Remember the Removal: A 950-mile bike ride, and so much more
‘Remember the Removal’ aims to keep Cherokee history alive, both physically and intellectually.
Lily Levin photo
At some points, engulfed in the rush of the ride, “your head feels like it’s going to pop off your shoulders,” said 2026 Remember the Removal mentor Freida Saylor.
Saylor participated in RTR in 2025, a three-week, approximately 950-mile bike ride that traces the northern route of the Trail of Tears — one path of forced removal of the Cherokee people to Oklahoma from their Southern Appalachian homelands — following the 1830 Indian Removal Act signed by President Andrew Jackson.
It is estimated that around 4,000 of the 16,000 Cherokee that set out on the trail died along the way.
The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians has participated since 2011; RTR was founded by the Cherokee Nation in 1984, though it wasn’t held annually until 2009. In the Qualla Boundary, RTR is housed under Cherokee Choices, a part of Public Health and Human Services.
“We take in the applications and do marketing and promotion for the applications for the ride and serve on the interview panel for that to select the riders,” said Cherokee Choices Program Director Robin Callahan.
RTR itself aims to keep Cherokee history alive both physically — by taking the trip on two wheels and visiting some of the sites where hardship was endured by one’s ancestors — and intellectually, by tracing one’s genealogy and learning to speak the Cherokee language. Six are selected as candidates; they become participants only after the successful completion of the 60-mile end-of-March benchmark. The program also has one alternate, who will be offered a spot the following year upon fulfilling RTR training requirements.
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This year, candidates’ ages range from 16 to 45. Callahan said it’s not typical to have a high school-aged EBCI rider; the program on the boundary isn’t specifically geared toward adolescents. Instead, it takes a holistic view of health, emphasizing physical, mental, emotional and cultural aspects — including developing resilience and managing stress — hence its position under Cherokee Choices. But one couldn’t say the same for the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma, which brings 12 participants, as part of a youth leadership program, between the ages of 15 and 25.
Together, the two groups create the 18-person cohort that sets off on an 18-day journey, after six months of training and skill improvement, from Georgia to Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas and finally, Oklahoma.
Training
While the ride will start in early June, the journey truly begins with a question: “Why RTR?” Candidates Rachel Bruneel and Sara Ferguson both are Cherokee through their maternal heritage — and each was raised with more exposure to the White side of their families.
Bruneel said that her grandmother was a fluent Cherokee speaker but lost the language over time and was unable to pass it down to her mom.
“Being a mom myself, I wanted to take the opportunity to learn more about our culture and history and why we are here today and learn some of the language and be able to pass it down to my daughter so she’s not wondering, ‘Who am I?’ or ‘What is our native side?’” she said.
Ferguson said growing up, White Western, patriarchal ideals were the dominant culture. On the other hand, the EBCI is matriarchal. Women were war leaders, powerful and important. So, like Bruneel, Ferguson’s decision to join RTR is about immersing herself in Cherokee traditions and knowledge. It’s also about learning who she is as a Cherokee woman. And she’s making that process. Material preparations and cross-training began in early January, over a month before candidates’ feet hit the pedals.
Cherokee Choices supplies nutrition and conducts body scans for riders. Cherokee Recreation offers free 24/7 access to its facilities during RTR training months.
“We also work with the Cherokee Fitness Complex. They have certified spin instructors and muscle-building coaches,” said Nelson Lambert, RTR 2023 alum and current training coordinator.
The EBCI’s bike of choice is gravel and its brand of choice is Specialized, so RTR works with Motion Makers in Sylva to provide bike fittings and roadside maintenance instruction. Staff also begin planning early, discussing logistics alongside the Cherokee Nation.
“Along with Jake [Stephens], me and him have been handling both [training and coordination] roles together — the coordination logistical piece. Really staying involved with Cherokee Nation. It’s constant communication with them,” Lambert said.
Lambert’s role in facilitating training involves a combination of approaches and experiences, like pairing candidates with second-language learners to practice speaking Cherokee. Soon after the program starts on the Qualla Boundary, candidates “go right into genealogical research for their own ancestors learning about their entire family history,” he told The Smoky Mountain News.
Often, the cohort will discover that two or more members are related — even to citizens of the Cherokee Nation. RTR 2026 candidates have already found ties to previously unknown lineages.
“I knew I was a Washington, but I didn’t know I was related to Reeds and Rattlers and Blythes,” said candidate Bruneel.
