The Evolving Model of Bike Touring

Winter is finally over, although it didn't give up without a fight. Single digits right through March. Near record snow. We will touch 70 for the first time tomorrow (April 12). We were consistently 20˚ below normal for highs and lows all winter.

In any case, warm weather brings thoughts of summer tours. It looks I'll be touring by myself, again. Last year, I thought I was going to follow the old model of going from campground to campground, but it didn't work. I only camped once. Partly because there were few convenient campgrounds, partly because camping by myself isn't much fun, and partly because I could afford to stay in motels with showers and TV. And because motels tend to be near restaurants.

So the new model for touring is motel-centric, with camping secondary. I was going to abandon camping altogether, but one possible trip takes me across the north shore of Lake Erie, where there are more provincial parks than motels.

But no cooking gear, no extra cold gear, minimal extra tarpage, etc. The goal is ease of transport. All my trips will probably involve mass transit in at least one direction. Last summer's awful experience hauling the folding bike and a full set of camp-touring gear convinced me that I should never do it again. Even when I camp, no more cooking, no more Be Prepared For Everything. Small enough, light enough, that walking a few blocks while carrying it all should be possible. (OMG, the nightmare of hauling my gear through the Boston train station last summer. Never again.)

Camping is to be the exception, only if a campground is exactly on the route and desirable. I'll take a tent, pad, and sleeping bag. And flashlight. And that's about it. But mostly, hotels. And reservations ahead of time, so there's no worry about where I'm going to stay. That will allow for longer days, since I can take my time, knowing that I won't get stranded.

Stay tuned. Planning is in progress for a potentially longish (800 mile) trip. Maybe with the new philosophy of touring, I can do it.

UPDATE MAY 24
Still debating. I have a trip planned out: Okemos to Rome, NY, which would continue the cross-country-by-installments endeavor. I'd camp for three nights in Canada (right on Lake Erie), then stay in motels and B&Bs. Seven days of riding, 500 miles or so. I was originally going to go all the way to NYC, but that seems unlikely. As I think about the shorter trip, it's starting to seem unlikely, too. Do I want to do it? Reading last year's trip log, it seemed about 50% worth doing. The first three days were fine, despite the heat. Nice scenery, adequate towns, pleasant roads. The days in the Adirondacks were less nice. Too desolate. Not enough convenience stores.

Isn't that pathetic? Not enough convenience stores? Is that why I do it? For the convenience stores? Partly. Maybe that's not a good enough reason to do it. Just saying.

I have been wrestling with the question of why I bike tour as I decide whether to embark on another one this summer. It's not just for the biking. I can do that in northern Michigan, which is significantly more beautiful and better biking than in the ugly stretch between Buffalo and Syracuse. It's not really for the sight-seeing. I don't actually see that much, at least not after the first 40 miles. The camping isn't fun.

I think it's for the challenge and sense of accomplishment. Can I ride 500 miles in seven days? I know I can; I've done it numerous times. Can I do it again? The thought of starting at my house and setting off toward Canada is appealing. Taking the ferry across the St. Clair River, riding along Lake Ontario. That all sounds interesting. But is it fun? Hm. This must be answered on two levels.

First, on the lowest level, no, it's often (half the time?) not fun. It can be quite miserable, slogging out mile after mile at the end of the day. Why subject myself to this?

Here's an aside: How do people ride brevets (bike rides of 120, 180, 240, etc, miles)? How do they do it? As to why they do it, that's easy. They do it to prove that they can do it. To accomplish something. We can't all cure cancer or get elected to congress. But we can all set a goal—running a marathon, riding a 400K brevet, riding cross country—and accomplish it. And when we've accomplished it, what do we have to show for it? Nothing. Memories (often painful ones) and bragging rights. And maybe that's enough. Maybe it's all about our deathbeds: Do we want to be able to say that we accomplished things in our lives, even if it's just riding across the country in 500 mile installments? Maybe. (And as an aside to my aside, I have ridden 160 miles in one day, back when I was 16. Rock hard plastic saddle and all. But that doesn't count because 16 year olds aren't human.)

So no, it's often not fun on the lowest level. Is it fun on higher levels? After a good dinner and a few beers? Sure. Having done it is fun. Fun enough to do it again? That's the question.

UPDATE JULY 6
 I opted out of the MI-to-NY trip this summer, choosing, instead, to experiment with credit card touring in Michigan. I rode from Empire to Okemos, three long days down the west side of the state, then across (290 miles). I carried everything in a seat bag (or its equivalent) and handlebar bag. No tent, no sleeping bag, no cooking gear. I made reservations so that I knew exactly where I was headed each day. I ate in restaurants or prepared food from grocery stores.

Despite riding 80 miles in drenching rain one day, it was a good trip. I'm not exactly sure why . . . there was no quality communing with nature (other than riding a bike through it, but that's not exactly communing). The motels were cheap and far from being vacation destinations. And yet, it was fun (to answer my question above). I easily could have done one more day. I could imagine doing two more days, even, for a total of 500-ish miles.

As many would ask, why was it fun? Riding 90 miles a day, eating trail mix and fast food milkshakes, getting rained on, what's fun about that? What's fun about anything? For me, it's fun as long as it doesn't hurt. More specifically, as long as my butt doesn't hurt. This trip was a success in that regard. I had a good combination of saddle and shorts, so even after three days, I was relatively saddle-sore free. Perhaps the baths and cortisone cream every night helped. Perhaps that was too much sharing.