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Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews

Anna McNuff’s Epic 50 State Journey

“America is just like the UK, only… bigger, right?”

I’d like to ask you all a favour. If you ever happen to be within earshot of such a comment, please make a beeline for the offending individual (even if it requires a Starsky & Hutch style roll across a car bonnet), cup their face firmly between your hands, lean in and scream “Nooooooooo.” Anna McNuff’s ace new blog.

I first found out about Anna when she set out in solo-mode to cycle all 50 US states in a single trip. It turned out to be – as you’d expect really – a bit of a crazy ride. The mission was clear: to have an epic adventure, encourage kids to get active, and raise valuable funds for a children’s charity committed to giving every child access to games, sport and play.

What was less clear going into it though, was what else it would bring. Spectacular generosity, super sketchy situations involving flipped cars and 911 calls, grizzly’s and moose, and learning about priorities.

She’s recently finished that journey and a few days ago we caught up to find out what the draw was, what went down, and what she learnt from spending 7 months on a bicycle. Let’s go!


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So you’ve just come back from The Big Five-O. What was that all about?

That was an 11,000 mile journey through all 50 states of the US of A. It was just me, a beautiful pink touring bicycle called Boudica and three missions: 1) To have a huge personal adventure, 2) To get local communities and the kids within them active, inspired, and on bikes and 3) To raise as much dosh as I could for a marvellous charity called Right To Play.

Can you briefly describe the rough route?

Sure thing, I’ve got this one down pat now. The first question everyone asks you is always “Where are you headed?” So I had to get a sub fifteen second answer nailed early on. Here goes: I started with a little pedal in Alaska, from there I flew to Seattle, went down the West coast to San Francisco. Across the Nevada desert, into the Grand Canyon, up the Rocky Mountains, into Montana, and across the the North until I hit Maine at the Atlantic coast. Down the East coast, via New York, Baltimore and DC, then into the panhandle of Florida, before doing a dog leg back up the Mississippi to Memphis, then heading across to Dallas, via Kansas. Phew. How did I do?

Amazingly – that’s a crazy long list. How on earth did you plot the best route to hit all the states?

I drank a lot of coffee, ate a lot of Haribo and stayed up many many nights into the early hours. I started with a blank map of the US and put a star at every place I wanted to visit – that was really important to me. Adventures are all about satisfying your own curiosities after all. I checked out the weather averages in each state, for each month, and decided that I needed to go West to East to make it over the Rockies while the passes were open, and North to South, to make it out of the Northern tier states before the snows hit.

That done I got hold of the Adventure Cycling association routes, and followed them as much as I could. That left me with a route that was 16,000 miles long. So I began the soul destroying process of scribbling and hashing out sections to save time, finally arriving at one that I felt was realistic to complete in the timeframe.

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What made you want to do it? What were you doing before? Was there a catalyst?

There wasn’t one particular catalyst, but there was definitely that ‘ah-ha’ moment – which happened one night as I was standing in my living room. I’ve been working as a marketing manager for 5 years and I’d had that suffocating wanderlust feeling creeping up on me for months. I just couldn’t help but feel that what I was doing day in day out wasn’t what I was put on the planet to do. I felt I had more to give, the world I mean. I know that sounds cheesy but it’s true. If we’re not making a meaningful contribution to society, then what exactly are we doing here?! So I just decided, then and there, that I had no ‘real’ excuses and that I was going. Somewhere, anywhere, and probably by bike. It was an incredibly liberating and exciting moment.

Was it anything like you expected?

Yes and no (I’ve always wanted to say that). I thought it would be incredible. I dreamed for a year about that moment I’d wake up and have nothing but 7 months of cycling ahead of me. But it was even better than I’d hoped. I had different challenges to the ones I’d in envisaged. I didn’t get as lonely as I expected, or as tired or frustrated. I hit far more dramatic weather though. And people were far kinder, I mean so beyond kind it was ridiculous. The country was more diverse than I knew. And above all (I know this sounds incredibly blonde), but the USA a lot bigger than I thought. There is so much open space. I think you really need to cross a country like that to appreciate this tiny (wonderful) island we live on.

What was the draw to America – it’s just like the UK but bigger right?

I’m going to start up a swear box for comments like that one from here on in. Joking aside its probably that comment that made me want to go and explore the US. That and having been on a few trips there as a kid. I’d done the usual tourist spots, but I’d often look at a map, see that big ‘ol space in between California and New York City – and realise I had no idea what went on there. As I did a little research I came the conclusion that it’s an incredibly unique place. No where else is the world was there a country that had such a range of culture, religion, politics, wildlife and geology. The bonus being that the language is common too. Definitely a plus if you’re linguistically challenged like me.

