Stories
We are nestled into our bivvy bags, the crackling of the last flames of fire burning out as our final night comes to a close. The moon is bright and stars twinkle between the silhouettes of trees we will later be sleeping amongst. It’s amazing how quickly the rain and cold and hills of the day are forgotten as clothes are changed, hot drinks brewed and curious conversation fuels the connection that has started to build within this group throughout the week.
Ten years ago I was in a losing battle with my mind. I was gripped by a crippling anxiety and struggled to see how things could ever get better. I thought that getting better would be something which would happen overnight. A media filled with people spreading the word that hope is possible left me feeling nothing but hopeless. The problem is you don’t see the struggles and the journey they went on to find this sense of hope. No one tells you that you will have more bad days than good. No one tells you that getting better doesn’t mean it’s gone away. Instead it means you have learned to adapt, to live with it. No one tells you that you will be so busy living that you haven’t realised you can finally live.
It can be difficult for people to understand why I feel so immensely proud of myself when I reach the top of a mountain, or cycle the 11 miles to and from work. Ten years ago, walking 200 metres from my car to work was my mount Everest. It is difficult to put into words but it was probably one of the most mentally challenging things I have ever faced. That journey from my car to work. A challenge which I had to face every day. And now, ten years later, not only can I walk those 200 metres, I can leave my car at home and cycle the whole way.
So why am I telling you this? Because I know that there will be someone out there who feels just like I did. I want them to know that finding themselves in a better place is not going to be a perfect journey, but it is a possible one. My journey is one in which I changed my relationship with the outside world through embracing adventure and exploring the limits of my resilience.
It started with a run. Not a marathon, not a 10k, not even a 5k. A run to the end of my road. The end of my road was ¾ of a mile, totalling 1.5 miles there and back. Initially this felt like an impossible challenge. Not only did I have to face my agoraphobia and venture away from my safe space, my home. I also had to do this in a state of physical exhaustion. I was not a runner, I never have been. This meant that an already anxiety induced high heart rate was increased even further with the physical exertion of running. This in turn created even more anxiety. But I persisted.
I have always been an analytical person, needing to understand the world around me and I think this fuelled my anxiety. In this case I had reasoned that as I became fitter and was able to run further, the distance I could travel away from home without feeling anxious would also increase. The way I reasoned this in my mind was if something was within running distance or walking distance of my house then it really couldn’t be that far away. Flawed logic, I know, but it was what I needed to tell myself.
It turned out that running was not for me, I didn’t enjoy it. But I had the theory and was determined to put it to the test.
This is where cycling came in. If you look back through photos of my childhood I have always been on a bike. I love cycling and this was to be my weapon in fighting my agoraphobia. Initially I started with rides less than 10 miles. Again, this sounds like such a short distance, but at first it felt like I was cycling to the other end of the country.
I had to be clever in the way I planned rides. If I wanted to cycle further I had to plan circular rides around my house so I was never any further away than a few miles. Then I began to plan linear rides but with a means of return other than my bike. I would ride to work and get a lift home. To the outside world this may have seemed lazy, but it was what I needed to be able to get there. An escape route.
As I cycled further the world felt smaller and as the world felt smaller it felt safer. The key word here is safer, not safe. The truth of it is, the world still does not feel a safe place for me and I don’t think it ever will, that’s just part of who I am. However, I now know I have the strength to face my fear, to survive and know I will be ok, not matter how hard it may feel.
Eight years ago I attempted to hike up Hellvelyn, a mountain in the heart of the Lake District. This was an unsuccessful attempt in which agoraphobia won. It hit me hard and returned me to the question of will I ever get better. A few years later I returned to this mountain and reached the summit. This was a massive achievement for me. Not overcoming the physical hike, but overcoming the mental hike, the demons in my mind. Again, I do not want to paint a perfect picture of triumph which gives unrealistic hope. It was hard. There were points on this hike where I was entering full blown panic mode, but I had no choice but to push on. I didn’t learn that I could do it and it would be easy. I learnt that it would be hard but I could survive and this lesson was invaluable.
This has given me the strength to push on, go further, try harder. I started gradually pushing the distance I could run and ride. Distances which a few years ago I perceived so unattainable I may as well have been aiming for the moon and back, now feel like a leisurely jaunt on a sunny afternoon. It’s bizarre how your perspective shifts as your relationship with the world around you changes. Although I still feel overwhelmingly daunted by my endeavours, I am in a position where I have the trust in myself to be able to wake up one morning, hop on a train with my bike to some unknown destination and ride back home, taking each wobble as it comes. Oh yes, there definitely are still some big wobbles. But the 23-year-old me who sat on a train station platform, crying and very much alone, would be so proud of where I am today.
I know the distance you can run or ride should not be important, but every mile represents another mile further away from brokenness and another mile closer towards hope for a brighter future. Over the last ten years I have found a love for bikepacking, planning multiday trips, wild camping and meeting fellow travellers in bothies. I began to understand how my relationship with nature was the key to unlocking the parts of me which were held prisoner by my agoraphobia. To explore this discovery further I completed a PhD in wilderness therapy and created an on-line ecotherapy programme called The Nature Mind. My hope is to help other people unlock their potential through exploration and adventure in the outdoors.
I am also on a quest to explore my own potential and capabilities. Last year I began to dabble in the world of weird and wonderful challenges. Inspired by Beau Miles I ran 1 mile every hour for 24 hours. It wasn’t perfect, but it was possible. Next year I plan to do a triathlon the length of Great Britain. I will ride from Lands End to John O’Groats, stopping off to run up each of the national three peaks and swim across three bodies of water. But that’s a whole other story. For now I know that I will ride further, even though it will take patience, time and kindness towards myself. The steps I am taking are still tiny, but they are steps and they are in the right direction. I do want to travel the world but it still feels so far from possible that it breaks my heart that I may never do it. However, it is there and it is there for me to conquer. Maybe in years to come standing at the other side of the world may feel like I’m standing in my back garden. I am not going to think about that for now. I am going to concentrate on tomorrow and tomorrow has another mountain that I WILL conquer. Living is not perfect, but it is possible.
Written by Dr Jenni Myers, find her work at thenaturemind.com and follow her adventures on Instagram @adventures_of_drjen.
