We’d set our sights on Borneo, the third largest island in the world behind Greenland and Guinea.   Like so many people, in my mind I’d painted Borneo as a magical place of pristine forests filled with screeching monkeys and gentle orangutans.  A place where native women prance around in grass skirts weaving bamboo baskets and men in loincloths and feather head-dresses wander around hunting wild boar with traditional tombak spears. A place where one might even bump into a headhunter or two.  But before these escapades and encounters could begin, we had to actually get to Borneo. An adventure all in itself, I was soon to find out.

Getting hot and sweaty bicycle touring through tropical Indonesia

This boat or that boat?

Eric, the logistical mastermind of our round the world tour, had been running various schemes past me for weeks.

“We could ride from Singapore to Melaka,” he’d begin, “then hop on the ferry to Dumai and ride to Jakarta.  From there we’d pick up another boat to Borneo.”

“Or,” he’d continue, “we could keep riding to Semarang and take a ferry to Kumai in South Kalimantan and do the tour in reverse.”

“Our third option….”   But by then my eyes had already glazed over and all the names and places were jumbled up in my brain.

“…so what do you think?”  I offered a weak smile, “You choose, I trust your judgment.”

The best option, said Super Husband, was the direct ferry from Bintan to Borneo via Batam.  That way we’d avoid the hassles of navigating our way through Jakarta, a city of 9 million known to be one of the most congested capitals in Southeast Asia.   I was with him there.

Problem is, just one ferry per month plies that particular route.  We’d have almost a week’s wait on Batam, a small Indonesian island not far from Singapore.  Batam caters to the resort crowd, drawing businessmen from Singapore in search of a little illicit fun and families in search of an economical beach holiday.

Arrival on Batam Island. A "fixer" is arranging onward ferry connections and a swanky hotel.

An honest to goodness vacation

Turns out, we got to enjoy a little vacation, too.  Super Husband somehow got in contact with a fellow called Chris who just happens to be a fan of cycling.  And this (exceedingly kind) Chris character put us up in a fancy hotel throughout our 6 day wait on Batam.  We’re talking swimming pool and a view of the sea from our finely appointed air-conditioned room.  In six years on the road, we’d rarely been in a place which supplied towels let alone one that offered daily maid service, satellite TV and a bell hop to wrestle with our bags.

The six days of pampered respite flew by in a blur of leisurely meals and long swims.  I knew where I would sleep at the end of the day, where my next meal was coming from and where to turn for an endless supply of safe drinking water.

Yes, life was easy.  Very  easy.  Comfortable and pleasant.  Stress-free and safe.  And just a tad bit boring.

So back to the bikes with butterflies bouncing around in my stomach like it was my first-ever day of bicycle touring.  A quick ferry to the island of Bintan, a 90 kilometer cross-island ride to a port on the other side of the island, a night couchsurfing and the next day we’re up early to catch the ferry that will eventually take us to Borneo.

Not the first, but maybe the worst

This was not our first Third World ferry experience.  We’d caught a boat down Lake Tanganyika to a remote part of western Tanzania, we’d sailed across the Indian Ocean to get to Zanzibar, we’d hopped a ferry for a thousand kilometers down the mighty Amazon and of course there was the infamous ferry across Lake Nasser from Egypt to Sudan.

We’d arranged for economy class tickets for the Borneo boat.  That meant no reserved seating.  We’d have to carve out a space for ourselves, the bikes and all our belongings.   I was anticipating being a little cramped, but was certain Economy Class was something I could endure in the spirit of saving money.

Liz and Chris from Bikeabout had gone economy class on an Indonesian ferry, pointed out Eric, as had Spaniard Salva Rodriguez.

Unperturbable

That Salva had gone economy class didn’t mean much.  This guy is one of the toughest cyclists I know (of course, I don’t know Salva personally, just from the internet, as is the case with most of my bicycle touring friends.)  In his most recent newsletter, Salva wrote of cycling through the Copper canyon in Mexico.  There are no real roads through the Copper canyon, just some rocky tracks snaking their way through very rugged and remote terrain.  But Salva never complains (at least not publically), no matter what the conditions.  This guy could probably ride through Siberia in January and talk about it as if it he’d just biked through France on a fine summer day.  Nothing perturbs Salva.  I admire Salva.  I earnestly wish I possessed many of his fine character traits.  But after all this time on the bikes I know I’m no Salva Rguez.  I’m a middle-aged woman who grew up despising camping and anything that got dirt under her fingernails.  Nowadays, I like a little adventure.  I embrace adventure.  I might go so far as stating that I need adventure.  But I’ve got my limits, particularly when it involves noise and sanitation.

The big boat ride

Unsurprisingly, general bedlam reigned at the port in Bintan.   Porters drenched in sweat heaved everything from fridges and washing machines to bicycles and pellets of laptop computers up a narrow passageway.  A crowd of confused looking ticket holders surged towards the boat as others attempted to disembark.  Several policemen tried to tame the chaos, but their sharp whistles were of little avail.

Luckily, our couchsurfing hosts, Robert and Ria, were there to assist.  While they kept an eye on our bikes, Eric and I grabbed some bags and elbowed our way through the crowd.  “Economy Class,” I shouted out to one of the sailors in white.  “This way, missus,” and he pointed me into a cavernous smoke-filled hall, thick with the sweet scent of clove cigarettes mixed with the far less agreeable stench of a backed up toilet.  Orang 147, I noted—the area slept 147 people. There were five more similar spaces, I was to discover later, bringing the total capacity of the boat up to almost 1,000.  During holiday periods, an officer explained, the ship packed up to 6,000 travelers. I was battling back claustrophobia at that very moment, when the boat was carrying just under its official limit.  Imagine 6,000 people jammed into a space I considered too cramped for the 1,000 individuals it was designed for.  It would be like squeezing two more couples and all their cycling gear into our three-man tent.

