Loretta Henderson – Page 13 – Solo Female Cycling Around The World

Bicycles And Bellies…How Many Kilos Are You Pack´in?

My tanned hand cinches the strap on my otlieb rack pack, my load feels light this morning. The week´s worth of food (470km) I carried over San Francisco pass from Chile to Argentina has been eaten. The 10 liters of water that was attached to the frame has been reduced to 6 liters. The next big food shop is only 50 km away. The morning sun beats hard on my shoulders as I park at the bank machine on the way out of town.

“Did you cycle San Francisco pass I hear”. The confident voice rings with a slight accent of someone who truly understands cycle touring.

“You travel pretty light” The man says as I turn my shoulders and smile at the full size man. His t-shirt stretches over his firm belly. He appears fit. He legs show the signs of a couple of tours. His eyes are kind and curious, he continues

“ My name is Ive, I am from Belgium but I live in New Jersey, I flew here to cycle the pass. I carry 50 kilos of gear. You only have back panniers and a rack pack, how many kilos do you have. That packing is magic!”

“ I don´t know but I only weight 47 kg. Your gear weighs more than me. I weighed myself yesterday at the pharmacy, maybe I should weigh my gear (found out later it´s 22kg) or start eating more icecream. My bike´s name is Pandemic the Magic Bicycle” I say, we both laugh as I stand in his shadow.

“I met Harriet and Neil Pike from the andesbybike.com website on New Years Eve. New Year’s is when everybody talks about weight loss, is it not” I say and I adjust the baggy waist band of my new boys size large shorts, the only ones I could find in town.

At almost 5 foot 2 I have always considered myself huge compared to Asian. I chuckle to myself.

“Harriet and Neil told me they carry 12kg and 14kg each. Their website is a great resource for touring in the Andes They go light so they can climb lots of mountains and access off the beaten track areas. I am looking forward to their next project, a regional hiking and cycling guide of their favorite area in Peru. ” I say, excited to be talking to a fellow cycle tourist.

“Well that is why I am here” The big guy says. The underside of his chin is freshly shaven. My neck strains up. My eyes squint in the sun as I look up at him. My titled faded green visor hardly a sun block for the sun overhead.

“I read about the route on the andesbybike.com website so I came to try the route. You just came from there? How was it?” Ive, the man from Belgium says.

“Paso San Francisco is beautiful, I will show you the photos if you want. My water froze on day 4, the wind went wacko and stopped me after 20km on day 5. I slept at 4725 meters 15500ft on day 6. There is ample water about every 80-120kms (2 days riding). Beautiful scenery, bike trekking at it´s absolute finest” I say as I make plans to meet Ive later to show him my photos.

Cycling Queens of 2013…The Pedal Medals

“I got boobs, I got a bike” may be this year’s slogan for bicycle touring. The booby led bicycle touring revolution has become amply endowed this year with the WOW (Women On Wheels) Wall filling out to include over 100 solo female bicycle tourists. The Wall busted her britches with the sisters of cycling from all over the world coming together in celebration of a growing community. It is a remarkable top heavy resource that has kept my skalatitude@gmail e-mail box overflowing this year with all the free camping, safety and gear questions. Drum roll please………this year’s Pedal Medals go to…

Ballsy Bronze

Cycle touring on one wheel, not at all of classic proportions for a bicycle, unicyclist Anne-Sophie Rodette took on a 6 month dirt and pavement tour of Patagonia. Anne-Marie got in touch with me on twitter to join the community and to say that my completion of cycling the length ofAfrica was inspirational to her. “Tsst”, I said “enough about that, Emma Sweden Meets Africa On A Bike (FB english website swedish) just made it to Cape Town, the book Desert Snow was just released with great reviews, and I just met South African Leana Niemand through the WOW FB fan page, she has been on the road for over 6 years. Brenna Coupland is setting up a mobile bicycle repair project in East Africa. Psst, lets here about your unicycle because it isn´t everyday that I get to meet someone on such an intrepid journey on only one wheel” The bronze medal goes to Anne-Marie for inspiring with her balanced courage to take it slow and offer some great advice for the new year “sure, it’s slower than a bicycle but I’m in no rush in order to better discover, learn and think along my journey.”

Splendidly Silver

At 64 years old, Kathryn Mossbrook Zimmerman is the oldest woman on the WOW wall. and Rachel Hugens, at 63, are top contenders. The youthful Antoinette Morgan who overcame an emergency hysterectomy is also a force to be reckoned with. But Gerdi Geist takes the lead. Geist, the years silver winner, who this year cycled to the Black Sea says it best: “Many years ago, I took a year out of university to travel. I had lived a sheltered life and I wanted to ‘find myself’. Now 35 years later, I live a sheltered life again. I have a husband, a mortgage, an all-consuming job and grown up children. And again, I want to break free. So, I’m going on a bike ride. On my own. I’m middle aged, not very fit, I don’t know much about bike maintenance and I am not particularly resourceful. But I want to experience the thrill of being a nomad again, the thrill of not knowing where I will sleep that night, not knowing who I will meet and the thrill of fending for myself. The thrill of feeling alive.”

