Hard to Write

It's almost a year since we set off.  The past year has a dreamlike quality.  I can remember the trip vividly, it's just that it often feels like it happened in another universe.  I'm sorry we've not written since we got back.  I did try.  I wanted to keep the writing up, but I found it so hard.  Its been a difficult 3 months since we arrived back in the UK on 16th November.  We are very lucky to have had a wonderful place to live with my Aunty and Uncle while we found our feet and figured out what the next step holds, but that figuring out has been so tough.  For me in particular.  Tom has had his own struggles, but since flying home our experiences diverged in some ways.  I was leaving the cycle tour behind, whereas Tom was heading towards setting up a business.

It's an idea he had whilst we were on tour and is something we are both excited about, if also a little nervous.  It seems like a pretty big and scary thing to set up a business, but I have utter faith that if anyone can do a good job of it, it's Tom.  He has even managed to get his first piece of consulting work building waste admin systems for a local company.  If you need clever stuff building in Excel for your business Tom is your guy.  I am so proud of him and what he is working towards - it is really awesome and he is constantly amazing to me.  So that is all good.  Scary, yes.  Hard work, yes.  But Tom is a guy who having never been out of the country for more than 2 weeks embarked on a mammoth self-supported cycle tour.  He can do scary and he can definitely do hard work.  And unlike on the cycle tour he has a very definite direction to move in and a real sense of purpose now - which suits him much better than the aimless wandering of the tour.

Having some savings left from the trip and not having to pay rent meant I was free to take some time, not having to rush back into the first job I found.  Tom thought it would be good for me to figure out how to be at home without work.  But this is not a comfortable place for me - I'm not good at being at home, as in the UK, and not working.  I've been travelling a few times before, but on each return I went straight back into work.  This time I intended to take time to write, edit the footage we shot while away, be creative and give myself time to process it all.  Try to figure out why I am utterly happy to be away wandering aimlessly, but as soon as I pass back through UK customs I need a job, I need to fill my time, I can't just be.  Afraid to say that more than 3 months after returning home I still feel uncomfortable and have not worked out the why.  And in fact I have barely been able to bring myself to look at the footage or write.

I was pretty down initially and suffered quite acute reverse culture shock.  I'm sort of getting used to it now, but it's almost like I am reverting.  On the cycle tour things are stripped back to the basics - every day is occupied almost solely with finding food, water, accommodation and toilets (including suitable bushes etc).  Obviously there is all the cycling too, but that in some ways just happens.  You appreciate things in ways that are just impossible to in the comfort of your own home.  Almost every day our lunch was cheese, crackers and half an apple each - and it tasted AMAZING!  On many days the cheese was really sweaty, but that just made all the days that we had un-sweaty cheese really special.  Food always tasted wonderful on the tour.  I think because it was well earned - from the physical exertion of cycling, but also the mental effort of finding shops/restaurants/gas stations.  Now I am home, with a fully equipped kitchen and easy access to the same shops (so I know where everything is and don't have to search for it) not to mention a fridge and a freezer, food just doesn't hit the spot in the same way.  Don't get me wrong we've eaten some delicious meals, meals that totally surpass anything I made whilst we were away in terms of flavour, texture and complexity, but I've not licked my plate clean grinning from ear to ear with the same sense of satisfaction that we got from camp food after a day in the saddle.  Life on the road is hard, it takes effort to do basic things, but there is something wonderful in this simplicity.  Striving to meet your basic needs is somehow ultimately satisfying and fulfilling.  Back home it's not like that.  It's so much more complicated.  And so much less fulfilling.  It's so easy to meet your basic needs, but there's so many other things to worry about and stress over - meaningless, pointless things that fill me with angst and uncertainty.

But things are looking up.  I got a job!  A job I like the look of, with nice people.  And whilst it's true I've not figured out why I feel so compelled to have a job here, the reality is I feel so much better having got one, even though I've not started yet.  It felt like limbo before, but now I feel like I can enjoy the remaining days of leisure I have in a carefree way.  I even feel like I can write.  On top of that we move back to Sheffield on 1st March.  It's been amazing staying with my Aunty and Uncle, but we are definitely looking forward to being in our 'own' house for the first time in over a year and we are so excited about being able to be the hosts, not the hosted.  So many of you showed us the most incredible hospitality, you taught us a lot about how to be better hosts and we are so eager to start paying it forward.

We're not sure what the future holds, but I think the next year at least is looking sort of set.  And as soon as I start work I can start planning holidays!  Totally open to your suggestions for 2 week trips, my current thought is cycling in the Alps or Dolomites this summer, but feel free to shout out other possibilities.  As I said when I think back on the trip it feels distant, I look at the photos or video and think 'my god we cycled there!', but the thing that does not feel distant is you guys.  The people we met, the kindness we experienced, the friendships we made burn brightly for me and do not feel at all diminished by time or distance and that warmth has got me through this cold, dark British winter. Thank you.

The Statistical Analysis of a Cycle Tour

For nearly 9 months we have been cycle touring around the U.S.A, Canada and, to much lesser extent, Mexico.  Today we want to tell you the real reason we have been on this journey; to gather, collate and analyse data of the trip to give you folks an interesting insight in to the numbers.  Whooo!!! (In all honesty we are quite excited about this and we both geeked out over these numbers for a little too long).

From our starting point in California to our final day in Quintana Roo we have been away for 262 days and during that time we have covered 8,709 miles.  This distance was completed in 17 States in the USA, 5 Provinces and 1 Territory of Canada, and 2 states in Mexico (check these out on the map page).  

