Uncategorized – Solo Female Cycling Around The World

Solenn Guillou

“Thanks a lot for your website! It was great to find this community of female cyclists and see their achievements. My cousin Marine told me that it gave her courage to know that other women like her travel on their own in the world. I’m trying to prepare for my next bicycle tour, but my problem is loneliness. I’m not really motivated, because the loneliness was the hardest part during my last tour. Especially at the end of the trip, when I didn’t meet anyone, just barking dogs. The south of France has a lot of guard dogs. Did you get used to the loneliness during your trips? Or is it something that never bothered you?” Solenn Guillon (french and german blog, nice photos)

Follow the facebook and instagram discussions about loneliness while on tour! What a great question, do you ever get lonely?

HAVE YOU READ THE BIG WOW BOOK?

Tread Marks Of Experience….Have You Ever Cycled Through Pooh?

Winnie The Pooh was a mighty fine bear

I will venture a dare and say without a scare

That at times when the toilet paper was rare

Even a pooh bear may have gotten some on his hair

Bring in a tire with tread so thick that gooey excretion

Couldn’t possibly justify the need for bicycle tour completion

We all have goals of which to stay true

But geez’ people even cycling through pooh?

Dogs do there do-do, cow’s patty the fields, how could we not bring shields for feces

While longing for rare spotting of some exotic species

Sewage systems are so lacking, it send me out of India packing

Indonesia is no different for PVC piping is utterly inconsistent

New Zealand cows squat wherever they may, as I pedaled by thinking get out of my way

Experience it all is, for I will not pout, for in the end, it is what bicycle touring is all about

How about you, ever cycled in pooh, I’d love to laugh at you too

Comment you might , no need to have fright

Fill the box, it’s got to better than cycling into the ass end of an ox

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Laughing At Lingams, Top 3 Phallic Tales Of Explosive Exposure

Lingam is defined by the Webster’s dictionary as “a phallic symbol,male in stature, historically referred to as a symbol of reproduction…protruding outward from the male statue”

Lingam as defined by the solo female bicycle tourist glossary of terms as, “oh no, not again, please put that thing away!”

Number 3 Horsing Around In Mongolia

As I make my way through Mongolia in the far north region near the Russian border area, I am way off of the map and heading into the forest to follow a horse road to cross back west to a lake. Bouncing along on the trail, Pandemic is spry and excited about trail riding in the trees. I am pedaling along listening to music. A nomadic man on a horse trots up next to me, I look up and say ……hello in Mongolian. As my eyes focus, I immediate look away and start giggling, did I just see that? I glance back up and sure enough there is masturbating nomad on a horse trotting along as if masturbating on a horse is completely normal behavior. I bust out laughing and in English say man not again, please put that thing away and I pedal off seriously baffled as to wether or not this particular courting technique has ever actually worked for this hard up nomadic horseman in far north Mongolia.

Number 2 Peek-a-Poo Peeing In Western China

As anyone who has driven long distances knows when you have to pee you have to pee. The Taklimakan desert is vast and huge distances pass without facilities. The shock value of a solo bicycle tourist crossing the desert under pedal power has significant voyeuristic consequences. As I pedal by, trucks drivers who have pulled over on the side of the road to pee. The Chinese truck drivers are startled by my presence in the remote uninhabited desert. Surprised by my jaw dropping presence, they all instinctually turn around to look at me and keep peeing. I giggle and look away, oh no not again, not another peek-a-boo penis, please put that thing away.

Number 1 Thai-Thai, Oh My, Is That Your Thigh?

In the mountains of Thailand, I pedal into the national park on my way to the Mekong River. A friendly Thai man in a truck does not think it is safe for me to pedal. He stops and stops again and insists it is extremely dangerous. At the time, I was new to cycle touring and unaware of how common it is for others to think the impossible is very possible on a bicycle just about anywhere.

After a few hours of Ed following, stopping and insisting, I eventually fall for it. We drive his pick-up truck equipped with big loud speakers mounted on the back, he teaches me Thai and I begin to sell corn over a microphone in Thai to all the villages along the way. Laughing, mobile Thai corn sales woman I am for a few hours. He eventually drives us down a side road, and my instincts clear the corn out of my mistaken head. He puts in a music CD and takes out his penis. I go for the door and dive out of the truck that is still moving. He stops the pick-up truck, I jump in the bed of the truck, pick up Pandemic The Magic loaded bicycle over my head, say sorry Pandemic and toss the bike at him. Pandemic bounces off of his head. He drives away injured, embarrassed and confused. I pedal off thinking note to self, going on dates in Thailand is a not a good idea. Also, if mobile Thai corn sale woman is my next big career move there is probably better ways to go about it. However, most of all I am thinking, oh no not again, please put that thing away!