Queen_Elizabeth_the_Queen_Mother_portrait

The GOLDen Road

In the last 2 months I have met 3 solo females camping and cycling solo on RT. 40 Argentina. Mati was on a 3 week holiday from Barcelona. Dorothee Fleck was triple loaded on her second bike tour around the world and Kat from Australia on a 6 month tour of South America. Kat had started the tour with her partner but when the relationship dissolved she headed for Ushuaia solo. Kat and I laughed when we both admitted to free camping concerns. “My headlamp is on my wrist when I sleep” Kat says. “My headlamp used to be on my forehead and I have slept with my shoes on so I could run away from the boogie man” I laughed and said in complete comederie. Camping solo is a popular concern, Teacher Alison Davies says “ if I get scared camping, I put my ear plugs in!”

The gold award goes to all WOW (Women On Wheels) who despite occasional gliches completed their first bicycle tour this year. Lori Bell and Heather Jones across America and sums it up“Ladies- We can soar like birds, traveling the world on our bicycle, embracing our independence, and making our lives our own. I’m so proud of all of us! Pedal on!”

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Special note: I just loaded 2 weeks of food on the bicycle.There will be lentils dangling from my handlebars at 4748m/(15,577ft) in the Paso San Franscisco (Chile/Argentina border), the Paso Pircas Negros is unfortunately closed until January. I am not sure about communications but check the right side bar for updates from the cell company through my smart phone. Happy Holidays!
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HAVE YOU JOINED THE COMMUNITY NEWSLETTER?

Mashismo and Cyclismo…Don’t let It Be Dismal!

“Are you alone (solita)?” The aging man´s face wrinkles into the mid morning glare. The scent of fresh daily bread fills the shop. The man raises his hand and begins to wag his index finger in disapproval. Like an itch I can not scratch people here in Chile asking me if I am alone has reached epidemic proportions.

“You know…”, I mumble to myself as I look away and down at my wrist. It is empty of an actual watch but a great focal point to spend the passing seconds in silence and muffle my sarcastic outburst.

“… I prefer my daily lecture after my coffee, what time is it, (que es horar)?” I chuckle to myself as I look up at the man. His wife, who is standing next to him, is now listening and curious. She adjusts her black faux leather shoulder bag. Her tight skinny jeans are tucked neatly into her brown shiny ankle boots.

“I am originally from Canada but I had been living in Alaska… in a town named Machismo” I say for I really cannot help myself. My warm bread bag dangles on my wrist. This will not be my first lecture but it might be his I chuckle to myself. I wonder if knocking people in the head with bags of warm bread is appropriate here? I laugh to myself

“Umm, umm, umm… sorry?..umm….I am riding my bicyce around the world. When I reach La Serena, Chile on the coast it will be the official westerly point of me riding across the world in a western direction”

The wife is now grinnin, a sisterly comederia and energy that quickly melts all language barrier has formed between us.

“How old are you?” She says (in spanish).

“I turned 41 last month, there are lots of women like me on the WOW(Women On Wheels) Wall” I say

The women is standing behind her husbands shoulder. She is grinning over the shoulder of his blue and white stripped polo shirt grinning at me. He is standing there waging his index finger as the scent of girl power permeates the walls of the olfractory rich bread shop.

She steps forward around her husband, and with a gentle nudge positions herself slightly in front of him.

“Congratualations” She says in english as her husband rolls his eyes, I crack a huge smile and instantly realize that this one woman easily makes up for all my chilean lectures about being alone.

“Congratulations to you too, thank you, you have truly just made my day.”

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Photo from Ireland 4 Years Ago when it all began

I made it to the coast yesterday with a face full of tears at La Serena, Chile the official westerly mark of me cycling west across the world. 4 years ago, I had never cycled anywhere. This is my first bicycle tour..who would of thunk it? I will cycle north from here, check the right side bar of this website for daily updates. My aplogies for the lack of posts and photos lately, my laptop giggled to death on the bicycle so I am mostly communicating daily/bi-daily through my smart phone.
(Photo from Ireland 4 Years Ago when it all began)

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How Long Is Too Long For A Bicycle Tour?

The grass is always greener, I reason to myself as I find myself missing family and friends back home. The nephews and nieces, who have learned how to walk, run and dance in my absence. My friend´s new homes I have never visited.

