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I fratelli Louis e Temple Abernathy sono ricordati per aver affrontato diversi viaggi "Ocean To Ocean" e in solitaria a partire dal 1909 all’età di 9 e 5 anni. Nel 1911 percorsero a cavallo la tratta New York – San Francisco in 62 giorni, il nuovo record di velocità per l’epoca. La loro storia è stata anche riproposta al cinema.

 

Pseudonimo: Abernathy Boys

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: 1900-?

Riferimento geografico: Stati Uniti

Mezzo di trasporto: A cavallo

Riferimenti complementari: Abernathy A., Bud & me: the true adventures of the Abernathy boys, Dove Creek Press, 1998

ID: w393

Internet: http://budandme.com

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q6686586

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Stefano Bolliger e Angelina Perrin sono partiti partiti nel 2007 in bicicletta da Lugano alla volta dell’India.

Giro del mondo in bici: partiti!
Angelina e Stefano hanno iniziato il loro viaggio in bicicletta, che li vedrà percorrere la Via della Seta.
Sono partiti. Sono montati in sella alla loro bicicletta e hanno iniziato il loro percorso che li porterà a visitare diversi paesi, fino ad arrivare in India.

Angelina Perrin e Stefano Bolliger sono partiti poco fa da Pazzallo, per questo singolare e suggestivo viaggio in bicicletta.

In un anno, come già vi abbiamo spiegato ieri, la coppia di giovani attraverserà l'Italia, la Grecia, la Turchia, la Siria, la Giordania, l'Egitto, l'Uzbekistan, l'Iran, la Cina, il Pakistan, fino ad arrivare in India.

Vi ricordiamo che il loro viaggio sarà monitorabile da metà settembre sul sito Internet http://sionroulait.blogs.marieclaire.fr.

http://www.tio.ch/News/Ticino/341712/Giro-del-mondo-in-bici-partiti/


Ils s'en vont pour 14 mois... à bicyclette !

Une jeune vendéenne et son compagnon sont partis hier de Suisse pour rejoindre l'Inde... à vélo. Objectif  : la défense de ce mode de transport propre.
Quatorze mois de vélo, de Suisse jusqu'en Inde ! C'est le projet un peu fou de la Vendéenne Angélina Perrin et de son compagnon Stéphane Bolliger. Dimanche, c'était le jour du grand départ : « Ça nous trottait dans la tête depuis plus de deux ans, raconte Angélina. Au début, c'était un simple rêve. Puis un jour, on s'est mis à y réfléchir plus précisément. On a regardé des cartes, imaginé l'itinéraire. C'est là qu'on s'est dit qu'il fallait vraiment qu'on le fasse. »

Le moteur de l'aventure · Promouvoir l'usage du vélo comme mode de transport alternatif et écologique, autant au quotidien qu'en vacances. « Le vélo fait partie de notre vie de tous les jours. Moi, j'habite désormais Paris, explique la Vendéenne. Je fais 26 km de vélo chaque jour, pour aller et revenir du travail. Sur un deux-roues, tout est plus pratique, on se sent libre. On profite mieux de la ville et on se sent en meilleure forme physique. Et puis c'est gratuit. »

Cette aventure, Angélina et Stéphane y ont déjà un peu goûté. Voilà des années que ces baroudeurs louent des deux-roues lors de leurs voyages à l'étranger. Au Maroc, à Bali, au Mexique... « C'était fabuleux ! On ne nous regardait pas comme des touristes sortant d'un bus ou d'un gros 4*4. Alors, on nous accueillait à bras ouverts. C'était fort de rencontres. »

L'été dernier, ils ont fait un galop d'essai : 600 km de Lugano, en Suisse, jusqu'à Venise : « Voyager ainsi change tout : on échappe aux voitures, on contemple des paysages fabuleux. Et quand on arrive à destination, on est contents, on l'a vraiment méritée cette destination de rêve ! Notre état d'esprit de vacanciers s'en trouve complètement bouleversé. »

« Pas des masochistes »

Angélina Perrin n'a pas hésité à vendre son appartement et prendre un congé sans solde pour que le rêve de son couple prenne corps. Tente de camping, réchaud et filtre à eau dans leur besace, ils prennent la route ce matin. Départ de Lugano, en Suisse, pour l'Italie puis la Grèce via un ferry. Puis viendront les Cyclades, la Turquie, la Syrie, la Jordanie... Jusqu'en Iran et la Route de la Soie. Cap vers l'Inde.

« Ce n'est pas un voyage de masochiste que nous entreprenons ! Nous ne sommes pas des têtes brûlées qui souhaitent braver tous les dangers. Non, nous voulons simplement montrer que si nous parvenons à le faire, c'est qu'il est possible pour beaucoup de monter sur un deux-roues. Au moins au quotidien. Et pourquoi pas faire Nantes-Bordeaux à vélo pour les vacances ? Stéphane et moi, on a convaincu des amis. Ils l'ont fait. Ils sont conquis ! »

http://www.larochesuryon.maville.com/actu/actudet_-ils-s-en-vont-pour-14-mois...-a-bicyclette-_15-432077_actu.Htm

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Svizzera

Nascita-morte: -

Riferimento geografico: Asia, Europa

Mezzo di trasporto: Bicicletta, monociclo, triciclo

Riferimenti complementari: Bolliger S., Perrin A., Sulla Via della Seta, La Città, luglio 2008

ID: w1723

Internet: -

Wikidata: -

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Isabella Lucy Bird è stata una scrittrice e viaggiatrice inglese attiva nella seconda metà del XIX secolo. Nel 1892 fu la prima donna ad essere ammessa nella Royal Geographical Society.

Life of a Victorian adventuress: Incredible story of clergyman's daughter who braved malaria, floods and wars to trek across China

At a time when few women would leave their houses alone, Isabella Bird braved war, floods and male scorn to complete arduous solo journeys in America and the Far East.

From 1894 to 1897 the Victorian explorer trekked across China while it was with war with Japan, documenting the lives of the men and women she met through detailed written accounts and a collection of vivid photographs.

Some of her incredible journeys, published in her 1899 work in The Yangtze and Beyond, are now the subject of a new book by Deborah Ireland.

'She was the most incredible woman, and a true role model for women today,' Ireland told MailOnline Travel.

'Isabella didn't become famous as a travel writer until she was 44 - at that time women just didn't have careers as writers. And it wasn't until she was 60 that she discovered photography. She broke the mould.'

In her book, Ireland charts Bird's three years spent travelling in China and reprints her stunning photographs of Chinese daily life gradually being infiltrated by European clothing and customs.

Isabella Bird turned to writing as a way to make money for her and her unmarried sister

Born in 1831 the daughter of a clergyman, as Ireland writes: 'The adventuress who travelled and rode in all weathers, exploring remote and dangerous regions, was writing about a life in sharp contrast to the one originally envisaged for her.'

The intrepid Yorkshire woman started writing in 1854 when she travelled to America to mend a broken heart. But it wasn't until 1875 that she found fame with an account of her experiences in Hawaii.

Bird was on her way home from an ill-fated trip to Australia when she fell in love with the islands. She initially wrote extensive accounts of her escapades to her sister, and decided that writing would provide a much-needed income for the unmarried pair.

On her return, Bird embarked on her publishing career and her candid accounts of her travel became instant bes-sellers, and she hasn't been out of print since.

Ireland writes: 'As a respected international traveller her views were sought by prime ministers, ambassadors and the newspaper men of the day.

'Her books were engaging, accessible and entertaining and she opened up a world of travel to the armchair explorer.'

Despite saying she was too old for arduous journeys, Bird travelled 8,000 miles during an extended trip to China, travelling on horseback and in carts, by boat and in a sedan chair, using her newly acquired camera and photographic skills to document her journey.

She traversed the country, from Hangchow (Hangzhou) to Hong Kong and from one end of the River Yangtze to the other as well as venturing into Korea and Japan.

In 1894 she set off from Liverpool to the Far East unaware she was travelling into the First Sino-Japanese War between China and Japan over control of Korea.

She was deported from Korea on a Japanese steamer with no money and luggage and only the clothes on her back and was forced to take refuge in China.

There she experienced a flood on the Manchurian Plain and risked her life helping drowning villagers in terrific storms before succumbing to malaria. She then broke her arm when the cart she was travelling in overturned just miles from the house of the missionary who was to take her in.

Confined to the town of Mukden (Shenyang) by her injuries, she spent time getting to know the missionary doctors and photographing their patients, many of whom suffered from leprosy or the effects of opium addiction.

Her photographs of this time show pagodas and palaces as well as the mean back streets and the ravaged faces of disese sufferers.

While travelling in the Chinese interior she managed to avoid the plagues of rats and other vermin by suspending her clothes and boots on the tripod of her camera.

She adopted Chinese dress as the tight fitting, tailored clothes she was used to were considered offensive by the local population.

