Fuelled by a desire to climb mountains and spend time away from the rough and rumble of family and working life, I allowed my imagination soar in search of my next cycling challenge. I settled on nine days away in the Pyrenees mountains.
Over the following month I climbed my local 1.4km, 9% hill over again. 46 times in fact. And, once I’d climbed it 12 times consecutively with my bike loaded with luggage, I knew I could turn a 200m climb into a 2000m mountain-top reality.
But what was less clear was how to practise being a woman solo traveller. This was more a matter for the mind rather than a skill to be acquired. Would I be lonely? In danger? Stranded?
I approached this challenge from two angles; first as a problem to deconstruct; and second as an opportunity to embrace something pure and belonging wholly to me.
Problems and solutions
· Mechanicals – I worked on bike maintenance skills and a friend agreed to be at the end of the phone for anything I couldn’t handle. That was a comfort.
· Loneliness – In preparation I did a few day-long rides alone. I learned that, though my mind would be skittish for the first couple of hours dwelling obsessively on the risks, it would eventually settle into a happy meditative state.
· Danger –Research told me French roads are engineering masterpieces, not the pot-holed chaos of my local roads and French drivers are respectful of cyclists. Life experience told me people are essentially kind and that help springs from unexpected and life-affirming quarters.
· Dining alone – To avoid feeling self-conscious in restaurants I would eat out earlier – a 6.30 pit-stop is more transactional than a 7.30 dinner. Takeaways and supermarkets were also options.
· Fear – I joined an online women’s bikepacking community. Their stories, questions and dreams helped inspire me and normalised the idea women travelling solo.
Opportunities
Being alone gave me the chance to carve my own path and to live the experience without distraction. Stopping for coffee, lingering over a view, choosing a route – all these things would be decided by me and for me. I could choose to plan my day or live by impulse and in changing my mind be answerable to no-one. What an opportunity for self-indulgence it would be; what a treat!
Waving goodbye at the airport, I felt small beside my enormous bike box. It was heavy and unwieldy and I wasn’t even sure how to wrestle it to check-in. But one thing I have learnt about travelling is if you can move forward one step, you can move forward two. The trick is simply to focus on the next step and not to think too far ahead. 12 hours later, with the impromptu help of numerous strangers, I arrived and, in the fading light, rebuilt my bike. What a sense of achievement. Hear me roar!
The following eight days I delighted in the Pyrenees and marvelled at how my mind, body and bike all worked in harmony to provide me with the most wonderful life-affirming experience. I sat at the top of my first col awed by the view; my sweat on the road assuring me I owned my vista. It was tranquil and silent and perfect for experiencing alone. I ate then snoozed in the sun. Why not? I had no-one to answer to.
In contrast, the next day at the top of the climb I met Jim. He was great company and we enjoyed lunch together and a shared satisfaction of a climb well done. We continued cycling a little way together but from that point the ride was a compromise – I didn’t stop to take photos, I didn’t linger over views. We moved to the beat of our collective drum and I lost my own rhythm.
The next day, alone again, I felt reconnected to the world around me. I moved quietly through the landscape alert to my surroundings. A pair of golden eagles swooped in my path and a Griffon Vulture with a 2.5m wingspan put on a show just for me.
So, I urge you to embrace your solo-traveller ambition. It’s not something to fear - it’s just a case of taking one step, then a second, then another. And before you know it, you’re off, alone and flying free.