The economy class room we’d booked into was packed with mattress after mattress, just inches apart, lined up one after the other on low platforms.  Music blasted from all directions, cigarette butts carpeted the floor, and bright fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes.   As I took in the horror of our proposed  accommodation for the next 60 hours, hundreds of weary faces stared back.

Relatively fresh air to be had on deck class. A good choice if you can sleep with fluorescent lights and the odd person stumbling over your mat.

Space for the bikes.

“I can’t do this,” I said.  “I can’t endure three days in these revolting conditions,” I added, plopping down next to the panniers.  No amount of cajoling could make me change my mind.  It’s true that I hadn’t been bothered by 30 hours of deck class in Sudan.  The cool December air was invigorating, we’d had plenty of space to stretch out and the devout men who came to pray on my yoga mat (mistaking it for a modern prayer rug) gave me a good laugh.

But I put my foot down at 60 hours of second hand smoke, shit smeared toilets and crappy pop music.  Another $50 for an upgrade to second class?  Money well spent.

After that small investment in our physical and mental well-being, I was a whole lot happier.  Yes, money can buy a degree of happiness, that’ one thing bicycle travel has taught me.   While a second-class sojourn on the K.M. Bukit Raya wasn’t exactly a cruise on the Love Boat, it far surpassed my minimum standards of comfort.

Special Treatment

As foreigners, we were assigned a four-berth cabin.   All. To. Ourselves.

Normally men and women are lodged separately, but the indulgent officer in charge would make an exception in our case.  They could have stuck me in the broom closet for all I cared.  Just as long as it was quiet and smoke-free.  But the cabin, albeit a bit cramped, was fitted with comfortable bunks covered with  fresh white sheets and the  adjoining bathroom sported a western style toilet and one of the best hot showers I’ve ever experienced.  At times, the lethargic air-conditioning system even forced out a little cool air.

In second class, the days passed rather pleasantly.  For adventure, I could stroll around the outer deck, snapping photos of the picturesque palm-covered islands we passed and stumbling over sleeping passengers.  Being the only foreigners aboard, we were a novelty and the subject of intense curiosity.  It was easy to strike up a conversation with just about anybody.

And when I’d my fill of taking in the beautiful views and answering the same questions we’ve been subjected to since we set off (What is your country?  How long you stay in Indonesia?  Why you go on bicycle?  How many tires you use?  Why you don’t have children?), I could hide away in our second class haven.

Passengers boarding the ferry at a stop near a small Indonesian island.

On Land at last!

After two and a half days at sea, we pulled into port.  Within moments of arriving on Borneo, my romantic vision of the island was all but crushed.  Pontianak, the capital of the Indonesian state of West Kalimantan, is a thriving city of satellite dishes and shopping centers, internet cafes, big banks, hotels (the Garuda offers Executive Karaoke) and fast food outlets.

In Pontianak, you’re about as likely to spot locals in grass skirts and loincloths as you are to find an Apache warrior in full headdress strutting through downtown Phoenix.  Locals zip around on noisy motorbikes and spend their time rapidly tapping out text messages and checking out their friends’ status updates on Facebook.

Nope, we haven’t crossed paths with any headhunters yet, but we’ll keep you posted.  Who knows what adventure awaits farther afield.  This is BORNEO, after all!

After six years working in the UK, New Zealanders Emma Philpott and Justin Hewitt of Rolling Tales were ripe for an adventure.

In March 2010 they set off from London and headed east, not quite sure how long or how far they would pedal.

Over six months in 2010 Emma and Justin cycled, much of Southern and Eastern Europe and eventually into Turkey, where they waited out the winter in Istanbul.

When the weather warmed up again they continued pedaling east into Russia, Mongolia, China and finally South East Asia.

The interview focused on some of the challenges the couple faced during their tour and tips and advice for others who want to go cycle touring.

Listen to more Touring Talk Podcasts:

“They don’t take Thai Baht,”

Pretty normal, I decided, since we are, after all, in Malaysia.

Normal, but annoying, since all we had was Thai Baht.  And a stash of US dollars, but those were meant for emergency purposes only.

A growling stomach could hardly be interpreted as an emergency.  And besides, those dollars were certainly just as worthless as the Baht when it came to supermarket shopping in small Malaysian border towns.

Border Issues

Honest to goodness Third World borders are so much easier to navigate.  Sure they’re hectic, but Third World border crossings come equipped with a small army of enterprising individuals eager to cater to a traveler’s every need.

Touts roam around drumming up business for cheap hotels, hawkers tempt you with cool drinks and fried snacks and you never have to look far to find a few shady looking money changers flashing big wads of cash.

In orderly Malaysia, there was none of that.  Just air-conditioned supermarkets and solid looking ATMs that obstinately refused to spit out cash no matter which international card we inserted.

Lunch Money

Which left me sulking on the curb with an empty stomach.

Given the many gastronomic delights of Southeast Asia (think banana pancakes, coconut curries, fresh fruit shakes and deep fried prawns so cheap even Eric admits they’re a bargain), we’d  slacked off when it came to stocking up on provisions.

But no local currency meant no restaurants and no supermarkets and we were hungry.

