Bikepacking
Amsterdam to Africa 1985
Contributed by Josie Dew
Netherlands to North Africa
In 1985 and 1986, I set off on my first big European and North African cycle tours with my boyfriend Ward, riding over 4,000 miles from Amsterdam down to the Sahara before a collision in southern Spain cut the journey short.
- Distance
- 4150
- Stages
- 2
Also found on josiedew.com
Just had a thought that it is 40 years since I first headed off cycle touring abroad with my Karrimor Iberian panniers and my too-big-for-me Italian Campione frame which I'd picked up from Mick Perry and his little room of bikes reached by walking through a newsagent in the heady delights of Bognor. Luckily, I still feel about 10 when I'm on my bike and flying along with the wind in my wheels, although my body can sometimes disagree (I've currently got a dicky knee). But I can't complain as it's done over 700,000 cycling miles (1 million-plus kilometres). All I ask of it is to hold out for just a few more hundred thousand miles so that I can keep cycling to all the places I still want to go to by bike.
So, here are a few flashback snapshots from my first big tours in 1985/6. As I was still a young teenager, mum and dad were far from keen on me heading off alone so I talked Ward (my scouser boyfriend at the time) into coming with me. We cycled through the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, France, Switzerland, Italy, Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco and Spain (our tour came to an abrupt halt when a van went into the back of Ward outside a cement factory in the south of Spain).
Now that I have children of my own, I can understand why mum was so worried about me and would lie awake at night with a 'knot in her stomach' as she put it (these of course were the days before mobile phones and trackers – she just relied on receiving a haphazard supply of postcards and airmail letters and aerograms landing in the letter box, though by then I could be hundreds or a thousand miles away from where I'd posted it).
Stage 1: Europe
My first big teenage tour was 4 months and 4150 miles (6700kms) from the Netherlands to North Africa (Tunisia and Algeria) in 1985. Ward, I think it's safe to say, was not a particularly keen cyclist and definitely not a natural mechanic, possessing the 'mechanical aptitude of a sprout' (his description of himself). Amusingly, when I put up my last photos of cycling down memory lane, I received an out-of-the-blue message from Ward so we are now back in contact after 40 years of nothingness.
One of the photos shows our first night of the tour – camping in the rain on the outskirts of Amsterdam. For those interested in such things we used my Ultimate Pea Pod 1 Superlight (actually quite heavy) tent. Ward is dressed ready for action in a pair of jeans – fine eighties cycling wear which stick to your thighs like cold wet fish when soaked. Lycra was an unknown entity for us in those jolly old days of forging into the unknown.
Please note which cyclist is weighed down with the heaviest load. Yes, thank you, thank you, just a quick demo of showing what sturdy stuff us girls are made of. This was my first tour with front panniers (Karrimor Iberian bags attached to a Jim Blackburn Low Rider front rack for those pannier boffins among us). I decided to start using them after a solo tour the previous year up to John o' Groats when as a young teenage novice, I packed all my heft into 2 rear Karrimor Iberian panniers and a saddlebag and then wondered why, cycling at speed around the Isle of Skye to escape thick clouds of vicious midges, my spokes broke in my rear wheel. A helpful chap in a bike shop in Inverness declared it was because, 'Aye, that'll be too much weight in your rear, lass!' Hence, from thenceforth onwards, I sought to 'spread my weight'. And I haven't looked back since. I can't seem to cycle anywhere, even a mile down the road, without front and rear panniers. I like to be ready for anything.
A photo I took when looking around Pompeii is of one of the 'bodies' created by pouring liquid plaster into the hollow void left in hardened volcanic ash when the victim's flesh decayed.
I spent most of my time in Rome in a similar supine position due to painful back ache. I thought I was paying the price for giving Ward (who was twice my size) piggyback rides. I spent days lying flat out in the hot dust and dirt beside the tent on the outskirts of the city with a constant plague of flies landing on me. Finally, I dragged myself to hospital in Rome where Dr Feo laid me out on a slab for an X-ray. Turned out it was not a bad back but a kidney infection. Dr Feo asked me where I was cycling to on my bicicletta. I told him Africa and he told me to 'turn around now' and go home to get better. I thought I can't do that! Africa is calling! And I don't like giving up on things. I took some fat green pills Dr Feo dispensed and drank twice as much water as normal and hoped for the best. Taking things steady on my wheels for the first week or so, I steadily got better. So to Sicily we headed (with Italians Franco, Antonietta and Zia Clara, friendly locals we met in Messina).
Stage 2: Tunisia and Algeria
Naturally the local Tunisian salesmen got the better of us the minute we cycled into their midst. But surely phials of potent-smelling African potions are a must-have for a cyclist's fusty inner Karrimor pannier. Definitely improved Ward's underpants, that's for sure.
If we thought Sicily was hot, Tunisia was even hotter – like cycling into an oven. To try and beat the heat, we'd start cycling at dawn and then, around the heat of midday, try and find some sort of shade whether that was an electricity pole, a back of a building, our propped-together bikes or, if we were lucky, an oasis.
Mum and dad had no idea where we were. We didn't really know where we were going or what we were doing which just added to the silly fun of it all. We navigated our route with the haphazard help of a map of North Africa. The rough play-it-by-ear plan was to cycle across Tunisia, enter Algeria and ride across the north of the Sahara and on into Morocco. Things didn't quite go as planned.
The heat rises. Ward's starting to struggle – dodgy water supplies are beginning to disrupt his innards, plus he's finding it a fair bit hotter than his home-town Liverpool. But I'm in my element, this is much more exciting than riding loops around tame Sussex so I'm lapping up the desert emptiness feeling like Lawrence of Arabia in my flappy-necked desert hat (when I remember to put it on).
Highlights
- Soaking up the desert emptiness across Tunisia and Algeria in a flappy-necked sun hat.
- Visiting Pompeii and seeing the plaster casts formed in the volcanic ash.
- Friendly encounters with locals in Sicily, including Franco, Antonietta and Zia Clara in Messina.
Trail Notes
- In extreme summer temperatures, begin riding at dawn and stop during the heat of midday.
- When trees are absent, shade can be improvised beside electricity poles, building walls, or propped-together bicycles.
Gear
- Spreading luggage across front and rear panniers is vital: overloading only the rear breaks spokes.
- Front low-rider racks keep heavy loads balanced and stable.
- Avoid cycling in cotton jeans; when soaked, they stick to your legs like cold wet fish.
- Carry a flappy-necked sun hat for desert riding.
Hazards
- Severe North African summer heat: riding feels like pedalling into an oven, making midday shade essential.
- Dodgy local water supplies in the desert that cause severe stomach and digestive sickness.
- Road traffic: beware fast-moving vehicles on coastal roads, especially around industrial zones.