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Are you ready for the typical unanswerable question – favourite place and why?

That is an impossible one! Lucky for you I have a top ‘area’ – that would be the South West corner of Utah, and into Arizona. You can do Bryce, Zion and The Grand Canyon National parks within 4 days of each other. Each one is spectacularly unique, and like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’ll seriously blow your mind. For a state-surprise, I’d also pull  out Wisconsin – it’s just so bike friendly. And Alaska and Hawaii have to get a mention too –  for their sheer out-of-this-world, off-the-chart sensational scenery. If you ever want to see Grizzly bears and moose (who doesn’t), they’re guaranteed in Alaska.

Is there a moment of incredible generosity that really stands out?

That would definitely be the 4 days I spent holed up in a ranch in South Dakota. I met this girl as I rode into the town one day. It was a tiny place, just 300 people, up in the boonies. We got to chatting and she invited me to come and stay with her family. Thank goodness she did. A huge blizzard blew in the following day – bringing 4ft of snow in 24 hours. I was stuck fast. They were just the must wonderful, down to Earth family I’ve ever met. The older sister would come in from all day wading through snow drifts, rescuing cows, and begin looking after her elder relatives and making sure I was okay. Me, who’d sat around inside all day doing nothing except babysitting her 18 month old nephew. I’ll be friends with that family for life.

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Was there a time when you were scared or you felt in danger?

This one is right at the front of my brain. I attempted to leave Colorado and got stuck in the middle of their ‘1,000 year flood’. I came across a road that had crumbled away completely, which was frightening enough, but as I turned around a car came down the road toward me. I tried to wave and shout to slow then down, but they actually sped up and flew off the road, and flipped into the river. I had to pull the couple out and call 911. I thought for a moment they were gonners. That shook me up a fair bit for the next few weeks. I’d just never seen anything like it, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to process it.

That sounds awful. Shifting gears a bit – in your new post you say there’s a difference between being lonely and being alone – can you explain?

Absolutely. And ironically, I think you have to have spent a fair amount of time in your own company to know the difference. Being lonely is 100% down to your mind, and the way you feel. It stems from you feeling mentally isolated. Like no one understands you, what you’re trying to achieve or cares about what you’re doing at the moment in time. You feel your life lacks purpose and can’t see how anyone could help you. That’s loneliness in a nutshell for me. Being alone is a physical thing. It’s not having anyone nearby. To be honest I’m a massive fan of the alone time. You’re forced to confront any demons you have and you also learn what makes you happy far quicker than if you constantly seek to distract yourself with other things. By the time I’d finished the stint through the West of the US, I’d had just about enough of being alone, I sought human contact, but I wasn’t necessarily lonely.

Did it happen at all – a time when you experienced loneliness whilst on the road?

Yes, but only a few times. And far less than expected. I wasn’t even lonely on Christmas Day, or New Years Eve, which I think I upset my mum by proudly announcing. I had to explain that I’m not lonely is different from “I don’t miss you” . The days I got lonely were either when something dramatic had happened – like the Colorado accident. Or when I lost sight of what I was actually achieving with the trip. I felt selfish or foolish for indulging myself on this big adventure…. Did it really matter what I did? Was I inspiring anyone? Was I actually doing anything particularly physically difficult? On those days I’d just crave a good old hug. Someone to say – “On you go, chin up chick.” Thankfully they were few and far between – I  probably only had five or so spells of loneliness in the whole 7 months. Most would last a day. The final one lasted a week or so – and that was really just homesickness.

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How did you find the whole “being connected” thing? I know some people think ‘adventure needs isolation’. What positives did being connected bring and what negatives? Did you ever get frustrated with it?

I loved being connected! I cannot imagine doing a trip without it. For me it was such a huge part of the whole mission – to involve as many people as possible in an ‘armchair adventure’. My view on travel in general is that it promotes understanding and diminishes prejudice. Being able to share what you see, hear and experience as and when it happens is huge. If you can plant one small seed that makes someone else want to go off exploring – then it’s mission accomplished. I guess the negatives are that it’s addictive, and you are often thinking about what might be interesting to others – but I’m not even sure that’s a negative really. I’m not sure it’s for everyone, but communicating frequently and with gusto tended to suit my personality.

Why do you think more people don’t do these kind of things? And what would your advice be to those who want to do something similar but haven’t yet?

You have to make it a priority. There’ll always be reasons not to go, of course there will. All that happened for me is that I decided there was nothing more important in my life than the trip. I had a job (they gave me a sabbatical), I have a mortgage (I rented the house), I was broke (I got a second job). Every obstacle can be overcome if you want to go badly enough. And so for those who don’t actually go – I’d wager that the burning desire just isn’t there…. yet. For those thinking about going… Just go! Stop making excuses, make a plan, and go. When have you ever heard someone say “Oh gosh, I really regret going on that enormous adventure.” (Never). More often you hear people saying they wished they’d worked less, and lived more.

