MESSAGE from WALTI & ANNE NIEDERBERGER, read to Gerry – Aug 5
Dear Judith and Gerry
We are so sad to hear about Gerry’s condition and the hard time for both of you. It came as a real shock to us … when we think of Gerry, we picture him on a bike, smiling, as he climbs the hills with the younger ones.
We fondly remember our Red Ribbon tour in Nova Scotia and the tour in California in 2016. Such a great photo from that time. We keep you both in our minds and send our best wishes. Walti & Anne
MESSAGE from HELEN HAMMER aka #50, read to Gerry – Aug 5
Hello Gerry and Judith
I’ve been hearing second hand about your adventures with “ modern “ medicine. Since retirement my email changed and correspondence to my previous email disappears in cyberspace.
I’m devastated by your diagnosis and my heart aches.
So many memories both O2K and the amazing Lunenburg reunion .
Best O2K day with you – the race into Belfast.
Longest memories are all your sketches.
My thoughts are with you
Love, Helen. aka # 50
MESSAGE/CHEQUE from HELEN HAMMER – January 2023
MESSAGE from AL TARKINGTON, San Diego USA – read to Gerry – Aug 6
Hi Gerry
Al here. I’m wishing you all the best. We are all here for a relatively short time on earth, and all we can do is spend it in a positive way. And you have done that in spades. I think of how you have spent your life, and you are the finest example. It has been an honor to have shared part of your ride with with you.
I must say that I have been going through a parallel health crisis, and I am looking to you as a guiding light. And I will be celebrating your life and your acceptance of our place on earth.
Al
MESSAGE from VALERIE OLSON, Travelling USA – read to Gerry – Aug 6
Judith and Gerry, what a heartbreaking situation. I’m sorry to hear this came on so quickly and successful treatment seems unlikely. Likewise, it has been a privilege to share this ride with you, both figuratively and literally. As always, enjoy your time together and sending lots of love and big, big hugs your way. So sad that world health and political situations have kept us all apart too, too long.
Al and Steve, best wishes for your situation as well.
Miss you all bunches!
Valerie Olson
MESSAGE from FEDERICO SHEPPARD aka Freddy Merckx – Pyrenees Spain – Aug 19
The first time I met Gerry was over a series of emails prior to our trip around the world. We immediately hit it off, him with his love of France and obsession with Raymond Poulidor, and me with my obsession with Eddy Merckx. In no time we were best friends, and were conversing in our own faux Francaise. Our mutual love of France continued to develop, and our long ranging conversations about everything from French cars to French women kept us continually entertained. He asked me how long I thought the Tim Kneeland enterprise was going to last, when I replied ”he’s gonna go down faster than Madonna on a record producer” he nearly busted a gut laughing and our friendship went to another level. He never did stop laughing at that one.
We did finally meet in person at The Dirty Shame saloon in Montana during a pre Odyssey ride with a group of wonderful Belgian cyclists. I had done a lot of organizing, including having concerts performed in the countryside, deluxe accommodations in both Yellowstone and Glacier parks – topped off by a BBQ at the old horse ranch where I was fortunate enough to have been a caretaker in the 1970s. A real highlight of that trip was our last night with a campfire in Dayton WY with lifelong friends Mark and Cathy Wallace. Not being allowed to have open fires in Belgium, the group was thrilled to cook hot dogs, drink beer, and a few of them even singing the old songs of the Hitler youth. Unbelievable but true.
Even though Gerry was 17 years older than I am, I simply could not believe his strength climbing the mountain just outside of The Dirty Shame. I did have a few more recent miles in my legs, and I was able to eventually drop him on the climb, but the descent was so extreme, that I had to pull over and let some air out of my front tire to keep it from blowing, so hot did the rims get. And sure enough, just at the moment that Gerry got to where I was on the road BLAMM! his front tire blew out. We were to have the same experience in Costa Rica about eight months later.
We certainly had our share of adventures cycling down through South America, but the night we spent in Osorno Chile here’s one I will never forget. There was a big soccer match on in town, probably the World Cup. I don’t know where exactly but Gerry got a snootful of pisco sour, and he became unmanageable for someone of my size. It was then that I began to realize what a giant he really was. I was barely able to make it back to the campground because we seem to take two steps sideways for every step forward. When his final illness hit him so hard and so fast, sharing the sense of humor that we had, I had to say “the last time I saw him like this, the diagnosis was pisco sour”. Even in his last days his sense of humor never wavered.