Fellow team member Ferguson learned of ancestors that were a part of — and ancestors that resisted — the Trail of Tears removal. She has ancestors who moved out west and ancestors that returned.
“I’ve learned that I was just obviously distantly related to Yonaguska, who was part of one of the removals, of one of the detachments that went out west and then came back to the boundary. I have Tsali somewhere in my line,” she said.
Finally, candidate Kamiyo Lanning shared that she’s a direct descendent of someone born on the Trail of Tears who had to petition to enroll in the tribe.
While SMN didn’t hear about any familial revelations among the candidates interviewed, the close-knit nature of the Qualla Boundary was amplified when each said they’d already known at least one member of the cohort. And regardless of riders’ connections coming into the program, they’re all part of the same team.
“I feel like every day that our team is together, you know, we just get closer and build a bond even stronger … They’re some of the coolest people I’ve ever met, and I’m glad that this program has given me the opportunity to hang out with them and learn more about them, grow from them, grow with them,” said Steven Smith, 2026 RTR candidate.
Indeed, the team spends 12 hours per week together through classes, cross-fit and rides. To make the benchmark, however, candidates can and do train on their own, ensuring that RTR takes up at least those 12 weekly hours — and likely several more. That’s a hefty addition to anyone’s schedule, let alone a caretaker or parent or anyone with a full-time job.
However, candidates said their loved ones are supportive and employers accommodating, which has alleviated the burden significantly. For example, when Ferguson completes the ride, she knows her cats will be safe in the custody of her mom.
Bruneel, a single mother of a four-year-old, said because her parents and grandparents recently passed away, she has only a sibling and cousin to rely on. Before accepting the RTR position, both committed to being part of her support system. What’s more, Bruneel said it’s easy to navigate conflicts between her practice and workplace schedule. After all, she is employed by the tribe, and the tribe manages RTR.
Similarly, Smith, director of the EBCI Communications Department, said his workplace has been nothing but supportive. One coworker also completed the program.
Ferguson works as a therapist for Behavioral Health Services at the Cherokee Indian Hospital; Saylor, 2025 alum and current mentor, is her “boss’ boss” — in other words, the clinical director.
“She left a Rice Krispie treat on my desk, and I knew exactly who it was from. I was like, ‘That’s from Freida [Saylor]’ because she had told me before, she’s like, ‘Right before I would be going to our practice rides, I’d be inhaling a Rice Krispie just for that little burst of sugar,’” Ferguson recounted with a chuckle.
On Feb 17, riders finally hopped on the saddle.
The 950-mile ride traces the northern route of the Trail of Tears. Donated photo
“We really take into consideration the level of which our riders are at. We assume that they don’t know how to ride a bike at all. They don’t know how to clip in, so we start on an old high school track here in Cherokee and just start doing laps,” Lambert said.
SMN attended that first session, and it was as he described: cyclists circled the track one-by-one, instructed to prevent a gap in the line, and practiced clipping in and out of their pedals. Staff told the team to start in an easy gear so the bike could gain momentum quickly, lowering fall risk and ensuring a smoother clip-in of the unattached foot.
Topics of discussion ranged from recommended massagers to proper nutrition. Candidates asked training coordinators if they could record the journey. Stephens said a GoPro is fine, but livestreaming can undermine safety by revealing the exact location of the group.
Staff also told team members that when training on two wheels, they’ll want to keep a vigilant eye on cars. Some will take the chance and get in between two cyclists.
While there were a few tumbles as the riders came to a stop, mentors assured them that scrapes are natural, that nearly everyone falls at least once or twice when first using clipless pedals. Teammates remained unfazed, shouting words of encouragement and laughing it off.
Send-off and ride
This year, RTR sendoff is May 29; every year, it’s held at the Kituwah mound, a sacred place dating back nearly 10,000 years that originally hosted the council house at the center of the “Cherokee Mother Town.”
“The riders themselves have a private ceremony piece where they actually go onto the mound,” Lambert said.
Then they’re introduced to the crowd — community members, supporters, family members, friends. It’s a testament to the support riders have received throughout the process as well.
“I’m always astounded by how many people come out for the sendoff. I feel like it gets bigger and bigger every year,” Callahan said.
On June 1, the team will hit the road.
Riders line up in rows of two to ensure no one is left behind. They’re accompanied by Cherokee Nation mentors and EBCI support volunteers and staff.
RTR takes about three weeks — 16 cycling days, two rest days. Each day averages 50-60 miles. Every night but one is spent at a hotel along the route; the exception is a campout at Fall Creek Falls in Tennessee.
