While cramming clothes into a suitcase, and packing up my gravel bike in preparation for racing The Rift, I found out my grandfather had passed. Plans suddenly changed from catching a flight to Iceland, to remaining stateside in Oklahoma and preparing for a funeral.
I was disheartened to scrap my travel and race plans, but more so, I was filled with sadness and shock. Joe Henry lived a full life. Born and raised here in Oklahoma. 91 years surrounded by friends, my grandmother, his children, grandchildren, one great-grandson, and more second and third cousins than I could possibly keep track of. He was a man full of joy, humor, and most importantly, ice cream. In place of an energetic race, I soon began to plan my own ride. One in remembrance to honor my grandfather and our Osage Native American heritage. I planned a route that would span from our home in Tulsa, Oklahoma out to Pawhuska, the capital of the Osage Nation, and back. A route comprised of pavement and gravel roads, totalling 140 miles snaking through Osage County. Setting aside the day to remember him and ride my bike. While processing this loss.
I set out in the quiet darkness of the morning. Eerily silent city streets with street lights speckled alongside the road, lighting the path for me. The occasional rogue dog emerged seemingly out of nowhere, nipping at my heels making sure I’m awake.
Once exiting the city I am greeted by beautiful wide gravel roads, trees, cattle, and a sunrise spanning across the depth of the rolling Osage hills. I chose to head out on my own, no music, no company, only the sound of the ground crunching beneath my tires while I reflected. I played through fond memories in my mind as the sun ascended into the sky and my bike effortlessly glided across the road. Absorbing each bump, as the miles tick by, wind at my back. Over and over again, I blink back tears out of my eyes. It sure is dusty out on these county roads, right?
As the sun rises in the sky I pass through the small town of Wynona, and soon enter Pawhuska. The Osage flag is proudly displayed all over, incorporated into building designs and murals. I pause for a moment outside of the Osage Nation Museum and the Osage Veterans and Warriors Memorial. I snapped photos of the iconic courthouse, receiving a few raised eyebrows from locals, possibly wondering what I was doing in my colorful cycling getup here in the middle of a Thursday. I smiled and waved at each and every car I encountered on my ride. Including the cowboys loading cattle into a trailer on the outskirts of town. Receiving a tipped hat and a nod in response. I admired more of the historical streets and buildings of the Osage capital before turning towards the second half of my ride. Surprisingly, the winds shift along with me, and I am greeted with another tailwind. My heart felt lighter.
When I was little, my biggest ride was pedalling my purple glittery bike (complete with a flower handlebar basket) the three blocks from my house to yours. Now, I do this ride for you and will think of you always out on the gravel roads. Maybe you watch me from above, maybe you’re the wind whistling in my ears, maybe you’re present in the vast fields where the cattle graze, or in the rainbow sunset on the horizon. The Osage Hills will always make me feel close to you, Papa Joe.
With the sun in my eyes and dirt coating my skin, I roll south, back into town. Finishing a ride truly worth remembering.
You can follow Gabby on her adventures on and off the bike by giving her and the Velocio // Exploro team a follow on instagram.