However she did not quite escape the curiosity or hostility of the locals who were not used to seeing a foreigner, let alone a foreign woman, travelling.

Ireland writes: 'Overnight halts were a problem because of the stir she created by her arrival. This could range from curiosity to extreme hostility – from holes drilled through the walls of her room followed by whispering and giggling, to a full-blown riot with shouts of "Foreign devil", "Child eater".'

She also received the scorn of her countrymen, with archaeologist Sir Austen Henry Layard writing to her publisher's son: 'I must say I think the woman must be devoid of all delicacy and modesty who could travel as she did, without a female attendant among a crowd of dirty Persian muleteers and others.'

However Bird's account of her travels was hailed by one reviewer at the time as 'one of the most thoroughly documented accounts of late nineteenth century China ever written.'

In response to Sir Austen criticism, Ireland writes: 'Not bad for an account of a journey "undertaken for recreation an interest solely" or "but to satisfy her curiosity and love of travel".'

And what about Bird's legacy? 'Never give up! And don't think you're ever too old to do anything,' Ireland tells us. 'If you want, it's possible to have a new career at 60. She certainly did.'

www.dailymail.co.uk

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Inglese

Nascita-morte: 1831-1904

Riferimento geografico: Asia, Europa, America del Nord, America centrale, America del Sud,

Mezzo di trasporto: Diversi

Riferimenti complementari: Bird I., Isabella Bird, Una lady nel West : tra pionieri, serpenti e banditi sulle Montagne Rocciose, EDT, 1998 Scatamacchia C., Nellie Bly: Un'avventurosa giornalista e viaggiatrice americana dell'Ottocento, Perugia : Morlacchi Editore, 2002

ID: w1714

Internet: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/travel/travel_news/article-2999096/How-Victorian-adventuress-Isabella-Bird-braved-wars-survived-malaria-ignored-scorn-countrymen-best-selling-travel-writer-photojournalist.html

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q288210

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Viaggio in camper di una famiglia australiana.

John Ahern had it all: a high-flying job, big house, loving wife and two great kids. But if this was success why did he sense he was failing as a husband and father? So John does something completely insane. In the midst of a high-powered board meeting he blows his career apart. He quits the working world, sells the car, rents the house, and with wife Mandy, buys a busted-up old campervan online with one grand goal in mind: a year travelling together as a family…on the road with kids. Disconnected from phones and email, John and his family criss-cross 30 countries on a funny, messy and often confronting voyage of self-discovery. From the North Pole to Africa’s highest peaks, they get mugged by monkeys, charmed by snake handlers and harlots, and inspired by their fellow wanderers. Along the way John sheds the skin of the working zombie and creates a life less ordinary as he evolves into a connected partner and Dad. On the Road with Kids is a hilarious and poignant adventure all families will connect with. It’s a life-changing trip. Take it!

 

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Australiana

Nascita-morte: -

Riferimento geografico: Europa, Africa

Mezzo di trasporto: Automobile o altri mezzi a motore

Riferimenti complementari: John Ahern, On the road with kids, Paperback, 2014

ID: w395

Internet:-

Wikidata: -

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Elizabeth Bisland Wetmore fu una giornalista americana che tra il 1889 e il 1890 si cimentò in una gara di velocità attorno al mondo con la ben più celebre Nellie Bly. L'idea era di ripercorrere le tappe definite da Jules Verne nel romanzo "Il giro del mondo in 80 giorni". Il 14 novembre 1889 le due giornaliste partirono da New York: Nellie Bly, sponsorizzata dal quotidiano New York World, partì verso Ovest, mentre Elizabeth Bisland, sponsorizzata dal mensile Cosmopolitan, partì verso Ovest. Idealmente, entrambe le signore fecero meglio di Phileas Fogg: Nellie Bly stabilì il nuovo record rientrando a New York il 25 gennaio 1890, impiegando 72 giorni, 6 ore e 11 minuti per compiere il giro del mondo. La Bisland rientrò qualche giorno dopo, precisamente il 30 gennaio 1890, impiegando dunque 76 giorni.

A Flying Trip around the world

IF, on the 13th of November, 1889, some amateur prophet had foretold that I should spend Christmas Day of that year in the Indian Ocean, I hope I should not by any open and insulting incredulity have added new burdens to the trials of a hard-working soothsayer – I hope I should, with the gentleness due a severe case of aberrated predictiveness, have merely called his attention to that passage in the Koran in which it is written, "The Lord loveth a cheerful liar" – and bid him go in peace. Yet I did spend the 25th day of December steaming through the waters that wash the shores of the Indian Empire, and did do other things equally preposterous, of which I would not have believed myself capable if forewarned of them. I can only claim in excuse that these vagaries were unpremeditated, for the prophets neglected their opportunity and I received no augury.

On the 14th of November of the aforementioned year, I was awakened at eight o'clock as usual by the maid with the breakfast tray – which also contained the morning papers and a neat pile of notes and letters. Among these latter were acceptances of invitations I had sent to half a dozen agreeable folk to come and drink five-o'clock tea with me on the 15th, the usual communications from one's friends on casual subjects; an invitation to dinner; a bill; and a notice from my tailor that I might some time during the day have the final fitting of a gown in process of construction. All as pleasantly commonplace as the most mild-mannered individual could expect or desire.

I read the papers leisurely, made a calm and uneventful toilet, and the very first intimation I received of the coming thunderbolt out of the serene sky of my existence was a hurried and mysterious request, at half-past ten o'clock, that I would come as soon as possible to the office of the magazine of which I was one of the editors. My appetite for mystery at that hour of the day is always lamentably feeble, and it was nearly eleven before I found time to go and investigate this one, although the office in question was only a few minutes' walk from my residence. On arriving, the editor and owner of the magazine asked if I would leave New York that evening for San Francisco and continue from there around the world, endeavoring to complete the journey in some absurdly inadequate space of time.

If my appetite for mystery at that hour is not strong, my appetite at eleven in the morning for even the most excruciatingly funny jokes may be said to actually not exist, and this one, I remember, bored me more than most. But in the course of half an hour I had become convinced that the editor really wished me to make the attempt, and I had earnestly endeavored to convince him that I meant to do nothing of the sort. To begin with, I didn't wish to. In the second place, guests were coming to my house to tea on the following day; thirdly, I was not prepared in the matter of appropriate garments for such an abrupt departure, and lastly, but most weightily, I foresaw the notoriety that an effort to outdo the feat of Jules Verne's hero was likely to bring upon me, and to this notoriety I most earnestly objected. Though for some years I had been more or less connected with journalism, I had appeared in the papers only as the contributor of unsigned articles, and the amount of distress I experienced when I first saw my name in a head line was so far beyond even my anticipations that I then and there registered a vow – Throughout this voyage I had cause to owe much gratitude to journalists for all manner of aid and civility, but I resolved in the future to so endeavor to conduct myself that they would never have reason to put my name in a head line again.

The editor and I having passed the better part of an hour going over this matter, substantial arguments were finally advanced by him which persuaded me to make the experiment of lowering the circumnavigatory record. I then took a cab and drove to my tailor for the appointed fitting and for a vigorous interview in which he was ultimately convinced that I could wear that gown at six o'clock in the evening.

The next few hours were busy ones.

To the masculine mind there appears to be something strangely exhilarating in the thought of a woman being abruptly torn from her home without sufficient time to put her wardrobe in order, and to all the men responsible for this voyage the most delightful feature apparently of the whole affair was the fact that I should be forced to get ready in five hours for a seventy-five days' voyage around the world. – Why this should be so a woman cannot easily divine. It fails utterly to appeal to her sense of humor. It is one of those hopeless warps in the male mind that my sex no longer attempt to comprehend or to straighten, and, finding it incurable, have learned to bear with and ignore it as far as possible.

I finally managed to get all absolute necessaries of travel into a good-sized steamer trunk, a large Gladstone bag and a shawl-strap, but found, by experience, that my progress would have been in no degree retarded, and my comfort and happiness far better served, by carrying a second and larger box with everything I could possibly have required. I managed the trip on two cloth gowns, half a dozen light bodices, and an evening silk, but might quite as well have carried my entire winter and a large part of my summer wardrobe. Happily I took the precaution of carrying plenty of pins and hair-pins. I had had some previous experience with their vicious ways, and well knew that in critical moments in foreign parts they would get up playful little games of hide-and-seek that would tend to undermine my temper, and the only sure preventive was to have geologic layers of them all through the trunk, so that a shaft might be hastily sunk through one's belongings at any moment with a serene certainty of striking rich deposits of both necessities of female existence.

. . . To wake up in the morning to one's usual daily duties and find one's self at night voyaging round the world is an experience calculated to surprise even a mind as composed as that of Pet Marjorie's historically placid fowl; and looking back now over the time of my departure I find that, though to outward seeming I also was
". . . most exceeding ca'm,"
in reality I was practically stupefied with astonishment for at least two days.