Click here for more information on World Mental Health Day.
Bhoomi took part in The Adventure Syndicate’s June Match the Miles, incorporating it into a bikepacking trip to Oban. Read about how she got started with her cycling journey as a young child in India, later taking advantage of the next bikes in Glasgow and building up the courage to go on a solo bikepacking trip.
One of my fondest childhood memories is of my father teaching me to cycle - running behind me, holding the bike seat until I was confident to balance myself and pedal along. Another vivid memory of my bike and me was when I treated my bike as a car. Seeing how my father maintained his car, I would wash my bike using a garden hose, sand off the rust from the spokes and paint it, and oil the chain. During the festival of Dussehra in which one of the rituals was decorating your vehicle with marigold garland, I would buy a small garland for my bike.
Fast forward 12 years, and I am cycling in Glasgow. I am on a rented bike trying to change gears as I cycle up hill for a charity event. I had grown up with a single gear bike, so learning how to use bike gears as an adult was a bit of challenge. During my first 6 years of living in Glasgow, I enjoyed seasonal bike rides to Balloch along the National Route 7. When the Nextbike installed bike stands in Glasgow, the frequency of my rides increased.
One of the biggest impacts of cycling I felt was during my PhD thesis writing period. The 20 minutes cycle ride by the river from my flat to the University (and then back) made me momentarily happy and de-stressed me. Since then, I tried to cycle regularly still renting a bike, and still riding only on designated cycle paths. I did my first longest ride in 2017 when I participated in Pedal for Scotland.
After renting the same bike on two occasions, I finally bought that same hybrid bike. I was so delighted – I celebrated it by taking it for a ride on the ‘West Loch Lomond Cycle Path’. A glimpse of the highland landscape while cycling on that route made me realise how much beauty of the landscape it’s possible to absorb while out on a bike. You just can’t get that same feeling in a car, a train or a bus. Hence, when I visited bike-friendly cities Copenhagen and San Francisco, I made sure to explore parts of those cities, which had designated cycle route, on a bike.
Jumping ahead to March 2020 when the pandemic caused lockdown in the UK. While work consumed most of my weekdays, it was the weekends that were most challenging. Cycling as a form of exercise was permitted, and with the roads being fairly empty, I took it as an opportunity to build my assertiveness of cycling on the road.
I was glad to find that bike repair shops were classified as essential and were still operating. This was because I found a puncture in one of the tyres of my bike, and I did not know how to fix it. At this point, I must thank Iain in my neighbourhood bike repair shop who would repair my bike in a short notice as well as give me bike repair 101 lessons every time I visited him.
During those bleak days, my weekends were filled with exploring Glasgow and its parks. I couldn’t agree more with Glasgow’s name ‘Dear Green Place’ as I never fell short of finding a new park or woodland area to cycle to. I love travelling to explore new cities. Cycling around Glasgow felt like sightseeing in a new city. I saw the city with a new lens which I hadn’t for the past 9 years that I’d lived in Glasgow. I visited areas of the city I wasn’t previously aware of and didn’t know how beautiful they were.
As the restrictions eased in summer of 2020, I cycled further outside Glasgow. One of the most fun rides I had was cycling up the Whitelees wind farm in a typical Scottish summer weather! I realised that I had built up enough stamina for cycling more than 45 kms. I was now comfortable with switching between gears. So, encouraged by my lovely friend (and experienced bikepacker) Elizabeth, I dared to go bikepacking to Aberfoyle and Callander.
I shall always cherish that three-day ride from Glasgow to Aberfoyle, followed by cycling up hill on the Duke’s pass to get on the ‘Three lochs forest path’ to reach Callander, and then back to Aberfoyle and Glasgow. It was also my only going-away holiday. (I am yet to pass my driving license test, and in 2020 I was a bit wary of taking public transport. I visited only those places which were accessible by a bike. I was amazed how many places in and around Glasgow I could reach by cycling, and how many friends and colleagues I could meet by cycling to a park close to their home, in turn exploring new parks.).
I cycled through autumn and winter of 2020; only stopped when there was snow and ice on the roads. Throughout the year, I learnt road rules for cyclists, basic bike mechanics e.g. how to replace a tube tyre, used my bike to go shopping on the other side of the city, and read about and discovered umpteen cycle routes within Glasgow and the west of Scotland. One of many things I enjoy about cycling on road is receiving and giving a wave or a greeting to passing cyclists. It makes the ride so much more enjoyable.
Cycling, unlike my other hobbies such as tennis and badminton, doesn’t require me to rely on someone. My bike and I is all it takes to set out on an adventure from my doorstep. Cycling kept me sane throughout the challenging year of pandemic and made me feel less alone and lonely. Being on my bike brought me joy, made me feel empowered, decluttered my mind, made me feel love, brought me close to nature, and took me to distant places where I could enjoy a slice of cake whilst listening to an audiobook. Now there is no looking back, just upwards and onwards with my bike.
Feeling inspired? Why not take part in the next Match the Miles in September and let us know how you get on by tagging @adventuresynd and using #MatchtheMiles
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
We have arrived in Brisbane after riding over 3,400 miles across Australia, mainly into a headwind and having completed the Australian stage of our journey around the world. We crossed the Nullarbor desert riding the longest straight road, cycled in extreme temperatures, (over 45 degree heat and less than 10 degrees on the coast), and changed our route to avoid the bush fires which are devastating Australia. We saw extreme drought in New South Wales and Queensland, and most of the way we have been followed by a swarm of flies. We met amazing people, who have been extremely kind, supportive and generous. Australia has been hard, the toughest stage so far, but utterly amazing.
We arrived in Perth in early November and with the help of Nigel and Trish and with a send off by MND WA (Western Australia) and the lovely Sarah, we set off, heading out of Perth towards the Perth Hills and on route to the Nullarbor desert with our mascot Nik the Stolen Goat and his new friend our new MND puppy called Shelia.
We soon realised that Australia was going to be challenging. Even during the second day out of Perth we experienced significant distances between towns, flies, headwind and heat. We passed through the wheat-belt. The landscape was vast – and the wildlife amazing. We saw fabulous birds including the rare black cockatoos, parrots and the famous Kookaburra. We were heading towards the Nullarbor desert, the vast desert between Perth and Adelaide which stretches across Australia and includes the famous longest straightest road. It was almost 1,700 miles between Perth and Adelaide and it was hard to believe that much of this would be uninhabited.