At the beginning of a typical day, riders will meet in the lobby at 6:30 a.m. and are out on the road by no later than 8. Time spent on the saddle, though, depends on the group and can be influenced by weather conditions.
“Some years, they’ve gotten done fairly early, to where they’ve got plenty of time to kind of relax at the hotel. Other times it’s been get to the hotel, change clothes, go eat, get back to the room, get a good night’s sleep and back to riding the next morning,” Stephens, fellow training coordinator and 2015 RTR participant, said.
Cherokee Nation brings its marshal, or law enforcement service, that activates its lights and trails the riders to guard safety and direct traffic. If only a few cars line up behind riders, the marshals will direct the vehicles to go around the bicycles when it’s safe to pass. In the event of many cars, “the riders will pull off to the side of the road, let all the cars go by, and then get back on the road and go,” Stephens said.
There’s a lead and caboose with in-ear radio communication that connects to the lead van in front of the group and the marshal behind it.
“If there’s a rider that’s struggling, that’s falling back, the caboose has to stay back. And so with that, we’ve incorporated that kind of radio communication training into what we do here for safety.” Lambert said.
Along the way, staff and support take care of laundry, food, grocery shopping — all the essentials. The group also stops for meals at various National Forest Services.
Lambert said he often makes sandwiches on the side of the road; it’s important that the riders are not responsible for the logistics of the ride.
“All they need to focus on is riding and what the journey means to them,” he told SMN.
Logistics aside, there are many moments each coordinator looks forward to year after year along the route. For one, the Trail of Tears organizations, or TOTAs — which “promote awareness of” its legacy, “including the removal stories” of the Cherokee and other tribes affected by Jackson’s 1830 policy — are always excited to meet the riders and show their support. “There is a little group of old ladies” at the Kentucky TOTA chapter that Stephens said he annually encounters.
“They’ve got photo albums and pictures that I take with them every year when I do get to see them. It’s fun getting to meet those people and see them year after year,” he recounted.
Of course, the group also visits the historic sites themselves, mainly those referenced in The Journal of Rev. Daniel S. Butrick. Butrick accompanied the Cherokee and bore witness to many of the atrocities committed along the trail. At certain landmarks, riders will even read passages of his corresponding account.
Of the sites, Stephens thought Mantle Rock and Rattlesnake Springs to be especially powerful. A Cherokee detachment was forced to spend two weeks at Mantle Rock after the Ohio River froze and became impassible, braving freezing temperatures in anticipation of its thaw. Rattlesnake Springs, on the other hand, was an encampment that housed a group of Cherokees after the U.S. Army carried out its removal and before setting out on the trail.
Stephens recounted an ancestor who was part of this encampment but escaped and returned to his land. During his RTR experience, Stephens became emotional at the site. When he learned of this ancestor one year later, he understood why.
While the ride is abundant with connection and meaning, it is not without its challenges. Stephens said there’s one full day climb at Cumberland Plateau — upon exiting the mountains, everyone assumes the rest of the ride is flat. That’s “never the case, because it’s constant rolling hills once you’re in Missouri, or ‘misery,’ that we call it” he said.
Either way, Stephens added, “We’ll be there as a team and help each other through it, because you’re only as fast as your slowest rider, and you got to get there as a team when it’s not a race. We got to work together to endure just like our ancestors did.”
Final reflections
Although it’s been over a decade since his RTR ride, Stephens still texts his teammates from both the Cherokee Nation and EBCI “at least weekly.” For Lambert, three years have passed, but he meets up regularly with fellow cohort members on the Qualla Boundary.
“We do Christmas gift exchange; we meet at least once every other month to just catch up and stay in each other’s lives. Someone on my team is a judge for tribal court. Another member my team … she’s a tribal council member,” he said.
And it might not be mere coincidence that RTR has such accomplished alumni.
“I feel like, for some people, this is a catalyst for improving themselves more and more. They did this; it’s life, changing their perspective on life,” Callahan said.
After everything is said and done, however, others might need a little more support. Stephens said after putting in the work for so many months and cycling every day for three weeks, it can feel like whiplash to suddenly return to life without RTR. In other words, post-ride depression is real — and it can get a little lonely, especially for younger riders. Stephens told SMN that over the years, he’s incorporated a debriefing into the program about a week after the ride “to see how everybody’s doing and help with that mental aspect of things.”
“[Post-RTR] can touch everybody differently,” he said.