A quick rummage through our panniers unearthed two banged up tins of tuna.  They’d been with us since the Yukon and will probably still be buried at the bottom of the bag when we hit Australia in 6 months’ time.  I discovered ramen noodles as well, something I’d considered a real treat back in Nigeria (which tells you something about that country’s cuisine); I could even recall a few times back in remote parts of the Andes when we’d have pounced on instant noodles.  That day Ramen noodles sounded about as enticing as the fried creepy crawlies we’d come across in Laos.

But Southeast Asia had spoiled us.  Made us soft and demanding.  Turned us into food snobs of a sort.

The Rescue

Eric is playing Super Husband trying to convince the shopkeeper to accept foreign money just so his poor, hungry wife doesn’t have to cycle 30 kilometers on an empty stomach to the next town with a bank.

Poor Hungry Wife glares  at the tins of banged-up tuna, eyes the ramen noodles with an air of contempt.  Kind Malay passerby takes in the scene.  Poor tourists, she is thinking.  How strange they are to ride bicycles in such a hot country.  They are hungry.  I must help them.  It is my duty.  They are guests in my country.  Very odd ones, from the look of it, but guests nevertheless.

Poor Hungry Wife accepts chocolate filled buns and other goodies from Kind Malay Passerby. She is embarrassed (I’m not a beggar, she tells herself) but appreciative.   The two women exchange smiles.  Grateful foreigners cycle into the distance, stomachs satisfied, marveling at the kindness they stumble upon again and again and again.

Not even money for McDonalds

Malaysia Mix

Malaysia is nothing if not a land of diversity.  A fusion of cultures, of course, with the nation made up of Malays, Indians and Chinese and their corresponding places of worship, mosques, Hindu shrines Buddhist temples, and the odd church here and there.

For ultra-modern fast-paced living, the West coast is the place to be.  For a slower moving society still holding fast to tradition, the East Coast is the spot.  Or so say the guidebooks.

The Idyllic East Coast

Being of bucolic bent, we opted for the east.  Energized by those chocolate buns, we cruised into the northeast’s major population hub: Kota Bahru in the state of Kelantan.

Kelantan is the heart of conservative Malay culture, and far different from the rest of the country.  Muslim women in Kelantan, for example, are REQUIRED to cover their heads and must dress in a highly conservative manner.  That means absolutely no exposed flesh apart from hands, feet and face.

In the rest of the country, oddly, those same women can dress as they please—mini-skirts, plunging neck-lines, you name it.  Do that in Kelantan and they’ll be slapped with a hefty fine.

As a foreigner, I’m free to dress as I please throughout the country, as are Chinese-Malaysians and Indian-Malaysians.

Well, I ‘m free to wear what I want most of the time.  Not when camping outside a mosque.  There I really ought to cover up, as the Imam in charge politely reminded my husband (because, of course, it wouldn’t be proper to speak to a foreign woman directly).

Believe me, being buried under long trousers, long sleeves and a headscarf in tropical Malaysia is about as fun as jumping fully-clothed into a sauna.  I’m definitely biking Iran in the winter.

Not my favorite camping spot, but at least the folks at the mosque in Malaysiawere friendly.

Biking along the beach

From Kota Bahru we headed south on the quiet coastal road, past deserted beaches and sleepy fishing villages.  Few visitors linger in those parts, as most touriosts are more interested in the diving opportunities on islands just off shore.

Camping prospects improved and we stumbled across some lovely spots near the beach– once on the grounds of a local university, another time at a local high school  and even once in the front yard of somebody’s holiday bungalow.  Our favorite spot was on the lush grounds of an agricultural research station.

Few cyclists do much camping in Southeast Asia, but I have to say I’m happy with our choice to pitch the tent as often as possible.  In spite of the mosquitoes, evenings in the tropics camped out under the swirling stars with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance is pure bliss.  Much more romantic than being cooped up in a stuffy guesthouse with a noisy fan whirling overhead.

A beautiful beach just across the road. We arrived near sunset, asked the owner of the house if we could camp and 10 minutes later we were all settled in. The roof was great, since rains are not uncommon this time of year.

As we approached Singapore, the roads became busier and the scenery less wild.  Massive palm oil plantations lined the highway and drivers sped south in a fury.  Soon mammoth shopping malls, condo developments and golf courses started springing up.

The idyllic side of Malaysia disappeared and with it our streak of problem-free cycling.  First one flat and then another.  On the third puncture of the day (as I lay groaning on the side of the road having just realized that Eric had replaced but 2 of our 4 well-used tires in Bangkok) a car pulls up.

Rescued, yet again!

Well-meaning Stranger hops out, offers help.  Foreign Cyclist accepts, realizing his partner has been rendered useless (she appears to have no problem spinning her wheels, he’s noticed, but when it comes to bike repairs she is often struck by sudden back pains, headaches and general malaise.)

The Stranger is a keen assistant, fetching water and filling up the folding bowl in order to find the tiny hole in the inner-tube.  He pumps up the tire with gusto while the Foreign Cyclist takes the opportunity to adjust the brakes.  As soon as the bike is fully-loaded and ready to go, The Woman miraculously revives.  The Foreigners on Bikes thank The Stranger profusely and ride off into the distance.

5 kilometers down the road, they spot The Stranger in the distance.   He is holding two cans of Fen Orange cola high in the air!  The sun is at its highest arc and they are grateful.  A photo is snapped to commemorate the kindness and then The Foreigners on Bikes cycle off to Singapore.