Pie Chart to Show Distance Cycled Per Country

In terms of analysing the data we we have decided to split the analysis up.  We are calling these 2 sections 'Cycle Touring' and 'Being Away' as since we arrived at our 'destination' of Oshawa things have taken a decidedly un-bikey turn.  We've cycled a total of 135 days; 75 in the United States, 56 in Canada and 4 in Mexico.  As with all exercise one needs to have rest days so as to prevent injury (though Drill Sergeant Soph would often forget to plan in rest days).  Whilst  in the Cycle Touring part of the trip we had a total of 79 days of zero or very little cycling. In the Being Away part we have had 44 days out of a total of 52. Just to put things in perspective.

In the About Us section we talked about doing 2 days of 60 miles and having a rest day (so 1 rest day in 3, covering on average 40 miles per day).  So just looking at the 210 days we spent Cycle Touring we have had more rest days than we thought (we had 1 rest day in 2.7 days), however, we have covered a few more miles that we expected.  The unfeasible regime of 2 on 1 off would have us at 8,400 miles by day 210 whereas as our total was 8,522.  So on average we covered 40.6 miles a day.  Considering the fact we had never done a long cycle tour prior to this we think we had a surprisingly good idea of what a 'good day of cycling' looked like. Incidentally, Sundays, far from being a day of rest, were the day of the week we clocked up the most miles on during the trip.

Bar Chart to Show Number of Times Different Distance Per Day Completed

Having a few more rest days than expected but still covering the distance we expected means we must have done bigger miles when we did ride.  And yep, when you average the days in the saddle we did 65 miles a day.  We can look deeper into these days and get some more insights.  The chart above shows how many times we completed different length rides.  It quite closely resembles the old bell shaped curve of our maths classes, with the apex at 71 - 80 miles.  However it drops off quicker than it rose with markedly less days of over 80 miles than below 71.  The day we covered the most miles was the 30th July (day 154 of the trip, it was a Thursday) and we did 115 miles.  In total we had 5 days where we completed more-than-century rides.  Before we set off Sophie had never done a century ride before and Tom had only done two, both unloaded and fully supported.  Now we have completed 5 on touring bikes weighing around 50 kg each.  We're proud of us.  And whilst the tour absolutely was not about riding far and fast, we think it shows how our confidence & fitness really improved.  All of these greater-than-century rides were clustered around weekends.  With one each being completed on a Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday (Drill Sergeant Sophie says Tuesday and Wednesday are feeling left out and we better plan some big rides in for when we get home!).

Bar Chart to Show Total Distance Cycled Per Month

The month we cycled the most was August, we covered 1711 miles!  Compare that to our first month on the road, March, when we rode 1030 miles.  In August we did an average of 55 miles per day, including rest days.  But if the rest days are removed, then when we did ride we rode an average of about 81 miles a day!  Our total mileage since arriving in Oshawa is 187 miles, so we did more in 3 days of riding in August than we have in the last 52!

Stacked Bar Chart to Show Number of Nights Per Day of The Week We Stayed in Different Types of Accommodation

Some other interesting day of the week stuff is shown above.  First of all we have stayed with a lot of people through the wonderful online network that is WarmShowers; we stayed 64 nights with hosts throughout Canada and the US and it is spread pretty evenly through the week.  Although we stayed slightly more times on Monday and Saturday nights and a little bit less often on Thursdays and Fridays.  The few times we stayed at Hotels/Motels/Hostels it was during the week and never at the end of the week or weekends, mostly this was due to serendipity (e.g. the snazzy hotel in Santa Barbara that some friends hooked us up with) or need (e.g. the hostel at Pigeon Point on our second night out after Tom broke his bike) but on the 2 occasions we splurged on a motel just because we felt we needed it, the fact these days fell midweek and were therefore a little cheaper, sure helped us to go ahead and book in.  The fifth night in this type of accommodation was Sophie's birthday, which was luckily a Monday.  Since being in Mexico we have paid for all accommodation, be it a hotel, an Airbnb or a home-stay; there are WarmShowers hosts in Mexico, but almost none in the Yucatan Peninsula.

Infographic to Show Total Weight Lost Across 30 Weeks of Cycle Touring 

It's hard to know, but we probably burned something like 5000-7000 calories each per day of riding our average 65 miles.  And we lost a bunch of weight.  Sophie lost something like 20lbs or 9kg, Tom lost around 39lbs or nearly 18kg!!  The best infographic for this our Friday Photos.  The photos on the left were taken on the morning we flew, 27th February 2015, the ones on the right were taken in Oshawa on 25th September 2015.

So that's about it from us on our statistics and our tour.  We leave in a few hours to fly back to Manchester.  We don't really know what's going to happen next, but if it turns out to be interesting and fun (and we are both very much hoping that that will be the case) then we will probably write about it.  We're so looking forward to catching up with friends and family back home and to all of you that we met along the way remember our door is always open and we can't wait to repay the hospitality you've shown us.

Plans Are Made For Changing

My motto, or at least one of them, is 'plans are made for changing'. I love making plans; they give you something to work toward, something to aim for, look forward to. But I don't believe in being tied to them. And I don't think this is because I'm a quitter and give up, I just think sometimes, a lot of the time in fact, what you want changes, circumstances change, priorities shift and to stay steadfastly stuck to the original plan is no longer desirable or feasible. Life is too short to waste trudging down a path you no longer wish to follow so change direction, leap off the path into a river, climb a tree, whatever, but come up with a new plan. Even if the plan is to take some time to come up with a new long term plan, it's still a plan and that's good.

