The rumble of 150 motorcycles rang through Sulphur, Oklahoma, Sept. 23. Riders from across the country had landed at the Chickasaw Cultural Center on their final stretch of the Trail of Tears Commemorative Ride.
Every year at the end of their regular ride from Bridgeport, Alabama, to Waterloo, Alabama, they have the “ride after the ride,” which takes those who are able to go farther west into Oklahoma. This year, their final destination was Sulphur, Oklahoma.
Kevan Hutto, of Cherokee descent and president of the Alabama-Tennessee Trail of Tears Corridor Association, Inc. (ATTOTCAI), said he was impressed with the hospitality shown by the Chickasaw Nation, as well as the beautiful facilities at the Chickasaw Cultural Center.
“They have an amazing facility,” Hutto said. “I don’t know that the other tribes have anything close to that.”
They were treated to a tour of the Holisso: The Center for Study of Chickasaw History and Culture, the Chikasha Poya Exhibit Center and the Chikasha Inchokka' Traditional Village. They also got to experience a stomp dance and watch the documentary “First Encounter.”
While the official ride takes place every year on the third Saturday of September, many of the motorcyclists join early and stay late. This gives participants a chance to experience the ride in whichever way works best for their own lives.
For Hutto, the ride usually lasts seven or eight days, but many participants shorten the trip to work with their schedules. The flexibility of the event makes it accessible for more people, which allows for more education and outreach about Removal, as well as giving more people a chance to honor their ancestors.
The ride started in 1994, organized by Jerry Davis. Davis was looking into his own First American ancestry, and he learned that the Trail of Tears had used a route along present-day Highway 72, called the Drane/Hood route.
As Davis started looking into his ancestry further, it stayed on his mind. Hutto recounts when Davis went to work, he was talking to friends in the break room about how he wanted to do something to honor this history. Someone suggested a motorcycle ride, because bikers love to support benefits and good causes. At the time, Davis didn’t even own a motorcycle, but he still thought it was a great idea. That year, there were between 10 and 15 riders, and it was sponsored by the Alabama Waterfowl Association (AWA), of which Davis was the president.
The next year, the number grew to around 100. After a couple of years, Davis officially founded ATTOTCAI as a nonprofit organization, and the motorcycle ride moved from the sponsorship of the AWA to ATTOTCAI.
Over the past 31 years, the number of riders has fluctuated based on the year and the weather. After 9/11, though, their numbers spiked, and in 2001 they had 101,000 participants. The line of motorcycles stretched more than 51 miles. For about three years, the number remained around 100,000, then dropped to a consistent 30,000 to 40,000 a year. The last few years, though, have ranged between 10,000 to 18,000 participants.
Hutto attributes this drop in attendance to the decrease in motorcycle riding in younger generations, but he is hoping that will change in the near future.
Before the official Saturday ride, any participants who want to join early meet with members of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Nation in Cherokee, North Carolina, to start the trek to Ross’s Landing in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and then Bridgeport, Alabama.
This path is significant, because when the Cherokee people were forced from their homes, they were initially expected to be loaded onto barges at Ross’s Landing and transported up the Tennessee River to Waterloo, Alabama, where they would disembark and march west to present-day Oklahoma. However, the water levels were too low, and they were forced to march the entire way instead.
The official ride begins in Bridgeport and ends in Waterloo. After the official ride concludes, the riders proceed west, visiting the different First American nations. This year, they chose the Chickasaw Nation. Those who completed the entire trip rode 996 miles.
Along the route, people will line the streets, waving at riders and cheering them on. They have a police escort throughout the entire trip.
“Every road, byway, highway and sideway is blocked by a police officer, a fire truck or a volunteer to make sure we have a safe ride,” Hutto said. “Even I-40 in Memphis gets completely shut down by the Memphis Police Motorcycle Division.”
Hutto said the event fills him with pride, especially because the event brings awareness and the memories of the removal of First Americans to the forefront of people’s minds. In particular, he sees it as an opportunity for parents and grandparents to educate children about the past.
“Our hope is that some 4- or 5-year-old daughter or son will tug on their mom or dad’s pants leg and ask, ‘What’s this?’” Hutto said. “And then they get a chance to explain to that kid what the true meaning is. It builds a little fire in that child, and then they can study the real history of what happened.”
In addition to the awareness the ride raises, Hutto also loves the camaraderie he feels with the other riders. People come to this ride from all over the United States, Canada and beyond. A lot of the riders have First American ancestry, but not all. Some are affiliated with First American nations, but some are not. To Hutto it doesn’t matter. They are all coming together to support this cause and bring awareness to the very real tragedies of the removal of First Americans.
The Trail of Tears Commemorative Motorcycle Ride gives participants a chance to be on the open road, out in nature, while also advocating for a cause they are passionate about. But for Hutto, there is also something spiritual about the experience — being in nature and honoring his ancestors — especially when the hawks, eagles and owls join in as well.
“This has happened on multiple occasions, usually when we get closer to Oklahoma,” Hutto began. “All of a sudden, we will see hawks, eagles and even an owl fly right over our bikes. Not like birds usually do, where they fly over and dart back off to the tree line, but for an extended period of time.
Chills run down my back when that happens because this cannot be a coincidence. This is the spirit above shining down on what we’re doing and letting us know, hey, we appreciate it.”