Alastair Humphreys » Photo Friday

Photo Friday essay: A Canine Ride Through Romania

Al Humphreys — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 08:59:36 +0000

Once upon a time, my husband and I (writes Tara) cycled through Romania.

Along the way, we fell in love with the remoteness of its mountains…

…and the generosity of the kind folk who lived in its small villages.

Perhaps most of all, we adored the stray dogs that roamed the streets in droves.

Many cycle tourists are wary of dogs, but we, perhaps imprudently, couldn’t help but develop a fondness for them. They rarely chased or barked for long; instead, they would sidle up to us for some attention. We happily fed them our leftovers and rubbed their bellies on many occasions.

One day, after a long ride, we stopped by the roadside in search of a place to sleep, just as we had every other night. What happened next was unlike any other evening we spent camped in the woods. Just as we were setting up, two pint-sized border collie pups pranced out of the woods and into our camp, as if out of thin air.

Much to our delight, they quickly made themselves at home with us.

“Where did you come from? Where is your mama!?” we asked them, as we petted their soft, fluffy fur. Even as the words escaped our lips, we knew full well the most likely answers. Their mother might be dead along the roadside, one of the many canine corpses we passed. Or perhaps she was chained up to a barn, barking her brains out, with just three feet of tether in which to live.

Life isn’t easy for a Romanian dog.

As night fell, a bitter cold descended on the Romanian countryside, and we knew we had to do something, or the pups would likely be frozen by morning. So, we brought them into our tent, where they slept like babies, breathing softly between us.

By the time the sun rose the next day, we knew we couldn’t leave them. Though we weren’t equipped to be traveling with animals, we decided to take them with us anyhow. So, that morning, I cooked them mushy pasta while my husband emailed anyone he could think of that might connect us to some Romanian version of the Humane Society.

Without a plan, we fed them a starchy breakfast and packed them each in a backpack, which we wore facing frontwards.

…and then we set off, with precious cargo against our chests.

We wound our way up hills and mountains, stopping often so the doggies could run around and play. The tough climbs were followed by precarious and nerve-wracking descents. With one hand on a brake lever and the other trying to calm a squirmy, panicking pup, we sped down the slopes as semis blasted by us on the shoulder of the road.

In each of the villages we passed, we stopped, looking for a friendly person to adopt them. Every time we were turned away, we felt more desperate, hopeless, and utterly unequipped to care for these two small lives.

And then our phone rang. It was a lady from the Daisy Hope Foundation. She put us in touch with the AULIM, who would send a veterinarian to meet us at the nearest city!

It was a small miracle when the four of us rolled into town, exhausted and sweaty, but safe and sound. We cheered to celebrate our success, and then we waited anxiously for rescue to arrive. Not long after, a blue van showed up—it was the good doctor, and it was time to say goodbye to our little puppies.

With final hugs, we bid them farewell, tearfully happy in the knowledge that they’d be well cared for, but very sad to be letting them go.

Our little border collies were loaded into a dog carrier…

…and driven away, to be vaccinated, neutered, and adopted by a loving family.

It’s been over a year since those pups waltzed in and out of our lives, and the experience remains one of the most memorable of our two year adventure across Europe and Asia. Though we’ve tried numerous times to find out how they are doing, we have yet to hear word.

I like to imagine that the pair are happy and healthy, and that somewhere in the deep recesses of their canine minds, there exists an inexplicable, dream-like memory of the wind in their faces, and of the reassuring hands of two cyclists who loved them.

Photo Friday essay – the contrasting experiences of long distance bike travel

Al Humphreys — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 08:51:39 +0000

One of the things I love about travelling by bike (writes Ryan) is the sheer number of contrasting experiences that are encountered from day-to-day and month-to-month. Here are six different areas that have provided plenty of variety over the 15,000km that we’ve cycled so far:

1. Landscape

A bicycle is possibly the best method of transport to see the changing landscape as you cross the world. Exposed to the sounds and smells, connected to the distance in a way that just isn’t possible from behind a bus window, and yet still fast enough to be able to cross continents. We’ve watched the world morph between flat green European fields, snowy Turkish plains, endless Kazakh steppe, deserts and mountains in Central Asia and lush green paddy fields in Southern China.

2. Religion

Religion is central to life all over the world and the changing influences are unmissable when crossing continents. The dominate religion across the Eurasian landmass changed gradually through varying degrees of Christianity, Islam and Buddhism, with plenty of other beliefs mixed in along the way.

3. Emotion

Life on the road produces extreme highs and lows from everyday situations. A relentless headwind and an expiring Turkmen visa combined to produce one of the worst weeks of the journey, whereas conquering the final winter mountain pass in east Turkey resulted in ear-to-ear grins that lasted all the way down the freezing descent.

4. Bread

Usually the cheapest and easiest way to fill a hungry stomach, bread is the staple of choice for many a long distance cyclist. We’ve enjoyed sampling the bread in every country we’ve cycled in: the baguettes of France, the dark and heavy brot of Germany, the flatbread of Iran and the circular loaves of Uighur bread in Xinjiang. My favourite? Without a doubt the simits of Turkey – shaped like a bagel and best served hot, these delicious treats fuelled 2,000km of cycling across Turkey (washed down with the obligatory cups of tea, of course!).