I remember thinking rapidly on all manner of subjects; telling myself warningly that it would not do to forget anything or make any mistakes, as they could not be rectified. . . . I remember thinking that my new gown fitted very well, and that, though my face was drawn and white with the excitement and fatigues of the day, my new hat was distinctly becoming. . . . Then there were cabs and hurry – kisses – last directions – the bumping of the box on the stair – a big bunch of pink roses (which I felt was a nice complimentary touch to my travelling ensemble) – everybody talking at once and giving different advice and directions – the glare of lights – the coffin-like smell of a sleeping-car – and I was off for seventy-five days' travel round the globe.

. . . Then no more distinct impressions until Chicago suddenly steps across my twenty-five-thousand-mile path and it is necessary to change cars.

. . . Even this is vague. I remember that through some mistake there was no one there to meet me as had been arranged – that I wandered about a vast, gloomy, and rather empty station in the care of a friendly conductor – that I sat on a high stool at a counter and quenched internal cravings, caused by lack of dinner, with tea and ham; every mouthful regarded with wan interest by the person who officiated in the echoing lunch hall – that the conductor having bidden me a commiserating adieu, I slid away into the night, very homesick, very cross, and haunted by the bitterest suspicions of the happy results of a tea-and-ham dinner.

But with that night's sleep I slept away my stupefaction of amazement, and awoke at daybreak in my right mind, and, pulling up my window curtain, found the sun almost ready to rise.

I have never permitted a vulgar familiarity to dull my keen delight in the ever-varying pageant of the breaking of day; so that, consequently, on the rare occasions when I assist at this function, my pleasure has all the enthusiasm of novelty.

Now the lifted curtain showed me a New Jerusalem. . . . As if to one who should rise to pray at the moment when God gave his great daily fiat of "Let there be light," there should be vouchsafed a white, luminous foreshadowing of that which it hath not entered into the heart of man to understand. . . . Not the strangely narrow and urban vision of Patmos; no streets or walls, but a limitless Land of Pearl!

. . . Soft undulations, full and tender as the bosom of a sleeping mother, rose and fell far beyond the eye's reach, and melted into the sky. No tree or thicket broke the suave outlines, but where the thin silver veins of the streams slipped through the curves of the plain, slim, leafless willows hung, like glistening fringes. . . . In the night a hoar frost had fallen that was to snow as sleep is to death; and the pale reaped fields, the sere meadows, and silent uplands were transfigured by the first gleam of day to a mystery and glory of silver and pearl. As the light grew, nacreous tints of milky blue and rose flushed the argent pallor of the land, and when the yellow disk rolled up over the horizon's edge I travelled for some brief space in a world of intolerable splendor, where innumerable billions of frost crystals flashed back to the sun the reflection of his shining face. Even the engine-driver was moved, I fancy, by this marvellous morning vision, for though we were far from any stopping-place, there suddenly thrilled through the silence a long, keen, triumphant blast, and we trailed as we flew floating golden plumes of steam. . . .

As I passed in my swift circle about the great ball plunging along its planetary paths, many mighty and glorious visions of the coming and passing of light were revealed to me; but none more fair than this with that radiance of youth, whose vast, sweet nature-shadow and simulacrum the dawning is. . . . Eternally renewed, through all ages. . . still, with the white peace of innocence . . . joyous in unwasted strength and untried powers . . . rosy with promise and potentialities, gilding all the commonplaceness of the landscape with golden glamours and fantasies . . . an Eden created out of the hollow void of night, in which to rest for one dewy, enchanted moment of purity and love before the sun with his flaming sword drives us forth to the toil and heat of the day!

. . . In developing my mental Kodak roll after returning, I found that during this period of the journey most of the views are landscapes, seeing that I was afflicted with peculiarly uninteresting fellow-travellers who made poor subjects for snap shots. Across the aisle from me was a pair of ancient little lovers who numbered some hundred or more years between them, I fancy. They had nested long since; all their fledglings were flown, and, left alone together once more, they were on their way to Los Angeles to spend a second honeymoon among the winter orange blossoms: a pretty pale afterglow of love. But though their quaint, antiquated billing and cooing was a pleasing enough thing to watch, it is notorious that even in these second bridal journeys the outsider is very much outside, and I was driven back perforce to my window.

. . . "A perfect day," the record says. . . . More undulant fields clothed in the yellow stubble of the gathered harvest. Here and there black loam broken for winter sowing – a square of jet set in the pale amber – and over all a faint, turquoise sky. . . .

That night we were in Council Bluffs, Omaha, and by chance got passage on the new fast mail-train, which had been put on as an experiment in time across the continent, and was carrying but one sleeper and the General Manager's private car.

The pace was tremendous from the start. . . . We began to climb the Great Divide. Trees and shrubs grew rare and more rare, and finally vanished altogether.

. . . Great gray plains lay all about us, covered thinly with a withered, ashen-colored plant; the bitter results of an unequal struggle for existence, and strangely resembling in miniature the gnarled, writhen cedars that cling to wind-scourged coasts. Settlements were few and far between. Scrawny horses picked up a scant living in the desolate upland meadows; and an occasional yellow cur that came out and barked at us as we went by was the only other form of animal life to be seen. From time to time we passed a dwelling, a square cabin of gray unpainted boards, always tightly closed and the dwellers always absent somewhere on business. The only distinct proof I ever saw of the human habitance of these silent, lonely homes was a tiny pair of butternut trousers fluttering on the clothes-line. The minute American citizen who should have occupied these trousers was invisible, and I greatly fear they were perhaps his only pair.

. . . We climbed and climbed; always at tremendous speed, and always the land growing more desolate, and wildly drear, like the cursed site of some prehistoric Sodom, sown with salt. The air shone with a luminous clearness undreamable in coast countries, and at night the stars were huge and fierce: not the soft-gleaming palpitant planets of tropic nights, but keen and scintillant as swords. . . . There was something hideous and brutal in the doom laid upon this unhappy territory, as of a Prometheus chained on the mountain-tops; its blood dried to dust in its veins, and lifting a scarred face of gray despair to the rainless sky.

From time to time we crossed a feeble, trickling stream; but no verdure marked the course of its waters bitter and fruitless as tears. During the night our way lay through that still more desolate portion of this dry region named, with simple and expressive literalness, the Bad Lands; and here again I saw a most wonderful coming of the light. The moon, wan with the dawn, hung directly in the zenith, and on the eastern rim of the ghostly gray plain, under the quivering jewel of the morning star, burned the first vague flush of day. Slowly a dusky amethyst radiance filled the sapphire bowl of the sky, quenching the stars one by one as it rose, and when the sun showed over the world's edge the cup was brimmed, and the pale moon shone faintly in its depths, like the drowned pearl of the Egyptian queen. There was no eye but mine to see, yet in the midst of unpeopled desolation the majestic ceremonies of the sky were fulfilled with the same slow pomp and splendor as if all the worshippers of the Sun knelt in awed wonder to see the Bridegroom come forth of his chamber.

. . . Our speed through this part of the country was terrible. Five hours away from Ogden we were two hours and a half behind the time set for our arrival there. Some three quarters of a million hung upon our arriving promptly and getting the track clear for ourselves beyond, not to mention many other important considerations that could scarcely be reckoned in figures; for a great government contract for mails would be either lost or won by morning. A certain engineer, whose name was Foley – or words to that effect – was telegraphed to meet us at the next stop. He was a gentleman of Irish extraction who labored under an entire absence of physical timidity, and who remarked with jovial determination, as he climbed into the cab, that he would "get us to Ogden – or hell, on time." Several times during that five hours' ride the betting stood ten to one on the latter goal, and Hades was hot favorite. The grade at this part of the road has a descent of 93 feet in a mile, and the track corkscrewed through gorges and cañons with but small margin between us and destruction. To these considerations Mr. Foley was cheerfully indifferent, and pulling out the throttle he let the engine have her head at the rate of sixty-five miles an hour. The train rocked like a ship at sea, and sleepers held to their berths in terror, the more nervous actually succumbing to mal de mer. The plunge of the engine, that now and again whimpered affrightedly in the darkness, could be felt through the whole train, as one feels beneath one the fierce play of the loins of a runaway horse. From the rear car the tracks were two lines of fire in the night. The telegraph pole reeled backwards from our course and the land fled from under us with horrible nightmare weirdness. The officers of the train became alarmed and ordered speed slackened; but Mr. Foley, consulting his watch, regretted with great firmness that he could not oblige them. One man rolled in an anguish of terror on the floor; and the General Manager, engaged in a late game of whist, regarding the sufferer with sympathetic interest as he took the odd trick with the thirteenth trump, remarked that it was such episodes as this in American life that made us a nation of youthful gray-heads.

