Chapter 12: Going Light

This is us, packed up with just the necessities. We appreciated traveling light this trip. We carried very little food, usually just enough for snacks and a lunch.

Riding along the Danube is a leisurely trip. We encountered many other bicyclists but no one seemed to be in too much of a hurry. Unlike in the United States and Canada where cyclists will tell you about their hundred mile days, people riding the Danube seemed to be pretty unconcerned about meeting any kilometer standards for each day. And they carried loads that ranged from nothing or just a couple panniers, to what appeared to be tents that could serve as grand hotels. I was actually amazed at the loads some people were carrying, older cyclists like us. But, then again, the riding was pretty flat and easy.  

As compared to the other self-supported camping cyclists, we were traveling light. Our packing decisions began at home with considerations for flying with our bikes, which fit in a suitcase and weighed forty pounds. We stuffed ten pounds worth of clothes and other items in among the wheels and other nooks and crannies and checked the weight to make sure we weren't over the fifty pound limit. That was our one free checked bag that Aer Lingus allowed.   

We each had a carry-on (overhead) suitcase where we packed our tent, sleeping bags, pads, rear racks, panniers, riding shoes, and whatever else we could squeeze in and stay under the weight limit of 22 pounds. Sometimes they do check. 

Anything left over we put in our personal bags, which were our handlebar packs and rear rack pack. The only thing we couldn't pack were our helmets. The solution? Wear them! But we just strapped them onto our personal bags and we were good.

We didn't bring our front racks or panniers, or our folding chairs. We figured we could do without warm clothes. We left behind our stove and pots and pans. We packed bowls, utensils and mugs. I was thinking we might buy cereal and have that for breakfast. We didn't, and we never used the bowls. Nor the mugs. Was I thinking  that a neighboring camper would offer us a morning cup of tea if we brought our own mugs? 

It all worked out pretty well. We had no trouble navigating through airports and getting on the bus to and from our hotel in Munich. And once our bikes were put together the train travel was much easier with fewer panniers, especially when we had to negotiate staircases.

[The only thing we didn't bring that I wish we had packed was a plastic jar so that we wouldn't have had to carry a glass jam jar for eleven days. The jam dressed up our breakfasts of croissants or rolls.]

I was intrigued by the camping setups other cyclists had and would have liked to have gotten closer to get better pictures, but that seemed a bit intrusive. I tried to be discreet.

This couple had it all - camp chairs, a table, bottle of wine, a tent big enough to spread out in, and can you see that cooking pot next to the orange pannier? 

At one campground we met a lovely French couple. Between my rudimentary French and their rudimentary English we communicated fairly well. I told the husband that I was impressed with the size of their tent and he said that it was good for stretching out and for eating dinner in when it rained. I told him that you can't eat in your tent in the United States because of bears.

Our French neighbors were packed up and ready for their day's ride. Look at how happy she is. Probably because she got a good night's sleep in their luxurious tent. 

Cycling Tips: Where Do You Stay?

I am often asked where we spend our nights when we are out on a bicycle tour.

On one of my first bicycle tours, when I was riding through the Colorado Rockies with another woman,  a bicyclist caught up to us who was carrying no gear, nothing at all but what he was wearing. It was in the middle of the Rockies, no towns nearby and he said he was out for several days, riding alone. But where was he staying, what was he doing for food? "Credit card!" he yelled as he blew past us. I don't think I even had a credit card back then. 

Personally, I prefer free which often makes for a good adventure. Staying with friends, if you have any, is a terrific option. Strangers work, too. On that same Colorado bicycle tour my female cycling companion and I stayed at the home of an old retired miner who we'd met in a bar. More recently, while Rob and I were riding along the coast of Maine, a retired gentleman let us spend the night in the spare bedroom over his garage. 

I've met people who camp along the side of the road but I draw the line there. My minimum requirement is to have water and toilets available.

I recently discovered warmshowers.org, an online network that matches bicycle tourists with people willing to host them. I've already written about the first time we used this service. You can find that story in chapter 4.

When I was traveling solo in 1980 I discovered a way to camp for free when the national park campgrounds were full. I would cycle through the campground looking for a friendly-looking family or couple or group of cyclists and ask to share their campsite. I was never turned down and, even though I offered, they never let me pay my share for the site. One evening I sat around a campfire getting to know a young couple from one of the Scandinavian countries. I received a letter from them after I returned home saying how much they enjoyed the time we shared, that they didn't really have the opportunity to meet other Americans during their trip to this country.

Also on that trip, while in the Canadian Rockies, I stopped at a campground shelter in Banff National Park to get out of the rain and met five other cyclists hanging out, waiting for the rain to stop. It didn't. Two cyclists rolled in after me, making eight of us, and we all had a grand time sharing stories and complaining about the rain that had been going on for days. Rather than set up my tent in the rain I spent the night sleeping on a picnic table in the shelter. For free.

If free isn't an option our next choice is a public campground. National forest campgrounds are generally the cheapest, but they also come with the fewest amenities. You'll probably have water at an outside spigot and toilets but not necessarily the flushing kind. Further along the spectrum in price and amenities are national park and state park campgrounds. State parks have showers and national parks often don't. In California the state park campgrounds have hiker/biker campsites, a larger group campsite for anyone who shows up that night without a car. You don't need a reservation and they cost only $5 per person. 

Then there are private campgrounds. Sometimes they'll give us a reduced rate for a tent site, but often we're stuck paying for water and an electrical hookup. They generally cost more than public camping, sometimes a lot more. $45 to pitch a tent can be a bit excessive. 

