Chapter 2 Live forever in your dreams
Día 7: Some thoughts on flying, interrupted meditations and the advice my mother gave me (26km)
Chapter 2 Live forever in your dreams (1/8)
Komoot GPX Coyhaique-Just outside Coyhaique (26km)
Today we spoke about meditation. About how it comes naturally during the daily trundle of bike packing. And about how it would almost be perverse to dedicate more time to our own thoughts when we already have hour after hour to let the mind meander. Ahead, The Road unfurls, each corner the opportunity of new perspective.
For me this form of travel is a conscious choice. I was fortunate to be raised in a family that both prioritised holiday every year and had the money to do so. I am grateful for those formative experiences and the open mindedness that they enouraged. I doubt there is any need for me to explain why travelling is so beneficial to the mind, so I´ll keep it simple:
It demonstrates other ways of existing.
It underlines my insignificance and humbles me.
It gives me seamless access to awe, an elusive emotion in the thick of routine.
The benefits of vagabonding are undeniable, but in a world that is burning in front of our eyes, changes must be made to our travel methods.
The Racing Collective were hugely impactful in developing my thought process on viable travel:
Flying is incompatible with reducing our individual carbon emissions to a fair and sustainable level so we are drawing a line in the sand. As bikepackers, leave-no-trace ethics are part of our DNA; so are solving seemingly unsurpassable problems, and doing things that others (initially) think are crazy.
I felt a need to be harsher on myself. These facts really helped solidify my position.
To stabilise temperatures, the average emissions per person must fall to about 1 tCO2/year
A return flight from London to Madrid emits ~0.5 tCO2 i.e. you've just used half your annual carbon budget on a single trip (leaving the rest to cover food, home heating and electricity, travel, bikes, sporks, chamois cream, toothpaste).
A return flight from London to New York emits ~1.8 tCO2 so you've just blown the budget.
80% of people have never been on a flight.
The writing is on the wall.
But there is so much you can see sustainably on a bike whilst still getting your fix of awe.
After amassing an appalling climate footprint in my first 25 years, I decided not to fly abroad from early 2019. I focused on the beauty of the home nations. Over 5 years I cycled to Pembroke, up to the Lake District, round the Scottish Highlands, down the Peninne Way, splitting Wales from Chepstow to Bangor, launching coastal rides to Southampton, Weymouth and Clevedon, creeping along the Old Chalk Way and, in a dress rehearsal weeks before departure, tackling the malevolent hills of Exmoor in the pouring rain with Jake.
In the summer of 2022, I sped out of school on the last day, drove back to the South West soon after, and hopped on a ferry from Portsmouth to St Malo with my mum. We spent a sweltering week gliding down the French West Coast to Bordeaux. Making plenty of time for croissants, wine and discussions about paths in life. A true dream.
She returned from this trip as the person she once was. Shining and bright. But more on that another time.
I carried on fast for another 3 weeks, meeting my friends in Praia da Luz in the Algarve, before heading on to Lisbon. 2,500km the final total. A double bus ride and ferry home and no flights were needed. And now I have a life memory to cherish.
Not everyone has teacher holidays (although we could definitely do with more teachers - please sign up).
But we are all capable of doing things differently. Of looking for the beauty in the less aggressively marketed and supposedly ordinary destinations.
With this method the journey is the joy. I can only conclude that bikepacking is both the present and the future.
This evening, my meditations were disrupted when I realised I’d left my leg warmers seven kilometers down in the valley below. After a brief discussion we decided a solo return was the best option, whilst Jake looked for a campsite. I ditched my heavy panniers roadside and sped back to beat the fading sunlight. Chile Chico rejoiced at the lightened load and flew downhill to meet Coyhaique once more.
By the time I’d reunited with Jake, I felt rejuvenated and, crucially, my legs were warm as an alpaca's winter coat. We hopped a padlocked farmers fence and slept in a gravelly field with mountains protruding on all sides. The sky was a frisson of scarlet, indigo and magenta. We cursed our wretched luck over warm curried rice and hot green tea.
A few days into my South American adventure, I found a card that my mum had hidden in my pannier. She had signed off with, ‘Live forever in your dreams.’
I think I may be doing just that.
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