A Pilgrimage for Vegan Tacos Deep in Amish Country

By Klaus Bellon

Klaus was born in Bogotá, Colombia, but now lives in Seattle, Washington. He often travels with his Road Logic Break-Away bike and thinks of himself as a connoisseur of vegan ice cream. Klaus enjoys death metal, quilting, playing the drums and has wanted to learn how to juggle for at least 20 years.

Loops, lollipops, out-and-backs. Rides come in many flavors and cyclists often have their favorites. I’m no different. But my requirements for a great road ride are slightly unusual. Sure, the roads should be relatively traffic-free with varied terrain, and the asphalt should be in the best condition possible. But there’s another aspect that, for me, is a must-have: a destination. Something — anything to make the ride feel purposeful. For me, a great waterfall will suffice. So will man-made features, like roadside attractions that border on being tourist traps. A huge cowboy hat and boots. I’m in. A beach? Certainly. An amazing estate sale in some fancy neighborhood I’ve never ridden through? Yes, please. Such is my obsession with making rides feel purposeful, that I’ve been known to carry small outgoing parcels on rides (tucked under my jersey) to mail them at some far-off post office.

I tell you all this because I recently found myself visiting family in rural northeastern Ohio, a flat and seemingly featureless landscape that put my abilities of finding a destination to the test. Luckily, a quick internet search of the area revealed two ideal candidates, which I chose to combine in a dual-destination lollipop ride. First, a training facility for boxers owned by Don King (an Ohio native), where Mike Tyson trained for the better part of the 90s. Tyson even owned a mansion nearby, itself a worthy destination. Second, the world’s largest statue of the Virgen de Guadalupe, where — according to online reviews — above-average street tacos are sold. Both destinations are located deep in Ohio’s Amish country. Suddenly, the thought of riding in mostly flat Ohio on my Road Logic Break-Away started to feel more and more interesting and exciting.

Gently undulating roads, sometimes unpaved but well cared-for, took me through covered bridges, and by Amish homes and schoolhouses. On one road, I saw no vehicles at all, unless you count the tiny horse-drawn cart, which was pulled by a mini horse (not a pony, mind you, but a horse smaller than a great Dane) and driven by an Amish ‘tween. Motorcyclists gave me thumbs up as I made my way to Don King’s training facility, a huge property that now looks worn out and well past its prime. Much like how Tyson looked during that fight with Jake Paul, where we all wished that Paul (also a northeast Ohio native) would be dismantled by a well-aged Tyson. But alas, it was not to be.

Now, where was I? Ah right. The training facility. Individual homes, presumably for boxers who are staying there to train, have fallen into disrepair. Huge columns along the front gate are missing portions due to harsh snowbelt winters. There’s an interesting sadness to the place.

Not wanting to cross the multiple “Private Property, Do Not Trespass” signs, I rode off, passing Amish homes and farms. At one point, I rode by a group of Amish teens who were scooting down the road in what I can best describe as a cross between a bike and a scooter. I rode alongside them for a bit, before turning off to visit the Virgen de Guadalupe.

The statue was built 30 years ago by a couple who credited the Virgin Mary for their ability to reclaim their family farm from the IRS (Internal Revenue Service). From the moment it was built, the statue became a place of pilgrimage for Latin American families from all over the US. Which explains why my very Colombian mother was so excited when I told her I’d be riding my bike there. Was my interest in the 33-foot-tall effigy of the religious or at least pseudo-spiritual type? I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the purpose of my visit was largely an epicurean one.

Of course, when you are vegan — as I am — making food the destination of any outing is a fool’s game. Yes, they normally had vegan tacos, but the ingredients had not been delivered in time the day I was there. So, I would have to be content with a rice bowl of sorts, along with tortillas and four well-above-average salsas to pick from. Not bad for Windsor, Ohio, population 2,659. I ate my rice, had a look at the Virgen de Guadalupe, and rode off, once again passing groups of Amish kids on their bike/scooters.

In cycling, as with so many other things in life, it’s often said that the journey is in fact the destination. I disagree. Yes, the journey is enjoyable, especially when riding a bike. But when it comes to tacos and relics of the 1980s and 90s, the destination makes the journey pale in comparison.