East to Armenia

Alain and I are currently in Yerevan in Armenia towards the end of of our second leg of pedaling east. Indeed the pedaling is now at an end, and I have a few days of welcome rest whilst Alain works at the university.

Last autumn we cycled from Austria through Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, Kosovo, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Greece and to Konya in Turkey. This spring we continued east from Konya through Turkey, then into Georgia and Armenia. In total we have covered over 7000km.

A few weeks ago, at the local bike shop in Georgia we met a french cycling couple, Julie and Flo. Like us, needing bike repairs.

This pair set off on their trip after Julie had a serious accident that left them questioning the life they were living. Julie’s one-year-on account touched me deeply and captures succinctly the essence of what draws me so strongly to travel and explore.

From Julie’s Facebook page (translated and slightly shortened): A year ago, we began our incredible cycling adventure, leaving France with no return date. Our previous experience was limited to two cycle-camping weekend getaways, but our thirst to discover the world and live in harmony with our values and nature was unshakeable. So here we are on a slow trip, by bike and wild camping.
Since then, we have travelled 15,000 kilometres through a myriad of landscapes and diverse cultures. From the Cévennes to the lively streets of Athens and Istanbul, through the islands of the Mediterranean (Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, Crete), the crossing of the Balkans and Greece, each kilometre has been a learning and a lesson in itself.
We went through moments of testing (and stress), from technical challenges to unexpected storms. Each obstacle has strengthened us in our determination to continue this choice of life. We have learned to adapt, to find beauty in simplicity and to appreciate every human encounter along the way.
Each country has left a unique imprint on our hearts. Spontaneous meetings, hospitality and cultural exchanges have enriched our journey far beyond what we could have imagined, especially here in Turkey and with the Kurds in particular.
We have learned that leaving everything to travel by bike does not require prior experience, but a will of steel, a wide open-mindedness and great resilience in the face of the challenges and obstacles encountered along the way.
As we begin our second year on the roads of the world, we are filled with gratitude for this unique opportunity and for all the people who have supported and inspired us along the way.

And so it is that Alain and I are journeying both an adventure of the spirit and of the physical world. We have passed so many hours in silent contemplation of the world around us. Learning little by little that the world is both bigger and more diverse than we ever imagined and yet small enough that we can journey self-propelled across it. Our trip is one of teamwork and so below I often use we because it feels unfair to leave him out when in so many ways it is an intricately woven and joint endeavor.

We have learned what it is to experience open hearted hospitality and to know that we are surrounded by unmet friends. To trust that we will be helped if needed. I am reminded how ‘less’ is so often ‘more’ and how simplicity generates its own deeper richness. I have marveled again and again at how amazing and beautiful and diverse our world is. And I have sat still and small as the storm lashes wild around the tent and the earth shakes beneath. We have been entirely surrounded by huge barking and growling sheepdogs. We have felt the heat of the sun, the bite of snow. Have carried bikes through wide warm slow thigh-high rivers, got stuck in the mud, and crossed high passes still piled with snow.

Mostly when we stand at the (literal) crossroads of choice and ask ourselves left or right, easy or hard… we take the risk, pick the adventure and give thanks afterwards. We are surprised at how often it is possible, how rarely we need to turn back, how many times there is a solution. We almost never know quite where will go. And yet every night we have found a place to sleep. We have laughed with strangers, failed at sign language and been too tired to think. We have fought and cried and shouted and found a way onwards.

It is hard to get my head around how many rich experiences and memories we have amassed, how much we have seen and felt. I don’t really know how we managed to climb so many thousands of metes of hill and mountain again and again. But to stand on high, and to camp so many nights on top of the world. To see so many cultures and ways of living. To experience so many connections and kindnesses. It was worth all the effort and so much more.Les mer