We arrived in Ogden on time.

Mr. Foley dismounted with alacrity from his cab, remarked that these night rides were prone to give a man cold, and went in pursuit of an antidote behind a swinging Venetian door on the corner, and we saw him no more.

From here the vast, desolate uplands, 8000 feet high in the keen dry air, showed no further sign of human habitation between the stations, and were ornamented only with the frequent jack rabbit, the occasional coyote, and now and then an arrangement of tepees. Indians crowded about the train at every stop; those of the female sex who were blessed with offspring permitting us to view the living contents of the corded parcels they carried on their backs in exchange for small current coin. The pappoose, I discovered, is the original Baby Bunting. He slumbers with stoical composure in a nest of rabbit skins – presumably those for which "papa went a-hunting" – that line a portable wooden cradle into which he is strapped, and from which, I am told, he rarely emerges during infancy. The girls and boys from six to sixteen I found very pretty, with smooth red skins, glittering teeth and eyes, and black Vandyked locks. Those whom years had overtaken were indescribably wrinkled and parched. Old squaws squatted in the dust huddled in blankets, and were as impassive as ancient worm-eaten idols. A coin dropped into their hands brought a mumble and a glance from their rusted eyes; but indifference did not wound them, neither did the fast train or any of its passengers excite their curiosity – the vagaries of the white man were so numerous that nervous prostration would be a sure consequence of any attempt to interest themselves in his doings, and peace and composure lay only in entirely ignoring him.

All through this country the air had a delicious dry perfume, like the smell of parching vegetation, that was stimulating and wholesome as the resinous incense of pines.

The night before reaching San Francisco we found our first trees again, at a little wayside eating station, where a long row of poplars stood up stiffly in the dusk near our path, and a tiny fountain plashed with an enchanting, cool melodiousness. . . . The air was soft and spring-like and the moist darkness pleasant with a smell as of white clover. It could not, of course, in November, have been really the sweet early flowers of the grass, yet I know nothing else that gives out the same clean, delicate perfume; nor can I guess from what that pure vernal fragrance did arise, that was like the first breath from a promised land after long wandering in a country of wilderness and drought.

Sacramento stopped us for a moment at daylight, and here we found rich, juicy verdure, watery marshes, and the first outer edges of that yellow wave from China which has broken upon the Pacific coasts. Still there were no trees. Only grassy, rounded hills, with white sea-mists trailing among them. A country much like that about Newport, but without that icy breath always in the air of the upper Atlantic coast. There was a certain genial tenderness in this atmosphere that even in the hottest day of August the eastern coast never knows.

. . . At fifteen minutes past nine the nose of the ferry-boat from Oakland touches the San Francisco wharf. We have crossed the continent in four days and twenty hours – thanks to Mr. Foley – and the distance between New York and the Western metropolis is reduced by a whole day. A great achievement! There are crowds of reporters waiting to interview everybody; General Manager, engineer, conductor – even me. We splash cheerfully through the warm rain and oozing mud – the wet season began two days ago – with pleased faces that our tremendous journey is over, walking with free strides and swinging arms because of the long, cramping confinement.

To my eyes, accustomed to the soaring loftiness of New York architecture, this city seems astonishly low. Three or four stories at the most the average is. Because of earthquake they say; but latterly these have almost entirely ceased to occur, as if the land had grown to realize that civilization would not tolerate such impulsive ways, and had gradually abandoned them shamefacedly, as being in extremely bad taste. Consequently a few of the more recent buildings have begun to climb, Babel-like, into the dripping skies.

One gets a remarkable impression of newness here such as a Londoner might on his first landing in New York. Every one tells you, "I have been here a year – six months – three months – three years." One begins to believe that no one was ever born here. All the buildings look new and fresh, and the whole atmosphere of the place is charged with a vigorous, disrespectful sort of youth.

The city, or at least the Spanish part of it, was founded in the year of the Declaration of Independence, but the American town is only forty or fifty years old. The hotel at which I stop was erected in 1875. It is a huge caravansary, built around a square and enclosing a vast asphalted court adorned with palms and ferns. There is an arcade within this court where the typical American hotel frequenter tips back his chair, reads the papers, and smokes. On the outer side of the arcade are shops of every description, so that one may purchase all the ordinary needs of life without leaving one's lodging-place.

I find here that my progress must be arrested for two days, as the arrangements for hurrying the departure of the ship have fallen through; and I do not altogether grieve, for this tremendous pace for thousands of miles across the country has told upon my nerves to an absurd degree, and I wonder, as I shiver with exhaustion and tremble with nameless, undefined apprehensions, how the coming generation that is to travel a hundred and a hundred and fifty miles an hour will bear the strain of it. Some process of adaption to a nerve-destroying environment will take place doubtless, humanity being so elastic in such matters.

Meantime there is some space to investigate this first one of the many great cities I must pass through. The editors of the San Francisco "Examiner," who have shown me every courtesy from the moment of my arrival, invite me to luncheon at the Cliff House, which stands on the very western edge of the continent, upon one of the pillars of the Golden Gate.

There is still a soft, warm rain falling when we start. Roses climb around the porches of the residences and hang heavy-drenched blossoms amid their shining wet leaves, perfuming the damp city streets with delicious garden odors. Should I shut my eyes to the hills I mount and descend, the warmth, the humidity, and the rose odors would make me believe myself in New Orleans again. . . . In that far distant city I might be going on just such an expedition as this to Spanish Fort on the Lakeside. It gives me a sense of nostalgia, not for the people and city I have but just left, but for an earlier home, where I would have found just such carelessly happy geniality as among these witty, good-looking men who regard the delays of a train with amiable indifference, and see their day slip from them with the carelessness of a spendthrift.

The train crawls along the edge of the harbor shut in between the grassy, treeless hills. We wind around their flanks in perilous fashion for some space, for the harbor juts deeply into the land, and as we cling to their steep sides we hear the waves dashing beneath. There is a sudden turn at last, and before us lies spread the Western Ocean! . . . There is a joyous shock of astonishment in the sight. . . . A sense of discovery, of splendid vastness, of a rich new experience seized and dominated. For one keen instant not he who stood
"Silent upon a peak in Darien"
felt a more magnificent dilation of spirit than I.

We lunch, jovially and sumptuously, upon the sea's edge. Already the day is declining as we finish. The rain has ceased, and in the west the curtain of cloud lifts. On a balcony that overhangs the water we watch the sunset. Three great crags stand up sharply two hundred yards away – Seal Rocks – covered with grumbling, barking sea lions, the city's pets, whom the law protects. They look much like fat pigs from this distance. At the last moment the sun flames out gloriously; reddens all the heavens, and gilds a rippling road for me across the waterly world I must traverse. It is a sign of promise, they tell me.

The ride home in the cable car is a curious experience. The streets are of the most astonishing steepness still, though millions have been spend in grading the hills. On each of the cars is a small open space in front where one may sit if one likes and enjoy the sensation of plunging down the most startling inclines and yet see the car stop short at perilous points to allow a traveller to leisurely dismount. The road leads past the famous Nob Hill, where the bonanza kings have their residences – huge wooden palaces of the most rococo designs. It is said that these half-dozen residences cost $9,000,000 to build. James C. Flood's house is of brown stone, the only dwelling of that material in the state, all of the stone having been imported from the East at prodigious expense. One of these palaces – the property of a bonanza relict – is of a curious lead color, which, with its overwhelmingly ornate decorations, gives it an odd resemblance to a gigantic hot-air stove.

There were beautiful public gardens, great public buildings, and many relics of the ancient Spanish domination to be seen in this charming city, but my flight was too rapid to pause for these. That night I saw the quarter known locally as China Town, peeped into some of the huge, splendid theatres and restaurants, and then, at three o'clock the next day, set sail for Japan.

http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/bisland/stages/stages.html

 

Pseudonimo: B.L.R. Dane

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: 1861-1929

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: Diversi

Riferimenti complementari: Bisland E., A Flying Trip Around The World, 1891 Marks J., Around the World in 72 Days: The race between Pulitzer's Nellie Bly and Cosmopolitan's Elizabeth Bisland, Gemittarius Press, 1993

ID: w1717

Internet: http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/bisland/stages/stages.html

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q5362424

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Mark “Monty” Beaumont era un ragazzino amante dello sport con il gusto dell’avventura. A 15 anni percorse il Regno Unito in bicicletta, 1’670km tra Lands End e John O’Groats. Quando Monty viene a sapere che Steven Strange ha concluso il giro del mondo in bicicletta in 276 giorni, 19 ore e 15 minuti, decide di lanciarsi nella sfida. La partenza della folle corsa avviene il 5 agosto 2007 da Parigi, dove farà ritorno 194 giorni e 17 ore dopo, stabilendo il nuovo primato. L’avventura è stata trasmessa dalla BBC nel programma The Man who Cycled the World.

