So, a longer reply:
"You're crazy"
"That is the popular opinion"
I've just told a work colleague my plan for the weekend. It's a simple one, cycle 250km over night during a lunar eclipse, camp in Belgium, watch a race start and, ride 100k back to the first Dutch station, and get a train home. This to me is a mini adventure. But this exchange is a common one.
December 2017, I set out to ride the 540km from Maastricht to Basel via Schengen and Strasbourg. I left on Boxing day, it was my festive 500 attempt. I'd just built a bike to do it. I'm 1.68m tall. 50mm taller than Average height for a British woman. Average height for a Dutch woman. My bike is a size small frame. The smallest they make for that model. The other frame I looked at, I needed a size XS. I had to cobble together a mix of road and MTB equipment on it, to get gears I could turn, and even then, with just 6 weeks of cycling in my legs, I walked many a hill. It was tough. It's not easy for a woman to walk into a bike shop, and just buy a bike that is comfortable, and with gearing she is likely to be able to use to get up a hill.
I didn't make it all the way to Basel by pedal power alone, my trip became a mix of trains and cycling, skipping ahead a bit by train, cycling 50k or so across a border. I ended up in a cheap hotel every night. I basically took my bivvi gear on a tour, but never used it. You pack your fears.
In April I left Basel to try and ride north on the Trans Germany Bike Packing route. This trip made me realise I'm not as big a fan of off road as I am of road, so I ended up taking a different route, still a fun adventure. I camped a couple of times on this trip. Bivviing out in on the porch of a cabin on one night:
And in a shelter near a lake another night.
When I told people I was planning this adventure, the first question I got was "Who are you doing it with?". When I say solo, they look back incredulous. "Really?"
"Well noone else is crazy enough to join me" Is my usual reply. It's kinda true. I know there are plenty of people out there who would love to go on adventures like these, and I'd love for the company. But I've resigned myself to the fact that if I wait for someone to come along to go with me, I'll never go, so I JFDI.
In September I did my big tour. After insomnia led me to the discovery that Hell in Norway is 2000km from Amsterdam, and then a brief moment of rational thought made me realise it's 1500km from Hamburg, I set off to goto Hell. People have been telling me to go there frequently. It must be a nice bike ride, so lets do it.
I rode through Germany, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway. I did 1404km in total, in 11 days. I camped once in Sweden, twice in Norway. I ate in Gas stations predominantly. I wore one Jersey for 2 weeks (It took me a while to train and ferry back), this was a shake down ride for the TCR. The only kit I took that I wouldn't on the TCR was a pair of trousers and some underwear for the return journey by train/Ferry. But I made it.
I've been meaning to blog about it since. But I'm still trying to digest it all. I did microblog about it on Instagram as I went, but even then the last entry took a couple of weeks to come out. I wear a pendant made from the chain I used to go to Hell (As featured on the GCNtech show a couple of weeks back). I carry it to remind me what I can do. I've been through a really rough year emotionally, and Achieving what I set out to do was important.
Through Germany and Denmark I had crazy quantities of Punctures. Two on day 1, within the first 30km, 1km apart. In the first 600km in total I had 9. I had to detour to a bike shop in Heiligenhafen to get new tubes and PRK's. When I got to Sweden I was out of tubes, and desperate for a bike shop. It took me nearly 300km of checking every town I went to to find a bike shop that was Open, and had the parts I need. I eventually found it in the Specialised concept store in Gothernberg. I cycled in through the door. This was the day it had pissed it down and I was layered up with hoods, and buffs, and glasses and the like, so I stood there, astride my bike, dripping all over the floor of this Swedish bike shop, as I disrobed enough to be able to engage the staff.
"Hi, I need some help" I said it in English.
