The Possibility of My End – A Bike Tourist’s Fears

Me on a ferry from Zebrugge to Hull.

Me on a ferry from Zebrugge to Hull.

There is only so much you can prepare and read up on to cycle around the world. The preparation comes in the form of amassing enough bicycle and survivor knowledge to make it through the rougher, more isolated patches of the tour, being attuned to quick fixes, work arounds and just knowing of the very possibility of being stranded with your loyal, two wheeled steed. Reading provides additional knowledge about these dire times on the road, but also acts as sort of a harlequin novel, a steamy romance, a fantastical exposé brimming with exoticism. It never seems real, even when there are people I know in the publication’s pictures, people I have met amidst the journey that I now read about.

 

Pancake in Middelburg, Netherlands

Pancake in Middelburg, Netherlands

So there is a gap in reality, an unfathomable, and unpreparable amount of possibilities that precariously latch on to a “world cycling tour”. These “what ifs” hit me like a cacophony of screaming voices, naysaying that this as a great idea, doubting it’s logic, tearing it apart like it was a carcass, and each melancholic tone was a ravenous hyena. Some of the voices are real, as in, they are real people telling me of their fears of what is to become of me. Some of the voices are deep inside of me, concerned for my own soundness of mind and safety. My biggest fears of the road are as follows.

 

Beatup

 

Robbery

 

On my 2010 tour from Amsterdam to Istanbul I experienced this. Two Bulgarians beat the shit out of me in Svilengrad. In the end, they only got a pair of battered sunglasses and I was able to ride through Greece and into Turkey the next day. My fear is what if it had had a less pleasant outcome? What if they had had weapons that they simply didn’t just carry for brandishing purposes? I know that being robbed and hurt is always a possibility, even in my own city, but especially when I travel to countries where I appear to be an anomaly, associated with the wealthy Western hemisphere, simply due to my leisure form of travel and the colour of my skin. I have theorized how I will try to avoid this from the get go. Again, if anyone has better alternatives, please chime in. First is to camouflage the bicycle. I don’t care about its appearance; just it’s condition and functionality. Scratching it, smearing paint on it, dinging it a bit, may draw less attention to it as a shiny, new bike and that it’s owner is financial well off. Growing out my hair, both on my face and head, may also give myself the appearance of a gruff vagrant, a drifter, as opposed to a bike tourist who has a Gopro Camera, computer and plethora of other gizmos and gadgets on his person. Finally, I plan to carry an additional wallet on me, that only contains a few dollars and possibly some expired cards. My theory is, that as long as I present the robbers with something and that in the heat of the moment, they think that is all I have, they may take it and let me go along my merry way.

 

 

Some crazy dude rebuilt Noah's Ark in Dordrecht, Netherlands.

Some crazy dude rebuilt Noah’s Ark in Dordrecht, Netherlands.

 

Violence

 

As quick as a spark from flint, civil disorder, violent upheaval and run-amuckery can explode in any corner of the earth. Tensions can lead to sweltering results and my fear is that I get unknowingly entrapped in a situation, which puts me face to face with blind and jaded violence, that takes aim at anything moving in it’s general vicinity. There is no way to avoid this unforeseen problem, asides from keeping my ear to the road, asking locals about each step of the journey, keeping abreast of any reports and/or rumors and being flexible to change my plans at a moment’s notice. There are certain countries that have been built into my Eurocentric mentality to fear. A large part of this journey is to reconsider these fears and if they are built upon generalized fiction or appalling truths. Yet, they still remain fears, that no matter how much blunt logic stands against them, like the peak of a rollercoaster, the thought of them, makes my skin clammy, my breath pick up, my heart run a marathon.

 

Kinderdijk, UNESCO windmills in the Netherlands.

Kinderdijk, UNESCO windmills in the Netherlands.

 

Natural Obstacles

 

Cyclists die all the time and aren’t found for months due to the remoteness of their final resting places. The human body can only endure so much starvation and exhaustion, before turning on itself, shutting down specific faculties, breaking down tissue, trying to protect and feed the brain and heart from finally giving out. Sorry for the details, but I am scared of these places, scared that my bike knowledge will suddenly escape me and I will stranded with a broken bicycle in the middle of a desert or on the very top of a barren mountain with not a sign of life for a thousand kilometers in each direction, snow spilling out of the guts of the cloudy skies above. I am trying to avoid this by compiling a “Bikes for Dummies” guide for myself, both as a digital and physical copy, in case I run out of electricity and/or my solar panels are dead or broken. Each plan has a backup plan, so if A doesn’t work, or B, C will definitely work. I am trying to cover all my bases to avoid, peaceful nature, turning into maleficent natural disaster. I plan to switch out gear when I come to the big cities, because as the weather and the terrain changes, it will require a different approach to each aspect of road life. A tent will be needed instead of a hammock, a cover slip will be replaced by a thick sleeping back, thin and wiley tires, will be replaced with ones with ultimate traction. Again, being practical and unheroic about each step, will avoid any nasty surprises when I realize I didn’t bring the appropriate tools for this specific leg of the journey. Also not being an idiot and heading into nature without knowing what I am to be looking forward to, is probably a safe bet to avoid disastrous foolhardiness as well.

