Cyclist back home in South Bend from 4-year trip around a kind, generous earth

Mike Dits biked up to my house Saturday with a tiny doll tied to his front wheel rack — “my girlfriend,” he jokes — with purple yarn for hair. “Pia Po” has been with him since he found her in Chile two years ago.

He quickly pulled out a bamboo stick — found in Vietnam early this year — to prop up his heavily weathered black bike, hung with all of his possessions in a few bags. This bicycle was brand-new four years ago when I last saw Mike in person, rode with him to cornfields south of South Bend and then waved him off.

His pale baby face of that August 2015 day had given way to the tan, defined features and longer hair of a 28-year-old.

We saddled up and rode to his alma mater, Holy Cross School in South Bend, with a quick walk-around where he wondered if Europeans had influenced the architecture, and thus started the next phase of his journey: “How do I face my own roots?” His quest to learn about and one day start a business in renewable energy, which was the point of this trip, remains as strong as when he left.

“I want to devote my career to de-carbonizing the world as much as I can,” he says, with a handful of ideas for diving into that career.

He wants to start by giving motivational speeches, relying on human encounters across five continents, 63 countries, 1,518 days and almost 48,000 miles of biking — a full lap around the globe that he’s documented with a map and blog at renewride.com.

“I’ve learned that people of the world are inherently kind and generous and friendly,” he says, sitting on the porch of his dad (my brother Tom) on a brisk Monday morning, preferring outdoor air after countless nights of camping in the wild or in people’s yards or in their humble homes and stores — not to forget a monk’s home in Nepal and a cargo ship across the Caspian Sea. “Couple that with the beauty of the world.”

I’d written about my nephew’s trip before he left and after one and two years, last catching him in Africa, all linked to this column online. Since then, he visited my cousins and the house where my mom grew up in the Netherlands. He rode the historic silk trade road through Uzbekistan in the frigid autumn but found “overwhelming hospitality of Uzbeks … who want to give me everything I could possibly need.” Rural farmers in Georgia filled his hands with walnuts and freshly fallen apples. Such generosity allowed him to live frugally while tapping into savings from a previous corporate job.

Culture shock hit on the four times that he flew to jump oceans, Syria, Iraq and his lack of visas for China and Pakistan. The switch from frosty Kazahkstan to brutally hot southeast Asia was soothed by a water-dousing festival and tropical fruits. He tasted frogs and crickets in a Thailand market but also sticky rice that farmers shared out of bamboo baskets. Then came the flight from Malaysia to Alaska.

“Biking out of the (Anchorage) airport, I thought Ford, Chevy and GM colluded to make larger vehicles,” he recalls. “I hadn’t seen vehicles this large (in other countries) unless they were military.”

He was stunned by the wealth of products in supermarkets, too.

“I’d lost a lot of my identity as a young American man,” Mike realized. “Going through so many continents, I learned to adapt and mold myself.”

He tried to copy each culture’s gestures and even their vocal inflections to “fit in the best I can.” By the time he made it back to the U.S., he says: “I started to view the U.S. as just another country I was traveling through. … I’m not so emotionally tied to it. I feel like more of a global citizen.”

Now home, though, his family and I still see the same old 6-foot, 3-inch Mike with a theatrical skill for telling stories. His young nephews love tales of him being chased by monkeys and elephants.

He hears from the clean-energy projects he helped to build. They’re all still functioning, including two solar water heaters in Colombia, solar panels on a tiny bread shop in Zimbabwe (the owner, Zulu, has since expanded his business and home) and a windmill he built with a local innovator, Zack, in a Malawi village (the wooden tower may need to be replaced).

He’s chatted with many others about clean energy, like an Austrian man who powers his cow farm with a small hydroelectric dam or a cooperative in Belgium that installs solar panels at schools.

“People are embracing clean energy as sustainable around the world,” he says, optimistic that the next “couple of decades” won’t be stuck with a carbon-choked planet.