The Nullarbor is a vast desert which includes a plain with bush land as far as the eye can see. The soil is red in colour because of the vast amount of iron ore it contains. There are no towns, but the desert it serviced by Roadhouses which are significant distances (if you are cycling) apart. Road Trains which are massive lorries sometimes oversized carrying huge pieces of equipment of up to 5 massive trailers long, thunder across the desert and we needed to get off the road as they passed.
We travelled along the longest straightest road into a headwind. Because of the distances between roadhouses we sometimes cycled over 100 miles each day – 121 miles being the longest day. As we crossed the Nullarbor Plain we could see the Ocean. It was fantastically blue and the beaches along the coast deserted. We thought we spotted whales out to sea. We wild camped (free camp in Oz) one night near the coast with the wind nearly blowing the tent over.
We had seen some amazing wildlife on route including a dingo. We had also ridden along side a mob of Kangaroos and spotted families of Emu. We also saw a significant amount of roadkill – especially kangaroos but we had also passed by dead camels, wombats, eagles, wallabies and emus. The smell and general carnage made it pretty grim at times.
We were almost half way across Australia when the temperatures started to get really hot (as opposed to just hot ). We cycled in over 40 degree heat and saw that the forecast for the next day predicated around 45 degrees with wind gusting at over 40 miles per hour. We decided to set off early to avoid the worst of the heat and wind. We left at 4am and cycled nearly 70 miles. Having lingered too long in a café, the last 10 miles were incredibly hot and windy. The wind had stirred up the dust and the sky was full of red dust. We saw a campsite in the grounds of a farm and pulled off the road. We knocked on the farm door seeing a sign inviting us to have a look around. The farm had been the residence of the Matthews family, the parents had died and the family had preserved the farm as it had been in the 1970s, including the place settings on kitchen table complete with the parents’ spectacles. What with the wind, dust and heat, we were incredibly grateful to have found shelter. We spent the afternoon at the farm setting off early evening for the final 40 miles to Kimba, which claimed to be half way across Australia and where we met up with Angus again!
We were on route to Melbourne via the Great Ocean Road. We managed to camp on top of a sprinkler system one evening thinking it was torrential rain until it suddenly turned off like a tap. We saw painted grain silos and where offered accommodation with Jenny and John on the back of a conversation at a local café.
We crossed the State border into Victoria and headed south to the Great Ocean Road. It was raining and cold as we set off from Port Campbell on route to the Twelve Apostles. The good thing about the rain was that we were the only people visiting the Twelve Apostles, which is an iconic sight and beautiful in the early morning light, the downside was that it was cold. 10 degrees at the coast and colder as we climbed high through fabulous rain forest. We were wearing sandals and fingerless gloves, our breath was freezing and it was hail stoning . We lingered way too long in the café at the top of the hill, before setting off on the freezing descent.
We finally made it to Melbourne meeting up with Jonathan a distant cousin of Raz and staying with the lovely Jennie and Lynton. We visited the Oxfam team in Melbourne hearing from Tania about their fantastic work, especially with the Aboriginal communities and supporting women.
We were on route to Brisbane, the final part of our epic journey across Australia. We stopped in the small town of Oaklands where we were invited by some truckers at the bar to the local club. We later learned that clubs in Australia are where the local community gather, often to eat and generally to be social (not like clubs in the UK). Tentatively we went along. We were made incredibly welcome, details of our ride where announced and the raffle monies donated. We also looked at the route with drivers who regularly went north. Bush fires had been burning along the coast, around Sydney and on route to Brisbane. The fires were early this year and have been devastating. We decided to change our route to avoid the fires and smoke. Unfortunately, this meant that we were unable to stop in Newcastle where we had arranged to send spare parts for Alice.
We crossed the border into New South Wales, stopping in Wagga Wagga, meeting up with Fiona and Richard and taking the morning to have Alice’s cables replaced whilst having coffee with local cyclists. We headed north into an area of devastating drought. What was once fertile farmland is now barren in parts. Livestock has been sold and the remainder is being fed with food transported in at great cost.
This area was incredibly hot and exhausting to cycle through. It was hard to drink enough water to keep hydrated. We stopped in motels as it was too hot to camp as the night time temperatures were really high.
We made it to Moree having crossed the State border into Queensland, where we “took in” the famous waters and we were then on the final push to Brisbane. It was simply too hot, but we kept cycling, stopping in Forest Hill with Edwina and Gary and finally onto Brisbane on a day which broke records for its high temperature (43 degrees).
Australia has been an incredible experience. We believe we have seen the real Australia with its generous and hospitable people, it’s amazing wildlife but also with its incredibly challenging environment. The bush fires are devastating, people are losing their homes and the wildlife is being decimated. The drought has been ongoing for years with some places not having rain since 2016. This is laying to waste what was once fertile farmland. The winds are also changing – apparently much stronger in some areas than in the past – certainly we spent many hours battling into a headwind.
Many people we met are skeptical about climate change, but from what we have seen on our journey so far, the climate is changing. We saw massive flooding as a result of an extended monsoon in South East Asia and significant drought in the beautiful Australia. We saw a sign as we headed into Queensland which simply read “Pray for Rain”. I’m not sure this will help but we will be thinking of the amazing and generous peoples of Australia and hoping for rain to end the awful drought and bush fires sweeping this beautiful country.
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
It’s been just over a week since we returned to the UK after completing our world record attempt to be the fastest women to ride around the world on a tandem. We rode about 18,263 miles in just over 263 days. This is the fastest ever ride around the world on a tandem. It establishes the women’s record and is faster than the men’s current record by over 2 weeks.
All that said, it is certainly a strange and worrying time to return to the UK. Over the last few weeks it did feel as if the Coronavirus was pursuing us though Europe. As it turned out, we only just left France in time, catching the second to last passenger ferry back to the UK.
We arrived in Casablanca on 24 February. We finally made it to a hotel after an anxious hour when we were separated from Alice (the tandem) who got fed up of waiting and caught an earlier bus. We would have joined her but we were usurped by a group of scouts who jumped the queue and got into the bus first.