Another indelible memory was cycling into East London South Africa. Very few of the riders actually made the ride that day, the 50 mile an hour headwind never let up from mile one to mile 100. Most of the other folks ended up on buses that appeared out of nowhere, but we were determined to give it all we had. By the time we got into camp, most of the food was gone, but we were so tired by that point it didn’t really matter. If Gerry hadn’t had a handful of energy bars that Carissa gave him, we never would have made it. Luckily the next day was the rest day, or we took one anyway and made it into the local museum where are the curator showed us the last dodo bird egg ever laid. How did they know?
A fine memory from Italy was one we descended down an unbelievable series of take turns and stiff descents to arrive in Scalea on the Mediterranean coast. We were put up in some monstrous hotel, which clearly needed more maintenance than the management could afford. We found a nearby place to dine, and while I visited the bar for several rounds of drinks, I spied what was to me an unusually disgusting bottle of liqueur with an image of a head of artichoke on the label. I thought to myself if there was any way to punish Gerry, it would be to buy him a shot of this disgusting beverage. I had it delivered to the table, and he drank it with great relish. He then tried to invite me to a great assortment of grapas, but I couldn’t stomach them. It was then that I began to understand what his Scandinavian Constitution was really capable of.
Other fine memories of that wild ride included a detour to the Isle of Wight, where we visited my grandfather’s pub, and Gerry made a fine watercolor of the outside, that is one of my great treasures. We more or less skirted the group all the way up through Scotland and over into Ireland, and I remember his disgust that I didn’t really know very much about James Joyce. We continued onward into Scotland where in the village of Oban we had a night to remember. Carissa found a shanty seaside restaurant where the fishing boats were unloaded. The sign on the door said “from the sea to the pan as fast as we can”. It was like a sign from God
The specialty of the house was the two lobster dinner, complete with boiled potatoes and carrots. We ordered up one round, and after that disappeared very quickly, Carissa looked at me and said ”are you thinking what I’m thinking?” When we ordered the second round the chef poked his head out of the kitchen door and looked us up and down. When we ordered the third round, everyone in the kitchen poked their head out the door. As usual, Gerry was the life of the party.
I am sure there were other memorable moments traversing Africa Europe and Scandinavia but perhaps my fondest memory of Gerry was when I was hit by car in Cardwell Queensland Australia. The lady, and I use that term loosely, apparently tried to beat me through an intersection disobeying a yield sign and hit me square on at 70 kilometers an hour. Three of our traveling group were about 50 meters away and when I was five meters in the air I’m told they all said at exactly the same time “he’s dead”. Gerry was kind enough to accompany me to the hospital, an hour and 45 minute ambulance ride to a hospital attached to a molasses plantation factory in Tully. At the time, my right thumb it was coming out of the south end of my wrist, It was an afternoon I will long remember. They had to unlock the front door of the clinic, and turn the lights on, while one of the nurses went down to the local rugby pitch to pull the doctor off the field become and take care of me. Nurses apologized profusely for the fact that I would have to pay for the x-rays, and I just had to laugh. They had no idea how much of my income over the years had come from taking x-rays .The bill came to $35. Eventually the burly doctor appeared in a very flowery Hawaiian shirt, took a look at my hand and said “that’s nothing but a scratch for a rugby player”. Gerry course howled at that. Were we being cared for on that trip by any person with human dignity, my personal belongings and what was left of my bike would have been treated with some sort of respect. But not Kneeland and Company. They unceremoniously dumped all of my stuff and what was left of my bike on the side of the road. Gerry was kind enough to gather it all up and find me a hotel in which to lick my wounds. As usual the tour was in total disarray, but eventually the group departed from Cairns, and I remember seeing everyone leave me on the ground to continue the journey as their flight departed the runway. I shed exactly one tear.
That accident eventually led to a court battle that had a humorous ending. The paltroon of a husband that the lady who ran me down was cursed with tried to interfere with the legal proceedings by convincing his favorite bartender, to whom I am sure he was well acquainted, to submit a statement to the court that I had been in his bar just before my accident. His statement went into great detail about the enormous quantities of intoxicating beverage that I had consumed, and the detailed descriptions of my lurching movements were in retrospect quite entertaining. Such was the concern of my attorney however, that he dispatched a private investigator to interview the bartender. The story was retold, but after he was through, as all good investigators do, he threw the bartender a curveball. “Is there anything else that you remember about Mr Sheppard?” he asked, to which the bartender replied “My gawd, he was a tall bloke !” Well you guessed it, the tall bloke was Gerry, who was able to confirm his presence in the bar with an e-mail that he had sent just a few minutes before my accident. I was told by my attorney Douglas Turnbull (what a name for an attorney!) that when this information was shared with the judge, he erupted in laughter, and with a stern warning to the insurance company’s attorney, the defense folded its tent and went home. A first ever impersonation of a Freddy !