Top 5 Symptoms You Are A Psycho, I Mean A Cycle Tourist

Number 5

Your clothes have gotten so mangy that even stray dogs are frightened of your appearance

Number 4

You are stuck in a vehicle and you want to get out and cycle

Number 3

Walking seems like too big of an effort

Number 2

You decide to use an old map as toilet paper because the last three shops you have been to don’t stock TP, because the locals don’t believe that paper is any better than a hand as a bum wiping utensil

Number 1

You know the words for ‘beer’ and ‘can I sleep here for free’ in half a dozen languages

Cyprus…How To Bicycle Tour Princess Style

As I make my way around N Cyprus, castles abound, the ocean scenery is splendid and the free camping is 5 star. As I was leaving Girne (Kyrenia) after a trekking loop of the eastern tip of the Island, I met up with 3 other bicycle tourists on their way to cycle N Cyprus. I truly enjoy trying new things therefore I was happy to pedal in my first mixed gender foursome for a bicycle tour of Turkish Cyprus.

My low maintenance lifestyle exploded into a high maintenance bicycle touring affair. My usual distances were reduced to 12km-56km a day. Our meals consisted of locating outdoor tables, and leisurely enjoying the best of the small market cuisine. Free camping became a paradise of options when we searched for camping inside buildings or free inside hotels under repair. Our lowest mileage day was 12km when my group decided to keep dry all day and watch the sky for rain. I was a little surprised by the rain day retreat of cyclists who had also crossed Asia into Europe and clearly done some rainy cycling but quickly realized that there are many ways to bicycle tour and enjoyed staying dry with the group.

photo taken by Loretta Henderson

Highlights of a princess style bicycle tour on Cyprus in a group of 4 which contained a French woman who funny enough, I don’t think was that interested in cycling included swimming at Golden Beach and a visit to Salamis the archeological site. At times it was hard to believe that 2 human women could actually be of the same gender and have bicycle touring in common. My high maintenance friend seemed to prefer spending the bicycle touring day sorting out 5 star inside camping and her laundry. This is a wonderful personality type that comes in very handy when turning a bicycle tour into a 5 star princess style bicycle touring affair. The 2 guys and I were more relaxed about how many stars our picnic table needed to have and probably would of preferred spending the time increasing the distances and speed a little. However, I did appreciate the 5 star luxuries all the same.

Here is the route, which loops N Cyprus from Girne, Kyrenia. Small food markets and fresh water are located throughout the route. Inside and outside camping options are plentiful. There’s a lot of info on the internet about bicycle touring routes and trails in Cyprus. Here’s a great resource. Here are some public FB photos taken at the charming Cyprus Dorms and Hotel (the owner loves FB friends) where I stayed at the start and end of the loop.

Special note: I also want to apologize to every man, woman and child who doesn’t like laundry jokes and/or this website.

Cheers and Gears…How To Celebrate The Holidays On The Road

As the musical sound of some unknown voice belts out the verses of the Karan from the nearby mosque, my ears resonate with memories. I am reminded not of the Christmas holidays but of the need for all mosques to update their speakers.

Realizing I am politically incorrect to mention such things, the Karan verses that are so freely sung through circa 1980’s stereo equipment on Muslim streets throughout the world would be beautiful if the acoustics were not similar to the sound of a deaf dog barking underwater.

With that said, there will never be room for Ebenezer Scrooge on Pandemic The Magic Bicycle. And, there are many people who are celebrating the holidays while singing beautiful carols around the world.

As my family sits around an x-mas tree at my sister’s house opening gifts and eating turkey I find myself riding this holiday out solo not eating Turkey but in the country of Turkey (Cyprus) half way around the world. In the spirit of a happy holiday, I refuse to give way to the sad lonesome blues as I open not presents but my many messages on skalatitude.com, Facebook, Twitter and e-mail. My long time friend or rather someone I consider a sister by choice has send me a message, she has some big news to share. She has started a blog just in time for the holidays. My pinterestinglife.com is a hit in only two weeks and rocking off the charts with huge reviews and requests for guest blogging posts. My chosen sister of 20+years, Dawn Cochrane who is as obsessed as Martha Stewart with crafty ideas, has finally decided to share her gifts with a blog.