It was great to be back on the bike riding through villages and towns where people walked (as opposed to drove) and which were full of cafes and markets.
On the third night we managed to arrive (having traveled down a long rocky road) at the wrong accommodation - it had the same name but was in the wrong village. We had another 13 miles to go and it transpired that the Riad was at the end of sandy road, which was unridable. We pushed Alice one and a half miles, arriving in the dark with no food. Fortunately, after much discussion, we managed to persuade the house keeper to feed us – so at least we had some energy to push Alice back down the one and a half miles of sandy track in the morning.
Our journey through Morocco and into Africa was way too short. We arrived in Tangier and caught the ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar into Spain. We cycled to Gibraltar which is an odd experience for those of you who have never visited it - red buses, pubs, British police and potholes! Gibraltar was one of our antipodean points, (as part of the world record we had to be at opposite sides of the world – Gibraltar and Auckland in New Zealand).
The next day we set off across Spain. It felt amazing to be in Europe with its cafes and good coffee. The scenery was beautiful as we started the long climb up to Ronda, past nesting storks and as we climbed higher, spotting vultures on thermals over the mountains.
We were heading north on route to Madrid which felt like a bit of a milestone. We passed through Toledo, which is a beautiful walled city with UNESCO status. Leaving the city, I was stopped by the police and breathalysed - I’m not sure what this says about my piloting skills!
We were loving Spain with its steep climbs into the mountains, its olive and wine groves and the spring blossom on the trees. However, it was here that we started to really pay attention to the reports about Coronavirus which was arriving in Europe and starting to spread. That said, it still felt very remote and not a direct threat to us or to the ride.
We kept crossing parts of the famous Camino du Santiago as we headed across the Spanish plain and towards the Pyrenees. We both loved the Pyrenees staying in an old ski lodge where there is no longer snow before descending to the coast into San Sebastián, which was the European city of culture a few years ago.
We traveled through forests mainly following cycle tracks as we headed north back to the UK. Our spirits were lifted, as we got increasingly concerned about the virus, by a tweet from Laura Kenny the 4 times Olympic champion sending her support.
We changed our route to avoid Bordeaux and continued heading north. We arrived at Rochefort and heard that all cafes and restaurants were closing and restrictions were starting to be imposed on travel. It was a relief to know that we had already cycled more than the 18,000 miles required by Guinness to break the world record. We carried on but it was difficult to get food. Our accommodation bookings also started to be cancelled as France started to go into lockdown. It felt like a race against time to get back to the UK – and it was.
We reached Angers and that evening heard the announcement confirming that France was going into lockdown from the lunchtime of the next day. The measures where draconian and to be enforced by massive extra police presence. They included a travel ban and only allowed solo exercise - which is pretty tricky on a tandem. We also had to carry a piece of paper explaining why we were outside.
We made the difficult decision to catch a train to the coast for what would have been the last day of riding in France. We were keeping our fingers crossed that we would be able to get a ferry. Our booking was for later in the week and we couldn’t get through to the ferry company to bring it forward.
We set off early to the train station. Part of our train journey had been cancelled overnight but we managed to get Alice and ourselves onto a train underneath a sign banning tandems.
We arrived in Le Mans and saw that all the trains to the coast had been cancelled. Finally an incredibly helpful man directed us to a coach and Alice, doing an excellent impersonation of Houdini, managed to crush herself into the small space under the coach reserved for suitcases.
We arrived in Caen and cycled fast to get to the ferry. The ferry was full but because we didn’t have a vehicle (other than Alice) we managed to squeeze on. We were immediately sent to a cabin and told not to leave for the duration of the voyage. There was no food or drink available. It felt surreal and certainly a taste of things to come. We discovered that there would be one sailing after our ferry - then all passenger ferries would be cancelled. It was cutting it fine to say the least!
Returning to the UK felt unreal given the restrictions we had seen in France over the last few days. Everyone was carrying on as normal. It felt a bit ominous given what we had just experienced in France. The last day’s ride was full of mixed emotions. There was the excitement of seeing family and friends and the relief of just getting back to the UK in time. However, we felt sad that the ride was over and our amazing adventure was finally coming to an end.
We received fantastic support along the route. People came out to cheer us on and ride with us. We were even joined by a couple of tandems at one stage. Andy Gorman from Stolen Goat which supplied our cycling gear joined us on route. It was fantastic to see him – he was excited to see that Nik our Stolen Goat mascot given to us on day one by Andy’s girls was still hanging on to Alice – although looking a bit grubby.
We were also joined by members of our cycle club – the Cowley Road Condors, who rode the last bit of the route with us. We live streamed the end of our ride so people isolating at home could see it. We were joined by people not just in the UK but around the world. It was simply amazing.
Just as we arrived in Oxford it started to rain. We crossed over the finish line and were amazed that people had come along to welcome us back. It was wonderful to be greeted by family and friends who we hadn’t seen for nearly nine months. I’m just sorry that we couldn’t speak to everyone individually and thank them for coming.
We are now both at home. Raz in Oxford and I’m in York. Raz has gone back to work early and is working with patients with MND during this worrying time. I’m starting a new job soon (which I was interviewed for in Tombstone Arizona with the enactment of the gun fight from the OK Coral going on in the background).
We both miss riding together and the freedom of being out on the open road. Everyday was an adventure – we never knew who we would meet or who we would see. We received so many lovely messages about our adventure and we are so grateful for all the support. We will have a celebration when it’s safe. We hope that many of you can join us.
In the meantime, thank you all so much for following us and for your generous donations. We’ve been asked what our adventure has taught us and I’d say - always follow your dreams - don’t live with regrets. Be kind to yourself and others. We are all fundamentally the same and, for the most part, kind, generous, interested in others and supportive - I’ll always try to remember this when things feel hard. Live in the moment and enjoy every minute – life really can be too short.
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
We have just crossed the United States of America having ridden 3,666 miles in 47 days, with 1 day off. It has been an extraordinary experience, full of contradictions and contrast as we crossed this amazing and complex country.
We started our journey in early January in San Francisco having crossed the date line from New Zealand – leaving Summer behind and finding ourselves shivering in the cold. We left the outskirts of San Francisco and headed for the coast. The western coast of the USA is truly stunning, with some of the most beautiful scenery of our whole journey to date.
