An Ode to Bicycle Touring

The dawn chorus of birds causes me to stir, their tweets and chirps gently nudging me into consciousness. Or perhaps it’s the early morning light that wakes me, filtering in through the tent fabric.

I wriggle out of my sleeping bag and stretch my arms, then boil water for a coffee, followed by a meal of milk and muesli from my plastic bowl. Then, it’s time to stuff my possessions into panniers and wrestle with — I mean, take down — the tent.

There are a few seconds of mental assessments: do I need to put more sunscreen on already? Is it chilly enough for a jacket? Eventually: I’m off, backside in the saddle and feet to the pedals.

Some might say that cycle touring is an adventurous way to travel. I suppose it is, in many ways, but I mostly find it to be a comforting routine. Every day is a routine; a minimalist, simple routine, where it’s just me and my trusty aluminium steed.

The steady turning of the pedals induces an almost meditative state, providing me with hours to just think. I love thinking; contemplating life, coming to terms with past mistakes and deciding what my future dogs are going to be called.

I often sing quietly to myself as I cycle. Knowing that nobody can hear my desperately off-key melodies is strangely liberating, so I work my way through ballads by Queen and classics by The Who. I wonder if anyone else has ever sung Metallica’s Enter Sandman while pedalling down this particular road.

A hill approaches, and I push to pick up speed. I crank the pedals, my breathing becoming heavier with each push. Then, I reach the peak. As the hill starts to decline, I stop pedalling and let the gradient pull me down. This is one of my favourite parts of the daily routine. Working hard up a big hill, only to be rewarded with an adrenaline-fuelled descent. The wind ruffles my hair and cools my sweat-clad skin.

And while days of cycling are like a routine, each and every day is different. There are so many little moments and thoughts that make each day unique and unrepeatable. You could say that each day is a journey not from A to B, but from A to Z, the letters in between a jumble of pit stops, scenic vistas, uphill grinds and conversations.

I think the reason bicycle touring resonates with me so much is that it enables me to experience everything.

In a car, I can see so much yet experience so little. There’s no real connection to what’s just outside my window; I see but a time-lapse of the world around me. On foot, I soak up each individual step, but can only cover a small distance each day.

That’s where bicycle touring, for me, wins every time. On a bicycle, I can cover substantial distances, yet still be slow enough to really see everything around me. If it’s raining, I’m soaked. If it’s hot, I’m sweating. There’s no AC to turn on, no roof over my head. Dirt, dust and insects stick to my sweat-clad skin. I must grind up the hills, but then I have the joy of coasting down them.

And as each day draws to an end, I stretch out my weary legs and crawl into my sleeping bag. It’s a moment of peace, contentment and accomplishment after a long day, accompanied only by the sounds of chirping crickets, nearby campers zipping up tents, and perhaps the pitter-patter of rainfall on the canvas of my tent.

There’s no tossing and turning for someone who’s been cranking at the pedals for 7 hours, so sleep comes easy; my roll mat just as comfortable as my bed at home. My final thought is one of thanks to my two-wheeled companion that gave me all this and asked for nothing but a bit of chain oil in return.

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Thank you for reading! If you found this post useful, I’d be grateful if you would consider using the affiliate links below when planning your travels. I’ll make a small commission at no extra cost to you. This will help me to keep this blog running. Thanks for your support — Lauren.

Hotels – Booking.com
Hostels – Hostelworld
Cheap flights – Booking.com
Travel insurance – World Nomads
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