Random Act of Kindness #2,434

Check out more photos on our Flickr Bicycle Touring Malaysia set.

Get in touch at worldbiking@gmail.com

Let us know what you think of the site or share your own bicycle touring experiences in Southeast Asia by leaving us a comment below.

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Cycling through Thailand’s deep south, this troubling enquiry was tossed out multiple times each day.

Sure we were scared!

Who wouldn’t be if they had bothered to read this warning from the US State Department:

The far south of Thailand has been experiencing almost daily incidents of criminally and politically motivated violence for several years, including incidents attributed to armed local separatist groups. Although the separatist groups have focused primarily on Thai government interests in the southern provinces, some of the recent violence has targeted public and commercial areas, including areas where foreigners may congregate.

Or this very recent article found on the Internet:

Suspected Muslim insurgents staged the most deadly coordinated attacks in years in Thailand’s restive south, killing 14 people and injuring 340 with car bombs that targeted Saturday shoppers and a high-rise hotel frequented by foreign tourists.

A first batch of explosives planted inside a parked pickup truck ripped through an area of restaurants and shops in a busy area of Yala city, a main commercial hub of Thailand’s restive southern provinces, said district police chief Col. Kritsada Kaewchandee.

About 20 minutes later, just as onlookers gathered at the blast site, a second car bomb exploded, causing the majority of casualties. Eleven people were killed and 110 wounded by the blasts.

Life goes on as normal in spite of the violence throughout the region.

I have to admit this backroad "short-cut" did make me a little nervous.

Travel Warnings: to heed or not to heed

Alright, so we were well aware of the risks.  This Southern Thailand insurgency may not make many headlines in the rest of the world, but it’s big news in Southeast Asia.

Just because I’ve visited 16 of the 32 countries topping the US State Department’s list of absolute no-go countries, doesn’t mean I’m not a worrier.

I am.  In fact, I’d say I’m a bigger fretter than most.

Dogs barking in the distance will have me flying out of the tent in search of campsite invaders.  If we’re at a hotel for the night and slip out for dinner my mind’s churning away with thoughts of doors left unlocked and thieves whisking away our precious bikes.  And if it’s a lonely stretch of road we’re pedaling, you can bet I’m eyeing each approaching vehicle with suspicion.  Are there terrorists lurking inside?  Kidnappers keen on nabbing cyclists?  Highway Bandits ready to plunder our panniers?

I just can’t help it!  Or can I?

All ridiculous thoughts.  I know that.  But sometimes there’s just nothing I can do to stop their flow.

What I can do, however, is consciously decide to override their influence.

Ignore the emotions and weigh up the risks with the logical half of my mind.

And logic told me that the chance of getting caught up in the southern Thailand insurgency was very, very low.

As this New York Times article points out “…we overestimate the odds of dreadful but infrequent events and underestimate how risky ordinary events are.”

A mad dash to Malaysia

That’s the mantra I repeated as we biked past the bombed out buildings in Narathiwat.

we overestimate the odds of dreadful but infrequent events

we overestimate the odds of dreadful but infrequent events

we overestimate the odds of dreadful but infrequent events

We did, however, take heed when a local guy in Narathiwat suggested we bike like crazy to cross the border into Malaysia that very day.

I gave it my all but there was just no way my weary legs could conquer those final 30 kilometers to the frontier before sunset.

Enter the friendly Thai police.  And there are plenty of them in that part of the country.  Throwing up checkpoints and attempting to keep order.  They are there to serve.  And serve they did.

Approaching one of the many police checkpoints in Southern Thailand near Pattani

There to serve! Propaganda in Thailand

No, we couldn’t camp at their compound (although we had spent the previous night behind barbed wire at another military compound) but they would lead us to a safe place to sleep.  And FREE, they insisted.

We ended up at an abandoned seaside resort.  Abandoned, of course, because terrorism and tourism just don’t mix.

Not sure that I really felt safer with the police since government buildings are a primary target for the terrorists

Sunrise at the deserted beach at our abandoned resort hotel in southern Thaialnd

Alright, the resort was mostly abandoned.  A guard sized us up at the gate and a friendly caretaker showed us to the one and only room that was ready to receive guests.

The following day we rolled across the border into Malaysia and let out a collective sigh of relief.   No terrorists on this side of the border!

Safe and sound across the border in Malaysia!

What? Only five reasons to go cycling in Japan? We could give you at least 50, so we might have to cheat a bit here…

Reason #01: wild camping with no rules

Japan offers some of the most challenging and enjoyable cycle touring our world has on offer. But the best thing about it is, you can pedal around knowing that at the end of the day, you can literally camp anywhere: by the rivers, in parks, near temples, along canals in city centres. And we did just that. Staying 6 nights with friends in Tokyo, the remainder 32 days were spent camping. For only 7 of these days did we pitch the tent in an official area.

Wild camping from left to right: taijimi; koka; kawatanaonsen; a few kilomtres from tokyo Narita airport; koyadaira; ogori

Reason #02: glorious shopping for food, glorious food
The supermarkets in Japan are something else. Firstly, they are usually massive and without a doubt, you’ll get lost trying to find what you want.  And that’s not hard, when they dedicate whole aisles just to seaweed and miso-soup pastes.

Secondly, the food produce is very good, very fresh and most things are reasonably cheap. Mushrooms that you would have to earn a full day’s wages for in Europe, cost absolutely nothing, as does the tofu of every delicious description and variety. Bean sprouts and green leafy products are in abundance. And if you don’t fall in love with the fresh udon noodle, then there is another noodle variety to tempt you for every day of the month.