The shocked look on the face of the woman in the shop at this crazy Brit, and having taken all the stuff covering her face, a crazy British Woman, was worth it. I explained what I needed, and we wheeled the bike to the workshop bit. Unfortunately even with 2 of us, we couldn't lift it onto their work stand, so they said they couldn't work on it. I asked if they mind if I use their tools to fix the bike on the floor myself. Sure they said. So I set up on the floor by their work shop, and replaced an outer, installed a new inner. I walked out that shop nearly €200 poorer, but with a new outer tyre, several spare inners, and a better pair of gloves.
But while I worked, the staff talked to me.
"Where have you come from?"
"Hamburg."
"How long has it taken you?"
"Um, what day is it? I've lost track of time"
Then it would move on to
"Where are you going?"
"Hell"
"Where?"
"It's near Trondheim"
"Wow"
"How long is that going to take you?"
"Hopefully only 6 more days"
"Wow"
They fed me coffee, they talked to me, but I don't think they quite new what to make of this crazy soaked Brit that turned up one day in September, on the way to Hell.
I had similar conversations in the Hotels and Gas stations all the way along the road. Those with better English would ask why I was travelling alone. I gave the usual flippant answer as above.
In all that I do, it's the thing that annoys me the most. When I turned up to my first Audax last January, one of the first questions someone asked was "Are you here with your boyfriend?" As if a woman can only do something like this with a man escorting her.
On a recent Audax, I rode with a new cyclist who was doing her first 200. We chatted, I told her about some of my rides. She asked "Aren't you worried alone?". I explained that generally speaking the scariest thing for 30km is me. Lets face it, when you've bivviing in the woods somewhere, who's actively going out to seek lone women in such remote places? But the issue here is that we're conditioned to think this. A lone woman isn't safe. The media is full of horror stories of women being attacked, mugged, raped, murdered, when travelling. I could at this point go off on a massive feminist rant about this. But the reality is, the most dangerous thing I will do in my life, is walk out my front door and cross the road. Statistically that is the most dangerous thing in most peoples lives. Followed closely by walking down the stairs. Humans are fucking awful at comprehending and comparing risk. We have these irrational fears of sharks and lions and bears. But the reality is that the biggest killers in the animal kingdom are actually a flying insect[1], a snail[2], and snakes. It's the same when it comes to Terrorism. I grew up in the 80's and 90's, when there were mainland bombing campaigns, and my parents didn't let me go to London, for fear of terror attack. But if you look at the statistics, on the mainland UK, more people die due to Trousers, or Biscuits, than due to terrorism. We are shit at understanding risk. REALLY FUCKING AWFUL at it.
Now, for all that. When I arrived in Helsinborg in Sweden, on Election day. I checked into my Hostel, and went for a walk to find food. Within 200m of leaving the hostel I had been cat called and wolf whistled. I felt really uncomfortable. There were gangs of young men walking around aimlessly. Nothing was open. I quickly found a supermarket, bought some food, and walked back to the hostel very fast. I was glad to leave Helsinborg. It's the only time in all my trips I've felt uncomfortable due to men. Within 10km of leaving Helsinborg, I was in the Scandinavia I was expecting, everyone was a delight, the scenery was spectacular, and I enjoyed it.
Maybe I'll write a proper write up about some of these one day.
In the mean time, May I recommend people look at Emily Chappell's "What Goes Around?" (
http://amzn.to/2hJqabi), Helen Lloyd's "A Siberian Winters Tail" (
http://amzn.to/2hfNOso), Sarah Outen's "Dare to Do" (
http://amzn.to/2i3XHcE), and Juliana Buhring's "This Road I Ride" (
http://amzn.to/2q47iJ5).
Emily is the reason I got into cycling long distance, Sarah is the reason I discovered a love for winter cycling. Juliana, Emily, Lael Wilcox, and Sarah Hammond are who inspire me to ride. I've found myself riding along asking "What would Sarah do?" "What would Emily do?'
There are women doing long tours, there are women out there cycling. There's just not that many of us.
J
[1]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malaria[2]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schistosomiasis