We were excited about cycling through the Big Sur, a remote stretch of Californian coast line which is mountainous, lined with red wood and extraordinarily beautiful. We crossed Bigby Creek Bridge, as the light was fading, and finally found accommodation having ridden in the dark. As we were probably in the most beautiful place on the whole trip, Raz decided to spend the entire evening throwing up – blaming pasta we ate in the local restaurant. The next day was the hilliest day of our ride across the US. Raz did amazingly well to ride that day as it was a long, hard day but really beautiful. It was incredible to think about the remoteness of this coast in the heart of California.
We were feeling the cold, especially in the mornings and evenings as the sun went down. This was the first time that we had cycled in the cold and we noticed the difference it made, especially after the heat of Australia. It took time to adjust. The days were also short making it challenging to get our mileage completed in the daylight hours.
We arrived in Los Angeles after a long day, almost 100 miles along the coast, and stayed with the lovely Kevin Jones in Santa Monica , who I have known for many years. Los Angeles was busy but we found a cycle route along the beach which, although slow, was great fun as we watched people skate boarding, cycling, running, walking dogs, playing beach volley ball and surfing.
We were still heading south east and reached the Mexican border near El Centro. We decided to cross the border, seeing the Wall being built to separate the USA from Mexico for the first time. Getting into Mexico was easy. The contrast was startling, the poverty in the border towns was apparent but everyone was friendly, waving to us as we passed by.
It was, however, more of a challenge to get back into the US. We queued in the traffic line. We got to the front and were told that we were in the wrong place- we should be in the pedestrian queue. This is unusual as we don’t cycle on the pavement (or side walk). Someone kindly let us into the pedestrian queue as we had already waited in the vehicle queue. Not surprisingly Alice was too big to get through the barrier set up to regulate the pedestrian line. We asked a border guard to let us through, he refused and sent us to the back of the pedestrian line.
I loved Arizona, crossing the desert with its huge organ pipe cactus and amazing light. The sunrises and sets were particularly stunning – the whole of the sky and the desert bathed with red light. Accommodation was sparse in this area and we spent one of our freezing evenings in the tent. Even sleeping fully dressed in down jackets was not enough to keep the cold out.
We continued our journey across the desert visiting Tombstone, where there is a daily enactment of the gun fight at the OK Coral and staying a night with Fran in her school bus one cold evening. The environmentally conscious Fran lives off solar – having converted a garage. One of Fran’s many projects is building an outdoor bathroom with tub surrounded (almost) by a concrete wall built with empty bottles. It was certainly an experience and Fran was incredibly generous to let us stay.
In Houston, we stayed with the incredibly lovely and generous Sarah and Matt, Brits living in Houston with their daughter Charlotte. They have an immaculately restored heritage clapperboard house in the middle of Houston’s historic area. It was great to have home cooked food and hear about life in Texas. We cycled through the historic area the next day.
We crossed the border into Louisiana crossing through wetlands teeming with bird life as we followed the coast along the Gulf of Mexico on route to New Orleans. We had promised ourselves a day off in New Orleans (the first day on none riding in the US) and we were glad to arrive and relax in this amazing city. We had Alice (tandem) serviced and were fortunate to be in town for the infamous Krewe Du Vieux, an adult and lewd procession full of effigies of President Trump and various phallic objects. We listened to jazz and visited the famous Café Du Monde, eating its sugary donuts. We watched the New Orleans marathon as we headed out of the city on terrible roads, presumably damaged by the floods.
The number of churches in the Deep South is phenomenal. There are certainly more churches than cafes. In fact, we later learned that this area is seen as a food desert – it seemed impossible to get fresh healthy food. We survived on pizza and chicken sandwiches (white bread). One of the things about cycling an average of 80 miles per day for months that no one will tell you is that it plays havoc with your ability to digest food effectively - especially fried food.
We crossed the border into Florida. It was warmer and we braved camping again before heading to Orlando were we stayed in luxury at the Grove Resort courtesy of Dom Pickering. Restored after a night of luxury, we continued our journey east finally reaching the Atlantic Ocean which felt like a milestone having crossed our last continent and almost at the end of our longest stage.
We headed south to Miami passing huge mansions with manicured lawns before reaching the outskirts of Miami. We have cycled 16,763 miles on our journey so far. We are on track for the world record as we pack Alice up for her last flight of this journey to Casablanca in Morocco.
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
We arrived in Singapore having cycled from Mandalay, in Myanmar, and completed the South East Asia stage of our world record attempt. We had cycled 8675 miles (in total), and 2195 miles through Myanmar, Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore and on track for our world record but tired after 28 days of riding without a full day off.
We arrived in Myanmar leaving behind frenetic India. It immediately felt calm and less hurried. We had fun getting from the airport as the taxi was keen to put Alice, (the tandem), on the roof tied on with a bit of plastic. We said no! Finally, 4 of us including the driver, stuffed ourselves into the car with Alice in the back.
We received no selfie requests and we could sit in a café and drink tea without having 20 or more people stand and watch us. People were interested in us but courteous. Language and communication was more of a problem with fewer people speaking English but we both loved Myanmar from the second we arrived.
The tea houses are great. They lined our route as we followed the famous road from Mandalay to Yangon. We stopped regularly and drank lots of tea – they also sell snacks including fried pastry similar to churros.
We were still experiencing the monsoon. Much of the countryside was either wet land (unfarmed) or paddy fields. We stopped at an amazing wetland centre, staying in an old boat house which was tiny but had an amazing view of the sunrise.
The main road Mandalay to Yangon was tarmacked but if we cycled off the main road we were soon riding over potholes and gravel. We were heading for the border with Thailand and came across a stretch of road which was almost unridable. The same morning we had seen monks and nuns lining up to be fed by the local community. It felt like a privileged insight into a way of life which I suspect may disappear entirely or at least won’t be as common in a few years. We had 5 punctures that day and ended up staying in the Smile World Hotel where there was a power cut across the whole town as a result of a torrential storm. It was still raining, a lot, and we were regularly getting wet. Alice was suffering too with the mud and gravel. We headed for the Thailand border via Mae Sot. There was a big climb to the border where we had yet another puncture but we did see elephants strolling down the road.