When I was 21 I had a flight to Australia, via India, and I intended to spend two years away - a few months in India, then I had my work visa sorted for Australia and I hoped to make it to New Zealand too. I wanted to get my scuba diving qualifications. Since I was a little girl I'd loved the under water world and since my first taste of diving when I was 13 I had wanted to be a scuba diving instructor. Less than four months in while I was in India I got news my Dad's cancer had come back and they didn't know how long he'd have left. Within five days of getting the news I was back in the UK. I never did use my Aussie work visa or learn to scuba dive, but it was whilst I was in India, reading a BBC World Service magazine, that I learnt about the Department of Peace Studies at Bradford University and so I made that my new plan.

I have many precedents for plan changing and was totally comfortable in the knowledge that our plan when we set off in February would almost certainly change. And it did. If you recall, two days in Tom broke his bike and we ended up stuck in Santa Cruz for eight days and utterly, radically changed our route through the US (Aloha Santa Cruz!).  What a brilliant stroke of luck that was and what a wonderful, circuitous, detour-filled way we ended up taking. Tom, who is much more goal-orientated than I am, sometimes sees plan changing as 'quitting' and hence the recent "What Constitutes a Failed Cycle Tour?" questioning and soul-searching. When we first started talking about going home early, and we have been talking about it probably since July, I said that I absolutely, categorically did not want to go home at the start of the British winter. To go home then would be a terrible idea, we would just find some nice place in Central America or Mexico and just hang out their until spring. That was our aim.  Well if I'm honest, my aim. Tom doesn't hate winter at home like I do. He loves getting bundled up in lots of layers of clothes and feeling cozy. I do not, I feel claustrophobic in loads of layers, not cozy. So I persuaded Tom that we could happily spend another 3 or 4 months mooching about Central America.

But the reality is that Tom has already been putting a brave face on it for the last four to five months and forcing another three months is likely to just put him off cycle-touring, possibly travel, for a long time. And it will ruin this trip as we will be left with a sour taste that will taint the rest of our sweet, bright, incredible memories. That can not be allowed to happen. So guess what? We've changed our plans again. We've booked flights home! We leave Cancun on Sunday 15th November and arrive into Manchester on Monday morning where my wonderful Uncle Brian will collect us in his work van (unlike in the US and Canada where everyone had a vehicle big enough to fit us and our bikes and gear, Uncle Bri is the only person we know who has a big enough one in the UK!) and take us back to his and my Aunty Ginia's house where we will be staying for a couple of months whilst we figure out what's next.

But for now we have two weeks to make the most of this little part of Mexico. We won't get to see everything, not even everything the Yucatan Peninsula has to offer, let alone all of Mexico, but it'll be a good last fortnight of cycling and swimming, of seeing ancient ruins and meeting friendly locals, of sunshine and downpours and racing clouds and lush green jungle. To start the final fling off we planned to cycle to the Kaan Luum Lagoon, recommended to us by Paola and Julio, which is about 5 miles south of town and then we'd call in at a cenote on the way back to town. Unfortunately we needed to get cash out this morning and it took us about and hour and half as we had to try 9 different ATMs before we found one that would dispense cash to us. Not the best start to the day, but it made getting to the lagoon all the more worth it. It's a really beautiful spot. A large, crystal clear lagoon nestled within the jungle with a super deep cenote in the middle of it. It's hard to appreciate the cenote when you're in the lagoon, it's just this roped off dark, slightly ominous area just past the jetty, but if you google it there is some great aerial footage of it. Nevertheless it was a lovely spot to while a way a few hours swimming and lounging about on the jetty watching the schools of fish circle our feet. It was a great shout by Paola and Julio and seemed to only be visited by a few locals.

We finally dragged ourselves away so we had time to call in at Cristal Cenote on our way back. Despite the area being strewn with cenotes, fresh water sink holes, this was the first time we'd got out to one. Cristal is a pretty small one and I don't have anything to compare it to, but it was lovely. The water was cool, cooler than the sea or the lagoon, super clear and an incredible jade green colour. There were a few ropes strung across it and a platform, maybe 15 foot up that you could jump off into the beautiful water. We had a lot of fun messing around with the GoPro and pretending we were slacklining pros on the ropes. This evening we are calling in at Paola and Julio's to say goodbye for the last time and tomorrow we are going to Akumal with Meg, a Coloradan who we met through the Spanish School.

So if you'd don't hear from us much for the next couple of weeks its because we are busy wringing the last drops of fun and excitement out of this cycle tour and we'll be sure to fill you in later. And yes, it is totally true that winter is not my favourite season, but this is definitely the right decision and we have so much to look forward to.

Negotiating Changes

Many of you will remember Tom's post Cycle Touring Fatigue where he talked about having a tough time of it; the stress of the uncertainty, the boredom of the routine of the bike tour, the lack of knowledge acquisition and intellectual stimulus. Not to mention his most recent post "What Constitutes a Failed Cycle Tour?" This has been a tough few months for us in many ways with lots of realisations and self-reflection. And we are so grateful for all the messages of support and tales of similar feelings. It's definitely something that tends not to be talked about all that much. Having perused through dozens of blogs and websites of other cycle tourers and travelers the number of times I've come across anyone just saying 'this isn't for me' or 'I'm not having any fun' is extremely rare. Sure there's hardship, people have rough days, weeks, months maybe even, but to admit to not enjoying it overall, to wanting to go home, is rare. The singular example I have come across is an excellent one from Shirine Taylor's blog, AWanderingPhoto.com, in which they flew home early after 2 years on the road. I can totally recommend Shirine's blog, she's a great writer and photographer and an inspiration.

