Conference noted::bicycle

902.0. "The Truth About Touring" by RDGENG::MACFADYEN (Roderick MacFadyen) Fri Oct 21 1988 05:59

    This is an in-depth expos� of cycle-touring that I wrote recently.
      
    
    Rod
    
                         The Truth About Touring
                         -----------------------

      Since I hadn't been on a long cycling trip for quite a while, I
    was keen to do one again. The obvious journey to make was from my
    home in Reading to my mother's in Inverness, for which I felt ten
    days would be adequate. So I booked some time off work in August. 

      As I cycled unsteadily out of Reading on a hot day, the bike
    felt heavier than I had expected. I began to reflect on the
    realities of cycle touring. 
                           
      The first reality that struck me is that the cycle-tourist's
    mind is dominated by two over-riding concerns; How Am I Feeling?
    and, What Can I Eat Next? 

      How Am I Feeling? monitors your bodily state, how much of an
    effort it is to turn the cranks, whether your backside is hurting.
    This concern operates all the time. Funnily enough, What Can I Eat
    Next? operates all the time too. These two questions often dominate
    your mind simultaneously, in the form of: I Feel Terrible! and, I
    Must Eat Something Now! 

      I'm really talking about the enjoyment of cycling here. As we
    all know, the moments when cycling are pure unalloyed delight are
    few and far between. Usually, it hovers somewhere between pure
    delight and pure hell. Pure delight can take many forms: a
    beautiful sunny morning, a fast descent, a cream bun. Pure hell
    can take equally many: cold heavy rain, another bloody puncture,
    the A74 between Carlisle and Gretna Green. Your aim is to maximise
    the delight. 

      Something that delights is beautiful scenery, but we don't look
    at it much. For me anyway, the truth is that my eyes, through
    necessity and exhaustion, are generally glued to the road five
    metres ahead of my front wheel. 

      This is an ideal position to admire Britain's wildlife as an
    endless succession of dead animals passes through your gaze. I saw
    dead cats, rats, rabbits, frogs and hedgehogs, hedgehogs beyond
    number (I did see a lot of live hairy caterpillars, but ominously,
    only ones heading out into the road). The only consolation one can
    take from this is the self-righteous feeling that at least
    bicycles didn't cause their death. 

      The freedom of a cycle tour is exhilarating. If you don't like
    the look of a place, you can just head right on through, like a
    character in a Western. I usually stop though, and look for the
    public toilets, to wash the sweat off my face. This is a chancy
    affair, because plain old hot and cold taps are rare nowadays. If
    there are any taps at all, they are just as likely to be miserly
    devices that spray out tiny amounts of tepid water; completely
    useless for filling water bottles. The best toilets are likely to
    be rural ones, untouched by municipal progress. 

      I was always on the look-out for other cyclists, which I sorted
    into three categories: non-serious, racing types, and tourists.
    The non-serious were shoppers and people going to work on rusty
    death-traps. The racing types wore team jerseys, and passed me on
    a regular basis because they weren't carrying as much weight as I
    was. 

      The tourists were the most important category, since I was in
    it. In case we ever got to casually looking over each other's
    bikes, I had prepared a secret weapon to gain credibility: spare
    spokes taped to my chainstay! It's my experience that any hint
    that you can repair a wheel gets immediate respect. Unfortunately
    no-one ever seemed to notice grey spokes against a grey bike. 

      There was one question that I was always hoping I would be
    asked. It was of course, "How far have you come?". You shouldn't
    give an actual figure, that smacks of self-satisfaction and might
    give the impression that you're waiting to be asked, instead, name
    some distant town. As long as your questioner's geography is up to
    the task of calculating the distance, they should be impressed. 

      Hills are difficult to avoid. You might even have acquired the
    masochistic tendency some cyclists have of looking forward to
    them. If this is the case, you will do anything to avoid getting
    off and pushing. I'm a little like this, so some of the steeper
    hills saw me in bottom gear, standing, and zig-zagging across the
    road, which must have looked pretty desperate, and possibly
    dangerous too. 

      Is it OK to take a train? This is a moot point. It destroys the
    purity of the venture, but on the other hand it might let you
    complete it, particularly if you have a schedule to keep to. 

      I took a train on two occasions. First, on a day of pouring
    rain, and second, in order to complete the journey in the time
    allotted. So I only did about 70% of the distance I had intended.
    As a footnote to my trip, I went out on a day-ride from Inverness,
    and bent the frame of my bike in what should have been a minor
    fall. I was annoyed about that, but it's given me the excuse to
    get the bicycle resprayed, which is nearly as good as getting a
    new bike. I have been careful to ensure that spare spokes will
    stand out very clearly against the new colour. 

