Beyond the Road:

 

Recollections From a European Cycle Tour.

 

Part One:

A week ago, I boarded the overnight ferry from Saint-Malo to Portsmouth. This marked the end of a two-month European cycle tour. I visited eight different countries, and cycled a total distance of 4,562 km. It seemed fitting somehow to finish the journey in Portsmouth. The last time I was there was at the end of a quite different voyage. In the March/April of 2021, I spent 5 weeks aboard a ship travelling home from Antarctica. I’ll never forget seeing a pod of dolphins as we entered the English Channel. There were no dolphins this time. But there was a cold, crisp dawn. And there was the same quiet joy and deep contentment that can only be felt on returning home after having been away.

Dolphin in the English Channel 

The past two months have been spent in near constant motion. And despite my intentions, and despite what I thought might have been the case, I found it near impossible to quiet my mind and find the headspace to sit down and write while on the road. But there are other things now. There is the chance for stillness. There is the time and the space for recollections and memories. Not that I need to search very far for the words to describe the overall experience: It was incredible, it was more than I ever imagined it could be. Even the bad moments, and the bad days don’t seem that bad now. It all contributed to the richness of it. There can be a temptation to rush headlong into the next thing, but I believe that reflecting on an experience such as this can be as valuable as the experience itself. And while I appreciate that the interest in this probably doesn’t extend far past myself, I wanted these reflections to be shared, just as I shared parts of the trip itself. To do this, I feel that I need to start at the beginning. And the beginning was the moment when the possibility of this journey first emerged.

Portsmouth sunrise

Usually, I’d be heading down to Antarctica in October/November time. But this year it won’t be until early January – a chance to spend Christmas in the UK for the first time since 2017. This opened the possibility of a long cycling trip, from mid-September after finishing a summer of work in the Lake District. A vague route came together in my mind during those months spent in Eskdale. The initial dream was to cycle La Route des Cols – from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean over all the mountain passes of the Pyrenees. This was all because of a postcard a friend had sent me a few summers before. But, as other ideas and possibilities emerged, this route became a tagged on ‘maybe’ at the end. I never did reach the Pyrenees, but it was the dream that led to other dreams (and I’m very grateful to AR for that). I decided that first, I wanted to visit my eldest brother who lives on the German/Luxembourg border. I have three brothers and a sister. It is one of the greatest joys in my life that we all get on so well together. But life being busy for all of us, means that opportunities to meet up must be created rather than simply stumbled upon. The idea of cycling to his house made me smile then, and it still makes me smile now. This became a reoccurring theme of the trip – the feeling that it’s more special somehow if you reach a place under your own steam. Obviously though, some kind of mechanised transport would be required to start things off. I was not planning to swim across the North Sea. I would take a train to Hull, and from there a boat to Rotterdam. I didn’t want to fly. Partly for environmental reasons. But mostly because it’s too fast. My thoughts can only move at snails’ pace, and I didn’t want to leave any of them behind.

La Route des Cols postcard

In these early stages of planning, I still had it in mind to reach the Pyrenees. As such, it became a case of plotting a route that would take me there from my brother’s. I decided that I would follow the Rhine cycle route until it became the Rhone cycle route in Switzerland. But rather than following the Rhone down to the Mediterranean, another possibility emerged: The Route des Grandes Alpes. 700km of mountain roads from Lake Geneva to Nice. It would involve over 18,000m of elevation gain, and take in some of the Tour de France’s most iconic climbs, the Galibier, the Col d’Izoard, and the Col de L’Iseran, to name but a few. This suddenly became the main goal, the Queen section of the whole route. I had no idea if I’d be able to do it, but I knew that I wanted to try. 

Route des Grandes Alpes map

I’d only been on one cycle tour before. The previous year I’d spent 3 weeks cycling through Wales and Ireland. But this new venture felt like a whole other level of undertaking. There were just so many variables. I was conscious that, although I had a route plan in mind, I wanted to keep a high degree of flexibility to the trip. There were an un-named number of things that might result in a delay, a change of route, or putting a stop to the ride altogether. What I wanted to keep first and foremost in my mind was that this was something I was doing for fun. If it ceased to be an enjoyable endeavour I would reevaluate my plans. I knew that there would be moments which would feel distinctly unenjoyable, but I also know that such moments pass. I did not want to give up on something the moment it turned hard. The challenge, both mental and physical, was very much part of the appeal. I knew that there would be many days when I wouldn’t feel strong. I knew that there would be many days when I would feel so very tired. But it was only if those things became enduring that it would be a problem for me, or if the weather conditions made it unsafe, or if I was no longer able to find any joy in what I was doing or lost the wonder at where I was. If there was an overriding motivation for the trip, it was a simple one. I love riding my bike. I love riding familiar routes, and I love riding in new places. I think it’s the best way to travel and to see the world. It’s slow enough to take things in, but fast enough to get somewhere. Another motivating factor I’ve already mentioned – I wanted to visit my brother. And there was something else. There was a desire to expand my comfort zone. While we all seek comfort in our lives, it’s easy for comfort to become a habit and we stop searching out new experiences, we stop learning things about ourselves and about the world.

Ireland by bike 

Initially, this whole trip was planned as a solo venture. But, when describing the route outline to my mum, she mentioned that she had always wanted to cycle along the Moselle River to Rob’s (my brother). In a matter of minutes, it was decided – she would join me on her electric bike for the first 750km. And so it was, that on the 17^{th of} September both me and my mum cycled off the boat in Rotterdam.

Mum in Rotterdam!