It wasn’t long after Odyssey that Gerry and I were reunited. My tiny house in Green Bay was in desperate need of some remodeling, and Gerry offered to do the design and help with the construction. We opened up five new dormers in my house with spectacular views of lake Michigan, so we were able to ride our bikes in the morning and supervise the work of the carpenters in the afternoon. We were able to participate in the Fat Tire Tour of Milwaukee, most notable because I had had full dose of beer, and had to be delivered back to the house where we were staying in a 1960s black Cadillac hearse driven by two friends of the organizers decked out in white clinical outfits. Of course I occupied the rear compartment along with my bike. I don’t think Gerry was quite the same after that. Another of Gerry’s unknown talents, was climbing tall trees. There was a 75 foot tall Cottonwood tree that was blocking my view of the Bay, and 65 year old madman Rolfsen climbed nearly to the top without a lick of safety equipment, and trimmed that tree. I still find it hard to believe.
It was inevitable that our mutual love of cycling would eventually bring us to Belgium, where we were hosted by good friends and several of the veterans of our Yellowstone adventure. I was arranging an exposition at the Royal Musical Instrument Museum in Brussels, and associated concert series. The climax of the event was a concert marking the 75th anniversary of the only formal concert given by his famous Paraguayan guitarist Agustín Barrios Mangoré. I got the timing of the concert down to the day hour minute and second but not without the extraordinary help of Gerry and Judith who took note of my exhaustion and arranged for a splendid reception dinner for the Yellowstones and other invited guests as well as the artists performing. In that hour of need, their help was to me beyond words.
As my life transitioned into Spain, Gerry was there yet again. When I bought my two wine caves in the country, Gerry drafted the plans to turn the smaller of the two into the smallest castle in Spain. We would ride our bikes there in the morning and watch the Tour de France on my solar powered big screen TV. The gin and tonics went down very very well, but Gerry’s frustration with the idiot bricklayer was palpable and noteworthy. He had to stop this moron from installing the staircase backwards, and the look on his face when he noticed the imbecile standing on Gerry’s carefully drawn plans was one for the ages. In the end, Gerry’s patience and grace won out. On his last visit to Spain, neither one of us had been doing very much riding, but much to his credit at age 80, I could never drop him on the bike.
Honorable mention must go to the splendid reunion Gerry and Judith organized in Lunenburg. Every detail was attended to, from the town crier to the freshly caught lobster cooked and enjoyed on the deck of the ship. Our excursions on the Bluenose are truly unforgettable. The man is an honor to his family, his country, and the incredible circle of friends we have formed together over the last 23 years. There is not much more I can say. I loved the man.
Au revoir Pou Pou.
Freddy Merckx, on the Tourmalet 19 August, 2022
MESSAGE from CARISSA CHAPPELLET – Odyssey Rider – California USA
This is an excerpt from Carissa’s journal written during Odyssey 2000
January 2, Dana Point, CA to San Diego, CA
Up at 6am. It rained last night, but my tent stayed dry and my bag kept me toasty warm.
“Hey, wait up!” Freddy yelled across the camp. “Want to ride with us?” Gerry said with a winsome smile. “I don’t want to slow you guys down.” I responded, having already decided to ride on my own so I wouldn’t get caught up in someone else’s pace.
“We not in a hurry” Freddy jumped in.
“Just ride with us.” Gerry encouraged.
“OK” I agreed.
A mile down the road Freddy realized he’d left his mirror and asked us to wait at the first coffee shop. That’s where we are now. Oops, there goes Freddy! He just whizzed by not even looking! We’re off to catch him. So much for a leisurely day. The race is on
Fred and Gerry turned out to be two biking maniacs. They said they’d go at my pace, they lied, and I like a fool pushed myself too hard, so now my knee hurts. But they were very entertaining and a lot of fun to spend the day with. The day was incredible, perfect weather, rode through Camp Pendelton, and along the coast to San Diego
February 5, Day 36 Cauquenes to Conception, Chile
Freddy and Gerry have become two of my closest friends. Prior to the trip many of the riders had spoken to one another via an email ring. I responded to one of Freddie’s emails and we emailed a bit which resulted in my inviting him to come to our annual Christmas Party. Actually I invited everyone on the email ring, but Freddy was the one that showed up. Freddy had decided to start his Odyssey trip from his doorstep, so he biked to my party in Big Sur from Wisconsin! And then continued down to Burbank. Gerry had also met Freddy prior to the trip as they had done some biking together in preparation for the trip and found they had an avocation for cycling in common. Both had raced for years, they called themselves the Aging Legends of Cycling. Freddy nicknamed Freddie Merckx and Gerry was the famed Raymond Poulidor. (or PouPou)
Going “off route” with Freddy and Gerry is what made my Odyssey year remarkable. I recall it was on the very first day of the ride that they yelled at me and Barb to follow them and we veered off the official route to view an architectural wonder.
