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nl - September 2011

BicycleTraveler
International Magazine on Bicycle Touring

Extrawheel

Crossing borders

September 2011
Tibet photo
story
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Small town America

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Contents

BicycleTraveler
Stories
06

Riding High In The Dolomites

09

The Hungry Cyclist

20

Crossing Borders & Magic Letters

25

Small Town America

By Zoa and Fin


By Helen Lloyd

By Peter Gostelow
By Friedel Grant

Photography
10

Photo Story - Tibet

30

Images From The Road - Kyrgyzstan & Scotland

34

Parting Shot - Peru

By Nathalie Pellegrinelli

By Dennis Koomen & Paul Jeurissen


By Daisuke Nakanishi

Equipment
16

Trip Gear

18

Test Extrawheel

By Grace Johnson
By Tom Allen

Interview
26

Eric Attwell - Cycling Africa In The 1930s


By Claude Marthaler

Column
33

God Bless The Sinners


By Loretta Henderson

Cover photo: Rick Galezowski www.backintheworld.com


Photo left: Nathalie Pellegrinelli

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From the editor

icycle Traveler magazine is my attempt at bringing some of the best bicycle touring
photography and stories together in a magazine format. I hope you enjoy reading it as
much as I enjoyed putting it together.
A big thanks goes out to all of the contributors who gave permission to reprint their
stories and pictures. You can visit their websites by clicking on the url in their article bios.

Contact
info@bicycletraveler.nl
Copyright
Bicycle Traveler is copyright Grace Johnson
All material has been used with permission
and is copyright original sources.
Disclaimer
The articles published reflect the opinions
of their respective authors and are not
necessarily those of the editor.

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Contributors
Rick & Maggie Back in the World
Zoa & Fin Cycling Gypsies
Helen Lloyd Helens Take on
Nathalie Pellegrinelli Nathalie flickr
Tom Allen Toms Bike Trip
Peter Gostelow Big Africa Cycle
Friedel & Andrew Travelling Two
Claude Marthaler Yaksite
Dennis & Marijcke Toko op Fietsvakantie
Paul Jeurissen Paul Jeurissen
Loretta Henderson Skalatitude
Daisuke Nakanishi Daisuke Bike

Photos Paul Jeurissen

Grace Johnson

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Riding high in the

Dolomites

The Cycling Gypsies pedal over Italys Passo Giau


with the help of their dogs Paco and Jack.
Story & Photos: Zoa & Fin

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e pedaled higher and deeper


into the mountains until the
sweat trickling down our faces
gave off an icy chill. Beside our
bikes our two furry companions were trotting
at full attention. Noses were twitching, tails
were raised proudly, and their eyes were
darting from side to side looking for the first
glimpse of movement. Something juicy was
lurking within the steep banks of pine forest
either side of us.
It was May in the majestic peaks of the Italian Dolomites and a fresh one metre dump
of snow was made all the more beautiful by
a string of sunny days that had turned the
sky into a deep blue canvas. It was cycling
heaven, or at least our version of it. A tranquil
mountain back-road, abundant nature and
With a blur and a crackling of branches a family of deer were nimbly navigating through trunk and snow. Our wannabe
hunting dog Paco let out a yelp and a trot
burst into a sprint. Fortunately he was attached to the side of my overloaded bike
via a harness and lead, and his exuberance
was helping to propel me up the mountain.
As we climbed higher the snow thickened
and the trees thinned. The road grades turned
from unrelenting, to punishing, to downright
masochistic. Breath-taking? Ill give you
breath-taking, the mountains sniggered.
During our time cycling through Italy,
Jack, our fluffy Husky/Retriever/Collie/

Grizzly Bear cross, had attained something of minor celebrity status. Narrow
cobblestoned streets would often become
congested with bottlenecks of admirers
with the cries of Ciao bello! Ciao bello!