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Do you think the journey changed you at all?

The biggest shift has been realising that everything you do is a choice. Yes, sometimes we have to do things to pay bills that we don’t want to do, but it’s always a choice. I’ve realised that everything is a possibility. Nothing is set in stone, and I can always change direction… No one else is going to do it for me. Coming back from the trip into a normal working life has been tough – I’ll not lie on that one. It’s sucked a fair amount on some days. But I’m beyond excited about the rest of this year and the one after that, and after that. Because I know that whatever I wind up doing, whatever path I take – it will be a passionate one. Once you’ve experienced what truly makes you happy, you just can’t pretend it’s not there. It took me 28 years to discover that, and I don’t plan on going back to the old ways.

What happens next?

I’d like to tell you that I’d ‘got it out of my system’ with this one, but that’d be a lie. I’ve opened a gigantic can of worms and the worms have gone AWOL. I’ve come back with a determination to see much more of the UK, so I’ve a host of mini-adventures in planning for 2014. As well as a few in Europe. Then, once the bank balance is… errr… balanced again. I’ll trot off and do another epic in 2015. It won’t be bike bike – I like running, swimming, kayaking, roller blading too… So I’ve got the map out and am currently exploring a few ideas. Whatever it is, it’ll involve a physical challenge, me exploring a place or places I’d really like to learn more about, and above all getting others involved as much as I can.

Sounds mega! Thanks Anna.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

368 Days Later.

And it’s done! What a week. 363 – 368! Ithaca to NYC.

It’s been odd, this week more than most, knowing that it’s coming to an end in the coming days. There were moments of About time! excited, and moments of Maybe just one more loop? apprehension. The biking’s been good. Nothing has gone wrong and closing in on the end goal provided an easy way of falling into that dreamed-of zone where cycling becomes effortless. That’s not to say there weren’t crazy climbs, because there was (looking at you Pennsylvania), but with the momentum of a year coming to an end they weren’t enough to cause any delays.

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Being in gung-ho mode, necessary to make the end in time, there’s been a lot of saddle time. That’s often lead to nights in the farmland of NY, PA and NJ states, riding at night on the empty roads. It was surprising how remote it can be considering how close it is to the biggest city in the US. One of those nights lead, by coincidence, to a roadside invitation to crash at a lakeside cottage where Marianna and Elizabeth, two Buddhists, were staying. They were awesome, insisted on making some amazing food, and it was an amazing place to chill out when most moments recently had been a bit of a head-spin.

A few days of cycling later, and it was the final day. So close to being done. So close that something was bound to happen. ‘Course it was. I got sloppy and stumbled onto the highway. In parts of North America you’re allowed on the highway, in others you’re not. In New York you’re not. It was a blast – flying down the shoulder, knowing that this was the fastest route, seeing the New York skyline for the first time and realising it was so close.

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Oops. The police weren’t happy. Fortunately the officer was hilarious and other than an insistence to get off at the next exit, he wasn’t all that fussed. 90 minutes later I rolled into New York via George Washington Bridge and met my folks. It was like an ultra high definition skype call and amazing to see their faces after so long. And it was the end. 

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If you’re reading at this point, thank you! The emails and blog comments in the tough parts were a massive motivator, it played a huge role in seeing the trip through to the end. So thank you. And to everyone who donated or helped with a place to crash along the way or agreed to be featured in this project – I’m still blown away by how awesome you all were.

So that’s it. So much has happened that it’s a flurry, but it’s clear this was something special. The one-more-loop-thought has faded (for now) and it’s exciting to think about what happens next. Hopefully you’ll stick around as the blog will now get pretty fun – snippets of unpublished interview, retrospective articles, footage of getting blasted by sprinklers at 3am – but that’ll all start in a couple of weeks – for now I’m off to catch up on a years worth of half-sleep and wonder around the city until the flight home. And if anyone knows where to get the best slice of pizza here do just shout. Because pizza’s great. Thanks!

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 164 – 175: Fortuna, CA – Seattle, WA – Vancouver, BC.

The final section of California riding ended in Eureka, which is where the mayhem ensued. Not got long to write this so it’s more like a photo timeline.

For the last few weeks there’s been a looming whisper attached to the journey – the Canadian border. Much more time was spent in California than first anticipated so the project was way behind track for a while, and crossing in to Canada would make all visa concerns vanish. Ah.