5. People

Most of our fondest memories are of the people we’ve met. Some cities, otherwise anonymous, are remembered with great fondness simply because we had a fun evening with new friends. The incredible hospitality of the Iranians, cups of tea from friendly truck drivers, the vodka loving Uzbeks, the impenetrable language barrier of the Chinese, crowds of kids wanting their photo taken with the weird foreigner – all memories that will remain long after our saddle sores fade.

6. Bed

The need to find a new cheap or free place to sleep every day conjures up plenty of interesting situations. The appreciation of a bed and shower is in direct proportion to the level of discomfort experienced the night before! Swift and unexpected changes in fortune were one of the best things about cycling through Turkey and Iran in winter – one day we’d be sleeping in a sub-zero tent in a tunnel under the road, with hastily cooked camp stove slurry for dinner. The next, we’d find ourselves with a warm bed, hot shower and delicious meal, surrounded by the friendly faces of the family who had invited us into their home for the night.

Rebecca and Ryan are cycling from England to New Zealand, they left in September 2010. To find out more visit their website.

Guest Photo Story: Riding through France

Al Humphreys — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 11:47:31 +0000

Some gorgeous summer photos today from Jordan Weeks. If this doesn’t make you want to jump on your bike and ride for the horizon then you are a grumpy curmudgeon!

There’s nothing more relaxing than pedalling through the French countryside. It’s stitched together by small, traffic-free winding roads and open fields scattered with poppies, lush green trees and crops.

The French Pyrenees are breathtaking. Their huge green slopes are amongst some of the most picturesque in the world. Riding up their steep switchback roads with a heavily-loaded bike is made a little easier when accompanied by such gorgeous scenery.

After pedalling through the heat of the day, climbing roads that have a 6-10% gradient, and your legs are burning with lactic acid – The sight of Lake Annecy as you crest the summit of a French Alp is simply amazing, and definitely worth the effort.

They must be amongst the most photographed buildings in the world, but given the right lighting and weather conditions, it’s hard to resist pointing your camera at the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.

Have a look at more of Jordan’s photography here.

Guest Photo Post: Cycling to India

Al Humphreys — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 12:11:49 +0000

Andy Welch shares some memories and musings from his ride from England to Asia.

1. After sleeping poorly in a dusty, disused hut on the coastal hillside I was eager to get out of the place. I climbed further up the embankment to better take in the breaktaking views across the Black Sea.

2. A memorable climb up to the pass near Dilijan in Armenia. A few hours earlier I had eaten a huge breakfast with a family who hosted me which included numerous shots of birthday vodka and I was still quite drunk.

3. I turned and shot and caught the word ‘exist’ on the bottom of the girl’s shoe. I wasn’t really shooting anything in particular so it was serendipitous. It seemed to transcend the otherwise strong sense of a visual social order.

4. A man prays at the Golden Temple in Amritsar near the India-Pakistan border. The place had an incredibly calm atmosphere which meant I stayed there for a few days.

5. Whilst pedalling along a quite boring road past endless wedding party venues in the Punjab area of Northern India I was flagged down for an interview for a television station in the capital, Chandigarh.

6. The forts that I visited in India were truly astonishing mainly because of their size and richness of cultural history. The Meharanga fort in Jodhpur was no exception.

7. After chancing upon a sign in the road I decided to investigate and spent the next 24 hours wide awake watching colourful and empassioned rituals accompanied by relentless drumming at a ‘Theyyam’ in South India.

8. I watched these monkeys playing on a telegraph wire for hours beside a temple in Hampi, India.

9. This boy was trying to get me to go into the water for a swim with my camera. He finally gave up but did make it look very appealing because he was having so much fun.

10. After deciding to take an early morning boat trip down the Ganges I was treated to a fascinating display of the religious and washing rituals.

11. I often saw people walking and carrying huge loads on their backs in Nepal which I felt put me to shame with my easy bike luggage and trailer.

12. These children looked like they were going to a Halloween party. They were outside a shop where I bought some supplies in Nepal.

13. Whilst Couchsurfing in Delhi I was invited to a brilliant concert by a band called Mouse on Mars who I had never heard of but created considerable merry chaos in the audience.

14. The steppe stretched ahead in an immense physical landscape. After days in the saddle it seemed more as the terrain of my own unconscious mind. It became a continuous meditation and increasingly the physical space seemed to lose its relevance as the slow movement of the bike brought little discernable reward for physical effort.

Hitchhiking to Malaysia

Al Humphreys — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 11:28:43 +0000

On July 11th 2008, Steve Dew-Jones and Will Jackson set off from their home in Salisbury, England, with only one thing in mind: HITCHHIKING TO MALAYSIA.

This is the story of a journey that spanned the length of EUROPE, the MIDDLE EAST and SOUTHEAST ASIA, abiding by two simple rules:

1. Never pay for transport

2. Never refuse an offer

Leaving families, friends and loved ones behind, their beady eyes staring at the map, they embarked on a discovery of great kindness and warmth in a world where mischief and trouble are always around the corner.

Here is their story, told by Steve at the London Night of Adventure…