Above: A dog and his trailer


Opposite page: Cycling up Passo Giau
Below: Bicycle services along the Drau River

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Below: The fully loaded touring bike


Bottom: View of the Dolomite Mountains

So it was no surprise that as we neared


the top of the pass we heard someone whistling by the side of the road. Only this time
there were no Italians in sight, just a lone
marmot standing up on its hind legs letting
his friends know that the circus had come to
town. Our dogs had become used to boring
old cows and had learned to tolerate sheep,
but marmots!? This was too much
Pacos desperate sprint resumed while
Jack quickened to a hurried lumber.
With the help of the marmots

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we made it to the top of the 29 hairpin turns


exhausted, exhilarated and ready for a catnap. But it was time for the dogs to put up
their paws and enjoy the wind in their fur. It
was time for gravity to do its thing.
Whooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!! The north face
of the mountain was simply awe inspiring.
As I flashed by a group of cross country skiers packing up their car I honked my rubber
ducky style horn and waved. Before I knew it
I was already past them bending around the
next hairpin turn.
We stopped half way down the mountain to let our brakes cool down, when a car
pulled over to the side of the road. It was the
skiers wondering if wed like to join them for
lunch. Hmmm a home cooked Italian feast
with wine and fresh pasta? Let me think for
a minute BT
You can read more stories from Zoa and Fins
travels and check out their childrens picture
book series The Dog Detectives at:
http://cyclinggypsies.wordpress.com

The

Hungry cyclist
By Helen Lloyd

earing the small town of Khorixas (South Africa) after


an increasingly hot long day on the road, I smell food.
Really good food. Meat. A barbeque. There are two bakkies
parked by the roadside. Smoke is rising from behind. I slow
down. A white face peers out from behind one truck and
waves hello. I wave back. Cycle over.
That smells really good, I say. Already salivating. This introduction is the slightly
subtler version of the uninvited guest. What more can be said but, Would you
like to join us for some kebabs? And what more can I say but, Yes please, already licking my lips in anticipation.
Hungry cyclists are the scourge of the roadside picnickers. Not baboons or hyenas. Sorry guys. Two kebabs, a rack of ribs and a drink later, I hit the road again,
fully satiated. The kind guys from Grootfontein pack up too and continue their
return journey from a fishing trip on the Skeleton Coast. I suspect they stopped
again further down the road and restarted the bbq, without the hungry cyclist. BT

Paul Jeurissen

The beer map of Africa and other trip reports from Helen Lloyds journey England South Africa can be found on: http://helenstakeon.com.

September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 09

Photo Story

Tibet
Photos: Nathalie Pellegrinelli

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Camping on the Aksai Chin Plateau

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Cycling West Tibet


Our route from Lhasa to Kashgar took us
through magnificent places of rare solitude.
Claude and I also experienced intense
fatigue as we crossed several mountain
passes over 5,000 meters. Nathalie

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4
1. Potala palace, Lhasa 2. Ganden Monastery
3. Mani stones 4. Nathalie with herdswoman
5. Nomad family
You can see more of Nathalies photos from her
two year bicycle trip through North Africa and
Asia, plus pictures from her current travels at:
Nathalie Pellegrinelli - flickr.

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Trip Gear

Equipment

A cross-section of equipment for bicycle travelers


3-Pound, 3-Man Tent

At just 3 pounds packed up, Eastons new 3P


tent is very light when you consider that it offers cyclists 43 square feet of floor space. It
will be available in 2012. Price: U.S. $499
http://eastonmountainproducts.com

Purity Water Bottle

The Specialized purist water bottle tastes like


drinking from a glass. Specialized has achieved
this by infusing the bottle with silicon dioxide
which forms a protective barrier that prevents
odors, stains, and mold from attaching to the
inside surface. After the infusion the bottle remains flexible for easier drinking. Price: U.S. $10
www.specializedwaterbottles.com/purist

Leightweight Pocketknife

The newest pocketknife from French knifemaker Baladeo weighs just 22 grams. The
stainless steel knife unfolds to a length of
6,7 inches. Price: U.S. $30
www.baldeo.com

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Expedition Tire

At Eurobike 2011 Schwalbe announced


that the new Marathon Mondial tire is the
successor to the Marathon XR, a touring
tire used by many expedition cyclists. Hopefully the Marathon Mondial will prove just
as durable and puncture resistant as the
Marathon XR. Price: not yet determined
www.schwalbetires.com