We crossed the bridge into Thailand and started riding on the other side of the road half way across, (on purpose – rather than randomly), and set off on good roads towards a national park which we had to cross as we headed towards Bangkok.
The profile showed two long steep climbs. We had already climbed a big hill to the border and it was getting late. We saw three hotels marked on google maps over the first of the climbs. It was really steep and by the time we reached where the hotels were supposed to be it was getting dark and we had run out of water. We carried on finally arriving at a police checkpoint where we were told there were no hotels for at least 10 miles which meant climbing the second (or third) hill of the day. It was incredibly steep and we realised we had a slow puncture in the back tire. We stopped to pump it up. Finally, we came across a night market seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
We entered Bangkok following the road under the sky train passing through the modern city with its homogeneous shops found on any high street, and into the old town with its narrower streets and wires hanging like spaghetti. We found a bike shop and bought new shorts which was a great relief. We met up with Julie and Chris who have a tandem and had cycled through Malaysia. They were great company as we chatted about where we had been riding.
We headed for the coast cycling through the small towns and villages stopping regularly at 7/11 for toasted sandwiches and iced tea. We passed spectacular Watts (Pagodas), very different from those in Myanmar often with toneless chanting coming from the resident monks through speakers. Thailand is very different to Myanmar. The trucks on the road are often American and you can shop in 7/11 or Tesco. We could buy coffee and get western food on occasions. It felt almost bland when compared to Myanmar and India but it was beautiful in the rain forest and passing the monasteries was lovely. We came across a shrine in a mountain side which was truly magical.
We crossed the border into Malaysia and into a predominantly Muslim country. The food was different too. Road side buffets were on offer where you could stop and help yourself to barbecued fish and curries. The cats seemed to enjoy them too! We also had fried roti (bread) in the mornings often made with egg.
The rainforest in Malaysia is amazing. As we crossed the border having met up with a fellow Brit, Darren, who had been travelling for 4 years on a recumbent bike, we could see the steam rising from the road as it started to rain and the monkeys swinging down from the trees to get fruit. The forest is incredibly dense and is hot and humid with all sorts of sounds - birds as well as insects.
We headed to the coast and crossed the Malacca Straight on an incredibly busy ferry to George Town which is full of heritage buildings. We arrived as the sun was setting and the sky was an incredible red glow. We had a sleepless night until we swapped rooms at midnight as the air conditioning heated the room to over 30 degrees. We set off early morning and rode across the Penang Bridge, which is over 8 miles long connecting George Town with the mainland. This certainly woke us up as it was breath taking.
We arrived in Kuala Lumpur in search of a bike shop. It had been a public holiday for a few days and many of the shops were shut. Having got lost on the complicated and spaghetti like road system we abandoned our search and found accommodation. In the morning we set off early to see the Petronas Towers which were the highest building in the world until 2004. It was amazing to look up and see the sun rising between the two towers.
We carried on towards the coast staying at a beach side resort after stopping for food at a night market. We passed through the lovely city of Melaka where the streets were lined with Chinese lanterns and we finally found a bike shop selling Schwalbe tires which was very exciting.
We were heading for the border with Singapore and had a deadline to meet because our flight was booked. We made for the border crossing at Johor Bahru. The crossing itself was automated. We joined the motor bike lane and faced a series and steep slopes, speed bumps, rain grates (which were tire width) and no signage of where we should go given we are not Malaysian. It was the cycling proficiency test of all cycling proficiency tests .
Crossing the border into Singapore felt like a real milestone. It was our last day of riding in Asia. Singapore was country number 18 of our trip. We had cycled 28 days without a day off and over nearly 2200 miles from Mandalay.
Singapore is breathtaking with its skyscrapers, parks and trees and strict rules on littering. However, it retains it’s Asian character and identity with its China town and little India. We rode into the city along the main shopping street Orchard Road and past the famous Raffles. We finally found a hotel having cycled over 100 miles that day. We had a couple of days off in Singapore as we pack up Alice and headed to Perth to start the Australian part of our world record attempt.
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
We arrived in Kolkata having cycled over 2,640 miles (4180 km) around the coast of India over 34 days, staying on track to break the World Record. So far we have ridden 6,480 miles (approximately 10368km) and raised £13579 for #Oxfam and #MNDAssociation.
We arrived in Mumbai at the end of August. Leaving the airport we were immediately hit by the heat and humidity. The city teems with life – people, but also animals of every description – cows, monkeys, dogs and goats all wandering on the streets. Blowing horns is a national sport and the traffic sounds mingles with the Hindi music which often blasts out of speakers erected in towns and villages. Visually India can be overwhelming too. Colourful saris contrast with the piles of disused plastic and crumbling buildings. The temples with their multi coloured Hindu Gods line the road side, as do Churches, Pagodas and Mosques in this wonderfully secular society.
We set off early the next morning trying to avoid the worst of the Mumbai traffic as we headed into the heart of the city. The riding was tricky. Four miles into the ride Alice’s gear cable snapped. We stopped and a large crowd quickly formed. Someone’s brother in law was a bike mechanic and we were escorted to Imperial Cycles and the mechanic was raised out of bed. Chai was ordered and we chatted with the mother of the mechanic who spoke English. After much trial and error the bike was fixed and we set off again - this time into the rush hour traffic. We finally, after several sweaty hours, reached the famous Taj Hotel and the Gateway to India only to be told that the ferry we we had planned to take to avoid the 7-8 hour ride out of Mumbai was not running. It was lunch time and we decided to have lunch and consider options. We found a ferry service a few miles down the coast and backtracked getting on one of the small boats crossing the Arabian Sea to Mora and out of the city and into the towns and villages south of Mumbai as we started our journey south to Kanniyakumari the southern most tip of India.
It wasn’t long before we had our first experience of the monsoon. The downpours are torrential and over the next few weeks we experienced regular rain which can only be described as similar to having a bucket of water poured over us. We were to learn that climate change is impacting on the monsoon and it has gone on much longer this year resulting in severe flooding in areas including Kerala which we passed through.
