Bircus Brewing Co. & Circus Mojo will sponsor a reception for the intrepid adventurer, Neal Moore, who is on a 7,500-mile journey paddling across the US from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Neal is currently paddling up the Ohio River and will arrive in Ludlow Friday evening, July 2.
“Neal’s mission of celebrating resilience resonates with me. Over the past 11 years we’ve hosted circus artists from 42 countries for events here in Ludlow and across the USA. Come kick off Independence weekend celebrating Neal Moore’s American adventure,” said Paul Miller, Founder Circus Mojo & Chief Goof-Officer of Bircus Brewing Co.
Neal began his cross-country journey February 9th, 2020, and will end December 2021 in New York harbor, at the Statue of Liberty.
Neal Moore’s adventure across America is “To showcase, highlight and celebrate how our identity, ethnicity and freedom play out across this entire land… What makes Americans tick… Falling down and scraping our shins and getting up drying and our tears and putting our best foot forward.”
Join us Friday evening at the Historic Ludlow Theatre, Home of Bircus Brewing Co. & Circus Mojo for a chance to meet Neal Moore and support his Grandiose Mission. $1 from each Bircus Beer will help fund Neal’s journey with an additional $1 benefiting the local city youth outdoor adventure organization, Adventure Crew, whose mission is to “Open the doors of nature for city teens to strengthen their connection with self and others and create the next generation of healthy outdoor enthusiasts and environmental stewards.” Live Music, Circus entertainment, craft beer and wood fired pizza kick off at 6 p.m..
Neal Moore, dubbed “a modern day Huck Finn” by CNN, is the author of Down the Mississippi and, most recently, Homelands: A Memoir. A nomad, adventurer and storyteller, Neal’s reporting has taken him from Night-market meetings with Chinese cyber-dissidents to mountaintop encounters with approaching super typhoons. His work from North America, Africa and the Far East has appeared in Der Spiegel, The New Yorker and on CNN International.
A Peace Of My Mind: Building community and bridging divides through portraits and personal stories.
Neal Moore is a journalist, an adventurer and an expatriate. He is in the midst of a two-year journey, paddling 7,500 miles across the United States. I met him in a coffee shop—by chance—in Columbus, Mississippi and we found time the next day to do an interview.
“So the big idea is to travel from sea to shining sea, connecting the waterways. I’m looking at 22 rivers. The idea is to touch 22 States and make my way across 7,500 miles from the Pacific Coast, to the Continental Divide, to the Gulf of Mexico, to the Great Lakes, to the very feet of the Statue of Liberty. It’s a two year journey.
I’m attempting to connect waterways, but also to connect the stories of everyday Americans, to listen to folks and try to understand what the commonality is, the thread between us that can spin positive and speak to our mutual experience.
I’ve been an expatriate on and off—mainly on—for 30 years. I’ve been living between Africa and East Asia for this time and this is a chance to come back to my own backyard, and to experience it up close and personal. This is a unique way to see the country.
The canoe is the first form of transport and these rivers and waterways are the first thoroughfares in this land and they absolutely connect. And so, to unfurl the map in your mind and then to try to plot out your course, it took a year just to plot the course.
When I look at rivers, when I look at water, I’ve always found that this is sort of a stabilizing substance. Our bodies are +/- 70% water. The surface of the earth is +/- 70% water. And I think there might be a correlation there. When I was younger, I went to school in Hawaii. Then when I transferred to the university of Utah, I would take off every winter quarter and go back to Capetown. And for the three months I was there—which is their summer—I would just be surfing in the water every single day.
I had all this stress. I had lost my brother as a boy. I had lost my mom. And when I came home, my dad had moved on. It was just me, and I found, when you submerge yourself, and even when you’re near a waterway, that stress washes off.
So, the idea was to paddle the year leading into national elections, and then the full year after, no matter how it would have turned out. What would we look like as a nation the year after national elections?
I identify as liberal. I sort of identify as very much as flawed, as well. So I understand that I don’t have all the answers. And the moment that I think that I do, that’s when everything sort of goes topsy-turvy and my personal life sort of gets messed up. And so for me, when you you do unfurl that map of America, and you look at my route, this route that I’ve selected, these 22 rivers and waterways, it’s by and large, all red. The country is very red in these rural locations that I’m finding myself paddling through and stopping off to, to meet folks.