 

 

Delft - Town centre.

Delft – Town centre.

 

Religion

 

A simple tattoo, if revealed, may sway people’s entire perception of me. When I was 17, I got my first ink on my left shoulder, in memory of my grandfather. The Hebrew writing, reads Shlomo, and in fine small cursive below it reads “home again, home again jiggidy jig” from the nursery rhyme about the pigs, a phrase that he use to sing song mutter under his English Leather scented breath when we returned home. I am worried that if people see the tattoo, they may simply dislike me due to our religious differences and the assumptions they associated with Judaism. I am not religious in the slightest, nor care to divulge to people my opinions about a homeland, that I have no connection to. When I think it is necessary, I am not ashamed to hide the tattoo and with it, my Jewishness. My role, as a visitor to other countries, is not to antagonize nor question. It is simply to visit, to learn and to listen. Politics and religion, as dividing markers are the ultimate measurements of stubbornness and unwillingness. Let’s talk about history, trees, laughter, a world of other things that do not ultimately pit one against another.

 

The minster of Beverly, England.

The minster of Beverly, England.

 

It will be a nerve racking, yet adrenaline pumping three years and part of my safety net is knowing that you read this and are along with me every step of the way. The Kerouac inside of me sees this writing as the ultimate testimony of my existence and tracks my process, physically and mentally, as I am subjected to struggles and victories each day. The mama’s boy inside me, smirks at my self deification and sees these words as more as a pinpoint on a map, that if I go radio silent (or blog silent), my mother can start her search for her only son. Yes, it’s morbid, but that’s just the delicate, high wire act that is this so called life. Oh yeah, and deportation/visa problems. Those suck as well, but since I have experience with them, which is a long winded tale for another time, I am more annoyed than scared of them. Being able to laugh off shit, is also an important tool. Shit will happen, it’s my reaction and lasting impression that will truly mar and heighten my tours.

Make sure to follow, like and more importantly add your suggestions to the forums for the WORLD TOUR, continentforums.wordpress.com

Sincerely,

Ira – Misguided Guide of Cycling the World

 

Inspirational Each Milers: The Anyone Can Do It World Tour

 

My first cycle tour, outside of Pea Soup Andersen's in Buellton, California.

My first cycle tour, outside of Pea Soup Andersen’s in Buellton, California.

When I set forth 5 years ago on my first tour I knew very little about the two-wheeled vehicle that I was sticking between my legs and riding down to Mexico. As time has passed, and tours have been completed, little by little I have learned along the way what I need to make basic adjustments, repairs and have some vague idea how to live out of a tent. I still am slow at all of this, still look awkward when I am keeled over my bike, investigating a problem and still put the wheel on backwards now and again, after fixing a flat.

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I hesitate to label myself a cyclist, because I am put off by many of the associations that the name may imply, especially a snooty, elitist, sectarian attitude towards bike culture. I’ve met these type of cyclists and it has nothing to do with whether they wear a lycra bibby or have the top of the line, carbon framed road bike. They come from all different walks of life, all shapes, lycra wrapped or sporting a worn bike hat, rim flipped upwards, freely wagging in the breeze due to a lack of a helmet, lawyers and bike shop employees, 1st handers and 3rd handers, all who consider themselves the second coming, prophets on pedals, with their heads so far up their own asses, they can’t see how ridiculous their own pomposity comes across. I dislike these swines, not only for how they act, but the fear they imbue in others in regards to bicycles. They make cycle enthusiasts feel inferior, that they do not know enough about their bicycles to use them, that all their cycle questions are too simple, amateur and downright idiotic. People are scared to step into certain cycle shops and bike coops due to this feeling. Now some of this is self perpetuated, but there is also the “better than thou” complex of “hardcore” cyclists that enforce it, insinuated by their use of overtly technical lingo and snide lambasting of other’s lack of knowledge. “WHAAAT, YOU CAN’T CHANGE A SPOKE??? OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” Hey asshole, you have to start somewhere! It’s like job applications in Vancouver. How am I suppose to have three years serving experience, if all jobs for servers require at least three years serving experience.?

 

For me, inspirational Each Milers are those who have influenced me, helped me without a single bit of elitism, creating and promoting a positive environment surrounding the bicycle. First and foremost, they believe that everyone should be able to participate in the culture, ride bikes to their hearts’ content, free from judgment and insult. If they ride with you, sure they could race ahead, never unclip, never stop, for their legs have the strength and diameter of Redwood sequoias, but they would rather ride beside you, explain the mise en scene, compliment your ride, stop for a beer or two. They never scoff at your questions, but greatly invite them, teaching you in hopes that you will pass the knowledge on to someone else, to continue to inspire people to cycle farther, to cycle more, to cycle through whatever the sky decides to do any given day, to test the preconceived limitations of distance and elevation and exceed them.

 

Kevin stops from cycling around the world to have a much needed dance break with me.

Kevin stops from cycling around the world to have a much needed dance break with me.