We also experienced our first selfie request and were being filmed and photographed as we rode along. This took many forms. Sometimes they spoke and asked us the most popular two questions - where are we from? And, where are we going? We sometimes got asked how old we were! Also how much Alice cost. Sometimes we were followed for miles without a word. Regularly, we were flagged down with the expectation we would stop to enable a selfie to be taken. When we said sorry we couldn’t stop, usually this was accepted with good cheer but occasionally it was clear the driver or rider was angry. We worked out that on average we got 20 selfie requests each day. If we stopped for everyone it would have added about 2 days of riding time.
South of Mumbai is quite mountainous and we found ourselves in rain forest passing through villages spotting Horn Bills and monkeys. It was a privileged insight as to how people live in these remote communities sheltering under plastic sheeting and corrugated iron roofs in some cases. However, it was heartening to see so many children heading to school in their uniforms all immaculately dressed. We later learned that many schools provide uniforms and dinners to encourage children to attend.
We were looking forward to getting to Goa and riding along the coast. Our first tyre exploded as we crossed the border into Goa and I got a ride on the back of a scooter to the local bike mechanic to see of it could be saved but it was a write off.
We experienced our first festival, Ganesh Chaturthi celebrating the birthday of Lord Ganesh as we headed through Goa. All the villages erected shrines as a tribute to Ganesh and we watched the villagers parade carrying Ganesh aloft along routes lined with colourful lights. It did mean however, that most of the shops and restaurants were shut over these few days making it challenging to eat.
In Fort Cochi we enjoyed finding filter coffee and the views of the Arabian Sea. This area was heavily influenced by the Portuguese and there were numerous churches. It was Sunday and people were dressed in their Sunday best heading to church. We rode along a spit of land with the sea on one side and river on the other. It was magical. Kerala is a beautiful part of India with its wetlands, waterways and views of the Arabian Sea. It also has more of a European feel with its old colonial building crumbling with age and its Portuguese churches.
We were getting nearer the most southern tip of India where the Arabian Sea meets the Bay of Bengal. It is famous for its sunrise which we watched before changing direction and heading north east towards Kolkata. The countryside in the deep south has many wind turbines. The villages are small and feel remote. There was no guarantee we would be able to find accommodation, so we had to plan the route carefully to make sure we finished the day in a sizeable town.
It was impossible to stop in some towns as the crowd became too big and we couldn’t get off the bike to get water or food. People were also fascinated by Alice and had to touch her rather than just look. On one occasion we ended up eating at someone’s house. We would be given food. It was difficult to refuse. After finally pedaling into Chennai (formerly Madras) we had a day off the bike meeting up with two Canadians we had met at a bike shop in Georgia. It was lovely to swap stories and experiences and see friends.
We were keen to get to Kolkata where we had arranged to meet the #OxfamIndia team. They had arranged for us to be interviewed by Radio Mirchi and speak at the Decathlon store. We finally reached and crossed the Kolkata Bridge. We felt elated. We had cycled the coast of India and completed the Indian stage of our journey. The Oxfam team were inspiring and we spent our day off hearing about the amazing humanitarian work they are doing as a result of climate change and their work on women’s rights.
We came away motivated for the next stage of our journey from Myanmar.
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
It’s hard to believe that we have cycled through the Balkans and have arrived in Greece having ridden over 2,440 miles. We will soon be out of Europe and riding across Turkey. The ride through the Balkans has been amazing – at times hard, sometimes grim but mainly beautiful and spectacular especially climbing high into the mountains.
We left Trieste and headed over the Slovenian border. We climbed into the Slovenian mountains which were quite and unspoiled - like stepping back in time. We saw partisan strongholds and plaques remembering Villages which had been destroyed in World War II. We were soon over the Croatian border and heading for the coast with its rugged mountains, incredible sunsets and the beautiful Adriatic Sea.
Zadar was a bit of a staging point for us. When planning the route we had calculated the first stage to Zadar – not sure why! Anyway, we arrived ahead of schedule having completed the exact mileage, 1775 miles (even though we had changed the route from time to time). The old town was simply lovely and it was temping to stop for the day and wander around the old streets taking in the atmosphere but we had miles to do.
We cycled late that evening and it was dark by the time we finally reached a campsite. We had stopped for a snack on a traffic island (the only bit of grass we could find), but we were hungry and I set about cooking dinner. My camping stove nearly caused a diplomatic incident when we caused a not insignificant fire which was quickly splashed out with water from our bottles.
Split was our next destination and it was a day of traffic. We had two near misses a bus and a lorry which we could almost feel on the hairs on our arms as they passed so close. Then a driver in a Renault 5 (not that this is relevant), hit my arm with her wing mirror as she passed us. They stopped to see if we were still on (which we were) and then drove off.
From Split we continued up the coast excited about seeing Dubrovnik. We camped that evening, the showers were cold, Raz’s air bed deflated in the night (it had punctured), and I had a cold bucket of water full of disinfectant thrown over my feet because I was in the toilets when the cleaners wanted to clean them - I felt bad for the rest of the day! The tent pole had also broken so that evening we stopped in Bosnia at a guest house and tried to fix stuff and get some sleep.
The next day took us into Dubrovnik. The city is stunning and we wandered around the narrow streets with Alice (the tandem who doesn’t enhance sight seeing) eating ice cream. Dubrovnik was also the film setting for the Game of Thrones (King’s Landing for the connoisseurs), and it was fun to talk about some of the scenes. It was a massive climb out of the City on a narrow road but we made it out and headed over the border to Montenegro.
We rode across Montenegro in one day. We both liked it. Perhaps a bit more laid back than Croatia and certainly less developed with green mountain ranges and crystal blue sea – castles, monasteries and the odd relic! We rescued a puppy from a busy road heartbroken that we couldn’t take him with us and rode into the late evening crossing the border into Albania.
Albania certainly has a different feel to it. It’s communist past is still in clear view with bunkers and crumbling memorials. The countryside was lovely and climbing into the mountains was wonderful with magnificent views. The biggest problem for us was the road conditions. Dug at the side of the road is a trench which goes on for miles like a pipe/ cable (probably broadband) was laid but the road never properly filled in. If you rode in it you would come off the bike. If you road along side it – you were too far out into the traffic. With a heavy tandem it was hard work and I spent hours staring at the trench and steering the tandem in and around it as the traffic thundered past.