      In retrospect, a cycling holiday is filled with event. Places
    that you had only vaguely heard of before are now associated with
    a steep hill or a beautiful day. Although your trip will have had
    low points, the sense of achievement is lasting and great. You
    will soon be itching to get back on the road --- and rediscover
    the truth about touring. 

	How true!  


	(Note for American readers: other countries, such as Britain,
	have non-trivial passenger train networks, where you really 
	could hop on the train in the middle of a tour...)

    Hopping on a train in the middle of a tour isn't always that easy.
    Sometimes Only trains with baggage cars will accept bikes so you may have
    to wait around for one.  Also every train station I've been in has
    had mucho stairs to climb up and down...not an easy task with a
    fully loaded bike...and the crowds to push through to get your bike
    on the train can be horrendous... UUgghh...Putting my bike on trains while
    touring Europe this summer was probably the most difficult part
    of the entire trip!  I would get on the train to avoid rain and
    large areas I wanted to omit but in retrospect biking would have
    been easier and much more enjoyable.

    RE: .-1  < Keep off the Train >
    
    Why are you saying that?  I'm afraid people unfamiliar with
    the trains will take you literally.  (That's why I'm responding.)
    
    Trains aren't all that bad.  Look at the alternatives.  If you
    have three weeks and would like to "skip over large areas" you
    aren't interested in... what are you going to do?  Spend an extra
    *week* biking across the Massif Central to get to Provence?  Take
    a plane?  Taking a plane is ten times the hassle and umpteen times
    the expense.  And the air network is nothing like as dense as the
    train network (in Europe).
    
    Trains are generally very comfortable, quite clean, and on time
    in Europe.  
    
    To be honest, in most of my tours, I've not taken a train in
    the middle - not for years and years - I've *constructed* tours
    that are integral wholes that are 90% to 98% rewarding by bike.
        
    But take Britain End-to-End.  One straight shot from Land's End
    to John O'Groats.  But how do you get to Land's End?  ...or back from
    John O'Groats?  Make a round trip?  I took a simple, effortless
    overnight train Reading-Penzance to start, and a rather longer
    overnight train trip from N-o-r-t-h-e-r-n Scotland to Inverness
    to Edinburgh to ... Reading.  No charge for the bike.  No problem
    with schedules or connections.  And varied company en route.
    What would *you* have done?

    One weekend I did a two-day trip: Munich-Innsbruck-Munich (different
    route back).  Saturday: sun, warmth, the sparkling Inn.  Sunday
    morning, grey, turning into cold, steady rain.  En route I just picked up
    a train at a small town in the Inn valley, and in a couple of hours
    was back in Munich, meanwhile warm and dried out.  No special planning,
    no advanced reservations, no pneumonia.  What would *you* have done?
    
    Your caveats are correct - the stairs in train stations, some trains
    without room for bikes (noted on the schedule!), etc. - but should
    these be big time barriers for a hardy bike-tourist?

    -john    

The reason I had to respond was that I had read so many times, "just
    hop on a train" and had expected it to be as simple as that...and
    it can be but it depends which country you are in and whether or
    not you speak the language...many train station employees in most
    European countries either do not or will not speak English which
    can make the entire endeavor unbearable.  I've been given the wrong
    information repeatedly and found myself and 50 lbs of bike and
    equipment on the wrong platform only to have to drag it all back
    up and down 3 more flight of stairs to the correct platform, only
    to find that, yes this train goes to Munich, but no, it doesn't
    take bikes...great.  I am a hearty cyclist but found this to take
    the starch right out of me.  A solo bicycle tour of 3 months is
    full of challenges like this and anyone planning a tour should be
    aware of all the obstacles involved such as this and I wanted to
    make others aware that it isn't all that easy ALL THE TIME...Trains
    can be a great alternative, but be prepared for delays and problems
    if you don't speak the language...live and learn! I did..

    RE: .-1
    
    Those are fair and useful comments!  They also ring true from
    my experience, so if you do take advantage of trains, just beware
    of the caveats...  -j

    A slightly edited version of .0 appears in the current (May) issue
    of the UK cycling magazine "Bicycle". It's by some plagiarising
    impostor called Roy McFayden.
    
    
    Roy