Recently, I realized that although I love bicycle touring´s simplicity of eat, sleep, cycle, wake up and do it again, at times the lifestyle lacks intimate human connection. Time alone is a good thing, I reason with myself but perhaps 4 years solo is just too long. And, I do look forward to the day when I am not just a voyeur, only sharing a quick smile as I cycle by. I have tackled the lonesome blues, more times than I can remember. When I was hit by a bus and miraculously not injured, I realized that we all get only one life. One short great exciting life to do everything we ever wanted to do. By turtle speed on a pedal bike, to cycle a line that rounds the world is what I wanted to do, could I have not chosen a shorter, easier goal. Only ¾ of the way around the world, let me be the first to admit that I am loosing my momentum. My unending curiosity, the fuel that propels my legs to push the pedals has finally started to fade. Could I have not chosen a smaller planet to try to pedal? I have to laugh at my overly zealous self.

But that is exactly the point, is it not? No matter what this crazy world brings us, are we not supposed to laugh as much as possible and cherish our loved ones. This morning on facebook, I got both, when my oldest friends from home sent me these cartoon images. Please enjoy today´s laugh as we all ponder is 4 years too long for a bike tour?

Have You Thrown Your Egg Today?

As I stand on the street corner in Puerto Natales, Chile, my pockets bulging with a roll of duct tape and zip ties, my eyes catch a glipse of a shiny royal blue bus, the big hard metal beast that drove into me at 94 km/hr from behind, a few days ago when I was hit by a bus.

´´Grr, I don´t like you very much´´ I say out loud into the breeze. The dark demonic bus revs it´s well tuned engine as if responding with a snut-nosed snarky reply. The new black tires, weapons of potential mass cyclist destruction roll forward.

´´Fucktard!´´ I mumbled while my eyes squint like a canon about to launch. A glance that could melt the pants off of Lucifer explodes from my eye sockets. I am definitely having anger management issues I think to myself as I find myself stuck in a frenzied, desperate, all encompassing desire to throw eggs at the bus.

Ostrich Egg or Chicken Egg, What Kind of day Are You Having?

Ah good old fashioned eggs… there are fried eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs souffles, egg quiches, egg omelets, ostrich eggs, poached eggs, sunnyside up, sunny side down, deviled eggs…where´s Forest Gump when you need him?…. In fact today I officially declare as ´´Throw A Egg At A Bus Day´´. Have you thrown your egg today?, please let me know how it splatters in the comments section below.

Stupid Bus Company Sur, thanks for the fancy NO to my request for gear replacement, I too am grateful to be alive but my letter was more of a way to document the incident than a financial request, I was hoping it would be a way to remind Bur Sur drivers to be more careful so somebody doesn´t get smashed like an egg. Maybe I have just cracked like an egg, I didn´t even hit my hard boiled head so it can´t be that. I think to myself. I continue walking in a bubble of gratitude, still surprised to not be injured in search of bungee cords and bailing wire. An action that seems ridiculously insignificant after getting hit by a bus but not physically injured.

Thank you to everyone for the well wishes on this blog, facebook and twitter. Please enjoy the new photos from Patagonia.

Hit By A Bus In Patagonia

A friend of mine once told me ´the reason you get to cycle around the world is because you have a team of angels with you but to never forget that even angels wings get tired of flapping sometimes´´ I laughed back then but today I started to believe there is something to that theory because at around 4pm, Oct 8th 2013 I got hit by a bus. I was cycling in a strong head wind 140 km from Puerto Natales, Patagonia, Chile and the bus did not see me. The bus drove at 94 km/hr (I found out the speed later) into my Ortlieb pannier. The pannier exploded and shredded from the impact essentially saving my life. My shoulder rolled forward, the colors on the bus literarily blurred before my eyes. I slammed my left shoulder into the moving bus and then Pandemic The Magic Bicycle and I crashed hard onto the rocky ground. I do not know how or why but I am completely uninjured. I have no road rash, no broken wrists, no head injury, only a bruised shoulder. I got lucky, very very lucky.

Solo Female Cyclist Patagonian Angels (photo taken by Mithun Shaw)

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´´Yes I am fine, but you just hit me with your bus´´ I chuckle with relief to the bus driver. His concerned eyes are staring at me in disbelief that I just stood up smiling, laughing that somehow I am not injured. He watched me lying on the ground and had thought the worst. His blue official vest is tucked into his grey pants. His hand is pointing to the ground to the ´blood´. My belongings are strewn across the road, many of them are shredded, plastic bus parts are everywhere.

The collision broke the plastic molding off the bus, I kept it as a souvenir

´´Where is the blood? ´´ The group of 3 bus officials have gathered from inside the bus ask as I look down at my knees, and take off my jacket to check for blood. One man finds a plastic bag full of ´blood´ amongst my belongings and sorts out it is not blood but a broken jar of raspberry jam.