For those on a budget: you just have to go into the store in the late afternoon and pick up all the cut-price specials. The Japanese are fastidious about a products shelf life. So anything even in a whiff of its use-by date is discounted heavily, making creative self catering in Japan amazingly inexpensive.

Japan has mushrooms for a price and like you have never dreamed of

Reason #03 rural quietness and never ending rice fields

As soon as you have pedalled well away from the concrete jungles, the scenery is transformed Think of the ambience in France with its vineyards and lavender replaced by rice paddies and azaleas. Blankets of green cover volcanic mountains, manicured curves of the tea plantations sculpt perfect waves in the landscape, rivers surge, farmers plant rice by hand, birds warble in orchestrated tones and butterflies stun you with their colour and size. Magnificently intense.

Farmers still use traditional methods to grow rice in Japan

A blanket of green cover over volcanic mountains

Reason #04: Hotaru

Japan has many sights of interest; just pick up any guide book and it will tell you so. However, what most of them fail to mention is the hotaru: the firefly. About 50 of the worlds known 2000 species live in Japan and they are commonly referenced in poetry, children’s ditties and Japanese proverbs. They even have a festival dedicated especially to them

But the part we loved the most was the way they would dart in and around our tent. They only live by clean streams and since we did most of our wild camping near rivers we were entertained every evening by these attractive little creatures.  On one occasion, we had a  fairy-light performance for as far as we can see. So spellbinding in fact, that after we had finished with our initial oohing and aahing, Ali began to sing Jingle Bells. It was bigger and better than any Christmas tree we had ever seen.

Fireflies decorating the lid of a manhole cover

Reason #05: Japan is just special

Besides experiencing the traditional tea ceremony, sento bath, love motel, bonzai garden, Buddhist temple, the Hiroshima Peace Memorial, a climb up mount Fuji or just eating sushi, the Japanese culture is one of the most special we have ever experienced.

Some unique things you might also find yourself doing during a cycling vacation are:

• licking your lips at the perfect plastic food on display in restaurant windows
• talking back to a vending machine that not only speaks to you, but could dispense anything from hot and cold coffee through to a lacy g-string
• locking your umbrella to a rack outside a building
• sitting on heated toilet seats with a remote control you don’t dare touch
• marvelling at  the size of the biggest rice crackers on this planet
• not being able to choose from all the electrical gadgets on sale
• admiring the artistic manhole covers
• getting bowed to constantly; and
• drinking Pocari Sweat: one of those great thirst quenchers perfect after cycling the usual      mountainous terrain that Japan dishes up in plenitude.

perfect plastic food displayed in a Tokyo restaurant window

talking vending machines found absolutely everywhere throughout Japan, even in rural areas

umbrellas aren't allowed inside, but you can safely lock them to one of these

the biggest and tastiest rice crackers on earth

hi-tech toilets in Japan

But something tells me that many of you are curious as to how we were able to quit our jobs and became full-time cycle nomads.

Well, here’s how we did it.  In four easy steps.

#1  The essential first step: we maximized our incomes

As we all know, the more money being injected into our bank accounts each month, the more potential for savings.

In our case, increasing our income meant living outside our home countries and working for ourselves.

Had Eric stayed in France, slowly working his way up the career ladder, it is doubtful we would enjoy the financial freedom we have today.

As much as Eric loves France, he saw better career opportunities abroad.

Giving up an entry level post close to home, he hopped across the border to Germany, began work at an international organization and doubled his salary overnight.  Eventually he went freelance, another smart economic move.

Freelance was also the direction I eventually went, training business people how to communicate in English and teaching language courses at the local university.

While freelancing came with certain risks (no guaranteed monthly paycheck or sick pay) and extra responsibilities (we had to arrange our own health insurance and retirement plans) the rewards of freelancing (higher salaries and more flexibility) far outweighed the drawbacks.

Of course you don’t need to move abroad and strike out as a freelancer to finance a bicycle tour around the world.

What you may need to do is reconsider your current employment situation and decide whether it allows you to meet your financial goals.

#2  We lived below our means and focused on the essential

Eric is naturally frugal and–while I enjoyed a few free-spending years in my youth–at heart, I’m a saver, too.

Which is great if you want to stop working before you hit 40 and begin a quest to cycle every country on the planet.

There’s lots of info out there on how to live simply and save for the future.  Most of us, I’m convinced, can find ways to cut back on spending without enjoying life any less.

Karen and Michael Stefanyk of Two Wheeled Wanderers, for instance, decided to move in with his mother, completing cutting out the expense of housing.  Americans Sheila and Kai of 2Cycle2gether, scaled back their lifestyle significantly and built themselves a tiny house for their return from travel.

Our strategy

For us, the key was to focus on our travel dreams.

After a year off backpacking through South America, we returned to Germany in 2003 with one goal: financial freedom.

At the time, we didn’t realize June 2006 would mark the beginning of our cycle touring careers.  What we did know, however, was that after three years of living frugally, we would set off to explore the world.  Indefinitely.

We were certain of this.  There was no maybe, or we’ll see how things go.

We set ourselves a goal, and committed to it.

Then we set about saving—never losing sight of the adventures that lay ahead.

An extra job walking a neighbor’s dog meant one more night in a hotel each time I leashed up Fido.  A Saturday night spent at home watching movies rather than dining out translated into an extra 3 days on the road.  Moving into a comfortable 600 Euro ($850) a month apartment rather than a spacious 3-bedroom house with a garden meant an extra $1000 a month stashed away into the travel fund.

