Pardon Our Dust
OK, so before I provide an update, I feel compelled to offer up this preface. We’re long overdue to post a proper update on our travels. And by long, I mean like years long. Aside from one-off posts here and there, our last regular journal-type entry on the when, where and what of our travels came about mid-2007. At the time we were well into 3-years traveling overland through Europe, Africa, and N. America and I was starting to feel a little burned out on the whole blogging thing. Burned out enough that I decided to take a brief break from writing. It was a break that was meant to be a few weeks but lasted 11 years. Long enough for our original travel blog – Tale of Two Travelers – to take on an air of neglect and to fall pretty far out of the loop on the whole social media thing.
It's been a long time since that last post and, while it's crossed our minds many times to start blogging again, we’ve been a bit reluctant to put that train back into motion. In truth, blogging is a lot of work, and it's been nice to just quietly go about our travels. In blogging terms, I suppose we’ve been living off the grid.
Still, Sheri and I have noted from time-to-time that we miss having an ongoing travel blog. We even launched wanderlibre.com – Tale of Two Travelers’ replacement - last year so that we’d have a platform should we decide to get back into it. Yet, to date, we still haven’t carved out much time to actually write updates on where we are or what we’re up to. I think it boils down to being overwhelmed by the thought of starting a blog about a trip that’s already 4 years old.
That all being said, we’re feeling inspired. Inspired by our current travels and therefore inspired to do a bit of blogging. It just feels like the right time to give it another go. The post that follows is sort of a trial run. The first installment in a ‘kicking of the tires,’ which hopefully inspires us to write more. Only time will tell.
So, then… where to start? Honestly, I have no idea how to capture several years spent living abroad and traveling with backpacks, on motorcycles, and in our Land Cruiser across North America, Asia, Africa, and South America. Perhaps that’s best left for a book I may never write. In the meantime, I’ll simply start with the now. And right now, Sheri and I are in Galway, Ireland about to embark on our next adventure. For us, it’s something completely new. We’ve decided to go green. Fueling our journey with a carbon-friendly mix of beer and potato chips, we’ll be bikepacking across Europe.
Oh, if you’re still reading this, let me add a word of caution. Think of this as a disclaimer. Terms and conditions apply, etc., etc. As a travel blogger, I’m rusty at best, and at worst, this whole blogging thing could end no sooner than it started – possibly as a colossal blogging train wreck that could leave you unfulfilled, frustrated, angry, and perhaps harboring some serious regret for having joined our journey. So, think twice before stepping aboard. You're hitching your wagon to a most unreliable horse.
Bikepacking Europe - An Entirely New Adventure
The simple fact that we’re in Ireland exemplifies just how changeable our travel plans can be. Step back to the end of April, and we were finishing up three exceedingly relaxing months in Ojai, CA. A much-enjoyed break from our overland travels through Africa and South America. As we prepared to depart California, our plan was to head to Indonesia. With a few months to spare before we head back to Uruguay to pick-up our Land Cruiser, we wanted to do a bit of backpacking in Bali, Borneo, Sri Lanka, India, and the Maldives.
Just before leaving Ojai, however, a routine trip to a local outdoor store changed our direction. As Sheri and I were standing in the checkout line, I found myself staring at a bicycle on display by the store’s entrance. Fully kitted for extended touring, the bike screamed to be taken on an adventure to some far away land. Something about that bike spoke to me (read: highly effective marketing), and by the time we reached the counter, I was deep in thought. What came to mind were all the long-distance cyclists we’ve crossed paths with over the years. Hardy travelers pedaling fully loaded bikes up steep mountain passes, across desert plateaus, and through dense jungle. Folks like Gurken Genc, a RTW cyclist from Turkey. We met Gurken in Cerro Castillo, Chile last year. It was June, and Gurken was cycling south just as other travelers were headed north to escape Patagonia’s harsh winter. The weather was cold and Cerro Castillo’s famous trekking routes were already buried in snow. Camping in our Land Cruiser, Sheri and I were toasty warm as snow blanketed the mountains above. Compared to Gurken, it almost felt like we were cheating. Traveling on a bike in freezing cold and snow, Gurken was seeing Patagonia through a different lens. Sheri and I were moved by his determination and felt inspired to see the world through his eyes.
Inspiration is something we've come to covet. You might say it’s the key ingredient in our travel-based lifestyle. When inspired, the world seems more vibrant, and we feel more compelled to get out and explore. It’s the thing that gives us energy and motivates us to climb mountains – both figurative and literal – in pursuit of some remote dot on a map. Take it away and with it goes much of what drives us. Inspiration is something we talk about often and spend considerable resources to find. Yet, for all our searching, it’s not something we truly feel that often. So, when we find ourselves inspired - no matter the source - we’ve learned to hit pause and take note.