Gerry’s days on Odyssey were about seeing everything and experiencing everything along the way. A lot of riders were focused on getting from point a to point b – Gerry wanted to see everything in between. He packed as much life as he possibly could into each day.
Stopped to paint a church
Went left if the sign said ice-cream or pub
Talked with the locals
Took an extra hike to see a view
On and on …
Carissa and Gerry exchanged drawings on Odyssey – these 2 postcard size watercolours
were done by Carissa and are in G’s collection
MESSAGE from EMILY TOBY and KEN HAZLETT – Oregon USA & San Miguel MX – Aug 15
The meaning of an odyssey is a long series of wanderings or adventures, especially when filled with notable experiences, hardships, etc. usually marked by many changes of fortune ….
Thank you for letting us know what is happening with Gerry’s health. The news is devastating, there really are no words, except, this really really sucks.
Gerry, it has been the greatest honor and pleasure to know you and share our friendship. Our time together on Odyssey, the reunions and your visits to San Miguel were wonderful, memorable times.
Sending you both our love. You are in our thoughts and in our hearts. We will raise a glass of scotch tonight in your honor and wish you all the best on your current odyssey and where it leads.
Abrazos Fuertes (strong hugs) – Love, Emily & Ken
MESSAGE FROM GARY AND CONNIE HOFFMAN – Sun Valley, USA – Aug 17
We are so saddened to learn of Gerry’s passing; Connie told me yesterday.
I think you know that I always admired and respected Gerry more than anyone else on that Odyssey ride, a true man of principle and integrity. I think it was those two qualities that convinced wavering riders to join forces with us in the legal proceedings against the leader.
We will always fondly remember your hospitality to us when we visited. I found this photo from 8 years ago in my computer files; it perfectly summed up our visit to Nova Scotia. You both gave a wonderful meaning to rare friendship.
Love, Gary and Connie
MESSAGE from DAVID ROGERS – Colorado, USA – Aug 19
Gratitude
In July of 2009 I was on a journey that would change my life, not only then but in a host of unexpected ways in the years that have followed. There were central figures in this journey, some planned, some invited late to the party. The reasons are too numerous to share but let’s just say that if all the people and all the pieces had not fallen into place, EXACTLY as they did, the experience may well have stopped in its tracks.
I will describe as briefly as possible the unique contribution that Gerry, unexpectedly and unselfishly played in this story. I was turning 50 that year and wanted to pursue an achievement on a bicycle that to me would represent the most challenging and implausible accomplishment a rider of my ability could consider. The goal was simply to ride the route of the Tour de France, solo, with support of a motorhome for food, clothing and shelter and a driver who would pilot the vehicle. I would start 4 days ahead of the actual race, beginning in Monaco that year and finish 4 days ahead of the race at the top of Mt. Ventoux in the French Alps. The transfer distance and riding into Paris were impossible so the final stage would be left out while other miles were added in.
The route that year began in Monaco, went across southern France along the Mediterranean, into Andorra, Spain, the Pyrenees, back into the French Pyrenees, across central France, into Switzerland and the Swiss Alps and then back into France and the French Alps.
Among many challenging circumstances on the road, there was also an unanticipated challenge for the driver that required a last ditch effort to find assistance while literally in the midst of the ride.
The first angel appeared in the form of long time friend and cycling companion, Federico Sheppard. Fred happened to be headed to Spain to deliver a classical guitar he had restored and would be landing in a city that corresponded to the route of the Tour that year through Spain. As if a gift from above, Fred offered to drive the Motorhome for six of the remaining 16 stages that would at least allow the show to go on while an additional plan could be hatched that could take me to the finish.
So imagine this phone call from the heart of the French Pyrenees. “Gerry, this is Fred, I have this friend David who you met once at my house in Green Bay. He’s on a mission to try to complete the route of the Tour de France and he needs someone who could take over the driving duties for me in two days. You would need to fly to France tomorrow morning so that we could meet you in Central France the following day and hand over the keys. You will need to drive to Switzerland, though the Swiss Alps and then into France and drive through the French Alps. There’s a flight leaving Nova Scotia at 8 am tomorrow morning, could you be on it/”
There was a short pause, a few questions and then Gerry said, “sure, I can do that”.