 

Pseudonimo: Monty

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Inglese

Nascita-morte: -

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: Bicicletta, monociclo, triciclo

Riferimenti complementari: -

ID: w1694

Internet: http://www.markbeaumontonline.com

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q1165388

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Il 5 maggio 1896 Helga Estby partì da Spokane (Washington) in compagnia della figlia Clara con l'obiettivo di raggiungere New York. Vi giunsero a Natale, sperando di incassare i 10'000 dollari messi in palio per premiare la donna che avesse realizzato un coast-to-coast a piedi. Purtroppo Helga non ricevette il denaro che le sarebbe servito per salvare la sua fattoria dal pignoramento.

Norwegian immigrant and suffragist Helga Estby is remembered for her heroic seven-month walk from Spokane to New York City in 1896, a publicity wager that she expected would pay her $10,000 and save the family farm from foreclosure. Leaving a husband and five children at home in Mica Creek, 36-year-old Helga and her 17-year-old daughter Clara set out from Spokane on May 6, 1896, and walked rail lines east. Helga skillfully handled a publicity campaign, stopping at newspaper offices along their route. Inspired by journalist Nelly Bly (1864-1922), Helga hoped one day to publish the story of their trip. Mother and daughter worked for food, lodging, and other needed items along the way -- never begged -- and were graciously aided by supportive and hospitable people, including famous politicians, Native Americans, journalists, and suffragists. But the journey was arduous. They climbed mountains; survived severe storms, floods, bitter cold, and heat waves; confronted wild animals; and escaped highwaymen. Together they wore out 32 pairs of shoes. Helga and Clara survived the trip of 4,600 miles and reached New York City on December 23, 1896, only to find no cash prize at the end of their amazing journey.

Early Years of Hardship

Helga Avilda Ida Marie Johanssen was born in Christiania, Norway (Oslo) in 1860 and was only 2 years old when her father died. Her mother, Karen Hendrikstatter Johanssen, eventually remarried, this time to a merchant with the surname of Haug. He had the money to send Helga to private school, where she learned English, science, and religion.

From 1874 to 1914 Norway suffered from severe economic stagnation, and a large number of its citizens emigrated to other places, with many coming to the United States. Perhaps the Haugs foresaw the pending financial problems -- they decided to move to America around 1870, before the economic turndown began. Helga's stepfather came first and secured work and a home for his wife and stepdaughter in Manistee, Michigan. Karen and Helga left for the U.S. aboard the ship Oder and arrived in Manistee on October 12, 1871. Helga was now 11 years old. She enrolled in school, improved her language skills, and began adapting to the customs of the new country.

Manistee was a thriving town, with a large population of Scandinavians. Although fire destroyed the town the year they arrived, it was quickly rebuilt. It is likely that Helga first learned about the woman suffrage issue while living there. In 1874, Michigan males were given the chance to extend the vote to women. Although the measure failed statewide, it was strongly supported in Manistee.

At 16 years of age, an unmarried Helga became pregnant and her parents arranged for her to marry a solid prospect, Scandinavian immigrant Ole Estby, who was a logger and skilled carpenter. Helga and Ole married on October 12, 1876, and daughter Clara was born in November.

Moving West

In many ways, Helga and Ole's story mirrors the stories of numerous immigrants who came to the United States at the end of the nineteenth century. Arriving with great hopes for a prosperous lifestyle, they mostly labored hard just to make ends meet. From letters Ole sent to his family in Norway, it is known that he had long dreamed of having a 160-acre homestead, and he soon moved his family west, settling on prairie land in Yellow Medicine County, Minnesota, near the South Dakota border. Here the family built a typical prairie sod house with a dirt floor, certainly a step down from accommodations they had previously known. Three Estby children were born here: Ole, who died as an infant, Olaf, and Ida. 

Farm life on the prairie was hard. In the summer of 1880 the harvest was excellent, but that winter turned out to be one of the coldest ever recorded. Somehow the family survived. Then fires threatened, and one afternoon the Estbys battled a blaze that nearly reached their home. Both house and barn survived, but some of their neighbors were not so lucky.

Diptheria threatened. Little was known at the time about its cause or cure, but health warnings pointed to the dangers of living in filthy conditions. When a storm known as "Black Friday" (Bold Spirit, p. 40) reached the prairie on June 19, 1885, causing considerable wreckage, followed by another severe storm only a month later, Ole and Helga decided to move on. This time they settled in the rapidly growing city of Spokane Falls, Washington.

Spokane Falls (Spokane)

By the early 1890s, the U.S. economy was booming and Spokane Falls was prospering. Ole found work easily and the Estbys were able to purchase three lots on Pine Street and 4th Avenue, a block east of Division Street. Their family was growing, with the additions of children Henry, Hedwig (Bertha), Johnny, Arthur, William, and Lillian. By the time she was 35, Helga had given birth to eight children, six of whom lived.

Spokane Falls grew too quickly, the population rising from about 6,000 to 20,000 in a few years. City officials could not keep pace with infrastructure needs. Sewage flowed in the streets and the Estby home now was only blocks away from a tough red-light district. On one dark evening, Helga stepped in a hole in an unrepaired street and badly damaged her pelvis, requiring surgery. Once again, it was time to leave. Ole purchased a farm about 25 miles southeast of Spokane, in Mica Creek, a small town populated mainly by Scandinavian immigrants.

But in April of 1893 a national credit shortage triggered a deep economic depression. Banks closed, thousands of businesses went bankrupt, railroads failed, and unemployment was high. No government relief funds existed, and it would take at least five years before the U. S. economy improved.  Ole had suffered back injuries, temporarily limiting his ability to do physical labor. As the economy worsened, they borrowed against the property, taking a loan they could not repay. By 1896 the Estby family was in danger of losing their farm.  

The situation called for unusual courage. Something extraordinary needed to be done and Helga devised a plan. 

The Wager and Preparations

An outspoken supporter of woman suffrage, Helga believed women were capable of doing anything men could do. When an East Coast party -- it was never determined who -- offered a $10,000 wager to a woman who would walk to New York City, Helga was quick to respond. Challenges were not new to her. Inspired by female journalist Nellie Bly, who traveled around the world and wrote about it, Helga contracted with the party (or parties) in New York to walk from Spokane to New York City, a distance of more than 4,000 miles, in a specified time of seven months. While it was not part of the contract and wager, Helga also hoped to publish a book based on the journals she planned to keep of the trip.

The plan must have shocked her family and neighbors. Attitudes toward women were beginning to change, but a woman's place was still considered to be in the home, caring for the family. Helga was not in good health and she was not young. Only the year before, she had given birth and was still recovering from her pelvic injury. But she was convinced that the trip would not only save their farm, it would also boost the suffrage cause, showing the strength and endurance of women. Helga asked her shy, dependable 17-year-old daughter Clara (1877-1950) to accompany her, which must have greatly relieved the family's worries. At least Helga would not be traveling alone.

A contract was drawn between Helga and the sponsoring party promising Helga and Clara $10,000 -- a huge sum of money in 1896 -- if they successfully reached their destination by a specified date. Helga agreed that they would not beg along the way but instead would work for their food, lodging, and clothing. She accurately figured that public awareness would increase as she and Clara spoke with reporters in major cities along the way.

They officially kicked off their departure with a stop at the Spokesman Review in Spokane on May 5 to announce their planned journey and then returned home to spend one last night with their family before leaving the following morning. Spokane's mayor, H. N. Belt (b. 1841), gave them a letter of introduction, which they carried with them. The state treasurer also signed and stamped the letter with the official State seal.

The two women traveled light. In their satchels they carried a compass, a map, a Smith and Wesson revolver, a pepper spray gun to thwart possible attackers, a knife, a notebook and pen, and a curling iron. Helga and Clara had a mother-daughter studio portrait taken in Spokane, which was made into carte de visite prints that they planned to sell as souvenirs. They also carried calling cards that read: "H. Estby and daughter. Pedestrians, Spokane to New York." That, and $5 cash each.

On departure day, Helga and Clara wore long gray dresses and high boots but changed clothes in Salt Lake City, and for the remainder of the trip wore short-skirt outfits designed for the new craze, bicycle riding, thus giving national attention to this new style. Before trip's end, they hand worn out 32 pairs of shoes.  

Along the Way

By the 1890s the railroads ran from coast to coast and portions of the track were still new. To keep "on track," the two women walked rail lines, first the Northern Pacific to the Union Pacific, then the Rock Island line to the Burlington and Reading. This provided them access to some railroad section houses, and citizens often gave them overnight lodging. Such was the code of hospitality in 1896 America. Surprisingly, Helga and Clara spent only nine nights without shelter. To pay for their needs, they cooked, cleaned, and sewed.  Most days they walked 25 to 35 miles and when they arrived in a city or town, their first stop was the local newspaper office, where they gave an updated version of their story to reporters. The trip took them to major cities: Boise, Salt Lake City, Lincoln, Des Moines, Davenport, Chicago, Fort Wayne, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Harrisburg, Reading, and New York City.