Titanium Spork

The Optimus Titanium Spork is for the truly weight


conscious. It combines a spoon and fork into one
single lightweight utensil. The spork weighs 17
grams and is 6.5 long. Price: U.S. $9.95
www.optimusstoves.com

Jacket & Vest

CRAFT introduced at Eurobike the Bike


Featherlight Vest and Jacket. They beat
cool breezes, compress small and are
made from a windproof polyester fabric
that weighs only 37 g/m2.
Price: not yet determined
www.craft.se

September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 17

Equipment

Test Extrawheel Voyager

xtrawheels original Classic model,


with its cargo nets and canoeists
drybags, is no longer in production. Why? Because Extrawheel,
after a lot of prototype-testing and feedback by myself and other intrepid riders,
have hit upon something thats even simpler, lighter and more practical: the Voyager.
The Voyager was launched last year and
Ive been able to put it through its paces in
some of the toughest conditions Ive ridden.
Carrying a pair of big, waterproof panniers,
the Voyager excels when taken off-road,
and mine has now been through a couple
of thousand kilometres of dirt roads, singletracks, jeep trails, river-beds and no-trackat-all cross-country riding.
The improvements over the original Clas-

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Photos Tom Allen

Tom Allen tests the single wheel Voyager out


in an off-road trip through Mongolia.

sic trailer are immediately obvious. The plastic-and-fabric hood has now gone, replaced
by an optional lightweight fender (which I
removed for weight-saving and simplicity).
The amount of metal in the frame has been
halved. Its so simple it seems ridiculous that
nobody thought of it before! The whole thing
fits into a standard bike box along with the
bike itself! Extrawheels claim to have produced the worlds lightest single-wheel trailer seems to be well-founded.
Coupling with the bike is done using the
original sprung-steel fork, which I have found
to be 100% reliable. The bearing surfaces
have been redesigned so that the ball and
socket can each be replaced, rather than
having to replace the whole frame or fork
if the bearing surfaces wore through (as

happened to me in Ethiopia in 2009). From


a durability point-of-view in the long term,
this is a big pluspoint.
The reduced-size frame now features
narrow-gauge steel tubing and retainer tabs
for mounting panniers, instead of the previous net-and-sack arrangement. This means
that packing and quick access is far more
practical, the load is more stable as a result, although the bike can no longer be
jack-knifed to stand up if rear panniers are
used as well. The supplied Crosso Expert
panniers, fully-waterproof and constructed
of durable laminated canvas, are easily big
enough to carry everything I desired to put
on the trailer in Mongolia, that was everything except food, tent and tripod.
As with the Classic, the handling of the
bike benefits greatly off-road from the fact
that front panniers are no longer needed
now you can carry luggage and steer it as
well! I found the greatest stability with about
a 70:30 ratio of weight on the trailer and in
the rear panniers respectively. This balance
was ideal in terms of manoeuvrability and
capacity; the two main factors when heading off the beaten track for long periods
oftime.
Riding singletrack demonstrated the
trailers limits. I found that on particularly
technical sections, where I was still able
to ride the bike itself, the panniers sometimes bounced off obstacles which were
bigger than the panniers ground clearance
allowed for. I encountered similar problems
when the track became really narrow but
these were hiking trails after all. I cant
blame the trailer for my route choices!
If theres anything that could be improved, it would be to add off-road tubing,
in addition to the standard tubes, to allow
the panniers to be mounted a few inches
higher, or even allow for extra rack-top luggage to be strapped on. This would considerably extend the trailers range into moun-

tain-biking territory, and allow the load to be


repositioned lower for more stability when
appropriate. Perhaps this would work well in
a hypothetical 29-er setup (i.e. a bike and
trailer with 29-inch wheels).
The original trailers other plus-points
still apply. Wear and tear on the bike itself
is massively reduced. You get a spare front
wheel also meaning spare spokes, bearings and a rim for the back wheel, of course.
Its compact enough to cause no additional
fuss on public transport. Its affordable in
comparison to the competition, customer

