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People in China and the U.S. often tell me how incredible and great and awe-inspiring this trip is. That’s actually not what I want to hear. If they wanted to say that I was incredible or awe-inspiring, then I wouldn’t mind, and they would be correct. But this trip is not that incredible. One of the reasons we’re doing this trip, in fact, is to convince people that biking is not difficult, and that it represents a viable and often preferable method of transportation, especially compared to driving. We’ve met numerous other bike tourists along the way, many of whom are doing longer and more difficult trips than we. So read away and run out of excuses not to bike.

We ride 18 speed bikes designed long rides. We have biker shorts, comfortable handle bars, and tons of other crap. Along the way, we’ve run into several other groups of bikers along the way. Old Chinese men form the largest population of bicycle tourists in China. Some travel in groups, some individually. They do both longer and shorter trips. However, all of them travel fast and light with little regard for how sweet their gear is.

One group we met north of Shanghai. The several older men rode older single speed bikes. They had no luggage to speak of. Indeed, we might have mistaken them for commuters were it not for a couple who wore shirts emblazoned with the name of their bike club. They were biking to Beijing from Shanghai to help celebrate the Olympics. We almost joined them at their accommodation for the night, but it proved slightly too expensive for us. We biked off into the night with them assuring us that if they, native Chinese, couldn’t find a cheaper place, surely us foreigners would not be able to. But we did.

The group of bikers with whom FBR has had the longest relationship has certainly been the Koreans, Kwangsub and Suji. We met them at the end of a long, hard day of biking on a busy road. We’re both about the same age and share similar world-views, as became quickly apparent when we stopped and talked to each other on the side of the road. We biked together for the rest of the day, when we wound up at the Zhuzhou campus of South Central Forestry University, Adam’s and mine old stomping ground. The Koreans proved to be very tolerant and easy going. We decided to camp, and I led everyone down a bumpy dirt road in the dark, to where I thought there would be a site. It turned out to be a damp rice paddy. “Everything is OK,” said Kwangsub, in what would become a mantra for the easy-going Koreans, “Whatever you want is OK, don’t worry about us.” We found a dry spot in the paddy, and it seemed all right.

The Koreans are biking from northeast China to southeast Asia, north to Tibet, through India and then on to Europe. They eventually might make it to the Americas during a trip which will last over three years. We excitedly discussed our reasons for biking over our first dinner. Kwangsub pointed out how biking binds you to the land more closely than other forms of transport: “If I use motorcycle I sometimes won’t get the feel. But if everyday I eat some rice [here looking pointedly at all of us] I can get the feel on my bike.” He went on to point out additional advantages of using bicycles: “It is my own power, it is a challenge.” We couldn’t agree more. Especially the part about eating rice. We biked with the Koreans for another week. They speak English well and their added perspectives proved invaluable when it came to processing our experiences.

Mr. Wang Yajun has already cruised around China for three years. He’s used up three bikes and a couple roles of film to ride from his home in Heilongjiang, far in the northeast of China, to Tibet and most other provinces in China. He bikes 100 km a day, although he once logged 230km coming down from Qinghai to Lanzhou. Mr. Wang is a widower. As he told me very earnestly, his wife was unable to bear children. Now that he has no attachments to his home, he bikes around, gathering experiences and for his health.

He also bikes in support of the Olympics coming to China. For this long voyage he has merely two handmade saddle bags slung across the back of his bike. Inside he has a saxophone, a banner with his name and mission on it, and some pictures of him in various locations of note around China. He also has a book with city government seals stamped in it, to verify where he has gone. Mr. Wang says he would like to bike outside of China, “but I’m too old now,” he claims, “so I’ll just bike on the mainland.”

We once stumbled upon two Germans in a small restaurant on a street crowded with other restaurants. It turns out they were also biking to Hanoi. Because they didn’t have much vacation time by European standards (four weeks) they were traveling quickly. But we eagerly listened to their stories of decades of previous bike trips.

Coming out of Confucious’ home town in pouring rain we were passed by a computer programmer also on his way to Shanghai. He worked with the Olympic committee and was also biking in support of the Beijing Olympics. He carried one very small bag. In Zhejiang province members of a local bike club approached us. Soon they were escorting us to a great campsite. They biked with us the next day, passing us off to bike club in the next town like a multi-wheeled baton.

We ran into another group of bikers in northern Guangdong. They were all retired workers from a wire factory, biking to improve their health. They biked at an aerobic pace, stopping only for short cigarette breaks. “You bike really fast,” I told Mr. Zhang, next to whom I was biking. “But you have so much stuff,” he replied, eyeing the piles of bags on my front and rear racks, and the trailer I was pulling. We biked with them for 40 km until they arrived at their home town. It was the final day of their bike trip. We said goodbye and wished each other well.

As we approach Southeast Asia, where roads are fewer, the weather warmer, and the tourists more numerous, we anticipate seeing more bikers.  Maybe they’ll have more stuff than us, maybe less.  They might go faster or slower.  Regardless of languages we have in common or biking philosophies, we know we’ll be happy to see each other, and eager to share experiences.  Such is the club you can join by hopping on a bike.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 29th, 2007 at 6:48 pm and is filed under Jim's Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.