Helga and Clara battled snowstorms, heat waves, flash floods, and washed-out bridges. They climbed mountains. Defending herself from a persistent hobo near La Grande, Oregon, Clara shot him in the leg, a story Helga relayed to a reporter at the Minneapolis Tribune. This incident gave rise to their press image as tough, gun-toting women of the Wild West. While facts often varied in newspaper accounts, each reporter found Helga and Clara articulate, well-educated, and intelligent.

By the time they reached Pennsylvania, citizens greeted them as celebrities, amazed that they had come so far. Helga and Clara collected the autographs of many notables along the way, including governors and mayors in Utah, Colorado, Iowa, Chicago, and Pennsylvania; populist General Jacob Coxey (1854-1951); and presidential candidate William McKinley (1843-1901). They also visited the wife of his opponent, William Jennings Bryan (1860-1925). Bryan himself was away campaigning. Clara sprained an ankle in Pennsylvania and Helga wrote to their sponsor requesting a few days extension of time so that Clara's ankle could heal.  

Winning and Losing

Helga and Clara arrived in New York City on Wednesday, December 23, 1896. There they were shocked to learn that they would not receive the $10,000. Yes, they were a few days over the specified time limit, but they had successfully made the trip. The journey had expanded their own worlds and had certainly proven the great endurance of women. They had proven their own capabilities, achieving something even most men would never have tried. Yet they failed to save the farm.

Questions remain. It is possible that the sponsor had no money to offer them and never expected them to succeed, but it is difficult to understand why he or she did not provide them the money to get home. To make matters worse, Helga's written journals disappeared in New York, either misplaced or stolen.

Then Helga and Clara received tragic news from home. Bertha had died of diphtheria and the remaining children were quarantined. Ole and the children were coping with the tragedy alone. To most 1890s Americans, Helga's trip now seemed nothing short of reckless family abandonment and folly.

Now destitute in New York, two days before Christmas, Helga and Clara had to figure out how to get home. This time they would not walk. With the U.S. economy still in a slump, and wages for women so low they could not save any amount from what they earned, they visited both the city of Brooklyn and local charities for help, but were rejected. Clara then approached railroad titan Chauncey Depew (1834-1928) and Depew gave them rail passes to travel from New York to Minneapolis.

Upon arrival in Minneapolis, Helga and Clara met with reporters and Helga stated that she had arranged with her New York sponsor to publish a book based on their journey. Then they would receive the $10,000. The women stayed several days in Minneapolis and then headed home, most likely by rail. It was now the spring of 1897.

Aftermath

Helga and Clara met a grieving family when they returned to Mica Creek. Johnny too had died of diphtheria. No one wanted to hear of their trip. To the family, the memory was bitter and the cost too high.

The expected eventually happened. On March 28, 1901, the Estby farm was sold at a sheriff's sale. But instead of this being the tragedy Helga had imagined, it became a new beginning for the family, who moved back to Spokane where Ole and son Arthur partnered in the construction business and did well. They soon built the family a two-story home. Clara graduated from business college and made a career in the financial world.

Telling the Story

Back in Spokane, Helga supported Washington's successful 1910 woman suffrage campaign and continued to dream of publishing a book about the trip. With the travel journals gone, sometime in the 1920s she began writing from memory.

Arthur Estby died when he was only 39, and his 8-year-old daughter, Thelma Estby (later Bahr), went to live with her grandmother Helga. Thelma remembered Helga as a kindly woman who understood the tragedy of losing a parent. According to Thelma, Helga often kept to herself in an attic room where she painted, did needlework, and wrote. Helga asked Thelma to take care of her story, although Thelma did not know what she meant. Upon Helga's death, one family member burned Helga's writing but another saved two news clippings of the trip from the burn barrel.

In 1984 eighth-grader Doug Bahr was encouraged by his family to enter the Washington State History Day Contest with his essay "Grandma Walked from Coast to Coast." One of the contest judges that year was author and scholar Linda Lawrence Hunt, who was inspired to research more. This led to her writing "A Victorian Odyssey," published in the Summer 1995 issue of Columbia Magazine. She then developed the material into the book Bold Spirit: Helga Estby's Forgotten Walk Across Victorian America, published by Anchor Books in 2005. Folk singer and songwriter Linda Allen composed the song "Helga Estby," which she included in a CD of songs celebrating the 100th anniversary of Washington woman suffrage in 2010.

April 2011 saw the release of two young adult novels. The Year We Were Famous, intended for readers 12 and up, was written by Helga's great-granddaughter and retired Everett Public Library librarian Carole Estby Dagg and published by Clarion Books. Following a day later was a Waterbrook Press book, The Daughter's Walk, authored by Jane Kirkpatrick. All three books are well-researched and well-written. Dagg is following with a sequel that will cover Helga and Clara's year of 1897. It is noteworthy that the two novels use Clara as the main character.

Helga looks contented in portraits taken of her in her elder years. The journey had given her confidence and expanded her world. The trip was life-changing. Perhaps Clara suffered the most. Although she made a career for herself, she separated from the family, uniting with them only during the last years of her life. Their story will never be told in their own words, which is a great loss. Helga's perspective would have been a unique piece of travel writing, giving a priceless feminine perspective on the United States in 1896. Across the years, the story continues to intrigue.

http://www.historylink.org/File/9926

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: 1860-1942

Riferimento geografico: Stati Uniti

Mezzo di trasporto: A piedi

Riferimenti complementari: Hunt L., Bold Spirit : Helga Estby's Forgotten Walk Across Victorian America , University of Idaho Press, 2003 Estby Dagg, The Year We Were Famous, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt , 2011

ID: w1922

Internet: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helga_Estby

Wikidata: -

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Harry Bensley si lanciò nel viaggio attorno mondo portando una maschera di ferro per scommessa. Conosciuto con il nome “The Man in the Iron Mask” o come “The Masked Walker” aveva quale obbiettivo i 100’000 dollari messi in palio dalla scommessa tra John Pierpoint Morgan e Hugh Cecil Lowther Lonsdale. Partì da Trafalgar Square il 1.o gennaio 1908. Le attestazioni successive sono rare, tanto da lasciare il dubbio sull’effettiva realizzazione del progetto.

 

Pseudonimo: The Man in the Iron Mask; The Masked Walker

Iscrizioni: The man with the iron mask walking round the world for a $21'000 wager

Nazionalità: Inglese

Nascita-morte: 1876-1956

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: A piedi con carrozzina

Riferimenti complementari: -

ID: w1705

Internet: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/history/making_history/making_history_20071218.shtml

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q5667285

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Nellie Bly iniziò a lavorare come giornalista al Pittsburgh Dispatch, prendendo lo pseudonimo dal nome di un personaggio della famosa canzone di Stephen Foster. Trasferitasi a New York, proseguì la sua carriera giornalistica al New York World di Joseph Pulitzer. Nel 1888, Bly suggerì al proprio editore l'idea di tradurre in realtà la finzione descritta nel libro Il giro del mondo in 80 giorni.

Il 14 novembre 1889 , alle 9:40, Nellie Bly partì da New York per intraprendere il viaggio intorno al mondo, riproponendo l'idea di Jules Verne. La reporter percorse 24'899 miglia in settantadue giorni, sei ore, undici minuti e quattordici secondi, rentrando a New York il 25 gennaio 1890 e fissando il nuovo record di circumnavigazione. Il primato durò pochi mesi, migliorato successivamente da George Francis Train, che completò il viaggio in sessantasette giorni.

Elizabeth Jane Cochran, pur non essendo la prima donna in assoluto a compiere tale impresa, fu la prima a farlo con queste modalità, diventando una sorta di modello per le donne in cerca d'emancipazione.

A questo proposito va notato che così come Bly non fu la prima donna americana a diventare reporter, ella non fu neanche la prima donna a fare il giro del mondo da sola; ma in entrambi i casi introdusse in tali ambiti delle novità che ne trasformarono le precedenti modalità e resero unica la sua esperienza. Nel caso del viaggio intorno al mondo, Bly fu la prima donna a fare una corsa contro il tempo che, combinando il tema della velocità - legato al progresso tecnico - con quello della trasgressione, risultò particolarmente attraente agli occhi del pubblico americano; inoltre la grande pubblicità data all'evento dal quotidiano che lo sponsorizzava contribuì al successo strepitoso dell'impresa. (Scatamacchia, 2002)

Pseudonimo: Nellie Bly; Pink; Cochrane

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: 1864-1922

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: Diversi

Riferimenti complementari: Scatamacchia C., Nellie Bly: Un'avventurosa giornalista e viaggiatrice americana dell'Ottocento, Perugia : Morlacchi Editore, 2002 Wong E., Around the World and Across the Board: Nellie Bly and the Geography of Games, American Studies Department, Rutgers University, 2005

ID: w1803

Internet: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nellie_Bly

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q230299

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I fratelli Dave e John Kunst sono state le prima persone che si sono ufficialmente cimentate nel giro del mondo a piedi. L'avventura ha avuto inizio il 20 giugno 1970 da Waseca ed è finita il 5 ottobre 1974. A portare a termine il periplo di 14'500 miglia fu solo Dave: il fratello John fu colpito a morte da una banda di banditi in Afghanistan. L'altro fratello Pete accompagnò Dave dal punto in cui John fu ucciso.