It means I’ve skipped cycling through Oregon entirely, and most of Washington state too. I don’t mind jumping ahead too much though, as there’s new plans in momentum that will provide much more of an adventure than the original route. So anyway, the looming deadline. The start of May means being in Canada. It just wasn’t going to be possible by cycling. After some googling, the most suitable option from Eureka was the bus. Not just one bus though. It went: Eureka, CA – Oakland, CA – Sacramento, CA – Portland, OR – Seattle, WA. That should have raised alarm bells. And it took an entire millennium (not 100% accurate but that’s how it seemed).

It was a truly awful bus journey – in hindsight I’d have tried hitchhiking instead, or crawling for that matter. Putting a bike on the bus shouldn’t be that complicated – but for whatever reason (Jeremy Jobsworth’s who enjoy making life difficult) the ‘policy’ is a nightmare for bikes, and maybe it was just a bad stroke of luck, but the staff at the terminals were the worst people to deal with. Probably ever, but certainly on this trip.

Anyway after jumping through the most absurd hoops, getting in to a ‘heated discussion’ with a staff member at Sacramento who proclaimed that he ‘ain’t gonna pull no fucking dollars out of his ass’, dismantling the bike, shoddily boxing it up, and sitting down for a 32 hour bus ride, we pulled in to Seattle. And at that exact moment I vowed never to ride the Greyhound ever again. Is that a vent? Because just writing that down felt great.

On a more positive note, Seattle was brilliant. I stayed on Emily and John’s couch for a couple of nights, who live up in the Wallingford area (they also make High Above Designs bags). It was quite a novelty to be able to leave the bike and explore the city on feet, free of the heavy weight for a while and without burden. Also, there’s a neat bike shop called Recycled Cycles who did a stellar job  servicing the stead.

Numerous people in Seattle suggested avoiding the mainly-urban mainland route up into Canada, and taking the ferry-hopping San Juan Islands route instead. It was great advice. From Seattle it was a quick hop over to Bainbridge Island and an amazing bivvy overlooking the downtown Seattle skyline.

The ferry hopping and island riding was in some jaw dropping areas. Hopping a couple of states means that the geography has changed significantly, and now it’s very much a snow-topped and serious-looking mountain landscape. It’s the first indication of the  remote nature that’s to come over the next couple of months.

After several ferries and some awesome riding, I boarded the ferry which would mark the end of the US section of the trip (for now). Getting on at Friday Harbor on San Juan Island, and docking in Sidney, BC a couple of hours later. I always find border crossings a little intimidating, until that wonderful stamp hits the passport and puts ink on the page. Welcome to Canada, eh! And breathe.

I hung out in Sidney (which is on Vancouver Island, a bit north of Victoria) for a few hours and got the last boat from there to Vancouver proper. Although where it actually drops you off is actually 40 miles from Vancouver. Damn. Maybe being in a new country acted as a catalyst, but at the stealth camp (behind a concrete bollard by the highway – luxurious) this morning I had a sort out of gear and all the unnecessary weight that has accumulated in the pannier bags over the last couple of months. There was loads, so I sent a package to a buddies house back in California, and holy smokes the bike felt great. It was lighter than ever before, and it had just been serviced. It was the best the bike has felt for months. And then two spokes snapped. Of course they did. Is that sods law? Luckily they were both non-drive side so were easy to replace on the fly.

I was lacing the new spokes in a park when a red pickup truck pulled over. It was a local couple from Richmond, Gary and Wendy. “You know you can’t cycle under that tunnel, right? You need to go back to the service station. Bikes are put on a shuttle through the tunnel.”

Several people have mentioned Canadian friendliness and generosity, but I didn’t think it’d happen so fast. Gary and Wendy ended up acting as the shuttle, we piled the bike in to the back, and drove over to their house where I could finish fixing the wheel, do laundry, take a shower, have some lunch, and all that good stuff. The first full day in Canada and the rumors are true.

It’s all go from here. A new section of the adventure begins now, it’s getting wild and that’s super exciting. Eh.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Philosophy

Vague Direction People: Bradford Haith [video]

6.45am. Stinson Beach State Park.

Brad is originally from Boston, and as a teenager sold drugs, until he was caught. On the day he was released from the jail that he’d spent the last 10 years in, he had a couple of options. Do something that would land him back inside – like punching someone, or choose a different path away from the place he’d now become comfortable. He chose to literally walk away. He’s been walking for the last 13 years.

“After 10 years, I had 60 dollars and one piece of paper. They dropped me off, right downtown Boston. Thousands of people, I didn’t understand what, who. I was taken care of for 10 years. I didn’t know how to live. I was scared and nervous, because I didn’t know how to react around these people. So, I seen a crossing guard, across the street. And I said, well, if I go and hit this guy, I can go right back home. But inside, my emotions in side me said no, just give it some time.”