“We need to fill out a report, we must drive you to the police” the man who is fluent in english and is now translating says. My language skills for speaking spanish have flown away in the andrelin and realization that I got hit by a BUS, a big fast hard bus. The bus driver messed up and drove into me with his big fast hard bus.

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The police gather around me, the bus driver and his friends explain that I and the wind are at fault and I must sign a form, it is their explanation of the events, I am told it is just documentation. I refuse to sign it. Since when is a bus allowed to plow down a cyclists who is cycling down the yellow line on the shoulder.I think to myself.

“Are you hurt? The bus will drive you the 140km into Puerto Natales to try fix your gear, are you hurt” The police say

“No I am not hurt but my pannier and belongings are destroyed, I think I must have angels, I am just glad I am ok but no thank you, I am not signing that explanation. “ I say unaware of the full extent of destruction to my gear amongst the stench of a patronizing crowd who are kind although clearly watching each other´s clever backs.

(my peace love and please don´t hit cyclists note for the bus driver)

“I am very lucky I guess I am just a good bouncer but please tell the driver to try to stay alert because in a few months during high season many cyclists will come to Patagonia to pedal and if there is a next time someone is going to get hurt or killed. Stay alive, give a cyclist 1.5 meters minimum of space. I got lucky, I think I must have angels, tired tiny combat angels that flapped their little wings for me once again while trying to cycle around the world.“

Rambling On and On and On…A Photo Show

As anyone who has met me knows, occasionally I suffer from verbal diarrhea. Babblying my way to babbleon, a favorite pass time of mine. Rambling on and on and on, often, I could frighten a coma patient with my energy level. Sitting still has never been my strength. Sometimes, I (and all those aching ears around me) are lucky enough to encounter scenery so phenomenal that it is best expressed in the silence of a photo.

(70 Km from Ushuaia, Argentina)

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Rehab is For Quitters…Why You Should Winter Cycle Tour in Patagonia

Ah fuckity” I say out loud into the frosty Patagonian air.

My gortex gloved hands grasp the frigid wobbling handlebars. The mighty force of the gale triumphs over my futile attempts to hold the handlebars from wobbling. The winds velocity slams me in the forehead like a hindi dot. My mind wonders to all things warm. Thoughts of spicy Indian dahl and chicken tikka massala pass the time as the Indigo Girls song ‘…Let’s Make Peace Tonight’ blasts into my MP3 player. The brittle plastic headphones are tucked into my warm ears under my fleece head wrap.

Ah fuckity…this wind tunnel must lead to the looney bin!”

I begin talking to myself and dismount from Pandemic The Gale Force Magic Bicycle. My leg which has done more walking then cycling in the last 100km, flings high off the bike into the wind. My keene sandal and neoprene sock covered foot lands on the rocky dirt road somewhere near C. Sombrero, Terra Del Fuego, Patagonia. To test today’s wind speed, I tilt my head back and spit into the now sideways wind, hawking loogies for distance is my new hobby.

She shoots, she SCORES” I shout, my spit ball clears the two lane highway.

My eyes redden and tear from the cold wind. The puddles appear blurry, they are frozen over with ice and loogies. My cycling spirit flourishes as I lean down and continue to walk forward like a junkie looking for a easy fix.

Donde es uno hospitale mentalite? Where is a mental hospital? Ah rehab is for quitters!..I am now losing the other ½ of my mind in 2 languages”

I say to myself as I push for the afternoon in a wind storm fit for the ‘Nationa1 Geographic Edition of Morons Pushing Bicycles in the Worlds Windiest Places’. I call off the quest at 4:30 after 46km, 3- two lane loogies, 1- shoulder penalty loogie and 11- ¾ lane loogies to camp under the road at the first available form of shelter, a culvert.

Where did it all go so wrong? There has always been a fine line between a bicycle tourist and hobboist” I reason, as I unroll my gorgeous helliberg tent. Surprisingly, it fits perfectly inside the dirty culvert.

Who knew?..It IS named the (helliberg) Jannu…ah fuckity…I am a poet and I didn’t even know it. A Kryptonite cockail…now that would help the cycling…This is where a junkie would sleep, I talk to myself too much. Ah, conversations with my self about talking to myself is definitely a side effect from winter cycle touring in Patagonia…rehab is for quitters…” I babble on, laugh and look around at the crack in the ice on the ground.

UPDATE:WOW (Women On Wheels) Wall
I just finished my first solo tour across the United States! I found this blog before setting out and thought of it often during my tour. Ladies- We can soar like birds, traveling the world on our bicycle, embracing our independence, and making our lives our own. I’m so proud of all of us! Pedal on!” Heather Jones