Minnesotan's around-the-world walk remembered, 30 years later Tracy Swartz, Star Tribune, 06.11.2004

It took four years, 21 million steps and 22 pairs of leather shoes for Dave Kunst to complete his record-making and tragedy-marred 14,450-mile walk around the Earth in 1974. With $1,000 and camping gear strapped to a mule named Willie Makeit, Dave and John Kunst had left Waseca four years earlier to find adventure -- and a place in the Guinness Book of World Records. The brothers visited Princess Grace in Monaco, met Norwegian explorer Thor Heyerdahl and became the first non-Asians to walk through the Khyber Pass since Alexander the Great. But in Afghanistan, one of the last countries in the trip, bandits shot and killed John. Four months later, Dave resumed the journey with another brother, Pete, and returned to Waseca in October 1974. Neither brother has spent much time in Minnesota in the past 30 years, but they are returning now for a celebration in Caledonia, in southeastern Minnesota, where they will unveil a sign at the northern edge of town honoring them for the around-the-world walk. It's part of Caledonia's 150th anniversary festivities, which run through the weekend and include a parade with Dave, 64, and Pete, 59, as grand marshals. They'll walk the route. "It's an education for the younger generation," said Irma Klug, a Kunst family friend and Caledonia resident for nearly 80 years. "They're very interested once they hear" about the Earth walk. Idea came at work Born and raised in Caledonia, Dave Kunst moved to Pensacola, Fla., after eighth grade. He returned to Minnesota shortly thereafter, living in Caledonia and Owatonna before moving to Waseca, a south-central city of about 8,500 residents. Married with three children, Kunst worked as a county surveyor while moonlighting as a projectionist for the Waseca theater. It was there in January 1970 that the idea for walking around the world was conceived. The moon landing the summer before had sparked Kunst's interest in adventure. Then 30, he talked about traveling to the tip of South America or driving across the Australian outback. But the theater owner challenged Kunst to do something no one else had ever done: Walk around the world. Kunst got his brother John, a recent University of Minnesota graduate, to go along. "John and I had never been anywhere," Kunst said in a telephone interview. "We were very naive on this. We spread a world map on the living room floor and tried to do a circle as much as possible." The plan was to walk through the United States, Europe and the Soviet Union. They set a date -- June 20, 1970 -- and spent the next six months at the library researching the countries. U.S. Sen. Hubert Humphrey gave them a letter of recommendation; the mayor of Waseca suggested that they carry a scroll to be signed by officials at every stop. Before they left, a Minneapolis woman suggested that the brothers bring a mule to carry their gear and to show they were not hitchhikers. "The scroll, Humphrey's letter, the mule -- that's what really made it for us," Dave Kunst said. So on June 20, 1970, they started their journey, walking from Waseca to New York and then flying to Portugal, where they were given a second mule. They walked through Spain, France and Italy, where they met Norwegian adventurer Thor Heyerdahl in a restaurant and told him of their plans. He laughed and petted the mule. Death in the foothills The Kunsts were curiosities throughout the trip, giving interviews about what they were doing and about their quest to raise money for UNICEF, the United Nations children's fund. In Afghanistan, a reporter erroneously wrote that the brothers were traveling with the donations. At the foothills of mountains near Kabul, bandits shot Dave and John. John died along the road and Dave, suffering from a bullet wound in his upper chest, survived by playing dead. He spent 20 days in a hospital in Afghanistan before flying back to Minnesota, more than 6,000 miles shy of his goal. After recuperating for 3 months, Dave Kunst decided to continue his trip. Pete accompanied him this time, and they flew to Afghanistan and began their journey from the spot where John was killed. Dave kept with him a note John wrote while they were struggling through Turkey: "It's like a play. With all the actors playing their parts right up to the tragic ending." More troubles ahead Dave and Pete were denied access to the Soviet Union and China so they flew from India to Australia, where they touched the Indian Ocean. "If we were to walk across the Soviet Union, we would only have walked the Northern Hemisphere," Dave Kunst said. "We actually really did circle the Earth." They hit a few snags in Australia. Officials there wouldn't allow the mule into their country, so they got their third mule. Pete had to go back to work, so his journey ended in Australia. And the new mule died. About to abandon his wagon, Dave met Jenni Samuel, a Perth schoolteacher who took the mule's place by towing the wagon from her car while he walked alongside. After walking across Australia at 30 miles a day and touching the Pacific Ocean, he flew to California and began walking toward Minnesota. He was in Iowa in 1974 when he told a Minneapolis Tribune reporter he "had no idea there were so many damn dumb foreigners in this world," that marriage was a bad idea and that he didn't think highly of Waseca. "I'm doing this for myself mainly. I was tired of Waseca, tired of my job, tired of a lot of little people who don't want to think, and tired of my wife," Kunst said in the interview. "The walk was a perfect way to change all that: I just walked out of town." He ended up divorcing his wife and marrying Samuel, who will be with him in Caledonia. Kunst said he doesn't regret the comments he made 30 years ago, even though some Waseca residents, including the mayor, didn't show up when he made it back to town. Reliving the walk About 100 people are expected this evening for the unveiling of the sign that reads: "Caledonia: Birthplace of the Earthwalkers David, Peter and John Kunst." The sign, which cost $6,500, will be covered by a tarp until then. About 40 residents and businesses helped pay for the sign, which is accompanied by a bronze plaque telling the brothers' story. Afterward, the surviving Kunst brothers will be signing the two books they wrote about the walk. They'll lead Saturday's parade, accompanied by yet another mule, while family members ride in a replica wagon. "I'm so thrilled and so honored and so excited," Dave Kunst said. After completing his trip in 1974, he moved to Australia for a year, then came back to Minnesota to be a projectionist in St. Paul before moving to California. Kunst toured schools there, telling children about his travels on four continents and in 13 countries. These days, Kunst said he walks about 2 miles each day with Samuel by their home near Newport Beach, Calif. This week they drove three days in a Mustang convertible to return to Minnesota. "The walking's over," Kunst said.

 

(Ollie Smith, www.expertsure.com) 

 

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: -

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: A piedi

Riferimenti complementari: -

ID: w2160

Internet: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dave_Kunst

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q5229138

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Ffyona Campbell è stata la prima donna a percorrere ufficialmente il giro del mondo a piedi. Ha camminato per 32'000 chilometri (20'000 miglia) impiegando 11 anni.

 Starting from John O'Groats on the northernmost coast of Scotland in 1983, 16-year-old Ffyona Campbell set out on an epic walk that would take her around the world. Eleven years and 19,586 miles later, she returned to the starting point, having raised £120,000 for charity. Ffyona raised half this amount in one go by selling the advertising space on her forehead to Vaseline during her well-publicised return. Her great feat should have led the British press to hail the determined athlete a heroine. She had crossed four continents (Australasia, Europe, Africa and North America), walked through war zones and barely escaped numerous attacks. But Ffyona Campbell is remembered for cheating during her marathon. During her walk across the USA, when she was 18 years old, Campbell became pregnant by one of her support team, Brian Noel. It grew increasingly difficult to maintain the distances she had been walking daily. Tired and depressed, she decided to accept Noel's offer of lifts in between cities to help her meet appointments with sponsors. Four months later, after 1,000 miles of deception, Campbell had her pregnancy terminated and resumed walking. On her return to Britain, she received a mixed reception; the press criticised her self-obsessed nature while John Major praised her as a role model. Consumed by guilt about the miles that she had skipped, Campbell turned to heroin and came close to suicide before she decided to confess in autumn 1996. She returned to America to complete her journey and asked that her achievement be removed from the next copy of the Guinness Book of World Records. Her request was rightfully refused as even without the 1,000 miles she had easily broken the record. Understandably, Ffyona has since kept a low profile - though we can reveal that she has become an art student. New Statesman, Gone, and (almost) completely forgotten, 22.07.2002

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Scozzese

Nascita-morte: -

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: A piedi

Riferimenti complementari: Campbell F., Whole Story a Walk Around the World, Firebird Distributing, 1997

ID: w1764

Internet: http://ftvdb.bfi.org.uk/sift/title/515635

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q1937511

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Il 4 maggio 1930 Marcel Bardiaux partì dalla Francia per raggiungere Costantinopoli con la sua canoa chiamata "Belle Etoile". Percorse complessivamente 13'000 km, pubblicando durante il viaggio una decina di resoconti sulla rivista "Camping". Il 10 marzo 1931 anche il Paris Match dedica un servizio al suo periplo, in particolare al viaggio di rientro.

