The House Can Wait. Let’s Ride.

This week, our bikes have sat idle while Cristina and I have focused on the new house.

Between deep cleaning, patching holes, painting, and getting the office ready for Between the Miles Studio, our days have been full. Little by little, we’re making this place our own.

But somewhere between the paint cans and the unpacked boxes, we’ve needed a reminder of what brought us here: the chance to spend more time outdoors, closer to the trail, enjoying life together.

So this weekend, we’re setting down the tools and getting back on our bikes.

We’re heading to Confluence for the community costume ride, sponsored by Confluence Cyclery, Tissue Farms, and Trailhead Brewery. Costumes, bikes, and a community coming together—we think it’s going to be a great event, and we’re excited to join in.

It’s also a chance to support the local businesses that help make trail towns special. Our adventures are shaped by more than the miles we ride. They’re shaped by the people we meet and the places that give us a reason to stop, spend some time, and come back.

After a week of house projects, we’re ready for a little fun. No big mileage goal. No pressure to make it an epic adventure. Just a chance to ride together and enjoy being part of the trail community.

That’s a part of Better Together Adventures we want to keep making room for.

The house will still need work when we get home. There will be another wall to paint and another box to unpack. But we don’t want to get so focused on getting settled that we keep postponing the experiences we moved here to enjoy.

This weekend, the bikes are coming out.

The house can wait a little. We’ve got a costume ride to join.

Making It Ours

Friday, we closed on our new house.

After all the planning and anticipation, we finally had the keys to the place that would bring us closer to the GAP, Dead Man’s Hollow, and the life we’ve been working toward together.

But the first few days haven’t gone quite as expected.

Before we could really begin settling in, the house needed a deep cleaning. And as we started preparing the walls for paint, we discovered that every picture had been hung with screws. Taking them down left holes that needed repairing before we could move forward.

We knew there would be work involved in making a house our own. Still, there’s a difference between knowing that and standing in a room realizing how much needs to happen before the first coat of paint.

Our beginning here has involved more cleaning and patching than we anticipated. The move is happening, but so is the work of getting the house ready for us.

We decided to start with the office.

There were other rooms we could have tackled first, but getting Between the Miles Studio up and running mattered to us. We wanted a place where we could get back to creating—a space for writing our stories, working on videos, and continuing to build what we’ve started.

Choosing the office first gave us a clear place to begin when the whole house was asking for attention.

For the walls, we chose a warm, neutral, light gray. Something simple and welcoming that we could carry through the house. With the size of the home, we decided to paint all the rooms the same color to give the spaces a better sense of flow.

It also meant one fewer decision to make while we worked our way from room to room.

After the office, we moved into the living room. More repairs, more preparation, and then paint. Each room has required time before we can begin arranging it the way we want.

That’s been the reality of these first days: doing the work underneath the things we were excited to do.

We were ready to move in and start living here. Instead, we’ve had to slow down and give the house the attention it needs. It’s disappointing when a beginning doesn’t look the way you pictured it, even when you’re grateful to have reached it.

Both things can be true. We’re happy this house is ours, and there’s more work ahead than we expected.

For Better Together Adventures, this is part of the story, too. Moving closer to the trail means making a home here, with all the ordinary work that comes with it. Some days, our progress will be measured in miles. Right now, it’s measured in repaired walls, painted rooms, and spaces getting ready for the next part of our lives.

We still have plenty to do. But the office came first for a reason: we want to keep making room for the stories and adventures that brought us here.

And now we have a new chapter to tell—one that begins with keys, cleaning supplies, and a warm gray coat of paint.

Making Room for More

Better Together Adventures

‍ ‍By Troy Tuyls

When Cristina and I started riding together, we weren’t thinking about building something.

We wanted time together. Somewhere to go. A reason to put everyday responsibilities aside for a few hours and see where the trail would take us.

Then those rides began shaping our lives.

The Great Allegheny Passage became part of our love story. We married at the waterfall in Ohiopyle during our journey along the GAP and C&O. And now, as we prepare to leave our beautiful condo for a home near the GAP and Dead Man’s Hollow, we’re making room for the trail in our everyday lives.

But somewhere along the way, another thought started taking shape.

What if we could help someone else experience a little of what we found?

Someone who hasn’t ridden in years. A couple who could use an afternoon together. Someone who wants to explore but feels unsure about getting started.

