"Why are you alone?" Asked the Turkish policeman as he pulled me over to the side of the road. We were 1500m up in the remote Anatolian mountains and this was not exactly what I had expected to greet me at the top of the steep climb, but I dutifully parked my bike and did my best to explain myself.
"I am cycling to England," I replied to the puzzled officer.
A woman cycling alone attracts quite a lot of attention anywhere, and this police officer (who, for the record, let me go after an hour) was not the first, or the last, to enquire as to what I was doing without a companion, in December, heading north into the wind.
It was day one of my solo cycling tour (/bikepacking trip, to use the more modern term) and to be honest, I was already asking myself the same question. Why had I quit my job, sold all my belongings and decided to pedal from south-eastern Turkey to England? My legs were already exhausted and I was only 90km down, perhaps I had made an awful mistake.
The idea started about a year ago. I was living in Brussels, with a job I loved, surrounded by great colleagues and friends; nonetheless, I was growing restless. I was itching for something different, a new adventure. After some deliberation, I settled on a cycle tour.
While I have worked in cycling policy for several years, I am no seasoned cycle tourer. However, after watching a few YouTube videos I was sold, how hard could it be? I bought a bike, booked a flight, handed in my notice, sold my belongings and headed off.
Okay, so that’s the abridged version, but you get the picture.
Two months into the trip, having faced everything from snow to scorching sun, rock falls to floods, broken chains to bent handlebars, alongside multiple cuts and bruises, it is proving to be the adventure of a lifetime. Every day has been a learning curve.
Transportation and the fear of dogs
The first thing I learned is that transporting a two-wheeler by aeroplane is no mean feat, when you don’t want to be left with an expensive and heavy bike box/bag to deal with. The process requires fully deconstructing the bike, wrapping it in as much protective padding as possible, placing it in an easily recyclable cardboard box, and hoping that it comes out the other side in one piece. On arrival, you are faced with the tough task of putting it all back together, and identifying the (inevitable) breakages which have occurred during the flight; baggage handlers are not renowned for their care and consideration.
This time I was lucky, and the only major issue was a bent front wheel, and I managed to teeter precariously down the busy highway into Antalya to find a kind mechanic who could true the wheel.
When flying with a bicycle, in a flimsy cardboard box, damage is inescapable. My biggest piece of advice to anybody - like me, with little mechanical know how - attempting this is to time your arrival during working hours to ensure quick access to a bike shop.
Fighting off dogs has become a constant, terrifying and draining daily occurrence. In Turkey, and many parts of Greece, I found myself chased by canine companions more times than I can count. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you can see them lumbering down the road towards you, others jump out from nowhere, and if you are particularly unfortunate, huge packs surround you, barking and bearing their sharp teeth.
Popular advice was to wave a stick or throw stones, but it soon became evident that this would not deter my assailants. Instead, the key is to stop, alight from the bike, and shout loudly until the dogs lose interest and saunter off to find a new victim. This has often meant progress is incredibly slow, particularly in remote mountainous regions. Nonetheless, for the most part their bark is worse than their bite; there was only one occasion where a small, but loud, hound latched its mouth onto my foot, before I quickly kicked it off. I put it down to little-man-syndrome.
"Where is your husband?"
I am frequently asked if, as a solo female tourer, I encounter threatening or intimidating behaviour. Honestly, I have only ever been treated only with consideration and respect. In fact I have experienced worse treatment cycling in London and Brussels where I have been heckled, spat at, and even had my bum slapped by men who regard female cyclists as meat on two wheels.
The only exception would be the questions as to the whereabouts of my husband and if my father has sanctioned this trip. When dealing with these comments, I have usually smiled and laughed, eager to avoid or dissipate any animosity. Reflecting back, maybe I should have taken a stand and demanded why it was assumed I would need male support, but in all honesty, alone, in a foreign place, I did not have the courage - perhaps this is something I’ll gather by the end of my journey.
Lessons in human kindness
My biggest lesson from the trip, so far, is the incredible kindness and hospitality total strangers afford to cycle tourers. I have passed through countless incredible landscapes, taken on many tough climbs and swam at beautiful beaches, but it is the people I have met along the way which have had the biggest and most lasting impact.
I have frequently used hospitality applications including Couchsurfing and Warmshowers [see breakout below] to find a bed for the night, and have been humbled by the generosity I have received.
There have also been many wonderful people who have supported me through the multiple mechanical difficulties I have encountered: the lorry driver who picked me up at the side of the highway when my gear cable snapped, the bike mechanic who opened on a Sunday evening to fix my broken chain - after which he invited me to dinner with his family.