The problem is, hitting pause is rarely convenient, and this was no exception. As is often the case, our lives were propelled by a degree of inertia and inertia is hard to stop. Our trip to the outdoor store was a last-minute run to pick-up items for our trip to Asia. Moreover, only days away, we had a flight booked to NC – a quick stop-over to visit friends and family before heading to Bali. And that says nothing of how unprepared we were to set off bike touring.
The timing was less than ideal. But this was one of those times where I felt compelled to dig deeper. Our trip to the outdoor store drew forward thoughts that have been at the back of my head for years. The thing is, bike touring has long been on our list of ways to explore that world. It’s just never made the top. For whatever reason, I suddenly felt an urge to do it. No matter the timing or how unprepared we may be.
By the time we left the store, I was consumed by the idea and had formulated a rudimentary plan. We could spend our last few days in California researching. During our two weeks in NC, we could quickly prep two long-haul touring bikes. From NC we could hop a flight to somewhere in Northwestern Europe. Perhaps Norway or Scotland. With summer just around the corner, the timing was perfect. We’ve been craving a dose of Europe, and the thought of riding through Tuscany or Greece or Croatia seemed an ideal introduction to bike touring. Perhaps we could throw in a beer or two in Belgium or some riding through the wilds of Scandinavia. It didn’t take much imagination to conjure up a route.
Within the span of about 10 minutes, I’d gone from inception to going. All that remained was the most important step of all. I needed to sell Sheri on the idea. On the way out to our car, I gave my elevator pitch. To say Sheri was immediately onboard would be a mischaracterization. Rather, Sheri’s initial “What are you going on about?” response was dismissive.
“You know we’re leaving for North Carolina in a few days and already have plans to go backpacking?” she said.
“I know. I know. But we don’t have to. If we want, we could change plans. So, why not take the opportunity to bike across Europe?” I replied
“For starters,” she said, “I’m not sure I like riding a bike. Honestly, I can’t say I’ve ridden enough to know. If memory serves me, the last time I was on a bike was in Laos three years ago, and that wasn’t what I’d call a strenuous ride. Plus, we don’t have bikes. Never mind the fact that all of our camping gear is spread between Uruguay or Reno.
“Yeah, but…”I tried to offer a rebuttal.
She continued “Even if I did like cycling and had a bike and gear, we’re in no shape to be riding across a continent. And I can’t put too fine a point on that one. I mean, after all, shouldn’t we train, at least a little, before going off to ride fully loaded bikes thousands of miles. You’ve seen touring cyclist grinding up mountains. You know, ones like the European Alps. Did they strike you as the type of people who started off without having been on a bike in 3 years? They looked super fit and still didn’t look like they were having fun. I think I saw one of them crying…”
It would take a couple of days of impassioned selling before the idea fully took root. But after a little research, I was confident we could plan, source bikes, prep, and be on the road within a couple of weeks. More importantly, having been given a little time for the idea to marinate, Sheri was not only onboard but leading the charge. Her ‘buts’ replaced with visions of drinking French wine and lazing away afternoons in Florence. Her only condition: we need to get this done quickly. No long drawn out projects that cut into our summer in Europe. Not a problem. I was confident we could sort everything in two weeks. And as for not being fit? Well, there’s nothing like riding across Europe to take care of that. Plus, if all else fails, we can always hire stunt doubles.
Preparations
With the decision made, we had little time to spare. We were on a mission. The first 48 hours were hyper-productive. We had a basic plan in place. We were up to speed on best practices for international bike touring. We selected our desired bikes - two Surly Long Haul Truckers. We purchased panniers and other gear. We even drove 18 hours round trip to pick-up camping gear and other supplies from our storage unit in Nevada. All that remained was to find a dealer to supply our bikes, and we were going.
And that’s where we took a detour. I’ll save the specifics for a dedicated post on our bikes. In the meantime, here’s the abridged version. Our research took us to Topanga Creek Outpost (TCO), a highly regarded bike shop outside Los Angeles specializing in touring bikes. TCO was meant to be our final stop. The place where we spent a couple of hours getting fitted, order bikes, and pick up miscellaneous accessories. Easy. But that’s not what happened. We met with Chris, TCO’s owner, who spent the afternoon discussing our travel plans. At the end of a lengthy dialogue, Chris threw us a curve ball. “I don’t think you guys will be happy with Long Haul Truckers. Don’t get me wrong. The LHT is a great bike. Lots of them have been all over the world. But you sound like you’re more interested in bikepacking than on-road touring and the LHT isn’t the best tool for the job. I’d recommend something like a Surly Troll or Salsa Fargo.”
That’s not at all how the conversation was supposed to go. I was both intrigued and discouraged. Bikepacking seemed right. Think off-the-beaten-path travel on gravel roads, single track, and donkey paths. Basically, the bike touring equivalent of how we travel in our Land Cruiser. The Troll and Fargo were nothing like what I’d researched or envisioned a touring bike to be. Compared to the classic touring look of the LHT, the Fargo looked strange – half mountain bike/half road bike. The Troll didn’t fit what we imagined either. To my eye, it seemed like a cross between a 1980’s steel frame mountain bike and a touring bike. It was a lot to take in. Too much to pull the trigger on the spot.