The biggest challenge when camping is what to do if it rains. Private campgrounds may have a shelter or a rec hall. In Canada we've found shelters in many of the national parks; in the United States you're on your own, stuck in your tent. Vermont state parks are the best, with some campsites having a lean-to for an extra $7, well worth every penny. 

But even with shelters or lean-tos, when it's raining Rob and I both start thinking about going for the fallback "credit card" option of motels, hotels, and bed and breakfasts. Because we are always traveling on a budget we try to save this for bad weather or when we are sidetracked by a medical emergency. On our trip through Vermont a few years ago Rob broke a tooth and we had to find a dentist. By the time his tooth was repaired it was late in the afternoon and we were far from any campground. But ten miles took us to Montpelier where we found a reasonably priced bed and breakfast and could walk downtown for dinner at a fine restaurant. The dental emergency turned into a very enjoyable evening.

Sometimes we'll stay at a bed and breakfast just because we're tired of sleeping on the ground in our tiny tent. Or maybe we've landed in a town perched on a lake with a restaurant that has outdoor seating along the water. It's late in the afternoon and a swim would be perfect followed by dinner so why don't we see if we can find a room somewhere?

Once we built a short bike trip around staying in bed and breakfasts and country inns. When I was pregnant with our daughter, my mother was already asking us when she could babysit. So when Kylee was nine months old, we took off for a five-day bicycle tour in Vermont. Instead of bringing camping gear we packed our tennis rackets and stopped along the way for an occasional game. We only rode about 40 miles a day that trip so that we could fully savor our luxurious accommodations. 

On that trip we had all our accommodations booked ahead of time. That was unusual for us. Generally, we like to keep our options open, as we never know what any day will bring.

What do you eat on a bicycle tour?

June 11, 2017:

The other night I was hanging out with some other bicyclists. One young guy, wanting to try out bicycle touring, asked what you would eat for a long bicycle ride. Do you get special foods like gels? Do you want food you can digest easily?

Someone said, “I know a guy who made it across the country on McDonald’s fries. You’ve got your salt replacement and complex carbs.”

I said, “I just eat whatever I feel like eating. If Rob and I find a place that serves milk shakes, we’ll get a milk shake. If it slows us down, we’ll ride slow.” 

The last time we stopped for milk shakes was when we were passing through a small town in Vermont. Like many Vermont small towns, this one had a few shops, a church, a town green, all on one main street. We sat outside the local cafe savoring our shakes - chocolate for me, strawberry for Rob - and watching the town's goings- on. Occasionally a car drove by; someone came out of the shop across the street, got into a car, and drove away. It was a quiet town.

I looked sadly at the bottom of my glass, slurping with my straw the last few drops of my shake. I was contentedly bloated, not at all eager to get back on my bike. Rob said exactly what I was thinking. "I could use a nap." I looked next door at a grassy expanse in front of a church. It had a gradual slope, just the right angle. I said, "That looks like the perfect spot." 

After paying our bill we laid our bikes on the grass and got down next to them. And just then a town maintenance truck pulled up in front of us. We watched as a couple guys got out with some street signs and began drilling a hole in the cement. "Maybe they'll be quick," I said. They put in one sign, then moved a short ways up the street to do another. No naps for us.

We really do just eat regular food. And for an especially long trip, we’ll eat substantially more of it. When I was on an eight-week solo bike trip back in my youth, I would think nothing of picking up a pint of ice cream and downing the whole thing in one sitting. I had to. I had no one to share it with.

Then there's free food. You never pass up free food when you're bicycling. On that same trip in Vermont, Rob and I had just finished eating our lunch in a school playground on the outskirts of another small town. As we bicycled into town, we noticed lots of cars parked in front of a bank, like there was some event going on, but it was a Friday. What happens on a weekday in small Vermont towns? We stopped to find out. The local state bank was serving free lunches at a different branch throughout the state on Fridays. Everyone was invited, even itinerant bicyclists. That was the summer Rob and I were trying out a vegan diet. But so what? I certainly wasn't going to pass up free food. Chips, bratwurst, ice cream. Nothing remotely healthy about it, but all delicious. And free.

So here’s what Rob and I have been eating on our recent trips. For breakfast, it’s been oatmeal with raisins or fresh fruit and nuts. On our Maine trip in 2015 we were into steel-cut oats. If you put them in boiling water and let them sit overnight then they only need to be heated in the morning. So we’d boil them and then find a place in one of the bathrooms to leave them in the pot overnight, usually on a shelf with a sign, letting folks know they belong to bicyclists in the campground. We always found them – just as we’d left them - the next morning.

We carry bread and peanut butter and jelly for Rob’s lunch. I’ll eat a peanut butter sandwich plain under duress; with jelly, never. My lunch is cheese and crackers, a salami and cheese sandwich, or peanut butter on graham crackers. Actually, what’s really good, if it isn’t too hot and you can pack some Hershey’s chocolate bars, is a graham cracker with a Hershey bar, and peanut butter. Kind of a do-it-yourself Reese’s peanut butter cup for lunch.

We do eat lots of fruit – fresh and dried – and usually carry some fresh vegetables and nuts and other snack foods. We try to have enough food for the next couple days, but don’t want to carry anything too heavy or anything that won’t keep if the temperature is too hot. We’ll carry a couple lightweight dinner options, like Annie’s mac and cheese or Ramen noodles, but it’s always good if we find a grocery store as we close in on our camping destination so we can pick up something more interesting for dinner.