Money that could have gone into furniture (all giveaways), new clothes (ours were invariably second hand), transportation (we rode our bikes to work), restaurants (we cooked at home, mostly with ingredients purchased at discount supermarkets) and fancy vacations (we always backpacked) went into saving for our future.

During this three year period of focused economizing, we were able  to put aside a fair amount of cash for the future.  And we enjoyed life.  Living simply in no way diminished our overall level of happiness.

#3  We generated a steady stream of income

If you’ve got a decent job and are the owner of a brand-new Prius or a $40,000 SUV, nobody asks you how you can possibly afford such a luxury.  Nobody questions how you managed to buy a 4-bedroom house with a big yard in the suburbs.  And if you fork over $3,000 (+ airfare) for a packaged week-long holiday in Bali nobody bats an eye.

That’s why I continue to be shocked at the reaction I get when I tell people that Eric and I are the owners of two small apartments.

People start looking at us like we’re some kind of wealthy land barons or evil property owners.

Not so.

While many people choose to “sell everything” and set off on a round the world tour, we didn’t want to go that route.

Being in our mid-40’s, we’re well aware that retirement age isn’t far off in the future.  We’ve planned for that, realizing that our future employment prospects may not be as bright as they once were.

We figured a steady stream of income would be the best way to go about sustainable travel.  For us, that steady flow of cash into our bank account is rental income.

And that rental income is what now keeps us afloat as we cycle around the world.  It’s not much.  After taxes and expenses, we’re left with around $600 a month. Not a lot of money.   But just enough money for us to cycle around the world without depleting our retirement savings.

#4  We found ways to minimize our expenses on the road

Everybody seems to want to know how much it costs to cycle around the world.  That’s a little like asking how much it costs to rent a flat in London, go out to dinner in Paris or buy a head of cattle in Montana.

It all depends on what you want.

Just check out Travelling Two’s new series on what cycle touring costs and you’ll get a feel for the wide range of responses.

Those disinclined to camping, cooking and “roughing it” could find themselves shelling out $1,000-$2,000 a month per person for a no-holds-barred comfort tour.

Minimalists (think Biciclown) can get by on less than $10 a day (possibly $5) no matter if they’re touring in Japan or Jamaica.

While our style of touring definitely falls on the budget end of the spectrum, we’re hardly masochists on a Tour de Souffrance.

Smart ways to save

Let’s face it, cyclists really have only two things on which to spend money:  Food and Accommodation.

If you’re out to cut costs, food–the touring cyclist’s fuel source–is clearly off limits.  Sure, you can stick to street stalls and self-catering and forego all the treats that make life worth living, but it still won’t make much of a dent in your overall expenses.

It’s far more effective, we’ve found, to tackle the cost of accommodation.

In the beginning

When our tour began back in 2006, we paid for a place to sleep almost every single night.  Some pretty awful places in fact.  $15 for a crappy campsite on some jam-packed Spanish beach, $10 for a filthy hotel room next to a brothel in Burkina Faso, a whopping $50 for dorm beds in a Belgian hostel.

In retrospect, an absolute waste of money.  Around $3,500 down the drain in the first twelve months of bicycle travel just for accommodation.

Know how much we spent on lodging during the previous 12 months of travel?  $600

Not much.  And that includes bike touring through relatively pricey places like Chile, Argentina, Taiwan, Malaysia and Canada.

Over the years, we’ve cut our accommodation costs to almost nothing.  Here’s how we did it.

Perfecting the art of free camping

Once you start seriously searching for free places to pitch your tent, you’ll find that it’s really not that tricky.

Just in the past month, we’ve pitched our tent at Buddhist temples, mosques, police stations, and in the yard of random individuals.  We’ve also been invited in to enjoy the night at a beach resort and in a comfortable air-conditioned room at the Highway Patrol in Thailand.

While free camping may feel awkward at first, I assure you it’s loads of fun (most of the time).  Check out this article for ideas on where to look for a safe place to sleep for free and this article for more tips on free camping.

We got active in Hospitality Networks

Finding some random place to pitch your tent is perfect when you’re just passing through, but hardly practical when you want to hang around for a few days and visit a place.

Whenever I meet fellow cyclists, I ask if they are familiar with the free hospitality networks Couchsurfing and Warm Showers.

While most of our fellow bicycle travelers say they are aware of these services, relatively few cyclists actually take advantage of the free hospitality.

I’m really not sure why.

The pros and cons of free hospitality

To date, we’ve stayed with over 200 hosts from various hospitality networks.    In fact, I’m at the home of a couchsurfer this very moment.

Am I sleeping on the couch?  Absolutely not.

We’re all set up with a private air-conditioned room with comfortable queen-sized bed and attached bath.   This morning, we enjoyed a wonderful traditional Malaysian breakfast.   Over a long conversation about the state of the country I devoured coconut-filled pancakes, sticky rice and seaweed porridge (quite tasty, actually).

Sure, it takes time to track down available hosts.  And there are some constraints.  If we’ve told someone we’ll be in Bangkok on Tuesday, we’ll have to push a little harder so we make it on time.

At times, we sit around making small-talk with our hosts when we’d much rather be washing away the grit and grime from a hard day’s ride,  lunging into dinner and traipsing off to bed.

Naturally, we all click better with some people than others and it does take effort to get to know complete strangers.

But all in all, the rewards of hospitality networks far outweigh any negatives.  They offer unmatched opportunities for cultural exchange and one of the easiest ways on earth to cut travel expenses.

