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Adventure Bicycle Travel

What you should expect from a long bicycle journey

Bicycle touring for a sustained period of time is a funny old thing. It is freedom. It is frustration. It is joy. It is really a range of everything you can get thrown at you, erm, being thrown at you. Here’s a little photo journal of what you might expect if you saddle up and live off a bike for a while.

Mechanical Issues

During these moments, riders will often be heard feeling sorry for themselves by muttering / screaming such phrases as, “F*?k this!” or “Not again!” or “Just give me a break for one day!” or “Not dealing with it. I’m done. Totally done. Where’s the nearest burrito shop?”

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Ambiguous Sleeping Arrangements

It’s 9PM, 10PM, 1AM. You haven’t got a clue where you are. Your eyelids are heavy. You need to stop. You’ll want to sleep A LOT. Fear not though – spend long enough living on a bicycle and you will become a sleep ninja. You will become a hawk, being able to spot possible places to sleep from a mile away. Your sixth sense will develop, and you’ll become comfortable not being comfortable. You might even wake up in a nice spot occasionally. Popular phrases during these times include: “This bench will do”, and, “No way will there be a park ranger who kicks the tent at 4.30AM. Absolutely not.”

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Lots of Empty and Enjoyable Roads

You know, those roads that keep going right the way to the horizon. These are either total bliss (if you’re in a good mood) or hell on earth (if you’re in a bad mood). Either way they become some of the magical moments that, after all is said and done, will always provide memories that will make you daydream and sometimes miss road life. Phrases during these times include: “No one will hear me singing Bat Out Of Hell here, surely not”, and, “It’s flat and straight. There’s absolutely no way anything can go wrong on this stretch.”

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Teaming up with new pals

Who is that in the distance? They look like pannier bags. Maybe they are. Finally, after weeks and weeks, you’re not a loner anymore! It’s another person on a bike! These times are wonderful. They take you out of your own head and often form the experiences which you’ll cherish forever. Someone once said, “Happiness only real when shared”, and they were right. Phrases during these times include: “Want to stop for a beer?” and “Want to stop for lunch?”

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All In All, A Jolly Good Time

It will sometimes suck. You will sometimes wake up in an ants nest. You will miss home. It will make you question yourself. But, it will be one of the best times of your life. That’s why you should consider doing it.

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

When Adventure Travel Goes Wrong & Why That’s A Good Thing

There’s been a rare collision-of-awesomeness in the UK recently in that the Northern Lights made a spectacular appearance for a bunch of people to see. I missed it, but looking at all the incredible photos that came from it made me think back to seeing them for the first time in Canada. There was a subtle electric buzz in the air and the colours, oh crumbs, the colours. That moment of first seeing them really epitomised the appeal I’ve got for adventurous journeys, and maybe it’s the same for a lot of people. You see stuff that you’d never usually see, make real what you’d only seen in photographs, and encounter things that you’d previously just imagined.

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So many of those moments happened on the bike trip, in the evening after riding all day and then camping somewhere subtle. Waking up on lake shores, next to the ocean or in redwood forests. Or in the sand dunes, the green farmland or the top of a mountain. That’s surely a big part of why people are drawn to the wilderness and to getting away from it all. It can be breathtaking and it can be so freakin’ FUN. That’s adventure travel when it all goes perfectly. Shooting stars, owl noises, leaves. All that good stuff.

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What’s talked about less on these kind of trips though is the moments that don’t go perfectly. It’s kind of taboo. The dark side. The times when you sleep in a village post office because you’ve been rained on for days and can’t face another night outside, and you just hope no-one will come in to pick up their post and find a human-filled sleeping bag blocking their box. Or the nights when you’re on tenterhooks and you’ve hidden a knife in your sock just incase. Or the times when you’re worn down and literally believe a bear is going to eat your arm ↓

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Then there was the following moment caught on video. Trying to camp discretely in an urban environment became a rolling theme throughout the trip which often lead to less-than-perfect moments. Flicking through a hard-drive from the trip a couple of days ago I found this footage. It was a night when I wasn’t functioning at all and ended up in an all-out battle with some pesky and powerful garden sprinklers. Yep. True arch-nemesis stuff. Whilst many wiser people might not have found themselves in the same situation, I’m sure they have at some point experienced the darker side of adventure travel. Something that many people might relate to. Actually scrap that – everyone can relate to. Those moments when it all goes wrong.


‘Time heals all wounds’.
Time shifts perception, and that’s really cool. That was a moment where it all got a bit much. The routine had become sloppy and it was showing – persistent fatigue had built up to the point where being solo on the trip was starting to make me a bit loopy. There was little that was ‘stealth’ about it. Looking back it’s doubtful that was the worst nights sleep ever, but it felt like it. I definitely still look back on that as one of the roughest nights on the trip, and there were a few. But it doesn’t take long for everything to change – now I look at this footage and strangely long for it. Maybe not actually getting soaked again – let’s be realistic, that sucks – but what it represents. These journeys shift views, open doors to new experiences and rad people, create memories and new foundations, and have their own unique set of ups and downs. That’s the most important part of what you can get from going on an adventurous journey, and that’s why people should stop talking about their ultimate journeys and make them happen. No-one looks back on them and regrets them, even the rougher moments.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Explosions, Kindness & Waterfalls

355 – 362: Toronto, ON – Ithaca, NY

The ticking clock meant I didn’t stick around too long in Toronto. The bike had issues leaving the city (someone should design a bike that doesn’t break). This time a split tyre near Hamilton. Tried to blag it and ride to Niagara Falls anyway. It didn’t work, at all. Should’ve known.

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Do you know what happens when you ride with a split tyre and your inner tube sticks out? The split gets bigger. And bigger. And then it EXPLODES. It shocks you and anyone nearby. BANG.