While things have certainly improved in some respects the truth of the matter is that Tom is not a wanderer at heart, at least not a long-term wanderer, and so this trip will not go the full distance so to speak. I, on the other hand, am a wanderer. I can happily amuse myself looking at the flowers by the side of the road, trying (and usually failing) to identify the birds, letting my mind wander as my bike rolls along beneath me. I love it, I don't think it's routine or tedious, I think every day is different, small differences sure, but different. One of the big things we've had to come to terms with in the last few months is that neither Tom or I are right or wrong in our take on the cycle tour. It's just how each of us feels and rather than try to convince the other to come round to our way of thinking we have slowly learned to accept each other's point of view and try to figure out the best way forward for us. This hasn't caused us to fight, but it is a major point of difference so we've been talking a lot about how we both get what we need and how we both get to be happy.

It's really tough. In all honesty I don't want the trip to end, but Tom's happiness is more important than the trip and while it's not more important than my happiness (our individual happinesses are equally important) my happiness is more common and easily found, like blackberries in a British hedgerow. Tom's happiness is rarer and requires some cultivation, so at present we are trying to figure out optimal growing conditions for Tom. The trip was never about proving anything and whilst we intended to be away much longer we always said that if we stopped enjoying it or wanted to change it we would. And I am totally comfortable with this, though it must be said that the blog makes this a little harder. There is a certain level of obligation, felt more keenly by Tom than me, to "not let our readers down". Whatever that means, I'm sure you all have your own stuff going on and would soon get over it!

There is certainly a lot, which for me at least, remains unfinished. At the inception of the trip I didn't really have any great desire to visit or tour Central or South America. Now I feel a definite draw to explore these epic and beautiful countries, preferably by bike. So I very much hope we will be back. And as the tour comes to an end I can't help but reflect on how much has changed since the start, all the sights we've seen and the incredible people we've met, what was left unaccomplished and things that surpassed our most hope-filled dreams. It's been a remarkable journey, something many people have referred to as 'once in a lifetime' but I sincerely hope not. I want a life filled with 'once in a lifetime' experiences that push the boundaries for me, that take me out my comfort zone, that make me see the wonders of the world anew, that make me see how people can shine brighter than the stars and kindness stretch over vast chasms of difference. Life is full of wonder, adventure and joy - we just need to keep looking for it.

And that is what I most desperately fear about going home. It is all too easy to slip back into 'normal life', for the gripes and grinds of the everyday to take up all my days and for me to stop seeing the world for what it is and focus instead on the petty nonsense I find myself tied up with when I'm in normal life. Travel for me is so freeing, so removed from the obligations I place on myself at home, it allows perspective and gives me the time to be grateful for so much. So it is with some apprehension I return, but I am determined to keep the positive impacts of the tour nurtured in the cold, dampness of winter in the UK, to keep the sunshine I've been saving up for eight months shining in my mind and to seek to see the minute differences each day brings and appreciate all I can, wringing every last drop of pleasure, fun and joy out of every day. In this way I hope that at home I can live up to the trail name I was given by Justin and Melissa as much as I can on the road - Rainbow Bright. And with Cake Topper (that's Tom by the way) by my side I think this is just the start of another chapter of a lifetime of adventures. I'm already trying to decide what's next!

What Constitutes a Failed Cycle Tour?

There comes a time in all walks of life when the going gets tough and you feel like you want to throw in the towel. However, you are taught at a young age that when the going gets tough, the tough get going.  In fact there are a plethora of sayings to keep one motivated and they all basically boil down to; don’t give up, don’t be a failure.  But surely there must be a point when enough is enough?  This is a question I am facing on the cycle tour at the moment.  You may remember a previous blog post, Cycle Touring Fatigue, when I told you all that I was having a hard time and had been for a little time.  That was back in July.  It is now knocking on the door of November and, truth be told again, I have never actually gotten over feeling fatigued by the trip.  It’s not physically tiring, although at the present time I am extremely tired pretty much all of the time, it is more just a feeling of dullness.  A heavy fog touching everything, taking the shine away from all the experiences.

Sophie and I have talked a lot about these feelings and we both thought that a change of pace and scenery would do the world of good; a change is as good as a break, they say.  So we have been in Mexico for just over two weeks now.  The first few days we stayed in a hotel and did very little.  We then spent two days cycling down to Tulum and have spent the rest of the time doing the Spanish Immersion course.  New country, new culture, new language.  There has been no change to my mood. I am increasingly finding myself frustrated with the situation.  I do not want to feel this way.  I am in a major holiday destination for the entire planet.  Hundreds of thousands of people choose to spend their holiday time and money here to rest and recuperate and I’m underappreciating it.  So I am deciding if it is time to come home and admit failure.

My first reaction to the conversations with Sophie of heading home were these feelings of failure.  We had spent years saving and planning for the trip of a lifetime and how after only 8 months I’m having to fly home with my tail between my legs.  We set up this blog and told everyone that we were going away for 2 years and now, after just one third we might have to cut and run.  I feel like I’m letting Sophie down, I feel like I’m letting you down and I feel like I’m letting myself down.  You may have noticed that I haven’t written anything for a long time.  A reason for this is I wanted to distances myself from you, I wanted to make it easier for me to be forgotten.  This was foolish.  After looking at articles online I have discovered that by writing, one names feelings and emotions making it easier for your brain to pigeon hole that emotion (brains seem to really like to categorize things).  Another useful part of writing is it helps you remember the good times because you think about them again and write them down (full disclosure, we miss out some really dull bits from the blog!). This action of remembering and writing actually creates a stronger memory to recollect in the future.  So in a roundabout way by trying to distance myself from you I actually made the trip harder because I wasn’t reinforcing my positive memories.