Here’s a short film made in collaboration with Brad. Hope you take something away from it and share it with anyone who may be interested.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 42 – 46: Crawfordville to Fort Walton Beach, FL

With the holidays upon us & people spending time with their families, the video interviews etc are hard-to-come-by at the moment, but will resume as soon as possible. Here’s another mainly cycling update (images quickly taken from iPhone):

Day 42 – Crawfordville (0 miles)

Ended up having another day off (in the same place as the previous update) to recover from a bout of chesty illness. It was amazing to spend some recovery time catching up on sleep and having shelter indoors.

Day 43 – Crawfordville to Blountstown, FL (55 miles)

Two consecutive days off, and at the tail end of illness. And a corker of a day.

A late start from The Inn at Wildwood, I didn’t get going until 12.15. When you have the opportunity of a decent nights kip,the check out time becomes your go-time. Quick stop for some breakfast and supplies in Crawfordville and time to properly get moving.

As far as the riding, if it had happened at the start of the trip, it’d be exciting. Wonderful long roads through the woods. The truth is though, that I’ve spent days and days on ‘wonderful long roads through the woods’ so I’m looking forward to a change of scenery. No complaints though, it was easy riding, perfect opportunity to plug in to an audio book (Catch 22) and zone out. A moderate headwind and the first of the hills, but none significant. The bike’s bottom bracket is making some horrible crunching noises – don’t think it has a lot of life left in it. Crunch.

Today brought with it another trip-first; a new time-zone. The move from Eastern Standard Time (EST) to Central Standard Time (CST), which it will be for a while now, up until close to El Paso, TX. Such seemingly small signs of progress are great mental boosts.

Scariest moment of the day, without any question, was the bridge between Bristol and Blountstown. Jeez. I’m sure in daylight it’s fine. But at night (it was around 7pm), it’s daunting. There’s no shoulder, the cars are moving fast and there’s a shockingly low wall blocking a huge drop into the river below. I stood at the Bristol end of the bridge for about 5 minutes, just looking at the cars going past and seeing if there were any tricks to the crossing. Really it would be a case of becoming as bright and lit-up as possible and fully sprinting to the other side when there was a decent gap between cars. Bike, don’t screw up now. Nothing like a bit of adrenaline to get your legs spinning fast. Once on the bridge, there was no turning back, but thankfully like most daunting things in the moment it wasn’t too bad. Luckily there weren’t too many cars to deal with, and the lights obviously worked, so good times.

Ended the day at perhaps the nicest stealth camp spot so far, just behind a local Methodist church in the town centre of Blountstown. It didn’t appear all that nice whilst pitching, but in the morning it turned out to be a beautiful riverside spot. A good omen for a new day perhaps?

Day 44 – Bountstown to Fort Walton Beach (102 miles)

Today’s the day. After yesterdays late start, today I was on the road by 9am and raring to go, definitely over the worst of the illness.

In the morning, I’d had the thought that as long as body doesn’t say otherwise, I was going to try to cycle for 12 hours, with minimal breaks. I know it’s not about the mileage, but if the landscape today is similar to that of yesterday, and the holidays are here, so people are spending time with their families, it seems like a perfect time to get the miles in. Plus, day 5’s total of 81 miles hadn’t been topped yet, and it had been over a month, so it would be an interesting experiment.

Pedal pedal pedal. Through the woods. By 3pm – 50 miles. Into light headwind and minimal rolling hills. 4.20pm – 62 miles. Nightfall. Lights On. 9pm – 85 miles. Coffee break and escape from the saddle. 11pm – 102 miles.

Great to finally do a triple-figure day, especially before the hills and winds get too bad (a few people have mentioned travelling from East to West in Texas is going to be awful?!). Although how on earth people like Mark Beaumont manage to do 100+ miles consecutively for months is crazy.

Ended the day, once again stealth camped behind a church, this time in Fort Walton Beach, FL.

Day 45 – 46 – Fort Walton Beach

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day! No cycling here.

Woke up in the tent to the sound of battering rain. Seems to do that a lot in Florida. And sat it out until it became less-heavy at around midday. Christmas Eve meant time to get a motel.

I’m writing this late on Christmas day (day 46) and have spent the day Skypeing the fam back in Blighty, exploring the gulf coast round Fort Walton and eating obscene amounts of food. Tomorrow it begins again.

Seems like a long time ago crossing the GA / FL state line, but now the end of the panhandle is here it means the next report will be from a new state. Happy holidays!