Picking priorities

Cutting expenses really boils down to deciding what you value.  If you enjoy the comfort and company found at guesthouses and hostels, why torture yourself by wild camping?  If you’re an enthusiastic foodie, by all means sample the best local cuisine.  And if you’re a chocolate addict, go ahead and indulge in a little bar of imported Belgian ecstasy from time to time.

Final verdict

Just keep this in mind: financing a bicycle tour is a little like losing weight.  If you want to slim down you can either exercise more or cut calories.

If you want to pay for a bicycle tour, you can either generate more income or cut costs.

Or– ideally–a little of both.

That’s it!

These are our 4 steps to affording a cycle tour around the world.  As you can see, there’s nothing very mysterious about it.

I firmly believe that most people’s bicycle touring dreams are within grasp.

Of course, there will be risks attached.  And you may have to give up some treasured sources of security along the way.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over these past six years, it’s that there’s something magical about bicycle touring.  The very act of setting off into the great big world on a humble bicycle brings with it a state of grace.  Once you begin pedaling, the universe is suddenly on your side everything seems to turn out right.

In the end, that is!

How do you finance your bicycle tour?  Please share in the comments section below.

But sometimes we just like to enjoy ourselves.  Not worry about where our next meal or drink of water is coming from.  Stop battling with bad roads and relentless winds.  Forget about killer climbs and 300 kilometer stretches of road sans services.

That’s when it’s time to pack up the panniers and bee-line it to Thailand.  Here’s my take on why Thailand is almost certainly the easiest place on earth to go bicycle touring.

The food:  cheap and best!

We all know cyclists spend about 80% of their waking hours dreaming of their next meal.

In Thailand, your next meal is just around the corner and it probably won’t cost you more that 30 Baht ($1).  And you know it’ll be delicious, because all Thai food is.

Even the smallest town in Thailand is home to a bustling market packed with food stalls.  A strong iced-coffee to wake you up and cool you off or perhaps you’d like to give the deep-fried shrimp cakes a try?  Don’t forget about all the spicy coconut curries, papaya salad and pork satays( for the meat lovers amongst us).

And for desert give the tempting banana pancakes (roti) or the coconut ice-cream a try.  Portions are small so go ahead, indulge 6, 7 or even 8 times a day for a mini-meal that won’t break the budget.

Thai Attitude

There’s no misnomer in Thailand being referred to as the Land of Smiles.  Thai people go out of their way to be helpful in almost all situations.   Passersby will guide you to a guesthouse, restaurant owners will exhibit an infinite amount of patience while watching you pantomime what you want to eat, random strangers will offer you food and drinks, and everybody will greet you with a warm Sawadee!

Most Thai’s motto seems to be Mai pen rai—no problem.  If you adopt that same attitude, you’re assured the time of your life bike touring in Thailand.

Amazing roads

Thai highways are in better shape than most highways I’ve cycled in the US!  Pot-hole free and –apart from the chaos surrounding Bangkok– pretty rider friendly.

Most highways have a wide paved shoulder, and if you get used to dodging the scooters coming from the opposite direction (driving the “wrong way” is accepted practice for short distances in most of Asia) you’ll find cycling so safe and stress-free you can even plug into some good music or a podcast.

Give those legs a break!

If you’ve just come from Laos, then those legs will need some relief.  Much of Thailand is blissfully flat.  If you stick to the south, you’ll encounter a few hills here and there, but fun ones.   You know the kind… 5 minutes of intense effort and 60 seconds of excitement as you woosh down the other side.

Bike touring, after all, shouldn’t be just about suffering.

Jaw-dropping beautiful beach anyone?

What could be more relaxing after six hours in the saddle than diving into the warm waters of the Adaman Ocean or the South China Sea?  Enough said.

7-11 at your service

Ever since cycling Taiwan, I’m a huge 7-11 fan.  Why?  The simple stuff.  Free ice to keep your water bottles refreshingly cool, clean restrooms and Magnum bars for those who just don’t think they can push it any further.

Tesco.  Really.

If you’ve been on the road for a while then you know the joy of stepping into a Western supermarket.  A dash to the bakery for same freshly baked bread that’s not chock full of sugar, a walk down the imported foods aisle to stock up and peanut butter and jam and finally a trip to the chocolate section where you’ll find everything you’ve every craved.  For a price, naturally.

One less thing to worry about.  Visas.

Anyone who’s biked through Central Asia or Africa knows the frustration of the visa chase.  Days, even weeks wasted begging some bureaucrat in Abuja or Urumqi for a tiny little stamp in your passport.

While visits to Thailand aren’t as easy as they used to be, the process is still pretty straight-forward.  Most Westerners are granted  an automatic 15 day stay at land crossings and 30 days if you arrive by air.

If you apply in advance (say in Phnom Penh or Vientiane) you’ll get a 60 day stay.  Hassle free.  Just fill out the forms, hand over the photos and pay the fee.  Done.

Best value accommodation on the planet.

Alright, we haven’t yet been to every country on the planet, but after cycling through more than 80, we have a pretty good idea of what constitutes a good deal.

And Thailand is a good deal.

For around 150 Baht ($5) you can find a clean, comfortable room with fan and a shared bath.  Fork over 200 Baht ($7) and you can upgrade to a room with an attached bath. A 300 baht splurge ($10) will get you the luxury of air conditioning.