But this feeling of failure is an interesting one.  Sophie and I have cycled 8,500 miles unsupported in 3 countries.  We have cycled further west and north than either us have ever been and we are currently at my most southerly point.  Even with writing this I can’t help but feel that this is a job left undone.  When we return early (again, full disclosure we will not be out for the whole 2 years, we are definitely not going to South America) I know that I will have failed Sophie and myself.  Sophie is a wanderer.  She loves to travel, see new places, meet new people and experience new cultures.  It fuels her, she is an extrovert and is powered by these activities.  I am not.  I’m an introvert.  Although I may seem outgoing, easy going and game for whatever it takes a lot of energy and it tires me out.  And it’s taking its toll.

What I’m trying to say but not very succinctly is that I am not a failure.  I’m not entirely sure that failure truly exists.  We came out here with a plan.  We didn’t complete the plan but we did come out.  We made that step.  I know now that I am not a wanderer.  I like going away, meeting new people and seeing new sights but I can’t do it for long extended periods of time, my batteries get depleted and they need to be recharged at home, where I have great friends and a fantastic family.  Although new cultures are exciting for a short time, I need to head back after a while to a place I understand and know what to expect.  It is horrendously clichéd and it actually literally pains me to say, but in these last 8 months I have found more out about myself than any other years previously.  I’m not saying I found myself (I was never that lost or unaware enough) but I got to know me, which has been great.  So in the next few days we have to make some decisions about what to do next.  But whatever we choose, we'll choose it together, it’ll be the right choice and we’ll have a great time doing it.

Cycle Touring Fatigue

In all honesty, at the moment, I am not having that much fun cycle touring and have not been probably since leaving Lilloet at the start of June. One of the issues is the boredom of the repetitive and uninspiring scenery. There are of course exceptions such as the glaciers down to Stewart or the lakes along the highway and every so often glimpses of rolling, forest covered hills for as far as the eye can see. But also there is the hundreds and hundreds of miles of highway with a 50 foot verge then a wall of trees. Writing this it almost sounds good. Miles of tree lined roads does, kinda, sound rather pleasant but cycling for weeks, with almost exactly the same view is tough, really tough. The trees are not huge, ancient and thought provoking specimens from the birth of Jesus Christ. They are dwarfed by permafrost and are carbon copies of each other all in a row.

The same can be said for the human interactions. They too seem to be frost bitten. As with everything there have been fantastic shows of kindness, such as having a place to stay to get over my illness in Smithers, riding with the Justin and Melissa up the Stewart-Cassiar highway, getting a place to stay while trapped in Fort Nelson and the lift with Erin. But these serve to highlight the poor interactions we have had with other folk rather than mitigate it. People just don't seem to care that we have cycled 5,000 to get to where we are having the conversation. The hospitality we received from the Americans and friends and family in Vancouver has been sorely missed as we got further and further into the wilderness and into environments I had expected kindness to be at it's highest. It's not that people are rude just not really interested and walking into a shop, restaurant or campground we now have the expectation that we are going to get ripped off in some way. It's a bad feeling and one I'm hoping will vanish now we are further south.

Thirdly, and totally manufactured by me, is feeling trapped. For many years I have been fighting the notion of getting "trapped" in a life. I didn't want to own a house because I would be "trapped" in a mortgage and then be "trapped" in a job. I bring this up because actually, at the moment, I feel that I have "trapped" myself on this cycle tour. By having the blog and calling it Detour to Moose Jaw I have to carry on cycling to Moose Jaw and I actually have to carry on for another 20 months since it's the "2 year cycling adventure..." even though, at the moment, that thought isn't something that fills me full of happiness and excitement.

Sophie and I have been trying to figure it out, because this is a problem and it comes down to a few issues. One, I am a task orientated person. I like to work hard on a task, figure it out, finish it off in a nice little bow and move onto the next task and pick up some praise along the way. This is hard to do on a bike. Next, I like to learn new things and then do research to add to what I have learned then put all that into practise and get excited by that new thing. Again, difficult to do while touring and sleeping in a tent or in a stranger's house. Then there is the fact that cycle touring stresses me out. I struggle with the not knowing. The not knowing where we are going to sleep. Not knowing the best place to buy groceries. The not knowing the best thing to see or do around this next corner because we'll only get one shot at it and then we'll have to be on our way to Moose Jaw then Toronto then who knows where. All of these things make the day to day in the saddle a bit of a grind, at the moment. Which, makes me feel really sad because we worked so hard for such a long time for this and it's just not floating my boat. But again this is, for some people, and was once for me, an adventure of a lifetime and it grates on me that I'm getting bored. Surely you shouldn't be bored on a trip like that?

Now, I don't think that it is terminal, but it is worrying, so we are going to mix things up a bit. We are going to have a bit of a holiday in Jasper and Banff before getting to Moose Jaw. Once there we are going to re-address the situation to see what we both want to do. We have options, in fact we have so many different options, we could do pretty much anything we want. And I need to remember that having blues while on a trip like this is relatively normal and, as Sophie points out fairly frequently, that if I had done some reading beforehand I would know that it isn't all plain sailing and endless wonderment but at times it is tough, it is boring and it will test you; but that's part of the adventure right?

Positive Attitude = Positive Experiences

Ok so I'm going to spare you some whining by pretty much glossing over the days of riding between Prince George and Houston. It was 3 days of riding, it rained every day, we camped in Vanderhoof and at a rec site off the highway, our tent was wet (though when we're inside it we were kept dry) and all our riding gear was soggy. We didn't enjoy these days, the rain makes things hard and the scenery was either shrouded or pretty dull. We were particularly downhearted in Vanderhoof, but strangely I woke up at the rec site and despite the rain, difficulties and dampness I felt like it was going to be a good day and felt positive for the first time in 2 days. And I was right. So I'm going to tell you about all the good stuff that happened between Prince George and Houston as its way more interesting than me moaning about bad weather.