The Voyager excels


when taken off-road
service is excellent, and its an great source
of amusement and interest to everyone you
encounter on theroad!
Its probably not optimal for slimline
road-touring, but I wont hesitate to take
my Extrawheel Voyager with me on off-road
expeditions and to parts of the world where
conditions are likely to be tough. Adventurous bikers: Ditch the front panniers, take
the strain off your back wheel and ride a
bike which makes tough terrain a source of
enjoyment, rather than suffering.
Extrawheel have taken a big risk venturing into the specialist trailer market, which
was previously dominated by BOB, but their
adaptability and ingenuity has paid off in
the form of the Voyager, which is the most
refined off-road-friendly luggage solution
Ive used todate. BT
Tom Allen tests new equipment for manufacturers who support his bike trips with their
products. During 2011 he is working on a book
and film of his extensive travels. Find out more
at www.tomsbiketrip.com For more info, over
the Extrawheel see: www.extrawheel.com
September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 19

&

Checkposts
Magic Letters
Hiromu and Peter Gostelow cross
into the Central African Republic
Story & Photos: peter Gostelow

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Hiromu and

September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 21

o I pretended not to understand the demand for money


and just continued to smile. Here I was at the first check
post in the Central African Republic and what Id read and
been told about the country seemed accurate. I was being
asked to pay 5000CFA ($10) to have my passport details logged in
a tattered notebook. The soldier in military fatigues looked serious
enough. I wanted to comment on how shiny his black boots were,
but my passport in his hands was more of a concern.

Hiromu performed his normal display of


stubbornness for the occasion, pretending
like me that he didnt understand. But it
wasnt working, nor was our explanation that
we had already paid 55,000CFA for the visa
in Yaounde and would not be paying more
to enter the country. I guess most people
paid something, but to concede at the first
hurdle would be setting a bad precedent for
the many check posts that lay ahead.
So I went to retrieve my magic malaria
letter, which states, in brief, that Mr Peter
Gostelow is working voluntarily on behalf
of the Against Malaria Foundation and requests cooperation for an untroubled passage through the country. Included at the
top of this letter I had written, printed and
photocopied several weeks before was a
logo of the AMF, which matched that on my
dust-covered cycling jersey I was wearing in
this airless wooden hut. The soldier read the
letter in detail, looked at me and my jersey
with a raised brow and loosened his grasp
on our passports.
I half-expected he would laugh and throw
the letter back at me, but instead it was our
passports that were returned. The magic
malaria letter signed by Bob Mather had
worked, although I feel it needs touching-up
with a sentence or two to state something to
the effect of: under no circumstances ask Mr
Gostelow for payment at your control post.
I could spend the rest of this article describing something about almost all of the
next 17 check-posts that lay ahead of me to
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Right: Schoolkids in the Congo


Below: Fulani girls from the C.A.R.

the capital Bangui, a distance of 600km. That


makes it a check post roughly every 35km.
At a few problematic check posts I let Hiromu produce his own magic letters. These
consisted of slips of paper where he used
Chinese characters to write down the name
of the officers, then presented the paper
with an explanation that if they kept these
pieces of paper in their shirt pockets they
would be protected from any harm. I found it
difficult to keep a straight face as one soldier
seemed hypnotised by the Chinese characters before carefully slipping the paper into
his breast pocket. Traditional/spiritual beliefs are very strong in this part of Africa. Hiromu has since found better paper to write
on, the colours of which match those of the
Democratic Republic of the Congo flag, the
next country where we anticipate more of
these problem check posts.
Entering the capital Bangui proved the

biggest headache. Just when I thought that


the check posts were becoming easier to
negotiate and the keep-it-cool jocular rapport with the bored soldiers was working my
passport got taken from me and stamped
by the police. But I dont need I stamp I
said, Im not leaving the country yet. Well

I half-expected he would
laugh and throw the letter
back at me
apparently I do to enter Bangui, so down it
went in my passport, swiftly followed by a
serious demand for $20. The magic letter
didnt work on this occasion, but fortunately
I already had the passport back in my possession while the call for 10,000CFA was repeated. Hiromu on the other hand didnt. It
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be disappointed. All I hope is that I exit the


other side with bike, body and belongings
mostly intact and a few good stories to tell.
I feel there will be plenty of those, but you
might have to be patient to hear them. BT
Peter Gostelow is bicycling to Capetown in
support of the against Malaria foundation. You
can follow him at: www.thebigafricacycle.com
Below: African bike
Bottom: Missionary post