Several of these inspirational Each Milers are locals, like the lovely people at Bikes on the Drive, who are constantly happy to answer all my bike questions, pass along great and sincere information and are excited by my future cycle endeavors. A few inspirational Each Milers are abroad, like Kevin, a cyclist from Belfast, who I met through Couchsurfing. I hosted him, when I lived in Beijing and my girlfriend at the time, was sure I would disappear with him at nightfall, joining him on his world domination via two wheels and self penned guitar tunes. He had cycled from home to Beijing and continued onwards, by boat across to North America, cycling north to the Arctic, before turning around and heading down through Latin America. He is a down to earth soul, immensely inspiration, funny as fucking hell and a WAY TOO talented son of bitch for his own good. In fact, some shameless promotion for him, he is on a cycling trip as I type this from Belfast to Australia, which you can follow at: http://www.cycle2sydney.com/

 

Beijing Bike, Blue Steal - Inanimate Inspirational Each Miler

Beijing Bike, Blue Steal – Inanimate Inspirational Each Miler

And lastly, there are the inspirational Each Milers that are the nameless faces I have met along the many ways I have gone. From some hilarious Serbian cyclists in Turkey, to an old German lady, who I met in the middle of the forest, who cycled with me to find the rest of my group, these are the people that I admire and call my personal heroes. They don’t look at your bike and how you are dressed and roll their eyes or wait until you shut up so they can tell you what you are doing wrong and what they are doing right. They are real people, willing to listen, laugh and live within the moment, rather than tearing it to pieces. These are the inspirational Each Milers that make a world tour something that does not sit unattainable on a pedestal, but something that if you, you being anyone, want to do, no second thoughts, caution be the wind, do it, do it and do it again. Unpretentious, unregulated bliss.

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To Know or Not to Know: The Checklist of Bike Knowledge for World Touring

The Manchester Eye

 

Though it is early on in the game, with the World Tour commencing most likely in 2016 or 2017, being that I am an impeccably slow learner, especially when I don’t feel it is crunch time (ie, the night before the exam), I have spent a great deal of time scouring the Internets, pondering and considering what essential bicycle knowledge I need for the tour. As it stands right now, the tour could consist of many countries that include remote locations or simply no bicycle culture. What that means for me, is that not only do I need to know how to fix my bicycle, but also how to fix it without a bicycle stand, a vice or guidance.

 

Possibly Manchester at Night

Possibly Manchester at Night

While passing through one of the bicycle forums, a poster asked a similar question: “What do I need to know about my bicycle to tour?” One person’s somewhat agitated sounding response was that you needed to know EVERYTHING about a bicycle, if you’re even considering a world tour. While that makes sense and that I wouldn’t mind learning a bit about each part of the bike, I know that there are definitely more essential, need to know backwards and forwards, bits of knowledge than others. Like chain maintenance is invariably more important than handle bar tape (which I am as good at as birthday present wrapping (my birthday presents always look as if they were poorly handled baggage at the airport))

Restaurant in Geldrop, Netherlands

Restaurant in Geldrop, Netherlands

 

 

Like “pros and cons”, I always find it helpful to write a list to see of what you options you are working with. Since I am a somewhat impoverished artiste, using my printer as a foot stool due to my lack of funds to supply it with ink and also just like forcing strangers to read my “it looks like a writing with your bad hand, blindfolded competition”, I write it all out on lineless paper. I do this so that when I am done it, I can present it to others to consider my options. In this case, this list will consist of two columns, the knowledge that I have and the knowledge I that I must attain. I then have something I can present to bike shop employees as starting grounds to expand upon. Good bike shop folk, in my general experience, will not look down on you for admitting your lack of knowledge, but possibly praise you for your desire to learn more, rather than always relying on their expertise. It just shows your initiative and passion for cycling, which is something they probably understand all too well. My care isn’t being about to regurgitate the knowledge and names like a parrot, but to be able to practice these tools, commit them to memory and use them later when they are required.

 

So without further adieu, I present to you my list, of “Bike Stuff I Know and Bike Stuff I Think I Have to Know”

 

BIKE STUFF I KNOW

 

Tire and Tube – Tube patching, changing a tire

Wheel – Basic truing, removal, spoke replacement

Gears – Cassette removal, cleaning, basic knowledge of replacement

Chain – Replacement, fixing, lubing

Brakes – Minor adjustments, brake pad replacement, lever basic fixes

Seat – Raise and lower, removal

Handbars – Adjustment

Rack – Basic removal and replacement

 

 

BIKE STUFF I WISH TO KNOW

 

Brakes – Brake cable replacement, better understanding of brake levers and adjustment

Gears – Better understanding of cable tension and limiters and setting them

Wheel – Better truing skills, if I run out of spokes, semi-fix solutions

Pedals – Removal and replacing

In General – Additional, non-bike stuff I need in kit for jerry-ed up situations

 

There is a lot more bike information that I haven’t even considered and that is possibly essential knowledge. That’s why having a list is a good starting point, to know what you are missing by showing it to others and getting their opinions to fill in the blanks, building a comprehensive, inclusive list. Readers, if you have any additional ideas and essential bits of knowledge that you feel I have left out, please feel free to comment below. Again, bike knowledge is about exchange and conversation. If you don’t ask, you will never know!

 

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