Our meeting with Chris provided enough info to expand our thinking. To possibilities that extend far beyond a trip to Europe. To off-road adventures across Central Asia or Africa or Indonesia. So many ideas were rushing through our heads that I couldn’t process it all. It was back to the drawing board. Our momentum officially derailed. Our afternoon at TCO gave us a lot to think about. No question, outfitting a couple of Long Haul Trucker for Europe would have been fine. No doubt we could have stuck to our two-week planning deadline, and we would have had a great trip. But the whole bikepacking thing was intriguing, and once down that rabbit hole, there was no coming back. By the time it was all said and done, our detour added over six weeks to our prep. The extra time was spent figuring out how to outfit two bicycle equivalents of our Land Cruiser. A go-anywhere packhorse capable of carrying a load over rough and tumble roads with a minimum of fuss.
Getting there was a somewhat tedious affair that included a healthy amount of online research, discussions with experienced bikepackers, test rides, and meetings with bike shops in Los Angeles, Asheville, Raleigh, Greensboro, and Minneapolis.
In the end, we selected two tried-and-true mid-fat bikes made by the same company that builds the Long Haul Trucker. The Surly ECR. Setup for off-road travel, the ECR is a bike that begs to be taken to places like Angola or Mongolia. In many ways, the ECR is Maggie if Maggie was a bike.
Packing / Departure
Part of the allure of bikepacking is simplicity. I love the idea of loading up a bike – for a journey of months or years - and heading towards some distant horizon. It’s the simple notion of pedaling to a dot on a map. A dot that’s a few hundred, or possibly a few thousand, miles away. But loading up a bike- one that’s powered solely by your own two legs – can be challenging. It’s an exercise that rewards minimalism and minimalism is a never-ending work in progress that’s continuously redefined by our ever-changing modes of travel.
Over the years we’ve packed for so many trips I feel like I could do it blindfolded. Each time we’ve worked to reduce weight and bulk. In the last 4 years alone, we’ve packed two motorcycles for our ride to Alaska, retooled for ultra-light backpacking in Southeast Asia, loaded up our Land Cruiser for overlanding through Africa, repacked for overlanding through South America, and pulled the backpacks out again for our recent travels in California (and planned travels in Asia). In between, we’ve moved so much gear between Chicago, California, Nevada, Thailand, North Carolina, South Africa, Argentina, and Uruguay that we have a spreadsheet to keep track of it all. But for all the packing and repacking, tooling up and winding down, we still find packing a painful, time consuming, chore.
Somehow, we forget this fact time and time again. Each time scratching our heads in wonder as we race to ready ourselves in time to make a flight or hit the road. This time was no different. In the days leading up to our departure, we had grand plans. We looked forward to spending a week in Ashville camping, testing gear, and riding in Pisgah but hardly managed a round-the-block test ride in Chapel Hill. We had plans to spend time with my parents playing golf, dining at favorite restaurants, and generally relaxing - but scrambled to squeeze in a visit of just 12 hours. And so it went as we raced about packing and repacking. Setting up bikes, breaking down bikes, taking care of administrative to-do’s, sourcing last minute gear, and handling a myriad other to-do's - right up to our flight to Dublin.
Surly ECR - All Ready to Go
Dublin was more of the same. By day we played tourist. By night we readied ourselves to hit the road – addressing the stuff we kicked-the-can on back home. It was a balancing act that carried us right up until about an hour before our train to Galway. Just enough time to haul our bikes down five flights of stairs, load up in the hotel lobby, take a brief test ride in the hotel garage, and ride to the train station.
- Onboard the train, my newbie concerns about touring on a 29+ bike were realized when our 710mm Jones Handlebars wouldn’t fit through the door, and the rack was too small for our oversized wheels. A realization that initiated a Rubik’s Cube-like game of "let’s flip two heavy bikes this way and that" desperately hoping to find a fit. It was an exercise that left our train mates entertained and us covered in an oily mix of chain grease and sweat. But alas, we made it work. With Sheri’s front tire strapped to an overhead luggage rack and my bike pitched at 45% the bikes were in and we were off
And now we’re going. As I write this post, we’re in Galway. We picked Ireland for its perfect combination of never sunny weather and endlessly hilly terrain. The ideal country to shake down two fragile beginners. Over the next couple of weeks, we hope to gain our riding legs while doing a bit of touring. Tomorrow we head for Connemara National Park. From there, I have no idea. Eventually, we plan to head east, although we have no planned route. Only time will tell where the road takes us. I’ll try to post more as our journey unfolds.
Related Posts:
- All Roads in Ireland are One Way - Up
- How We Fund a Life of Travel
- Bikepacking Gear List
- One World. So Many Ways to Explore