Paul Jeurissen

took another hour of waiting, explaining and


staying calm before we both had our passports and were free to continue. I think leaving the city might produce similar problems.
Bangui itself looks like its been caught
in a time-warp. The city, which sits on a
bend of the Ubangui river, is my last stop
here in the Central African Republic. Across
that brown murky expanse lies the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Its an exciting and daunting thought the hundreds
of kilometres of rarely travelled tracks that
lie ahead in a country that has occupied my
thoughts for many months. I expect more
problem check-posts, mud, sand, intense
heat, humidity, rain, sweat, bees, flies, mosquitoes, lack of edible food and clean water and scenes of desperate poverty on a
scale greater than anywhere else on this
journey over the next few months. This is
the main course for me. If it isnt hard Ill

America
small town

By Friedel Grant

For your reading pleasure, as we pedal towards Glacier National


Park, here are excerpts from the crime report, as published in the
local Flathead Beacon newspaper.
No, were not making this up:
12:30pm. At a Hungry Horse laundromat,
someone took clothing that was not their own.
1:08pm. Someone thought that several
checks had been stolen from his billfold.
Come to find out, he had actually written the
checks himself.
1:39pm. Several llamas were running amok
near the Flathead County Fairgrounds. Authorities assisted in a hasty round-up.
4:17pm. The Columbia Falls Fire Department responded to a flaming port-a-potty at
the local baseball field.
4:32pm. Someone called to report a fire in
their oven. Responding officers found no
flames but evidence of a bubbling pie.

7:06pm. Someone in Lakeside found an injured bird, possibly a robin. The individual has
made arrangements to care for the creature.
7:51pm. A man was wandering about in a pair
of G-string underpants near the Steel Bridge,
much to the dismay of passers-by. Authorities
were unable to locate said individual.
4:54am. A man was seen hiding in
the bushes near a Columbia Falls residence. Upon further investigation, it was
found that he was the homeowner. BT
Friedel & Andrew Grants extensive website
www.travellingtwo.com contains their bike trip
reports, resources for bicycle travelers and the
e-book Bike Touring Survival Guide.

September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 25

Eric Attwell

Interview

Story & Photo: Claude Marthaler

In the 1930s, Eric and Jack Attwell pedalled


the length of Africa on three-speed roadsters.

hey had no hats, no supplies, and


no experience, and they rode mostly on dirt tracks. Just for the fun
of it, they carried on to London.
About to embark on a similar journey, with
the aid of e-mail and GPS, Claude Marthaler dropped in on Eric Attwell to see if he
had any tips. It was an inspiring experience.
Todays generation of cycle travelers are
equipped with sophisticated machines, nicknamed spaceships by locals. They are often connected to their own world by mobile
phones, e-mail and tarmac. Their journeys
may be contrived by agents to secure sponsorship, headlines, and a place in the record
books. They are recorded on film, video, print
and the web. Where once long-distance cyclists experienced the world, they now record
it. Where once they received, they transmit.
Have we lost something on the way?
With my own long bicycle odyssey round
the world drawing to a close, I went to meet
Eric Attwell, one of the last pioneers, an
85-year-old lively legend among transcontinental cyclists, who had done it all very differently. In Cape Town, I had found a copy of
his book, The road to London, complete with
an endorsement from the internationally renowned playwright Athol Fugard describing it
as compulsive reading. Over the next thousand kilometres I too read it compulsively,
racing through its chapters like a sprinter,
barely pausing to breathe. I finally knocked
at the door of its authors small house in
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Claude Marthaler

They call them spaceships

Eric at home in South Africa

Port Elizabeth, a harbour town on the Indian


Ocean shore of South Africa, knowing that
in Africa, old people are regarded as walking
libraries.
Eric Attwell offered me a glass of red wine
and left me alone for a while, enough time
to look through his collection of geographical
books, and classical music recordings. His
fine features were always alert. He prepared
a meal and apologised for the modest supper, knowing the legendary appetite of cyclists. As he signed his book for me I suddenly sensed his deep attachment to his
journey. As he narrated his journey at slow
bicycle pace, the memories he evoked still
seemed to move him as they moved me.