I keep coming back to that first ride—the one before you know how far you can go or whether you’ll enjoy it. Sometimes the hardest part happens before the wheels ever turn. You need a little encouragement. Someone willing to say, “Come with us. We’ll figure it out together.”

That’s the kind of welcome I want Better Together Adventures to offer.

I love riding with Cristina. I love looking over and seeing her beside me, knowing we’ve chosen this time together. There’s something about sharing a trail that makes room for conversation, laughter, and the comfortable quiet of being with your person.

I want to keep those moments at the heart of what we’re building.

When we share a trail story, I hope someone can picture themselves there. When we talk about e-bikes, I hope someone who thought cycling was beyond their reach starts considering a ride. And when we eventually invite people to join us, I hope they feel comfortable showing up just as they are.

Those hopes are bigger than what we can do all at once.

We both work. We’re preparing for a move. I’m learning how to turn our footage into videos that people will want to watch. Some weeks, finding the energy to write one story feels like an accomplishment.

There are days when I look at everything I’d like BTA to become and wonder where to begin.

Then I think about how Cristina and I finished our long ride.

We didn’t ride all 334 miles in one day. We rode the miles in front of us. We stopped when we needed to. We encouraged each other and started again.

I can approach this the same way.

One story that helps someone feel connected. One useful trail review. One invitation when we’re ready. Small things we can do well and keep doing.

Our faith is part of that hope, too. I want it to show in how we treat people—in patience, generosity, and making someone feel welcome. As BTA grows, I hope we’ll find practical ways to help children and veterans experience the freedom and enjoyment of a bike ride.

For now, those ideas are still ahead of us. We have work to do before they become something we can offer.

But I like knowing what we’re working toward.

We left friends and family in Michigan to build a life together in Pennsylvania. That choice carried excitement, uncertainty, and the ache of leaving people we love. Now we’re taking another step toward a life that feels closer to the things we value.

Time together. The outdoors. Faith. A sense of belonging.

Better Together Adventures is growing out of that life, a little at a time.

The trail has already given Cristina and me so much: memories, a place to get married, and a reason to imagine a different future.

As we prepare for this next chapter, I keep thinking about who we might meet along the way.

Maybe someone reading this is waiting for a reason to take that first ride.

I hope, in time, we can be part of it.

Somewhere along these miles, the trail became part of our story.

A Better Together Adventures Story

There’s a difference between riding a trail and having a relationship with it.

For Cristina and me, that happened slowly.

We kept coming back to the GAP.

At first, it was simply somewhere to ride. Miles of crushed limestone, rivers, bridges, tunnels and small towns waiting to be explored.

But every time we returned, something changed.

The trail became a little less unfamiliar.

And a little more ours.

Not because we owned any part of it. But because we were leaving pieces of our life along the way.

A bridge stopped being just a bridge when it became the place where we had a conversation we still remembered months later.

A climb wasn’t simply something to get over. It became the place where one of us struggled and the other slowed down.

A trail town wasn’t just another dot on the map. It became the place where we sat exhausted after a long ride, ate together and laughed about everything that had happened that day.

And sometimes there wasn’t a big moment at all.

Sometimes it was just Cristina riding a few feet ahead of me. The sound of our tires underneath us. The river beside us. A sunset we weren’t expecting.

Those are the moments I remember most.

Somewhere Along the Miles

The more we rode together, the more I started realizing something.

I loved cycling. But cycling wasn’t really the reason I kept wanting to come back.

It was her.

The bike simply gave us a way to go somewhere together.

Out there, life seemed to slow down. We talked more. We laughed more. We noticed things we probably would have driven right past.

And when the miles got difficult, we learned something about each other.

Some days I was stronger. Some days Cristina was. Sometimes one of us needed encouragement. Sometimes we just needed the other person to slow down and stay beside us.

We didn’t have to say much.

We just kept riding.

Together.

Places Hold Memories

Eventually, I stopped measuring the GAP only in miles.

I started measuring it in memories.

Certain places could take me back to a moment almost instantly.

A bridge. A trailhead. A restaurant. A town. A waterfall.

They became markers in our story.

Places where we laughed. Places where we struggled. Places where we stopped long enough to realize just how lucky we were to be experiencing all of this together.

And every time we returned, we added another memory. Another conversation. Another photograph. Another story. Another piece of us.

Without realizing it, Cristina and I were creating our own map of the GAP.