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So it exploded. But if you believe in fate, it then made an appearance. Glumly walking along the side of a quiet road on the outskirts of St Catherine with a post-explosion flat, the night drawing in, a car pulled up. Turned out to be a Niagara Falls local called Mike, an avid cyclist who spotted the tyre and offered a lift for the 10 miles to Niagara. So yeah, fate? He never drives home, this was an exception. On the rare times he does, he doesn’t take the route through St Catherine’s. And to top it off they’d taken the seats out of the car the night before, so by chance there was space for a broken bicycle.

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During the ride to town Mike invited me over for food and to meet his wife Heather and his British mother, who in a weird ‘it’s kind of a small world’ moment, used to live in Workington, England. She lives with Mike and Heather and after 40+ years in Canada still has a strong accent.

They offered up their spare room for the night, and I woke up the next day to a bike with a new tyre, oiled chain, you name it. Totally unexpected. You guys are awesome. Pretty cool. We found out later that, coincidentally, it all happened on ‘International Random Act of Kindness Day’. Huh.

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After checking out Niagara Falls (a weird cross between epic, amazing nature and Blackpool pleasure beach depending on the time you visit) and getting grilled at customs, I was on US turf once more. Big sigh of relief whilst ignoring the freezing hail. [thanks to Portage House Motel in Lewiston for a room, awesome place] Out of any markers / state lines etc, this was the biggest. It meant the Canada section was done, and there really wasn’t much left. Kind of weird to process.

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Day one of riding back in the US was a shock. Upstate New York is incredibly colourful at the moment but the clocks went back the previous nights, and Canada to US means a switch from kilometres back to miles. That doesn’t sound like much, but it took some getting used to. An hour less light and distance mind games. You forget that riding 10 miles is harder and takes longer than riding 10 kilometres.

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It’s been a few days of riding along through Rochester, sections of the Erie canal, and through NY wine country with another (different) tyre explosion. There’s still a bit of pedalling to go yet but it’s getting close. Approaching the end there’s some definite and unexpected internal havoc going on right now. A new article is taking shape around that so hopefully there’ll be something new to read pronto.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

The beginnings of Alaska and thoughts on motivation

Just thinking out loud about motivation and scribbling it down whilst sat on the ferry, back in the USA’s 49th state. At the moment I’m making my way up to a port near Anchorage (just below Denali National Park), on the Alaska Marine Highway. A journey north into the heart of the land of the midnight sun.

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It’s a pretty indirect journey spread over two weeks of travel. I set off from Prince Rupert last week, the ferry then pulled into Wrangell, where I’ve spent the last four days battling the mosquitos. Now it’s a 3 hour journey to Petersburg, then Juneau, and finally Whittier in 10 days time, which marks the next section of the route – the longest one of all – from Alaska across Canada. It’s odd how such seemingly meaningless corners on an map can have such personal meanings.

Looking out from the railings is a thrilling sight. In between small towns, signs of human activity is non-existent, it’s just shimmering green water and dense forest as far as you can see. I’ve yet to see them, but there’s orcas in the drink and grizzlies amongst the trees. It’s an inspiring place to just look upon, reflect on the last several months, and look to the near-future knowing that this is the land that so many adventurous tales have been set in, and it’s clear to see why.

Motivation. When I was nearing the end of the East coast leg, and then again on the Southern states leg, on the hard days, knowing that I’d cycled the whole way meant it was easy to overcome any motivational struggles, because there was a rationale that went something like, ‘Well you’ve come this far, what’s another few days / miles / state lines?’. But on the West Coast leg, taking the bus ride from Northern California to Seattle was like an instant break, and I didn’t feel as attached to it.

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I’m still totally focused on making this a project about the people along the way, and stopping in certain places when it seems right. Otherwise there’s little difference between rocking the exercise bike whilst typing ‘road sign’ into Google. Alaska is one of the places I’ve been most excited about all along, so I’m definitely going to spend time to soak it in, and have a few plans that if they come off will make for interesting and unusual experiences.

But, I know that everything will seem disconnected if the final stretch isn’t done by human power. That may seem a bit ridiculous, and that it really shouldn’t matter, even a contradiction when there’s been writing about constant movement being tough, but there’s a snowball effect attached to de-motivation and it’s something I’m keen to avoid on the biggest stretch of all. Just showing up, getting on with it, and creating a flow does a lot for your psyche, but when that synthesis breaks your motivation can soon follow.

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People keep talking about the prairies in Canada, and how tough they are mentally, even when driving across them. There’s stories of people looking at a mountain in the distance and just driving for days without it getting any bigger. Driving, and being driven crazy by the endless and beautiful-at-first-but-soon-monotonous surroundings. Another cyclist I met in BC couldn’t hack it and jumped on a bus to ‘end the torture inside his head.’ Strong words that can drum up dread in anyone’s moments of insecurity or self-doubt.

There’ll surely be mind-games. You can take your ‘days in a car’ and convert it to ‘weeks on a bike’. But nothing with worth comes easily does it?

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Welcome to Vague Direction

Welcome to the Vague Direction project.

The website has just gone live today, so there’s a lot that’s new to share!

Have a look around, and take a look at some brand new video content:

I’m hoping that this blog eventually becomes a useful resource for all things touring, adventure and filmmaking. It will be a place to find out what’s happening in the Vague Direction project, so previews of featured people, and updates on actually doing the journey and such. There are some great, and very diverse, featured people who will be involved in the project, so stay tuned. But also, the blog will be kept fresh by exploring topics as broad as travel, adventure and documentary through the use of guest posts and video interviews, plus specialist cycling-related areas such as nutrition, injury prevention and techy repairs.

Thank you for your interest in the project!