Travel is a kind of delinquency

Africa in the thirties was a continent of colonies. A descendant of the English generation of 1820 settlers in South Africa, Eric
Attwell had to send to London, the imperial
capital, for a bike. A modest man of modest
means, he chose a bicycle: a car or a motorbike was far too expensive and a journey
on foot would have been too long. His family thought he was mad. I have just been
reading your letter and have decided that
when you wrote it you must have been drunk
wrote Sonny, his elder brother. Pushing the
bike up long hills after touring the country in
a comfortable car would be absolute misery,
especially when other cars fly past you covering you with dust. In retrospect, Eric thinks
that they werent mad at all, but extremely
fortunate to have seen Africa as it was then.
Wilfred Thesiger once wrote: Travel is a
kind of delinquency, because it is antisocial,
a rejection of the norms most people live.
There was an element of creative delinquency in the Attwells African odyssey. Eric had
been involved in left-wing politics in Britain,
particularly over the issue of the Spanish
Civil War, and had read the pacifist writings
of Bertrand Russell. He and his brother Jack,
the elder by ten years, worked at a radio and
refrigeration business. This was now closing
down, and at the same time, the threat of
military conscription loomed. Young men still,
they wanted to see the world, not fight in it.
Jack was reading Hammertons Our
Wonderful World, explained Eric, and I had
been gripped by Howard Carters absorbing
account of the discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen. About a year earlier, after an evening at the cinema, we walked on the beachfront. We started to talk of travel in a casual
way, as often before. When we returned to our
car, hours later, there seemed hardly a corner
of the world we were not determined to visit.
They knocked at the door of three bike
companies dealers in Johannesburg:

Hercules, BSA and Royal Enfield. Only


the last one replied. He was sure that the
manufacturer in London would open us his
arms and give us a nice fat cheque, but for
now sold us the black equipped frames at
the standard price, three pounds and six
shillings each. He recalls his Brooks leather saddle, his Sturmey-Archer three speed
gear, his Reynolds chain and his John Bull
tyres as if it were yesterday. We collected
our bikes at five p.m. and at midnight we
were on the road. He showed me the oneto-two-million scale map they used A few
red lines indicated the then only existing
roads only four hundred kilometres of
tarmac between Port Elizabeth and Cairo.
Attwell was curious but not at all envious of
my 24 gear mountain bike. We had no money, simple machines and bad trails, but we
were safe. People everywhere took us home
and we left our fully-equipped bikes in front of
their huts the night long. We didnt even consider robbery What sustained them along
their journey was the only thing you cant
pack: the kindness of strangers. They knew
what the two brothers needed: a hot meal, a
dry bed, and people who made them smile.
Time has revolutionised both cycling and
communication but, Eric believes, the major change has been in peoples behaviour.

A man starts with his feet

They carried minimal equipment and even


less cash 52 Rands at the outset and
one unlikely luxury: Jacks guitar. Our departure was nearly a disaster, Eric remembers.
By the time we limped into Addo national
park, it was nearly five and we were badly
sun burnt, stiff, saddle-sore, hungry, thirsty
and more than a little disillusioned.
Folly, however, brings a kind of freedom.
Eric experienced a moment of truth as he
seemed to float above himself and looked
down with disconcerting awareness at the
fragility, insignificance and plain silliness
September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 27

of the whole enterprise: As we neared the


top of the hill after leaving the Swartkops, I
glanced back at the lights of Port Elizabeth
and suddenly realised for the first time that
I was making a complete break with my former life, leaving friends, family and everything familiar. It was a strange, frightening,
but also exhilarating feeling.
When the Attwell brothers finally arrived
in Johannesburg, they bought waterproof-

facilities upon them and refusing to accept


payment. Their cycles seemed to excite sympathy. Some of our hosts were very poor
people. Many were managers of the Darab
chain of stores, subsisted largely on commission, and could scarcely afford the hospitality they extended do unstintingly. One of the
poorest actually tried to press a few shillings
on us as we were departing. The book ends
with a belated salute to these generous

Nobody could grasp that we were going to London.