So my thinking going into it is sort of like George Orwell and his masterpiece, Homage to Catalonia where he’s a journalist based in London. This was before his fame, of course, with Animal Farm, with 1984. Well before that, and he puts himself onto a boat and he disembarks in Barcelona and he attaches himself to the losing side of the Spanish Civil War and to an anti-fascist faction known as the POUM. At the end of chapter one, he finds himself on the front, taking a shot at another human being for the first time in his life.
What he says is, “understand that I am biased, but also understand that I am here.” And this is the age before the green screen. But what he’s saying is we have New York journalists, the big name ones, and we have London journalists, the big name ones who say that they’re there during the Spanish Civil War in Spain, and they’re not. They aren’t there and they’re still biased. But as he says, I’m biased, but I’m here.
And so my thinking, looking at the map in that vein and with that exclamation point is to see the country and to learn, and really try to take off the mask of these monikers that we sort of throw on to ourselves. The things that if we let them, can separate us, be it identity politics, be it race, be it religion.
What I’m looking for is that common thread, from coast to coast. What I’m really looking for is the common humanity, and I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it with individuals. I’ve seen it with families. I’ve seen it with communities. And when you see it, and when you’re able to document it, it just blows you away. It’s so profound.
When you add up all of these stories, everybody has a story. My thinking is by the time I get to the Statue of Liberty, and approaching her from a rarefied view, coming the wrong way, from the West Coast to the East Coast, I feel like I earned these towns, that I earned the chance for these stories. I want to earn that view. And to really properly understand it, I need to first understand who we are, and what we’re about and how far we’ve come.
I think the big surprise for me has been the wildness. A journey like this by and large, you’re pushing yourself out into the wild. And then in so doing, you get to embrace the wildness within. As Max finds out with Where the Wild Things Are, the monster is inside of us. And so to be able to understand that, embrace that and try to deal with that on a personal basis, in concert with nature. When you’re in your canoe, you’re down low in the water, and you see it, you experience nature from a wholly different vantage point.
Every day that I’m out there in nature, every single day, I find myself laughing. It’s this care-free laugh of, I really should be clocking in or clocking out somewhere with a proper job. And I’m not. I’m out here in nature and I’m free. I’m positively free. And there’s something beautiful about that.
I’m generally up an hour before first light. I’m deflating my air pad and rolling up my sleeping bag. I’m packing up inside the tent and taking the tent down. It takes about an hour to an hour and a half. And then I put all of my worldly belongings into my canoe. And I push off. And in that exact moment, it’s just pure perfection.
There’s something so beautiful about that moment where you step off from Terra Firma into the water. Whether I’m headed downstream with the current or whether I’m fighting like hell going upstream, you’re in the moment. I don’t travel with with earbuds in my ears, listening to books on tape or listening to music. Nature herself is my orchestra.
And when you’re paddling, you’re looking out for obstacles at all times. So you’re listening to the water. You’re watching out for boulders. You’re watching for hanging tree limbs.
Whether it be the pandemic or whether it be the headwinds and the tornadoes and the two derechos. There are hard times, but you understand that it’s temporary. You understand that around the bend, that we’re going to be okay.
In many cases on this journey, I’m risking my life. I’m putting myself completely out there. And there’s a strange thing that happens. There’s this strange phenomenon that takes place, when it’s touch and go, when you realize that you’re in a situation that can absolutely end your life, it’s when you feel like you really live. You have to focus. You cannot freak out and you have to see your way through.
And so whenever you have tribulation, you have to have to experience that. Be it the loss of loved ones, be it nature’s temporary fury. You have to soldier through. And by making your way through the hard times, on the flip side of that, when you make the safe harbor, when the sun comes out nice and bright and beautiful, then it’s all the sweeter. It’s all the sweeter because you’ve earned it.
I think our greatest strength is empathy. When you stop and you take away these labels that we like to identify ourselves by. When you strip all of that away, what we’re left with is something beautiful. And it’s something I think that we can all connect to. We can all relate to. And if we let ourselves, we can all love in a positive way. That is our common humanity. That is the natural desire to help, to have empathy for our brothers and sisters. And I think from coast to coast, what I’m finding doesn’t always work out that way, but when you’re looking for it, you see It. You see it.
And when you do see it, it strengthens your belief in mankind. And I think it makes you—the would be traveler in this life—a very happy person.”
-What is the boldest adventure you have ever embarked on?
-Have you ever placed yourself in harm’s way?
-When have you pushed your physical and psychological limits?
-Have you experienced water in a healing way?
-Do you agree with Neal that empathy is our greatest strength?
-When have you offered empathy? When have you received it?
-When have you had a clear sense of our common humanity?