I probably don’t need to elaborate about what this meant to me. Imagine accepting this task for virtually a complete stranger with no notice, motivated by only the inner kindness to help someone achieve a personal dream. It’s been 13 years and I am crying in gratitude as I write this.
The weather challenges we would encounter over Gerry’s tenure behind the wheel would be legendary had they occurred 4 days in arrears during the actual race. What we navigated through both on the bike and behind the wheel of our 28’ home on wheels were beyond epic. In other words, this was no easy feat for any driver and Gerry handled it with a calm and steady hand that helped everyone involved.
Sadly, I have not seen Gerry since the completion of this ride but Fred has kept me up to date on the events of late. While I don’t know a lot about Gerry, I know that he was loved and respected by all and that he entered my life in a way that I will never forget. He will be in my heart and thoughts until the day I pass.
For those that are left behind and mourning his passing, please know that his contribution in my life spans well beyond those 10 days and that I am so grateful that I was able to be among the many touched by his kindness and generosity.
Chapeau Gerry – Dave Rogers
MESSAGE from BARB SCHWARTZ – Greensboro NC, USA – written Sep 4
Today I met some of Gerry’s cycling friends in Lunenburg. It was a special treat for me to have the opportunity to ride what one friend, Ian Lightstone, named “Gerry’s Ride.” We met on the edge of the historic Lunenburg waterfront, outside the pub called The Knot. Those of us who bought jerseys at Al’s bike shop in 2003 have The Knot’s sponsorship printed on this purply-blue cycling souvenir.
From The Knot we cycled along the coastline to the LaHave River Ferry. There were sixteen cyclists, and Judith, Sue and Steve in a full size Dodge pickup truck as our sag wagon. We split into smaller groups to allow for cars to pass safely between cyclists, but were never too spread out. The Nova Scotia coastline is gorgeous but there was no time for scenic stops – I had to keep up with these guys! (Judith calls them “MAMILs”. Middle-aged men in lycra!)
We met the ferry in good time and socialized as we motored across the river. Not far from the ferry landing is the LaHave Bakery. I was expecting coffee and cake but instead we had champagne, and Ian made a nice toast to our dear friend, whom we each love and miss in our own way. Apparently Gerry really enjoyed bicycling to this bakery.
After our celebration of Gerry’s life, we caught the same ferry in reverse back to the other side. We continued cycling quiet roads to form a loop back to The Knot. It wasn’t a long ride – about 25km – but it felt really special to ride on pavement that Gerry has ridden on many times. I’m thankful to Judith to making today’s ride happen.
So far my visit in Lunenburg has been special. Judith has welcomed me to her home with openness and love. She made a space for me to assemble my bicycle in Gerry’s office. Just to be in Gerry’s office brings me joy. His drawings are hanging everywhere, some from Odyssey, some from other travels, all amazing. On my flight to Nova Scotia, I was flipping through my Odyssey journal and came across a drawing Gerry did in Panama City. One I totally had forgotten about. I took a picture of it to share with you, attached below.
Judith‘s sister Sue and husband Steve are back in Lunenburg staying at the apartment with Judith. A handful of us stayed at Sue and Steve’s B&B in 2003, so you may remember them. I wasn’t expecting anything and I had home cooked meals both nights at Judith’s. It feels really good to be here. Gerry has made his mark, and he will always be in our hearts. He was a good friend, and has left behind a loving family. I’m so glad to have spent these two days in Lunenburg, missing Gerry of course, but made many more memories.
MESSAGE from BARB SCHWARTZ, Greensboro, NC – written Christmas 2022
It’s been over four months since Gerry’s passing but I am reminded of Gerry nearly every day. At the end of my visit to Nova Scotia in Sep 2022, Judith shared some of Gerry’s cycling clothes and accessories, then allowed me to pick whatever I wanted. There were jerseys, jackets, as well as tools, chain lube and tire irons. I took a jacket that is way too big, thinking I would give it to someone else from Odyssey, but as it happens, I’ve been wearing it as my winter cycling jacket since I can fit many layers underneath for warmth! It is truly a treasure to have Gerry so near to my heart this season.
Over the years, I didn’t pick up the phone to talk to Gerry, but whenever we were together, it felt like no time had passed. He was a real friend, thoughtful and generous in so many ways. The first true “Red Ribbon” team Odyssey reunion was planned by Gerry and Judith. This set the stage for the every other year pattern of Red Ribbon Team gatherings. One special ride that Gerry and I shared was when we bicycled the perimeter of Iceland in 2008. I have so many fond memories of that tour, and Gerry.
RIP Gerry, you are not forgotten.