A rough map from the last few days:

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 36 – 38: St Augustine to Gainesville, FL

After spending day 36 off the bike in St A taking care of online stuff, followed by stealth camping in the least subtle place so far (about 15 metres away from the main road), on day 37 there was a definite renewed motivation to get moving. West we go.

Day 37: St Augustine to near Hawthorne, FL (51 miles)

A shoddy nights kip just off the road in St Augustine, packing up was sloth-like, but eventually everything was in the bags.

The roads out of St Augustine are a dream for a cyclist, on a Sunday at least. Cycle lanes, whoulda’ thought it? And quiet, well maintained roads. So far, Florida is definitely leading in the cycle lane and hassle-free roads league table. It was fairly easy through Palatka, then Interlachen – the GPS showing the longest single road navigation so far – 126 miles.

Because of a liberal start in the morning, it became dark around Palatka so on came the lights. On quiet roads, night riding can be a blast. Depending on where you are, it can be a bit spooky, but not so on this ride. Until Hawthorne that is.

After a good half-hour of hunting for a place to put up the tent, I actually cycled past a campground, by chance. Gated and fenced, I called the buzzer at the main entrance, to be greeted by an aggressive sounding chap, who could say nothing other than “WHO YA KNOW?!” and “WHAT YA WANT?!”. Well to camp, please sir. At the campground that you own. After an unsuccessful attempt I moved on, across the street and found a sandy, wooded area near the local church. The morning after:

Day 38: Hawthorne to Gainesville, FL (26 miles)

Another shoddy sleep. Consecutive rubbish sleeps have caught up. In the morning, drained would be an appropriate word. Groggy, another. I woke and just wasn’t into it – weak, lethargic, and not in any way keen. Jog on, Carpe diem.

On the bike, I usually carry two water bottles on the frame (with 2 more water-carriers available in the pannier bags which are kept empty until the more remote areas). Yesterday I must have left one of the main water bottles somewhere, or perhaps it fell out. Either way I woke up and didn’t have any water left, or food. So still half-asleep I set off and stopped at the first place that sold a source of sustenance. It didn’t come for about 18 miles on the outskirts of Gainesville. It was a frustrating morning, slowly pedalling away on long roads that stretched into the distance, hoping for something over the horizon, to then be greeted by more of the same.

Oh, and headwinds. The arch nemesis of cyclists everywhere. They haven’t been a problem for the first month at all, and today they’ve been consistent all day. Guess that’s what happens with a shift of the direction. It’s slow progress, noticeably. I’m going to see how the next couple of days go and then perhaps send a bunch of stuff on to a maildrop to reduce some of the weight in the bags in preparation for the slogs.

I called it a day fairly early in Gainesville, having never really perked up since the morning. But this is the struggle. I signed up for the struggle, for the groggy days. The struggle is one of the best parts, retrospectively of course. So, embrace and crack on. Looking to do a sustained consecutive period of 50+ mile days for a while just to see a bit of Westward progress so we’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Onwards and into the wind!

 

Rough Map:

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 27 – 30: Savannah – Richmond Hill – Fort McAllister – Jesup, GA

Day 27: Savannah – Richmond Hill (23 miles)

The morning was spent having a look around Savannah, exploring the sights and drinking a lot of of orange juice. Interesting place with amazing historical sights and architecture, and typical college-town contrast – the quiet town I was in, surely in contrast to that when the student population returns after the holidays. It seemed to now be mainly tourists walking around the popular River St and Broughton St. There are a lot of cyclists cruising the streets, and well thought out lanes, which is unusual for many of the towns and cities visited on this trip so far. After a few hours of typical-tourist stuff in the town, I began cycling out of Savannah at around 3pm, keen to get cracking with  the aim being to find somewhere to sleep. In Richmond Hill, outside of Savannah, nestled between a Church and a housing complex was a football-pitch-sized field. That’ll do.

Day 28: Richmond Hill (3 miles)

All set for the bigger miles today, I woke up early to get going. Unfortunately I’d pitched in an ants nest. Not the best of starts.

It wasn’t a very eventful day other than a chance meeting. Quick stop to pick up supplies, and I bumped in to two folks called Frank Thompson and Ty Stowe, both from out of town. They were intrigued by the bike outside, and after chatting about the Vague Direction project, they mentioned what they were in Richmond Hill for. An unusual invite, there was no way I was going to miss this, so plans for the days cycling were halted, because…

Day 29: Richmond Hill – Fort McAllister (9 miles)

It’s 1864, there’s cannons going off. It’s the civil war. Thousands of William Sherman’s Union forces are preparing to attack a small number of Confederate forces, to take the strategic position of Fort McAllister. Only kidding, no time travel here, it’s still 2012 of course. This is a civil war re-enactment held in the same location as the Battle of Fort McAllister in December 1864, nearly 150 years ago. And this is what Frank and Ty were in town for. They, and around a hundred others, are Civil War reenactors, and were in Fort McAllister to recreate those 1864 scenes, play-by-play and in real time.

