This Cyclist Wants You to Acknowledge the Land You’re on When You Ride

Photo credit: Chris Milliman / Velocio
Photo credit: Chris Milliman / Velocio
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As soon as Gregg Deal wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, another dripped down. He was in the midst of a 116-mile bike trip from Lake Tahoe, on the California-Nevada border, to Reno, Nevada. Riding in this part of the country in the summer is hot—dry, desert heat that can get dangerous quickly.

Deal pedaled his Firefly mountain bike over dusty gravel and sand, looking up and all around at chalky hills—all he could think was how intense this land is.

The 46-year old artist, activist, and member of the Pyramid Lake Paiute tribe lives just east of Colorado Springs, Colorado, with his wife and five children. This past summer, he took on a mission to retrace a migration of his tribe by bike, riding the entirety of the Tahoe-Pyramid Trail.

The trail was launched in 2003 by Janet Phillips. In 2005, the Pyramid Lake Paiute Tribe formally signed on in support of the bikeway traveling through their reservation to Pyramid Lake. Deal’s cousin, who lives on the Pyramid Lake Paiute reservation, initially told Deal about the route—she was supposed to join him, but she injured her back, so he took the trip alone.

“Mentally, it was tough—you’re in the desert in the heat,” Deal told Bicycling. “There were people with me filming, but there were sections where they weren’t with me, and it was a lot to handle. But it was good.”

Deal split the trip into two days, from Lake Tahoe to Reno, and then on to Pyramid Lake.

“There’s a dramatic landscape change that happens,” he said. “In Tahoe it’s the mountains, but as you get closer to Reno, it’s more desert.”

The biking involved everything from paved bike paths to grueling switchbacks on singletrack to deep sand. The route follows the Truckee River, which has always been a water source for the people of the area.

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Deal’s dad taught him how to ride a bike when he was a kid, and this trip was a reminder of that bond. Also during the ride, he thought a lot about his children and the people who surround him on a daily basis, but also the ones who don’t—the people who made his existence possible.

“The whole experience made me think about all the history in this space,” Deal said. “It was a good reminder. There’s 15,000 years of history—I find that to be overwhelming.”

Besides the experience of the journey, Deal not only wanted to create something, but give something back. So, he made a film out of the project and collaborated with Velocio Apparel to design a cycling jersey.

“It was a lot of fun working with their designer, Brad,” Deal said. “He had a vision and I had a vision, but he was really pushing me to make it more like one of my paintings. It ended up really being a retrospective of my work.”

Brad Sheehan, CEO and lead designer for Velocio, said he was pretty adamant that he wanted the jersey to be bold. Both Deal and Sheehan are really pleased with how it turned out.

“I think it not only captures Gregg and his art—it has so many layers and levels of detail—[but it’s] a powerful statement that really digs deep if you’re willing to spend the time taking it in,” Sheehan told Bicycling.

Velocio’s program where they create jerseys gives all the money to various relevant organizations. All money raised from Deal’s film and jersey will go to The Sovereign Bodies Institute—which supports Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirit—and Illuminative—which focuses on Indigenous representation in media. Both the film and the jersey will be released on October 11th, which is Indigenous Peoples’ Day. Deal sees the work of the jersey as twofold. It’s raising money, but it’s also raising awareness—Deal knows that it’s important for people to see him on a bike.

“Representation is a big part of it,” Deal said. “I’m 46, I work for a living, I don’t have time to do 400 miles on a bike in a week. But the maintenance of health is important—I’m a big guy, but I can still bust out 50 miles in a day. My people are at risk for a lot of [health problems].”

Acknowledging that we’re all on the homelands of so many people is a huge part of the project for Deal as well.

“Here in Colorado we’re on the homelands of the Cheyenne, the Ute, the Arapahoe—it’s really important to recognize the land that we’re on,” Deal said. “And also facilitating and respecting the authority that comes with that knowledge. I think that’s hard for people to wrap their heads around. New Zealand is by no means perfect, but there is an acknowledgment and recognition there of whose land you’re on.”

Deal’s hope with the jersey is that people will engage in conversation that people who buy and wear it will think about how they can make a difference where they are.

“If you’re a white guy and wondering if you can wear this, the answer is absolutely yes,” Deal said. “My hope is that the people [who buy and wear the jersey] will become allies— not forcing a conversation or forcing opinions on anyone, but making space for people who don’t have space. I hope they’ll think about if they’re making room for indigenous people in their schools, if they’re listening to local natives pushing for things like mascot changes, representation, or recognition from the city for Indigenous Peoples’ Day.”

Deal says the jersey and the film that he created also speak to the need for representation in the outdoor industry.

“The outdoor industry loves to use native images—those patterns and symbols are so tied to the idea of being outdoors. We see these ‘native’ images in the outdoor industry, but native people have never been invited to participate,” Deal said. “Bringing in native artists and designers to the outdoor industry would benefit everyone.”

There’s a lot of work that needs to be done when it comes to people educating themselves on where they are, what the significance of the land is, and how they can do more to acknowledge homelands.

“There are a lot of ways that I connect with spaces that I’m in, and the bike is one of them,” Deal said. “There’s an incredible connection that native people have to their homelands and their spaces. Riding my bike in this space—the space of my ancestors—is incredibly important to me.”

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