La fin de la croisière de la "Belle Etoile"

Nous avons raconté comment ce jeune navigateur, parti des bords de la Marne le 4 mai dernier sur son canoé, était arrivé, après de nombreuses aventures à Constantinople. Empruntant canaux, fleuves, -roulant parfois son canoé sur les routes, visitant Vienne, Budapest, Belgrade, arrivant à la mer Noire le 23 août, essuyant une tempête le long des côtes rocheuses de la Bulgarie, il arrive enfin à Constantinople: Son projet initial comportait un retour par mer. Marcel Bardiaux vient de rentrer à Paris. Il a résumé ici pour nos lecteurs le récit de son retour mouvementé. Ayant enfin réussi à gagner Constantinople où je fus admirablement reçu à bord du Théophile-Gautier, par la mer de Marmara et les Dardanelles j'atteignis les côtes de Grèce. Je passe ainsi Alexandropolis et Cavala sans malheurs, mais casse de nouveau mon canoé en doublant le mont Athos, où la mer est toujours très mauvaise. J'ai beaucoup de peine à gagner Salonique où je suis obligé de m'arrêter trois semaines pour remettre la Belle Etoile en état de poursuivre son long voyage. Le 22 octobre, je poursuis mon voyage sur le Pirée que j'atteins le 11 novembre après une traversée très mouvementée. J'allai visiter Athènes, et à mon retour je reçus de très mauvaises nouvelles sur l'état de la mer, par les officiers de l'Angkor (paquebot des Messageries Maritimes comme le Théophile-Gautier) qui me déconseillèrent vivement la traversée de l'Adriatique en cette saison avec une telle embarcation. Le commandant me proposa même de me prendre à bord et de me débarquer à Naples, première escale de l'Angkor. Je me laissai tenter, et pour la première fois depuis le début du voyage, la Belle Etoile navigua sans aucun danger sur une mer courroucée... Mais à Naples, où je débarque le 18 novembre, la douane n'est pas très aimable,surtout envers les Français, et malgré toutes mes tentatives de conciliation, je n'arrive pas à m'entendre avec elle. Les conditions de débarquement ne sont vraiment pas acceptables: soit payer les frais de douane, qui sont exorbitants, soit laisser bateau et bagages à la douane pendant mon séjour en Italie. La rage au coeur, sur les conseils du commandant, je me rembarque sur l'Angkor qui me dépose deux jours plus tard à Marseille. Après de touchants adieux, je reprends mon voyage interrompu, à bord de mon canoé. Contre un fort vent debout, je gagne Sète, puis par le canal du Midi atteins Toulouse, après avoir passé une centaine d'écluses! Là, je fais le portage sur la Garonne, beaucoup plus pittoresque et combien moins monotone que le canal, et en quatre étapes j'arrive à Bordeaux. A ce moment, je reçois une lettre de ma famille m'annonçant le mois de mars comme date de mon incorporation militaire. Et, consultant mes cartes, je suis obligé de me rendre à l'évidence; il m'est absolument impossible de rentrer par les côtes de l'Atlantique et de la Manche, puis par la Seine jusqu'à Paris, en si peu de temps, surtout en cette saison où il faut compter avec les tempêtes. Et voici comment je rentrai à Paris par mes seuls moyens: descendant la Gironde jusqu'à Blaye, je renouvelle ma performance d'Allemagne en traînant mon canoé sur son chariot jusqu'à Orléans. La route est bonne heureusement, mais non dépourvue de côtes, surtout aux environs de Limoges. Après trois jours de repos, j'embarque sur le canal d'Orléans (avec les indispensables écluses) qui, à Montargis, me conduit dans celui du Loing. Aucun danger sur ce paisible canal, mais je passe les trois derniers jours sous la neige et le gel, et je campe toujours. A Saint-Mammès, la Seine en crue me transporte à Juvisy en moins d'une journée. J'y arrive le dimanche 8 novembre et débarque à la Société Nautique de la Haute-Seine à Draveil où je gare mon canoé, pendant mon séjour dans ma famille habitant tout près d'ici. Je veux mettre mes notes de voyage au point avant d'arriver à Paris, et avancer mon livre qui paraîtra prochainement sous le titre : Un grand voyage sur un petit bateau. Je suis rentré à Paris le 1er mars à bord de la Belle-Etoile et j'ai accosté près du Pont-Neuf où j'ai eu la joie de recevoir l'accueil fraternel de quelques amis et de la presse sportive.

Marcel Bardiaux

 

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Iscrizioni: Marcel Bardiaux sur son Canoë "Belle Etoile" - 13.000 km à travers l'Europe dont 8.000 en mer

Nazionalità: Francese

Nascita-morte: -

Riferimento geografico: Europa

Mezzo di trasporto: Canoa o kayak

Riferimenti complementari: -

ID: w1678

Internet: -

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q3288639

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I fratelli Louis e Temple Abernathy sono ricordati per aver affrontato diversi viaggi "Ocean To Ocean" e in solitaria a partire dal 1909 all’età di 9 e 5 anni. Nel 1911 percorsero a cavallo la tratta New York – San Francisco in 62 giorni, il nuovo record di velocità per l’epoca. La loro storia è stata anche riproposta al cinema.

 

Pseudonimo: Abernathy Boys

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: 1904-1986

Riferimento geografico: Stati Uniti

Mezzo di trasporto: A cavallo

Riferimenti complementari: Abernathy A., Bud & me: the true adventures of the Abernathy boys, Dove Creek Press, 1998

ID: w394

Internet: http://budandme.com

Wikidata: https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q6686586

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Nel 1890 Thomas Gaskell Allen, accompagnato da William Sachtleben, intrapresero il giro del mondo utilizzando una bicicletta. Rientrarono nel 1893 con alle spalle 15'000 miglia, all'epoca il viaggio continuo più lungo mai effettuato. Raccolsero le avventure avute in Oriente nel volume "Across Asia on a bicycle".

Foreword

The boldness and courage that Thomas Allen and William Sachtleben display in this book is impressive. On June 14, 1890, just one day after they graduated from Washington University in Saint Louis, Missouri, they set out on a record -breaking journey around the world. As they put it, they did it hoping to add practical experience to the book knowledge they had acquired in college. As they traveled, they hoped to meet the people of the world face-to-face, unhindered by protective tour guides and luxurious accomodations. That's why in this book you will see them constantly scheming to escape the zaptiehs (guards) that local leaders force upon them. It's also why they endure, with only modest complain, such utterly horrible living conditions. As their primary means of travel they chose the then-new "safety bicycle". As they admitted, it wasn't because they were experienced bicyclists. At that time, few people were. Earlier forms of the bicycle had been awkward and dangerous. With its two equal-sized wheels, chain-driven rear wheel, and inflated rubber tires, the safety bicycle was such a dramatic improvement that virtually all present-day bicycles follow its design. In a sense, the 300 million bicycles now in China owe their existence to these two young men who first demonstrated the advantages of a "little mule that you drive by the ears and kick in the sides to make him go". The inspiration for their journey was apparently Thomas Stevens then popular two volume, 1887-88 work, Around the World on a bicycle. (Stevens bicycle had been what was then called the ordinary design, wich precariously poised its rider some six feet in the air atop a giant wheel). Parts of their route were similar to that of Stevens, but they were proud of the fact that they succeeded at the very point where Stevens failed. Legal and visa difficulties forced Stevens south through India rather than along the more adventurous route Allen and Sachtleben took through almost lawless regions where Russia and China were then vying for power. This book covers the most interesting part of their 15'000 mile, round-the-world trip. It leaves out the 8'000 miles they traveled (like Stevens) across Europe and United States and focuses on their 7'000 mile trip through Asia from Constantinople (Istanbul), then the political center of the Near East, to Peking (today's Beijing), capital of the most populous nation in the Far East. In 1895, just two years after they returned to the United States, another cyclist, Frank G. Lenz (1867-94), was murdered while attempting repeat their adventure.

 

Pseudonimo: -

Iscrizioni: -

Nazionalità: Americana

Nascita-morte: -1868

Riferimento geografico: Giro del mondo

Mezzo di trasporto: Bicicletta, monociclo, triciclo

Riferimenti complementari: Allen T., Sachtleben W., Across Asia on a bicycle: the journey of two American students from Constantinople to Peking, Inkling Books, 2003

ID: w1635

Internet: -

Wikidata: -

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