Having never been to a reenactment before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But it was epic and the people were so friendly. A complete range of men and women, from retirees through to workers to students. Even a heavy-metal / hardcore vocalist. Whole families as well as individuals. Large groups walking round with huge muskets, in genuine clothing, and speaking in traditional ways. Cannons going off. Huge flags being waved. Orders being shouted. Everyone was really happy to share the story and incredibly welcoming, and really enjoying the battle. What did surprise me though, was the amount of people laying on the grass having a nap in the sunshine. Everyone has to sleep, but whole groups having a nap in the midst of a battle?!

It seems like after chatting to many of the reenactors, it’s a hobby that runs through families, generation after generation – a lot of the people were born into it and often their direct relatives took part in the actual civil war. Here’s a quick video with Ty, Michael Croft and Lawson Owens – in the fort and the traditional campground, looking at how they got into this, and what they enjoy about it.

(Click here if the video doesn’t load in your email browser)

After the battle was over, I spent time with some of the participants, which was great fun, and also some of the local people who had come to watch the Battle. Guns are common place in Georgia, so it was interesting to chat to one of audience members about personal security on this trip. He was shocked that I wasn’t carrying a firearm. And after explaining that in the UK guns aren’t common place, what followed was a slightly uncomfortable conversation about what positives carrying a gun can bring.

“You don’t carry a gun?! What if you have to defend yourself?”. He has a whole host of firearms, ranging from handguns that he keeps on him at all times, to shotguns and more. He mentioned that his house is covered in CCTV cameras, and he’s stockpiled ammunition in case one day it’s needed. I was hit by a sense that perhaps this all indicates an end-of-the-world paranoia, but perhaps the situation in the South is very different to that of the UK.

A unique and fun day nearly over, time spent with the reenactors was something I won’t forget. They were incredibly welcoming and once again it was a case of warm Southern hospitality. As the day came to a close, I found a park bench in the trees just outside Fort McAllister, and after the gun talk felt a sense of paranoia myself, with strange sounds (which turned out to be squirrels dropping stuff from the trees) and total darkness. Another night of spooky luxury!

Day 30: Fort McAllister – Jesup (56 miles)

Up at first light. Awful nights sleep. Bitten by bugs. Let’s go. Incredible empty roads to start the day’s pedalling.

But something was wrong with the bike. The chain was skipping every 7 pedal strokes. Strange, but something to take care of when stopped in a better place. Passing through Hinesville a little later, and getting annoyed by the skipping, the plan was to stop, get something to eat and then take care of the chain. So as I was pulling up to a shop, SNAAAP. Funny how things work. Chain snap number 2.

After a painless and relatively fast fix (and a thought that I really need to get the chain replaced asap), and now fuelled up, the next stop was Jesup after a few hours of easy riding on wide shoulders. The plan was to keep going further and to drop the miles to St Augustine, but after filling water I was offered a complimentary room at a local independent hotel, the Red Carpet Inn – can’t refuse that after the last few nights. People must really like bikes with a lotta’ bags.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 11: Ahoskie, NC to Greenville, NC

58 miles today. Late start leaving Ahoskie. Loaded up on Granola bars and soon got in to a rhythm, heading for the North Carolina 11 S route.

Today was the first day of really long straight roads, where you don’t have to do any navigation for basically most of the day. There was a point when I just had to ride down a single straight road for 38 miles. In many ways it’s quite enjoyable as you can turn on the music and audio books and it becomes very simple and almost meditative. ‘We Are Augustines – Rise Ye Sunken Ships’ was the highlight of todays music selection.

Click the images to open the full panoramic.

That state didn’t last too long. Had to do some obligatory mountain biking when, slightly ahead, one lorry was overtaking another. The overtaker pulled out in to the oncoming lane which was clear of cars, just not cyclists. No way was he going to stop the procedure so I promptly diverted to the grassy verge to avoid them.

Mind games have started to kick in too. Here’s one for you to try: How long can you ride whilst balancing on the white line on the side of the road? Oh the thrill! Another one is cat eye slalom. How long is this trip again?!

The ride was really great, passing through Martin County & Pitt County. Through a lot more cotton fields, and swamp land. Over the amazing Roanoke river, too. Via some awesomely aesthetic abandoned houses.

Stealth camped at a football complex 3 miles east of Greenville, near a place called Bradford Creek. Once again, not the stealthiest of spots but it seemed to work, hiding from road-visibility by bivying behind a platform.