Her blog has become my on the road holiday choice to receive some well needed holiday cheer. Her gift of household crafts is as obsessive of my love of bicycle travel. Through her creative blog writing and excellent photos, I have smiled and learned about making x-mas gift wrap out of children’s artwork and drooled while reading her Rudolf pancakes recipe. I dearly appreciate such holiday cheer but most of all I love connecting and sharing the x-mas news with all of you. I hope you all enjoy the x-mas craft tips from her blog as much as I have this year. For all bicycle gears will also need some holiday cheer in order to pedal the continent of Africa by this time next year.

Para-Cycling, The Balancing Act Of A Champion

Sheyda’s M. Heydar’s first bicycle was an old red bicycle that he found near his dusty stone home in his desert village, it was 1981 in Afghanistan. Sheyda smiles at the memory of riding his red bicycle to school. As I peer down at Sheyda’s identification card, it reads ‘Iran Cycling Federation of The Islamic Republic’. I am bursting and can barely contain my cheer inside, for meeting a professional cyclist is a huge treat.

Sheyda’s affection for sports began as a young child on the dusty stone streets in his village near Kabul, Afghanistan. As youngsters do, he was taught be his family how to ride a bicycle. Soon the Taliban, a notoriously extreme political group took over the country side. Armed with bombs, guns and violent enforcement, the Taliban terrorized the area with new rules. Women and children were banned from schools. Museums, medical buildings and school texts were burned, banned or banished.

Sheyda could no longer ride his red bicycle to attend school. The streets were exploding in fear and such freedoms were now a frivolous thing of the past. Bomb blasts were a daily affair. Sheyda was given a gun by his neighbor. As a boy child, it was mandatory to replace his red bicycle with a weapon. He was ordered to carry it and protect his family on the bomb laced streets alongside his neighbors. Soon thereafter, Sheyda lost his leg to a Taliban bombing and fled Afghanistan to Iran, his family had been killed.

Today, Sheyda’s around town bicycle is no longer red but is a silver Peugeot mtn. bike equipped with one spd clip pedal. He is a professional para-cyclist sprint racer and most recently competed in the international para-games in Gangzou, China. He is presently training in Shiraz, Iran on the sprint track with the other Iranian professional cyclists. He hopes to beat his sprint record in the upcoming international games. I know this sister cyclist will definitely be bursting with cheer for him on the inside and the out.

Girly Girl Gear For Guys Too

Last week, I received an e-mail, it was a questionnaire that a bicycle touring website gives to women cyclists. They wanted to know how many pairs of panties I am packing in my panniers. I told them that my be the adventure panties were none of their business.

However, if they wanted to know what kind of PANNIERS I was packing I would love to talk about it. So here it is. I love my panniers and if you must know, yes they really do keep my panties safe, completely dry and condensation free in all conditions. And the best part of all? If you buy yours at skalatitude.com it doesn’t cost you anything extra and the small percentage skalatitude.com receives goes towards the purchase of a bicycle ambulance.

Dear Universe please let a truck stop, I think I need help arranging my funeral

My stomach gives up sometime during the night as I am camping during the season’s first frost and I lose track exactly how many times I have hurled. When the sun comes up in the morning, I pack up and decide to pedal into the closest town to look for a pharmacy or a place to die, whichever comes first. With my imminent death so near, immediately after hurling again, I say out loud while standing with magic bicycle on the side of the road. I say to the frosty Middle Eastern near winter air, I say

Dear Universe, please help me find a place to die or a pharmacy

My stomach has finally collapsed and succumbed to the bicycle tourist plight of a million different foods, waters and bacteria’s. After 2 ½ years of continuous bicycle travel my stomach has cart wheeled into one food and water adventure to the next and like the TV show fear factor sometimes it doesn’t always work out. However, this time it is different from all the other times, cycling, walking, laying down, and sitting are no longer possible. About all I can still manage is a glazed eyed, head scarf straightened half smile, a buckled over thumbs up and righteous attempt to not puke on myself in the wind.