Not one made from trail markers or mileage signs.

One made from moments.

It Was Becoming Part of Us

Somewhere along the way, we stopped saying:

“We should ride the GAP.”

Instead, it became:

“When are we going back?”

That’s when I knew something had changed.

The trail wasn’t just somewhere we went anymore. It was becoming part of our life.

And eventually, returning wouldn’t be enough.

We wanted to know what was beyond the next town. How far we could go. What would happen if instead of riding a section of the trail… we just kept going.

That question would eventually lead Cristina and me to our biggest adventure yet.

334 miles.

Four states. Two bikes. And one decision along the way that would change our lives forever.

But that’s the next story.

Before the 334 miles. Before the wedding. Before Better Together Adventures became what we’re building today…

there were simply two people on bikes who kept coming back to the same trail.

And somewhere between the long rides, tired legs, conversations, wrong turns, laughter and quiet miles together…

the trail became ours.

The Trail Is Better When More People Can Ride It

A Better Together Adventures Story

There’s something about a bicycle that makes you feel like a kid again.

The sound of tires rolling over crushed limestone. The trees moving past just slowly enough that you can actually notice them. The small towns, bridges, rivers, waterfalls, and people you encounter along the way.

Cristina and I have spent enough time on trails to understand that cycling isn’t really about how fast you get somewhere.

It’s about everything you discover between where you started and where you’re going.

And that’s one reason we think e-bikes deserve a place in the conversation.

It’s Still a Bicycle

E-bikes sometimes get treated as though using one somehow makes the experience less authentic.

We don't see it that way.

An e-bike doesn't take away the morning air. It doesn't make the river less beautiful. It doesn't change the conversation you have riding beside someone you love.

It simply provides assistance when you need it.

And for some people, that assistance can be the difference between watching an adventure from the sidelines and actually being part of it.

More Miles Can Mean More Exploring

One of the greatest advantages of an e-bike isn't necessarily making a ride easier.

It's making the world accessible a little farther down the trail.

Maybe someone would normally feel comfortable riding ten miles. With some assistance, perhaps they're comfortable exploring twenty.

That can mean reaching another town. Finding a restaurant you didn't know existed. Stopping at a trail overlook. Discovering a waterfall. Or simply riding far enough to see what's around the next bend.

For us, that's what trails are supposed to encourage.

Exploration.

Sometimes an E-Bike Keeps Two People Together

This part matters to us.

Two people don't always ride at the same pace.

One may be stronger. One may have more cycling experience. One may simply be having a better day.

Without assistance, those differences can sometimes turn a ride together into two people riding separately—the stronger rider constantly waiting and the other person constantly feeling like they're trying to catch up.

An e-bike can change that.

Instead of worrying about pace, two people can ride beside each other. They can talk. They can stop together. They can experience the trail together.

And we'd choose that over proving who can pedal harder every single time.

It’s Not About Making the Trail Easier

There will always be people who want to ride every mile completely under their own power. That's great.

There will be people chasing distance, speed, personal records, or the satisfaction of conquering a difficult ride. That's part of cycling too.

But it doesn't have to be everybody's reason for getting on a bicycle.

Someone else may simply want to spend Saturday afternoon riding with their spouse. A parent may want to keep riding with their adult children. Someone returning to cycling after years away may want enough assistance to feel confident exploring again. A couple may want to ride farther than they normally could and discover somewhere new together.

Those experiences aren't worth less because a battery helped make them possible.

There Is Still Responsibility

Supporting e-bikes doesn't mean ignoring trail etiquette.

Whatever you're riding, speed matters around other trail users. So does yielding, announcing passes, slowing down in congested areas, respecting posted rules, and remembering that trails are shared by cyclists, walkers, runners, families, and others.

Technology shouldn't replace courtesy.

If anything, having the ability to travel faster means having an even greater responsibility to ride respectfully.

More People. More Experiences. More Stories.

Better Together Adventures was never supposed to be about proving that there is one correct way to experience the outdoors.

We want people to get outside. Explore somewhere they've never been. Ride beside someone they care about. Stop in the little trail towns. Eat at the local restaurants. Take the picture. Watch the sunset. And come home with a story they didn't have when they left.

If an e-bike helps someone do that, we don't see something negative.

We see another person experiencing the trail.

Because ultimately, the battery isn't the adventure.

The miles aren't even the adventure.

The adventure is what happens between them.