Looking forward to riding to Wilmington, NC, arriving on most likely Saturday now. At the time of writing it’s 4pm and I’ve probably cycled about 3 miles today, so it’s not boding well for a big mileage day! It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, so best get some food as everything closes later on today.

Oh, it was a really clear night whilst stealthing-it last night, here’s the sky:

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Adventure Bicycle Travel

Day 5: Carneys Point, NJ to… Cape May, NJ!

Change of plan again yesterday. Couldn’t cross the bridge by bike at Carneys Point, so re-jigged the route a little bit / a lot, and made my way right around the coast, to Cape May, NJ. Ended up being the biggest day so far at 81 miles.

Another cracking day weather wise, cold but incredibly sunny all day. It started off from Carneys Point, going through farmland, until Pennsville. Stopped for apple juice and bumped into Dave, an ex-dairy farmer who has a couple of Elvis’s driving licences. Friendly guy who shared a couple of stories of his brother being stationed in the UK in the war, who loved it there.

And Umesh, who’s been living in Pennsville for 4 years after moving from Nepal, who sent this photo over:

It was pretty flat the whole way, no sustained up hill or down hill. One of those days where you just pedal and don’t really think about the mileage. Still really interested in setting off at first light and seeing what mileage is possible in a day.

Passed by a quirky looking fruit market, so popped in to get some lunch. Quite amusing seeing all the descriptions- “Jersey Apples – sweet and crunchy, goes well with cereal”. Nothing wrong with that, in fact as far as fruit descriptions go it’s quite well thought about. The ‘Apple Pears’ description wasn’t as original.

Going through Gloucester County and Cumberland County was refreshing, the air being seaside-like. A lot of crab shacks, and fishing bait shops that were closed until next year, so it was a bit eerily quiet for a couple of hours. But amazing roads for most of the day.

Click on image to view full panorama.

Pulled into Cape May, an interesting port town. It’s really empty at the moment, a lot of shops closed for the season, a bunch of holiday homes going unused. I arrived quite late, and had missed the last ferry, so went to grab some wifi at a local well-known fast food establishment until closing. It’s warmer inside than out, after all. So at about 11.30pm, it was time to find somewhere to sleep.

It’s probably quite tricky to find a place to camp in ‘the season’, but out of season, it seems like no-one cares that much. So after a few minutes of looking for a place to stay that was hidden, it became obvious that actually it doesn’t need to be that difficult. So I set up camp in the corner of the towns football pitch and had a good nights kip to be up early to board the hour-and-a-half ferry ride to Lewes, Delaware.

Farewell New Jersey (again). Next post from Delaware!

(Sloppy presentation and formatting today but the ferry’s here so must dash!)

Categories
Bicycle Travel

Bicycle Touring: Gear List

I’m not gonna beat around the bush here, I’m not a gearhead and don’t think it’s as important as people make out. Please don’t let “not having the latest gear” stop you from going out and having an amazing experience. A bin bag makes a great rain coat. But I get that these kind of lists can be useful as a guideline, so this is a post about the gear and equipment I chose to take on a multi-month cycle tour. To see the bike spec, click here.

There’s loads of different ways that people gear up for cycle touring, but if you’re thinking of doing something similar to the Vague Direction project that involves multiple months on the bike, through a variety of seasons, I hope this is a useful resource for you to figure out your own travel solution.

Clearly different times of year and different routes call for different gear lists, but something similar to this should give you enough options to stay warm in temperatures down to around -10ºC and handle fairly extreme weather conditions. (I will only ever recommend gear that I personally enjoy using).

Sleeping System

  • Thermarest
  • Thin Foam Matting (to be used under the tent on hard surfaces)
  • Bergans Compact Light 2-man tent
  • Bergans Senja Ice Sleeping Bag (long version)
  • Bergans Sleeping Bag Cover (for being discreet when putting a tent up wouldn’t be wise)
  • Sea to Summit Silk Liner
Cooking

Clothing System

It comes down to layers, being covered for even the worst weather, and easy temperature control.

  • Glittertind waterproof
  • Isfjorden light insulated jacket
  • Vier fleece jacket
  • Imingem trousers
  • Variety of Merino Wool undergarments and socks
  • Marmot Dri-clime jacket
  • Helly Hansen Balaclava
  • Montane ultra lightweight pertex jacket
  • North Cape thinsulate waist coat
  • Mountain Hardwear lightweight shirt

Specifically for cycling, I’m using:

Baggage

Lighting
Tools / bike maintenance 

Misc

There’s also a variety of filmmaking gear not on the list. All in all, including camera stuff too which isn’t listed, this comes in at around 30 kilograms. Oh yeah, and it all fits in the pannier bags!