Along the way I have met so many pioneering individuals and organisations who are spearheading a cycling revolution in their cities, towns and villages. Spending time with groups such as the Izmir Bicycle Association, Istanbul’s Zincir Kieran Kadinlar (literally translated as Chain Breaking Women), and LuleBurgaz’s Bicycle Academy, it has been incredibly inspiring to see, first hand, this push for better, safer and more accessible cycling, often in the most unassuming places.
Having traversed the Turkish coastline (stunning), crossed Istanbul’s highways (the closest I have come to death’s door), and climbed the side of Olympus (steep), I am now pedalling around the Peloponnese. The weather is warming up, the gloves are off, the shorts are back on, horrendous tan lines are returning, and I am having the time of my life. I would recommend cycle touring to everyone, don’t let anybody tell you solo trips are not for women.
Staying safe while touring alone
Over the last few years, a range of applications and forums have been established to support cycle tourers - and other travellers - to find cheap and free accommodation, with Couchsurfing and Warmshowers perhaps the most infamous sites today. While Couchsurfing is open to all, Warmshowers is reserved for those travelling by bicycle, and has grown over the last decade to now boast over 100,000 users worldwide.
The key element is that no money is exchanged between host and guest, while platform users pay a small subscription fee, at point of contact, hospitality is free. Hosts do not just provide shelter, they are also a source of support and camaraderie for cyclists; after a day of sitting alone on the saddle, you crave a friendly face and interesting conversation, which a dingy motel or cramped tent cannot satiate.
Admittedly, as a woman cycling alone, the process of finding a safe place to stay through an app does not come without trepidation. As a proud feminist, who regularly rebuffs concerns from others about my personal safety, it is almost painful to admit my anxieties around finding trusted accommodation.
Thankfully, the review process implemented on CouchSurfing and Warmshowers provides clarity on which hosts are likely to be trustworthy and those who should be avoided. My biggest piece of advice to any solo woman cyclist here is to read the reviews written by previous female guests - not just the men - as often, the differences between the two are revealing. It is also important to reflect on the vulnerability of hosts; it requires accepting a total stranger into one’s home, trusting that they will treat it with respect.
My kit list
I am not a gear junkie. In fact, I am wearing a pair of my mother’s hand-me-down cycling shorts, which are probably over 20 years old, using panniers I purchased when I was 16, and I have never even touched a Garmin. However, for this trip, I have invested in a few pieces of equipment and technologies which have proved to be indispensable for a winter tour:
- A good sleeping bag- I am using the RAB Neutrino which works down to -7oC, which has been essential for the bitter winter nights.
- A sturdy tent- I am using the MSR Hubba Hubba two man, which allows me to store my belongings inside, thus keeping them safe and dry.
- Solid panniers- I am using a set of rear and front panniers from Ortlieb. They are now 10 years old and remain (almost) as waterproof as the day I purchased them.
- Simple handlebar bag- I opted for an Ortlieb Ultimate handlebar bag, it’s great for easily accessing your phone, wallet and other essentials like Baklava.
- Small multitool- these can be brought very cheaply from a decent outdoor shop and are indispensable for tightening and fixing components along the way.
- Dependable waterproofs- having worn the same disintegrated waterproof jacket for a decade, I invested in a new Patagonia Torentshell. I also purchased a pair of Vaude overshoes- which are also important for the cold, and waterproof gloves.
- A good pair of thermals- I use these everyday when the sun sets and the cold night draws in.
- Hot water bottle- sounds ridiculous, but it is in fact very light and has kept my extremities warm at night.
- Good sunglasses- I wear a pair of children’s glasses, as my head is minute. They are cheap, they withstand the wind, and they are pink with polka dots
Tips for navigation, banking and general support
- Find your 'bikepacking/touring' WhatsApp group - There are many WhatsApp groups for cyclists to support one another and share essential advice, ask around amongst other cycle tourers and somebody is bound to be able to connect you with one.
- Try out Maps.me - This is a free app, which allows for offline navigation, great for saving battery and data. However, it is prone to routing riders on unnecessary detours to avoid large roads, which in reality are perfectly satisfactory for cyclists. Make sure you check out the suggested route rather than blindly following the directions.
- Open a Monzo, Starling or Revolut - I have opened an account with all three, which allows me easy access to savings and free withdrawals, as well as the ability to store money in Euros, which has significantly reduced daily transaction costs.