Neither, at times, could the cyclists.
capes, pannier bags, tropical helmets, sleeping bags, a tent and a new camera. In Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) they bought a tent.
A picture, taken later in the journey, shows
them with their eventual kit. The tent sits on
a rear rack with two panniers. Jacks guitar is
fixed into the frame.
A man starts with his feet say the Aborigines of Australia. They got to know the
continent from the bottom upwards. Our
white-enamelled helmets and heavily laden
cycles made us very conspicuous, and we
soon became accustomed to people in villages, towns and on the open road stopping
to ask where we hailed from and where we
were heading.
For all the set-piece descriptions of famous
sights such as Victoria Falls, the flamingoes
of the big Kenyan lakes, and Tutankhamens
tomb, it is the human side of the book that
emerges most vividly. Locals further north
had no idea about South Africa. They were
surprised to see two white men riding bikes,
even more when I was looking for a bed. Nobody could grasp that we were going to London. Neither, at times, could the cyclists.
African notions of time and hospitality
infiltrated their journey as villagers became
their hosts, pressing services and repair
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strangers: Without their kindness, given so


spontaneously and so unstintingly, our venture would have been quite impossible.

Diseases and disasters

The roads, such as they were, exacted a


heavy toll on their bikes. We calculated that
in Africa alone we replaced nearly a hundred
spokes. Replacing spokes was a tedious,
time-consuming chore and we usually waited until there were three or four to do on
each wheel. Tyres had to be removed and,
after the spokes were fitted, the tension had
to be adjusted to ensure that the wheels
were properly balanced. Surprisingly we had
relatively few punctures. Our three-speed
gear seemed to provide disappointingly little
aid on the many really gruelling climbs we
encountered. Then there was no alternative
but to dismount and walk, so we wore out a
great deal more shoe-leather than we had
budgeted for.
Tsetse flies were also a problem. They
acquired fly whisks and rode one-handed as
they tried to keep the insects at bay. This almost led to disaster: swatting at a fly, Eric hit
a pothole and careered off the road. His injuries were slight but the bike had a twisted
frame and bent forks, and he rode on with

his toes bumping the front wheel once every revolution. He caught malaria in Malawi
all the same. One night, while Eric was on
his sick bed, Jack (an incurably popular character who never seemed to arrive at a conventional hour was invited to a rather wild
party and rolled into our room at 2 a.m. in
a very merry state. He must have been very
popular at the party because his guitar had
two broken strings, the tips of his playing fingers were quite raw and his voice had almost
gone. Eric himself had barely recovered before they set off again. Every down-stroke of
the pedal was a major effort and my condition was not helped by the blistering heat.
The equator was still over 1,1OO kilometres
away and we could expect every day to be
progressively hotter.
In Uganda, they were pleasantly surprised
by the number of cyclists: One reflection of
the relative prosperity of the people was the
remarkable number of bicycles. Practically
every adult male in the country seemed to
own a bike and the more affluent decorated
them with an absurd variety of gadgets. Frequently we spotted a cyclist with his wife on
the pillion, in all her flowing garments and a
baby perched on her back. But we never saw
a woman cycling alone... Occasionally we
saw cyclists plying for hire bicycle taxis.
Further north they were defeated by Sudans virtually non-existent desert roads and
had to do the thousand kilometre stretch
from Juba to Khartoum by paddle steamer
up the Nile. In almost every Egyptian village
they were harassed by lean, hungry, ferocious dogs, taking out upon them years of
frustration barking at imperturbable camels
and donkeys: The dogs bark but the caravan moves on, runs the ancient saying.
Not that the city streets were much safer.
In Egypt pavements are for cafs, traders,
shoe cleaners in fact for any purpose except walking. As a consequence everybody
walks in the road. The motorist, wanting to

get from point A to point B, starts his car and


automatically begins hooting. As he weaves
a passage between pedestrians, cyclists,
carts, hawkers, dogs and donkeys, he continues to hoot. Special ear-splitting horns
have been imported, and the noise of these,
the cycle bells, the cries of the hawkers, who
obviously had to pass a voice volume test
before they got the job, plus the general jabber of the crowds was something that had to
be experienced to be believed.