-When have you experienced wilderness?
-What does Neal mean by the phrase “the wilderness within?”
-If you could set off on a journey, what would you hope to find?
From the High Arctic to the Southern Ocean, human-powered paddling feats over wild, open water will mark a 2021 for the books. A handful of paddling expeditions are launching in the months ahead, ready to mark new chapters in the annals of the sport. Notably, two trans-Pacific Ocean crossing attempts will be setting off from the mainland U.S. to Hawaii, plus bids across the Drake Passage and through the Northwest Passage. Meanwhile, other endurance paddlers keep plodding novel extended courses closer to home, day by day, including one man‘s circuitous 7,500-mile crossing of North America and an unprecedented, multi-year effort of one woman to paddle 30,000 miles around the entire North American continent.
Chris Bertish’s Trans-Pacific Wing Project
Big-wave surfer and motivational speaker Chris Bertish is following up a 2017 standup paddleboard crossing of the Atlantic Ocean with a bid to make the first-ever trans-Pacific journey by wing foil. You read that right: hydro-foiling across the Pacific Ocean. Bertish plans to set off from Half Moon Bay, CA, in June, on an estimated 3,000-mile, wind-powered trip to Hawaii. Bertish upgraded the super-sized “Flying Fish” SUP he paddled across the Atlantic with hydrofoils for his TransPac Wing Project. Bertish plans to follow prevailing winds and currents in the north Pacific, covering between 40 and 80 miles per day.
Cyril Derreumaux’s Crack at a Legendary Crossing
France-born American Cyril Derreumaux will get a head start on Bertish, departing in May for a solo sea kayak Pacific crossing from California to Hawaii. Derreumaux, who set a Guinness speed record for rowing the same route as part of a four-man team in 2016, will attempt a paddling feat that’s only been accomplished by Ed Gillet (sea kayak) in 1987 and Antonio De La Rosa (SUP craft) in 2019. He’ll paddle a custom-built, live-aboard, solar panel-clad sea kayak that’s sleeker and far more seaworthy than the modified off-the-shelf tandem Gillet piloted over three decades ago. Derreumaux anticipates spending 70 days on the water.
Freya Keeps Paddling
The global pandemic forced Freya Hoffmeister to take a year off from her attempt to paddle around the North American continent. Instead, she spent 2020 sea kayaking in Norway and Sweden. But the German super-paddler, who has already circumnavigated Australia and South American, got an early start this year, tracing the Sea of Cortez and much of Mexico’s Pacific coast. Pending COVID regulations, Hoffmeister could eclipse the 600-day mark of a 30,000-mile expedition she anticipates will take up to a decade to complete.
Neal Moore’s Final Act
In February, we caught up with long-distance canoeist Neal Moore, who has spent the pandemic year adrift on America’s rivers. After descending the Mississippi River, Moore is headed north, linking waterways up to Lake Erie. This year he’ll aim to complete the third and final “act” of a 7,500-mile solo sojourn at the Statue of Liberty via the Hudson River.
Arctic Cowboys: Northwest Passage
A trio of Texans are waiting out COVID to finalize their plans to make an epic sea kayak journey through the Northwest Passage. West Hansen (who led a National Geographic-sponsored expedition on the Amazon River in 2012), Jeff Wueste and Jimmy Harvey, aka the Arctic Cowboys, will attempt the first documented single-season kayak transit of Canada’s arctic archipelago, with no land crossings—departing from either Pond Inlet on Baffin Island or Tuktoyaktuk at the mouth of the Mackenzie River, depending on COVID regulations. Either way, the journey will span some 1,900 miles with the goal of documenting how climate change is reducing polar ice coverage and opening up the passage of a mythical northern seafaring route. Along the way the team will travel the frigid waters that gave birth to kayaking, exploring waters that have never been paddled in modern times, and making open-water crossings up to 60 miles long.
De La Rosa’s Next Big Ocean Epic
Spanish adventure athlete Antonio De La Rosa has plotted an ambitious triathlon for the austral summer, traveling by standup paddleboard, sail, and overland in Antarctica. De La Rosa will SUP 600 miles from Patagonia to the Antarctic peninsula, across the feared Drake Passage. Then, the recent Eco-Challenge Fiji racer will retrofit his custom-build ocean board for sailing, making a 1,200-mile passage to South Georgia Island—emulating the path of Ernest Shackleton. De La Rosa will then follow Shackleton’s footsteps across mountains and glaciers to finish at the remote outpost on South Georgia’s east coast.