Dear Universe, thank you for intervening on my behalf

After 15 minutes intervals of cycling, stomach cramps, walking, puking and curling up on the side of the road, the universe intervenes on my stubborn, wood headed behalf. Pandemic the Magic Bicycle and I are collected by a super concerned man with a truck. About all I can still manage is a thumbs up, a smile and a thank you in Persian, the local language, as I crawl towards the saint, I mean truck. The man lifts Pandemic into the back of the truck because my stomach definitely isn’t about to lift Pandemic The Magic Bicycle loaded on this occasion.

Hospitality in Muslim countries is legendary. My new friend thinks I have a injured leg, probably because I am walking doubled over, I motion it is my stomach. He wants to take me to his home and feed me. With my best travelers gesture I motion that I am sick, and say I need a pharmacy, a medicine store. He drives me to a hospital.

Pro-tip while gesturing sickness in any language always remember to be comically obvious, sound effects are helpful as well

As a tourist in Iran, I am guest of the country and it is very important that I have a good experience while travelling here. Police man, medical directors, hospitals managers, head nurses and anyone who knows 2 words of English are brought to my assistance when I ask about a pharmacy to buy some antacids. Not having any idea what is wrong with my belly I decide I should start with antacids. The hospital rolls Pandemic The Magic Bicycle into a treatment room behind the curtain and I realize I might be there for a while. Are you Anorexic? I mustered a laugh and said no, I am a bicycle tourist, however, anorexia and bicycle touring are remarkably similar in the hunger department. Where’s your Husband? Casper (the ghost), he is on vacation. Are You Alone? I am part of the International Social Club, we are always looking for new members…the questioning begins.

After a day of sonograms, iv bags, blood tests, 8 more pukes and 7 hours of observation for a sun burnt face that isn’t a fever , appendicitis, peptic ulcers, non-existent diarrhea, anorexia and being single, I decide it is time to leave the hospital. For the same reason that I would never take an old car to a mechanic because they will only find something to fix. My old worn out stomach is not improving what so ever so I decide to go into the next big city and self medicate and if it doesn’t improve I will go back to the hospital. I legally discharge myself with a written statement that says…

Dear Universe, thank you for healing my tummy

My treatment in this hospital has been wonderful. I love Iran, I will definitely visit again, blah, blah blah…. That’s where I am now, discharged, feeling better in a guest house, drinking chamomile, peppermint tea, flat 7-up, eating plain pasta, bread and antacids, sleeping and waiting for my belly to settle so I can pedal the rest of the way through Iran before the snow flys in the Middle East.

Oh Shit!

“Oh shit” RUN!!!! I hear my two friends say as we stand midst a joyous crowd of thousands of dancing, singing, honking and smiling people. I am short in a crowd, actually I am short even not in a crowd. However, regardless of my vertically challenged position, I cannot see that the riot police have just pulled a AK-47 on the crowd. As the crowd turns toward me with childlike playful smiles, the seas of running Pakistani men engulf me like a bore tide on a full moon.

Where I come from, it is what you call a stampede. I get separated from my friends and after running 100 feet like the lunatics among me, I find myself beached to a standstill, amongst the crowd, giggling, thinking WTF am I doing? After all, doesn’t every travel advisor on the planet right now warn against non essential travel to Pakistan and issues a strict warning to avoid all public gatherings, especially of the nationalistic kind. But this is so much fun and the crowds of folks are so happy to see foreigners that we are welcomed as guests by drum circles and dancing. It is hard to say it is unsafe and much easier to say it is the best party I have been too in quite some time.

As I look up amongst the shoulders and backs I see a riot policeman high on a horse laughing at me as I stand alone giggling in the mess of happy crazed people. He motions me towards him and from his horse tall view can see my friends and reunites me with my two crowd loving friends, an Ozzie woman who is a English teacher in China and British hitchhiker from Oxford University. Amidst the parting of the rioting sea of lunatics, we were scattered in opposite directions.

We are two wooden barricades, and only ¼ kilometer from the Independence Day Celebration at the Pakistan/India border at Wagagh. However, thousands of people and a general atmosphere of compete joyful insanity quickly ends our scurry to go see whatever is up ahead. For, the journey had clearly replaced the destination, on this Independence Day celebrating Pakistan’s separation from India, for 3 travelers from across the globe.

(all photos in this post are courtesy of Lune Staar, Ozzie woman who is a English teacher in China)