The first cool thing was before we even got to Vanderhoof. We met our first round the world cyclists! Patricia and Christian are French and have ridden across Russia, through Japan and down from Alaska. Wow! Awesome! And they're headed through North America then South through Central and South America like us. So we chatted for a bit and exchanged contact details, hopefully we can meet up along the way.

Next while riding on the highway a truck had pulled over coming towards us and the driver got out to talk to us. My initial thought was that he was going to warn us about bears along the way, but he crossed the road and said "I don't suppose you're Tom? And you're Sophie?" Turns out he's, Mike, a friend of Randy's (Marilyn & Zolt's son) who'd been told to keep a look out for us. So that was cool.

The third good thing was that the rec site we camped at was 2km off the highway up a rough gravel road and while I struggled to ride up much of it, the next morning I rode all the way down to the highway. This was a positive achievement for me and I was pretty proud of myself.

We'd decided that on leaving the rec site we would stop at Burns Lake, the first town we'd come to, for coffee and a general warm up/dry off. When we arrived at Burns Lake we were told about the National Aboriginal Day celebrations going on in town and invited to come along. There's free food. So positive thing number 4 is we roll down to the park where the event is on, the rain has stopped and we spend an hour and a half or so wandering about, talking to lots of folks, watching some awesome drumming and singing, and eating delicious free food. The atmosphere was really friendly and inclusive and we were made to feel really welcome. We ate traditional salmon and moose, both were seriously yummy, then a moose burger in traditional bannock bread, also very tasty and were given free water and a tshirt. A very worthwhile stop and overall great experience.

I got a puncture, the eleventh of the trip we think, near the top of Six Mile Summit, not so positive, but we then managed to cover 32km in about an hour and a half, which was quick and felt good! We arrive into Houston, the rain is picking up and when we ring our hosts to let them know how we're getting on they offer us a lift up Hungry Hill to their house which we accept. Which was smart as the rain then really started and I think it would have been really dodgy to ride up as we could barely see out the truck windscreen with the wipers full whack so aside from the risk of drowning we'd have been pretty much invisible to the traffic which is not a safe situation at all. Dee and Doug's place was beautiful, we got clean, warm and dry, did laundry to dry our gear, put up our tent in their car port to dry out and got fed a scrumptious dinner. It was perfect and just what we needed. We then slept in the world's comfiest bed. In the morning Dee came down and said it was still raining but was meant to clear up so if we wanted to have a lazy start we could take advantage of the bed for a couple more hours, I was asleep again before you could say "bliss".

The ride to Smithers was uneventful aside from our stop at the bakery in Telkwa. If you pass this place you have to stop. We got a ham and cheese croissant, a bear claw Danish and a cranberry and custard bun. All of them were beautiful but the cranberry and custard bun was mind-blowingly good. They make everything from scratch on site. It's just incredible. See it's all just getting better and better.

We got to Smithers and they had a little fete going on along Main Street with stalls and music and people doing mountain bike tricks off a dirt ramp. We had our loaded bikes with us and spoke to a lot of people. We were trying to figure out where to stay as the campsite turned out to be pretty pricey but lucky for us Bryan and Theresa came over to talk to us and offered us to stay at their place. Fantastic! We thought we'd be camping up there but they had a spare room, with a bed. We wandered around their home slack-jawed - they'd built it themselves, it was super eco friendly, really practically designed to make it as comfy and livable as possible, had a load of land, producing garden and a stunning view of Hudson Bay Mountain. It was like mine and Tom's dream home in many, many ways.

Over a beautiful dinner we talked loads about touring, travelling, the house and a bunch of other stuff and then helped relocate a bevy of chickens from Theresa's brother's place over the road. We'd already asked if we could stay an extra night for a rest day so after scrummy pancakes for breakfast we spent the next day pootling into town where we chatted to a couple of lovely RVers for maybe an hour who'd toured up through the States from Arizona, a similar route to us, and had been up to the Arctic Circle. Tom was feeling pretty tired when we got back and while I cooked dinner he slept. Long story short, Tom woke up the next day feeling crappy so we spent a third night there. While Tom slept Theresa took me on a hike up to Crater Lake, which was wonderful. I felt bad Tom missed out, but it was great to get out on a long walk and see something we'd not see on the bikes.

We were lucky enough that Theresa and Bryan rode out with us the next day to Moricetown. The scenery was lovely and it was great riding with company. We stopped for lunch by the Moricetown Canyon then said our goodbyes and headed on towards Seeley Lake Provincial Park our destination for the night. 

So to sum up, once we started feeling more positive things got better and one good thing after another happened to us (again). Our 'luck' seemingly improved (again), but really what I think happened was we stopped putting moany, negative energy out into the world and started to see all the wonderful stuff around us (again) and it's like a snowball of positivity. Same goes the other way too; if we'd kept being on a downer I think we'd have missed out on all this good stuff and got even more depressed and so forth. The other lesson is, and we've commented on it before, we think the world will always help you with what you need, but not what you want - we wanted a dry place to stay in Vanderhoof, but we didn't need it so we slept in the tent in the rain and though I really didn't want to go up the dirt road to the rec site, I think I did need the confidence boost of riding back down it. However when Tom got sick and we needed a place for him to rest all day, voila! Awesome people to the rescue. So in the immortal words of the Rolling Stones "you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need".