After a few days of of climbing we arrived at Lake Ohrid and decided to head into Northern Macedonia the next day. We headed over the border and spent the next few hours climbing though a national park and amazing forest – switch back after switch back so we could drop down into Macedonia and the next lake. We rode into the clouds with stunning views of the lake. The road coming down was full of pot holes which slowed us down and we saw a big cat run in front of us which was a real privilege. We arrived in the first Macedonian village at around 3:30 having not had any lunch. We needed food.
We rode hard to get over the Greek border finally finding a hotel. A morning of climbing and a hard ride across the country got us to Thessalonika for a day off. In the suburbs we were chased by 2 snarling dogs. Normally we squirt the dogs with water and this stops them. However, we had run out and short of hitting them with the last ice cube in a flask of iced tea we had to out sprint them on the bike after 95 miles of hard riding. We set off with the dogs snapping at Raz but what loomed ahead of us was a very uneven railway crossing. We had no choice and ploughed across, gaining air and landing the tandem mountain bike style with a big thud. We laughed as this frightened the dogs off who couldn’t match the speed (or our style). Relaxing in Thessalonika for a day off – at last!
By Catherine Dixon (Cat) and Rachael Marsden (Raz)
I can’t believe it’s been over a week since we set off on our attempt to become the fastest women to circumnavigate the globe on a tandem.
The penny is finally beginning to drop that we are attempting to cycle around the world and that we will be away from our families, friends and homes for almost 10 months.
We made the final decision to go for it in January - and since then we’ve been planning and organising for what we know will be an epic trip. The few weeks before we set off were maniacally busy – sorting logistics and also working with our amazing charities to raise awareness about our trip and to fundraise.
This gave us little time to reflect about what we were taking on – especially as Raz had to complete a 11,000 word portfolio for work. This general busyness led to a few mishaps – arriving in Northampton to meet our sponsor Stolen Goat, only to realise that they are in Hampshire and not Northampton – it doesn’t bode well for navigating around the world!
As the day of our departure rapidly approached we were both feeling a mixture of anticipation, excitement and pure terror. We were also slightly apprehensive about our departure- would anyone turn up to see us head off?
On the day we were just completely blown away by the support. Over 100 people turned up to see us off and wish us well. It was magical. There was a party atmosphere. It would have been nice to stay and chat and drink coffee but come 10am – with a countdown - we were off followed by the Cowley Road Condor Cycling Club and friends from Stolen Goat, our cycling gear sponsor. Although it was sad to say goodbye to our families, we left on a high.
The first day’s ride took us from Oxford to south London. We set off through the lovely and familiar Oxfordshire countryside and onto the Chiltern Hill’s. We were flying in spite of all the kit on Alice (the tandem).
London was hot. The previous week had seen a heat wave in France with temperatures over 40 degrees – London was catching the tail end. As we were weaving through the traffic in Uxbridge we had our first puncture. Everything off the bike to fix the back wheel and we are off again!
We stopped at every single traffic light – they were all red. It did mean we could chat as we waited at lights including with a police officer who we couldn’t persuade to give us a blue light through London but who did donate to our charities. London is often thought of as an unfriendly city, but we received spontaneous support as we rode along and for the most part the horn blowing was positive! It was also inspiring to cycle past London icons, including Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. We finally arrived in south London around 8pm. It was lovely to stay with friends, eat and wash the sweat off our kit!
We needed an early start the next day to get us to Dover. Whilst packing we noticed a car outside with two men – not a security guard, but Tom and Carl the camera crew who were going to be spending the next two days with us.
It was lovely to cycle out of London early with few cars. The hills in Kent were hard (Kent is definitely not flat), and the cycle ways to the ferry had barriers which we could not get the tandem through without lifting it so the going was hard and slow. In spite of this, we got to the ferry on time but realised we had left Tom and Carl in the long vehicle queue. We waited and were just tucking into a croque monsieur and a cup of tea when we were called to board. With a croque monsieur under a bungee and trying to balance the tea whilst riding, we bordered the boat looking at the white cliffs and thinking we won’t see them again for a while. It was amazing to arrive in Calais realising we were no longer on a Sunday ride in the UK – we were in France.
We set off for our day’s ride in France stopping at the side of the road to do a live interview with Radio Oxford. We soon found ourselves on the backroads of France including some hairy sections on gravel. Carl sent up a drone to film us – which hopefully didn’t disrupt local air traffic! We met Arne and Anouk from our cycling club who had been tracking us since 5:30 am – which was a real boost as we carried on through beautiful fields – golden brown and ready for harvest with a smattering of poppies. “Mountain biking” on a fully laden tandem was hard and we longed for easier roads. We didn’t find them- but did find ourselves riding up an incredibly steep hill and onto a road being newly tarmacked. We were assisted by French workers who helped us lift the bike over the sticky fresh tarmac. We said goodbye to Carl and Tom and we were on our own.
The following morning we did a hilly hot ride to Dijon for a half day rest and woke to a thunder storm so set off in the pouring rain heading for Bourg-en- Bresse. We had arranged a hot shower (people who will house and feed cyclists) and we were looking forward to a night in a bed! We spent the day in a washing cycle, rain, wind and sun finally arriving at the lovely Claire’s house where she lived with her son. We said hi to a number of friends sitting around chatting in French whilst we yearned for food. We were served pasta and cauliflower and asked whether we wanted to go salsa dancing. Not wanting to seem impolite, we agreed and headed off for a dance class at 10pm. Fortunately it was not running so instead we went to watch the town’s light show which was lovely although incomprehensible. We finally got to bed.
A couple of days cycling later we had planned for a massive ride over the hills into Cannes where we had accommodation courtesy of Louisa. We needed a day off and were looking forward to treating the heat rash and the sore bums and being off the bike for a whole day. The morning was lovely as we traveled through Provence past the posh wineries and local fruit stalls. We then hit the traffic and found ourselves on a really busy road with no hard shoulder. Balancing a tandem is hard especially fully loaded and cycling in traffic is tiring. We knew that we also had a big climb at the end of the day but we didn’t realise just how long. The first part was really steep with sections of about 20 degrees as we climbed our way up to our first two mountain cols before the descent into Cannes. Seeing the sea for the first time and knowing that we had traveled the whole length of France was inspiring. France was done, but we were only just getting started.
