Help James Navigate Life with Lewy Body Dementia

When James and I met on November 1, 2009, we were pedaling along Highway One past Tomales Bay, just beyond the Marshall Store. That’s when he turned to me and asked, “Do you want to cycle with me to the end of the world?”

Two years later, in May 2012, we set off on that very journey. We cycled through the Americas for two years, eventually reaching Ushuaia—the last town before Antarctica, at the southern tip of Argentina.

We came home for a while, but the road kept calling. We rode across the U.S., in 2019, then returned to South America, traveling north from Buenos Aires through Brazil. From São Paulo, we flew to South Africa and began pedaling northward. The pandemic grounded us in Malawi for six months and then in Kenya for three more, where we made the best of our unexpected pause.

After another return home, we launched one last big tour in 2022—this time across Europe, starting in Portugal. That’s when James began to struggle. At first, it was subtle: physical exhaustion, mental fog, a sense that something just wasn’t right. Touring became a challenge. Eventually, the signs grew harder to ignore—severe neck pain, vivid hallucinations, extreme fatigue, disorientation, lack of balance, dangerously low blood pressure.

Still, we pushed forward, seeing specialists and undergoing tests, first in Germany, Italy and then in the Netherlands, where James was hospitalized. But answers were elusive.

In late summer of 2023, we flew home, and James was admitted to Marin General in the middle of our first night. After days of tests with no clear results, we were finally referred to UCSF.

That’s where we received the diagnosis in August of 2024: Lewy Body Dementia.

We are now home, adjusting to a reality neither of us could have imagined. Our years as global cycling nomads are behind us, and in their place are new challenges—navigating medical systems, facing housing uncertainty (our landlord died), and learning how to care for each other in the face of a progressive and devastating disease.

When Robin Williams died, he and his wife had no name for what was happening to him. We are grateful—painfully grateful—that we do. And that brings us to you: our friends, fellow travelers, and extended community.

We are asking for help. Your love and support are our new tailwind. Thank you for being here with us on this part of the journey.

Bring on the love.