Safe European home

The Attwell brothers finally reached Europe


still wearing their incongruous colonial helmets in the teeth of a bitter winter. They
were forced to deposit their last 16 Rands
with Austrian customs, leaving them with
only 45 cents to get them across Austria.
Luckily, in Vienna they met the local head of
Associated Press who helped them out.
They arrived at Londons Victoria station
on Friday 17 December 1937, 22 months
and 6 days after leaving Port Elizabeth. They
had had only two quarrels along the way.
In London the Royal Enfield Company received them coldly and offered them only a
cheque for 40 Rands. The makers of John
Bull tyres bought some pictures off them
for 75 cents each and used one in their advertising. They did two radio broadcasts for
the BBC and two television talks a brief
but enjoyable moment of glory. The 11,000
kilometer journey had cost them 160, including the bikes. BT
Claude Marthaler met Eric in 1999 during his
round the world bike trip. This interview was
first published In Bike Culture Magazine. With
thanks to www.cyclorama.net.
Claude is a regular contributor to Velo Vision
magazine www.velovison.com since its beginning and you can read about his travels at:
www.yaksite.org
September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 29

Image
the

from

Road

Kyrgyzstan

Dennis Koomen
www.toko-op-fietsvakantie.nl

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Photography

September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 31

Image
the

from

Road

Scotland
Paul Jeurissen
www.pauljeurissen.nl

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SEPTEMBER 2011 - www.bicycletraveler.nl

Column

God bless the

sinners
By Loretta Henderson

Oh, Father Pedal, please forgive me

for I have sinned, I am not worthy of the pulpit or spandex for that matter.
It has been 7 days since my last ride in the brooks saddle on this trip.
unnecessary bicycle checkups and double checking
maps on the internet became
prerequisites to getting off
the bicycle for even one day.
Simply being lazy or not riding for one day just because
was not an option for his and
many sin cloaked addicted bicycle tourist souls.
Oh Father Pedal, why does
bicycle touring involve such addiction, withdraw and guilt?Is
it the endorphin high and
withdrawal from 4-7 hours of
daily exercise? Or perhaps our
egos are unaware that there
is other less attention getting
acts in life.Or maybe, it is the inner child
trying to relive our favourite childhood moments of riding a bicycle.Oh Father Pedal,
please forgive me for I have joined the other
sinners.Please help me twelve step my way
back into the saddle, continue this journey
and seek solace amongst other sinners or
bicycle tourists along the way. And Father
Pedal please forgive me because God Bless
The Sinners has become my favorite expression for all acts of joyful blasphemy. BT

Paul Jeurissen

I am here today to confess of my sin of having


taken almost a week off
from bicycle touring. The
guilt provoked by my sin
has consumed my lazy
soul.The guilt wallows in
my soul for I have spend
one day site seeing and
the other six lingering
around consuming Beer
Klang, chilling out with
new friends and aimlessly
lounging around the overly touristy lake area of
Phenom Pehn, Cambodia.
While my sinful liver
and pedaling legs chilled
out in Phenom Phen, I met some fellow sinners or bicycle tourists who have come from
Britain overland by bicycle. Their sin deeply
masked by a tale of unwarranted guilt for
having taken the train with bicycle through
the center of China due to a short visa.They
explained that they had cheated on their
bicycle tour from Britain through Asia into
OZ and New Zealand, unfaithful, adulterous bicycle tourists, rat bastards of the
worst pedaling kind, I jokingly assured them.
Another sinner or bicycle tourist I met admitted to having to make up excuses in order to take one day off from his bicycle tour
through Africa. For instance excuses such as,

Loretta seeks redemption as she pedals around


the world. Follow her solo female cycling
adventures at: www.skalatitude.com
September 2011 - www.BicycleTraveler.nl 33

Parting shot

Daisuke Nakanishi www.daisukebike.be

BicycleTraveler
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