Hill Dread

I have this thing that I have termed 'Hill Dread'. I don't remember exactly when it started, but I remember suffering from it acutely on our first multi-day mini-tour from Sheffield to Devon when I found out about Porlock Hill. For days beforehand I was consumed with a gnawing anxiety about facing this hill and as the final day of our tour approached, the day we would ride up this hill, waves of panic would sweep over me and I would picture all the ways things would go wrong on the hill. Notice the use of the word would, not could. It's totally irrational. My rational, normal self knows this, but it doesn't help. My irrational, fear-filled mind pictures the hill looming ahead and me running out of puff, unable to pedal any longer, but incapable of unclipping my foot from my pedal and toppling sideways, this is when it gets gruesome. Depending on the terrain I have imagined falling into the road and being hit by traffic, smashing my head on rocks or fences by the side of the road, falling off a cliff and/or at the very least falling into a soft hedge but landing in nettles/dog poo/thorns. I am so sure that one of these scenarios will inevitably happen that I will unclip my right foot at the first sign of any steepness on a hill as a precaution so I'm able to put my foot down when I run out of steam.

It's somewhat ironic that being unclipped makes hill climbing less efficient and so increases the likelihood that I will have to stop or get off, but it's a price I'm willing to pay to not stove my head in on a rock or fall in the path of a truck.  I think that cycling up hills in a constant state of fear and anxiety also sadly uses up a load of energy I'd be better off spending on propelling myself up the hill, but alas once the Hill Dread had set in nothing could cure it, I just had to put my head down, grit my teeth and make it to the top.

But here's the thing, at some point over the last couple of months my Hill Dread has abated. I no longer unclip at the first sign of a steep grade, knowing we have to climb a mountain pass no longer fills me with panicky worry for days beforehand and I'm not choosing routes based on avoiding hills. Fitness is definitely part of what's made it better. Whereas at first when climbing all, and I do mean ALL, of my energy went on keeping the bike moving forward and trying to control my terror which meant both hands on handlebars & eyes entirely focussed on the two meters of Tarmac in front of my wheel; I'm now able to look up, I smile at passing cars, I check out the scenery, I can eat sweets out my handlebar bag and blow my nose, and I don't feel like my lungs might spontaneously combust at any moment.

My confidence in my cycling ability has also grown, probably helped along with improved fitness, but also by the realisation that I can do this.  It may be hard work, it may take a long time, but I can keep rotating my pedals and eventually I will make it because, like the biker we met in California said: 'I am so tough!'  I'm semi-kidding, but I'm also kind of serious.  This trip has made me realise I am capable of enduring quite a lot of physical exertion, as long as I don't have to be fast.  I seem to be able to find reserves at the end of a long day, stay positive in the face of a head wind and keep pedalling when we've already been in the saddle for 10 hours and it feels really good to be able to rely on yourself to get you where you need to go. We've come a long way since those first few days of getting beat up by Old La Honda. I don't know how many mountain passes we've conquered, but I'm most proud of getting over my Hill Dread as it feels like we can take on anything now.

Unfortunately the highest pass we've climbed so far was Cedar Mountain (9898ft I think) but there was no elevation or summit sign at the top.  The steepest we climbed was over Teton Pass (10%), but that also was lacking a summit sign.  But hey ho, we know we've done it and that's the main thing!

A Night Off

We were really tired. We both love meeting all the awesome people we're meeting, we love the cycling, the seeing new stuff, we love the camping too, but after 8 weeks on the road we felt really beat and in need of a bit of down time, just the 2 of us and somewhere comfy to sleep so after a couple of hours route planning and researching Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons at Evanston library we checked into the Prairie Inn Motel. It's maybe the second cheapest motel in town, but with good reviews and it sounded quirky.

We parked the bikes inside the giant room and took indulgently long hot showers before heading to the neighbouring diner. After some deliberation we both went for burgers and iced tea which we soon demolished. We asked about pudding and the lovely waitress gave us a run down of the options and her recommendations. We opted for chocolate silk pie and a 'scone'. Now if your British you're picturing a cream tea style affair, but you'd be wrong. This scone is a freshly deep-fried airy doughy creation sprinkled with cinnamon sugar which you then drizzle honey all over.  Our hungers finally satiated we strolled back to our room to watch an episode of The Wire in bed before a long, comfy, blissful night's sleep. We hit the continental breakfast buffet early and got our money's worth before hitting the road refreshed, relaxed & ready to be sociable again.

It's probably obvious to most of you, but the cycle touring really can be exhausting. Its not just the cycling, that gets easier on the whole as we get fitter. It's the other stuff that goes with life on the road. The living out of bags, the constant unpacking and packing. The fact that you think 'oh I'll put this in this bag, that makes sense and means I'll find it easier later' then completely forget 'the sense' you applied in stashing the waterproof socks with the tools and spend effort and time searching through the other seven bags before you check the tool bag, because why would waterproof socks be in there not the wet weather bag or either of the clothes bags? We do not have the packing and bag organisation down to a fine art. Most of the time it looks like a clothes explosion when we unpack and stuffing everything back in the stuff sacks & Ortliebs resembles a fight with an unruly jack-in-the-box.

The meeting new people is hard too. Well actually the meeting part is really easy as Americans are incredibly friendly, inquisitive people. But the constantly retelling our tale; where we started, where we're heading, how long we plan to be away for, where we are from, what we did in our former lives, these things can get tiring, but we tell ourselves that while it may be the eightieth time we've answered these questions, it's the first time these people have asked and in return for all the hospitality, encouragement, kindness and generosity the least we can do is be as sincere and engaging as we can. To tell our stories from the road as entertainingly as possible and to listen intently to what they have to say. It does seem however that in the end all this can be pretty exhausting, so every now and then a lazy night in a motel, with only each other for company not only gives us a chance to spend time alone together, but to recharge our ability to cope with what the road throws at us, to embrace new encounters with enthusiasm and excitement and to better wrestle the unwieldy luggage back into its waterproof straight jacket.