Meanwhile, his carbon-free Surly bike survives. Almost everything but the frame has been replaced. By tracking his distance, he’s estimated how many bike parts to pack — especially as he looked ahead to countries that may lack bike supplies. A Brooks leather saddle and a bottom bracket both lasted almost 19,000 miles. A handlebar went about 29,000 miles (his sweaty hands made it rust). Two spokes are missing from the back wheel, but it rides just fine.

He has the same helmet, too, but he’s abandoned wearing it since Peru, feeling that it makes him stand out. Here, I tell him that the helmet fits right in and is the right thing to wear.

He was ready to come back home. In Europe last year, he thought of many fellow sojourners who were going back to jobs, and he questioned, “What are you doing, Mike? You’re 27. You should be contributing to society.” The trip was taking a year longer than he’d expected, but he had to finish it. So he pushed on without delays. OK, in Colorado this summer he worked a painting job to raise money for a motorcycle trip with Sophia, a German backpacker he’d met in South America, making a 28-day loop around the West — one last blast of fun.

A 10-day course in Vipassana meditation in Myanmar, formerly Burma, had taught him to suppress ego and be more tolerant, he says, adding: “It’s not about what I learned. It’s about what the world has to offer.”

But he can’t deny the mark that the world left. While a student at Indiana University, he had an admittedly immature view of his hometown as “Corn town USA, suburban, parochial.” Now, thanks to travel, he says, “I don’t know South Bend well enough to judge it. … I now have more appreciation for the history of a place.”

Closer jaunts

• Yoga in park: A free yoga session will be offered at 6:30 p.m. today at Cobus Creek County Park, 30680 County Road 8, Elkhart. Meet by the shelter. A few mats will be available.

• Sarett colors: A naturalist will lead a 2-mile hike at 10 a.m. Saturday at Sarett Nature Center, 2300 N. Benton Center Road, Benton Harbor, along Paw Paw River bluffs and on wetland boardwalks with the Harbor Country Hikers.

• The Science of Fear: University of Notre Dame researcher David Flagel will talk about the way wolves have altered the behavior of deer and coyotes by using fear. He’ll share this insight at 6:30 p.m. Tuesday under the outdoor pavilion at Notre Dame’s LEEF property at St. Patrick’s County Park in South Bend. This free, adult-focused program allows you to bring beer or wine but no glass bottles. Register by Friday at 574-654-3155 or bendixwoods@sjcparks.org.

• BarBici Night Ride: Register at mybarbici.com by Thursday to land a T-shirt with your $20 fee for the 16-mile night bike ride at 9 p.m. Oct. 25 from BarBici Italian Street Food in South Bend’s Eddy Street Commons. Light yourself up. Wear a helmet. It benefits the Bike Michiana Coalition.

• Sandhill crane trip: Join St. Joseph County Parks naturalists for a trip Oct. 26 to see sandhill cranes gather by the hundreds at Jasper-Pulaski State Game Preserve in Medaryville, Ind. Depart at 3:30 p.m. from Bendix Woods County Park and return by about 8:30 p.m. At $8 per person, register by Monday at 574-654-3155.

• Saw-whet owl banding: Watch up-close as tiny saw-whet owls are banded in the Indiana Dunes Visitor Center on Thursdays through Sundays now until Nov. 17. You could stay up late. The process begins at 7 p.m. CDT, and at 6 p.m. starting Nov. 2. Every hour, folks from Indiana Audubon will check to see if the owls are caught in nets, then bring them inside to band, then release them. The free program depends on weather; so call 219-395-1882 first or join a text/email alert program for updates at http://bit.do/owlbanding. Live rehabilitated owls (of other species) will be there each Saturday night. Special nights go behind the scenes on Oct. 27 and 31 and Nov. 1, 3 and 9; register for these specific nights at indianaaudubon.org/events. The Visitor Center is at 1215 N. Indiana 49, 1 mile north of Interstate 94 in Porter.