in BOB Trailers, and along the way, they camped and couch surfed, many times adding impromptu shows in small towns or campgrounds.
“When the band was first starting, tours were really hard to book,” says Blind Pilot drummer Ryan Dobrowski. “We decided to make an adventure out of it. When we weren’t playing in a major city, we’d spread the word at that night’s campground and play a show by the fire at our site. Those impromptu shows were some of the best.”
While bike tours may be more fun for road-weary bands, they’re unfortunately not financially sustainable or logistically feasible in the long run. After all, a crew of cyclists with heavy instruments can only cover so much ground per day, so it’s difficult to efficiently bridge the often-long distances between paying customers in big city markets.
“The toughest thing is staying on schedule, especially when you’re dealing with flat tires and repairs,” says Dobrowski. “It feels daunting when you know you have to be in L.A. on certain day, and you’re currently on a bike in Washington.”
Still, Sollee says he will do at least one bike tour a year from now on, and Blind Pilot isn’t ruling out another pedaling stint when they support their new album, which comes out this spring.
“Even if you don’t have a great show, a day is always better when you’ve ridden 70 miles, as opposed to sitting in a van for seven hours,” Dobrowski adds.
Bonus Track: Travis Book’s Secret Singletrack
The bassist for bluegrass band the Infamous Stringdusters gives up the beta on his favorite pirate trail.
“I grew up riding under the shadow of Mt. Herman, near Palmer Lake. The summer before I went to college, my friend and I mapped out an ambitious connector trail to link the Mt. Herman trailhead with my backyard trail, Limbaugh Canyon. It was remote enough to require multi-day, backcountry work sessions, so by the fall, we’d only finished about half of it. A few years later, two of my mentors, Tim Watkins and Tom Allen, discovered it and completed it, as well as a brilliant new descent from Limbaugh, since the original route had been gobbled up by developers. Last year I got my first crack at riding the trail I’d designed, and it’s become an epic monster of a loop. It has no name and no signage and requires an intimate knowledge of the local topography, but if you can find it, you’ll find the best ride on the Front Range.”
Prod Travis for more details, or invite him on a ride, at the ‘Dusters shows at the Bluebird Theater in Denver on March 17 and the Fox Theatre in Boulder on March 18.