Failed Attempts and Car Journeys

There are a couple of aspects to the United States that completely blind sided Sophie and me when we started this journey.  We knew, for example, that the the country is massive and that some of the states themselves were much bigger than England and some bigger than the whole UK.  What we never understood was the elevation of the towns and mountains.  It is just not something that was important to us in our home city of Sheffield or any of our trips.  I'll give you an example, I thought there were only two main mountain ranges in the continental US: The Rockies and Appalachians.  Sophie might have said more and if you pushed me then I might have thought about the Sierra Nevada.  So when we left San Francisco and headed towards the heavens it might have occurred to me that I was wrong and that we should really be taking elevation into account.  But as the days and weeks went on we got strong, fitter, faster and elevation didn't seem to matter.  Funny thing about elevation that I did know but never related it to our situation is that it is colder higher up, oh and the air is thinner.

The rest day with Arthur and Andrea in Boulder Utah was fantastic but I get restless and wanted to look at heading out towards Torrey and Capital Reef National Park as soon as possible.  The wind had died down a lot but it was getting colder but we hadn't planned on a rest day so I was getting restless.  During the day we did some research on our days to come and contacted some Warm Showers hosts in Provo to ask if we could stay; they said yes so the clock was ticking.  During the rest day we got to thinking and talking about elevations in Utah.  Did you know that the highest paved road in Utah is at 10,715 feet?  Also, did you know that that pass we were expecting to do over to Torrey had a summit at 9,600 feet?  Well neither did we.  I also had no idea what this meant.  So some geography for you; our highest mountain in the UK is Ben Nevis the summit is at 4,409 feet.  The highest peak in the Peak District is Kinder Scout at 2,087 feet.  So then we were pretty high compared to anything in the UK.  But again that didn't mean anything to me, it wasn't like we are starting at sea level and attempting to climb up to 9,600 feet in a day. More chatting and research showed that actually athletes train at high altitudes so that their bodies increase the amount of red blood cells because of the thinness of oxygen at high altitudes.  When they say high, athletes typically train between 6500 and 8,000 feet.  So we are high, but it's just about getting the mileage done.

So with research done we prepared to get over Boulder Mountain and into Capital Reef National Park.  We checked the weather and Torrey was meant to be at -12C but we are hardy so we set off. We were expecting to climb 20 miles to summit.  There were signs that this might be a bad idea, like the icicles in the stream and the black clouds, but off we went.  We started climbing as soon as we left the driveway. It wasn't steep but it was constant and we started to get a sweat on because we had on lots of layers and our raincoats to protect us from the snow if it should arrive.

After about 5 miles (45 minutes) it started to snow, not heavy but it was there. By this time I was really quite sweaty. Just for the record I was wearing a merino wool base layer, my polyester Venom cycling Jersey, a cotton long sleeve shirt and my waterproof, all of which was wet and cold. So we pressed on up the hill. At mile 10 (2 hours) we stopped at a toilet block and lookout area. The plan was to get warm in the toilets, have a bite to eat and push on to the top. The snow was much heavier now and I was really wet and really cold. The toilets were just pit toilets with no lights, heating or running water so getting warm in there was out. We got talking to some people taking photos of the view, that had now disappeared behind cloud and snow, and they let us sit in their car for 5 minutes to warm up. After warming up slightly we decided to head back into the cold. The snow was getting worse so instead of turning right up the hill we decided to retreat down back to Boulder and beg Arthur and Andrea to let us stay for longer.

Rushing down the hill in the freezing cold with completely inadequate gloves was up there as one of the coldest, most painful experiences of my life until that point. We swore and screamed the 10 miles back to Boulder. When we arrived we put our bikes down and got into the lovely hot house. It was lovely for about 30 seconds until the pain in my fingers started. Warm returning to hands that have been so cold and wet for so long is incredibly painful. It made me dizzy, I needed to rush to the toilet to be sick and there was nothing I could do to stop the pain but lie down and try to be ok. I was not ok, Sophie was ok, she and Arthur looked after me with warm, sugary tea and lay me by the fire with blankets.

After calming down and getting sorted we tried to figure out what to do. Arthur suggested that he drove us over the mountain the day after since he was going that way anyway. We accepted and hunkered down for the day. As an aside, although cotton long sleeve shirts with collars are great in hot weather to keep the sun of your neck and arms while keeping you cool. They suck every ounce of heat out of your body when it is cold and wet. Do not wear them when cycling when it is cold. Arthur and Andrea made us feel really welcome in their home and really helped us out when we were in a bad way, not just once but twice. Thank you!

The day after Arthur drove us over the snow covered mountain to Loa. He drove us further than he needed to go because it was still snowing. We said our goodbyes and headed off towards Sigurd. There was a line where the snow just stopped and we were once again surrounded by the mountains of the high desert. We were back on track to meeting the Warm Showers hosts in Provo. We carried on cycling but the scenery turned more and more wintry, with semi frozen lakes, pockets of deep snow and a head wind. A handy puncture helped to destroy moral completely and we both felt we'd just had too many bad days of riding. Fixing the puncture we carried on wondering where we could pitch a tent with all the snow, and more importantly how were we going to get warm. Enter Dave in his pick up truck. Dave pulled up and asked us where we were going. Sigurd. Dave informed us that Sigurd was just a gypsum plant and that Richfield was much better and if we wanted to we could pitch up at his "Ranchette". Overjoyed, we loaded the bikes in the back of his pickup and headed off to Richfield. There was no snow in sight at Richfield so we were pretty happy about the encounter. Furthermore, Dave said we could stay in his RV instead of camping and he gave us a freshly caught Rainbow Trout. Staying in Dave's trailer was exactly what we needed, we ate our fish, sat in our PJs and watched two episodes of The Wire. Bliss.