Feel like camping instead?  No problem.  Just roll up to about any Buddhist temple in the country and you’ll be welcomed with one of those warm Thai smiles.  Go ahead, pitch your tent and enjoy a peaceful night’s rest.  For free.

I told you bike touring in Thailand was easy….easy on the wallet.

So remember…if you’re looking for a bicycle vacation rather than rough and tumble riding, then Thailand’s your spot:  the easiest place on earth for a bicycle tour.

Julian Bloomer had been dreaming of a long distance bicycle tour since he was a boy. In July 2008, he decided to forego becoming a home owner and instead sink his savings into realizing his bicycle dreams.

Julian’s original plan was a bicycle adventure through West Africa

Almost 4 years, 5 continents and more than 50,000 kilometers later, he’s still on the road.

We met up with Julian in Thailand where he’s currently cycling with partner Ellie Beck.

Julian blogs at:
theslowwayhome.blogspot.com/

and Ellie blogs at:

www.borntohorn.blogspot.com/

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At Siem Reap, we wandered around the ancient temples and fought the crowds at Angkor Wat.

In Phnom Penh, we admired the luxurious Royal Palace and strolled around serene Wat Phnom.

Each morning, I rolled out of bed at dawn to saunter through the so-called Russian Market (an out-dated moniker which came about in the1980’s when masses of Russians shopped there) and watch it come alive with vendors hawking everything from used clothing straight from the Salvation Army to carvings, curios and Chinese silks.   Naturally, after a nice stroll my stomach began growling which was an adequate excuse to treat myself to a refreshing iced-coffee and some sugary Cambodian-style donuts.

The bread man delivers direct to your door, a discovery on one of my morning walks around Phnom Penh.

One oppressively hot afternoon I even dropped in at the macabre and depressing Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and immersed myself for a few hours in the crimes of Pol Pot’s evil regime.

One of the crowd

We were model tourists in Cambodia.  We did everything the guide book told us to do.

Which was very good and fine, if not particularly earth-shatteringly interesting or in any way unique.

Thousands of foreign visitors come to Cambodia to ooh and awe at Angkor Wat and the Royal Palace.

Tons of tourists sit through the identical spiel at the museum.

And scores of backpackers haggle over prices at the Russian market.

But not everybody turns up in random villages to spend the night.  Few visitors know the joy of pedaling along with a group of school kids as they head off for a day of learning.  And how many tourists refresh themselves at the end of a hard day’s ride with a dip in the local swimming hole?

The road is calling!

Another Way

It was time to hit the road and discover the hidden side of Cambodia.

From Phnom Penh we battled our way south against traffic and a mild headwind.    Since Patagonia, I rarely find myself grumbling about wind in my face, knowing full well what REAL wind is all about.  Still, we had perfectly flat roads for the first time in a very long time and I wanted to FLY.  Instead we were putzing along at 16 kilometers an hour.

Late afternoon, at the peak of the heat, two young guys on a scooter pull up alongside me.  This is not unusual.  All over the developing world, curious locals pull up for a chat and a closer look at our mysterious machines.

The driver turns to me, and with a straight face says, “Madam, I think you are very hot!”

Of course, I can’t help but to burst out laughing, even though I know he’s referring to the effects of the scorching sun and not the fit of my cycling shorts.

I’m still smiling as the sun slides behind the horizon and we pull off the road to seek shelter at a temple.

Why camp in Southeast Asia?

While it’s usually not a problem to find a guesthouse in Southeast Asia, I enjoy the flexibility of camping.  We can take a few hours off during the mid-day heat and then cycle in the relative cool up till sunset without worrying about finding accommodation.

Along busy roads, temples are found every 10-20 kilometers and it seems cyclists with a tent are always welcome.

That evening’s temple was rather scruffy, home to just a handful of aging monks who spoke no English.  In spite of the language barrier, we were shown a bamboo platform on which to pitch the tent and directed to a small reservoir in which to bathe.

Bathing in public while remaining fully clothed is a bit tricky and I regretted not having a sarong along for that purpose.  A few children gathered to watch and I did my best to pay them no heed.  Still, I could feel their prying eyes, particularly when I set about shaving my legs and underarms.

Refreshed from my bath, we set about preparing the evening meal.  As usual, the multi-fuel stove was of great interest and the monks and a small crowd of local men watched intently as Eric fired it up.

The usual routine

Later a gaggle of school kids (still in uniform) showed up and one bold girl set about with an inquisition.

“I have several questions for you,” she began.  “First, why have you come to sleep in our village and where are you from?”

Her English was surprisingly advanced and when I asked her if she was top in her class, there was not a moment’s hesitation before she answered with pride, “Yes, I am number one student in English.”

Finally the questions wound down, everyone headed home and we drifted off to the most peaceful night’s sleep I’d known in months.  The village was blissfully silent and, not yet hooked up to the electrical grid, the only light that invaded the tent was that from the stars.

Leaving our temple campsite just after sunrise in hopes of beating the heat.

Surprise, surprise!

Cambodia, it turns out, is not entirely flat.

At least not in Botum Sakor National Park where the terrain undulates, rises and falls through the thick tropical forest.  This beautiful and remote part of Cambodia, shoved up next to the Cardamom Mountains is also home to a diminishing number of Asian elephants.

We didn’t spot any, which is good on the one hand, since elephant encounters can indeed go wrong, but disappointing, too since we hadn’t had any real wildlife encounters since multiple meetings with bears back in Canada.

Not many wildlife encounters in these parts, but plenty of encounters with two-wheeled animals.

We crossed paths with La La and Tom, an Australian-English couple new to cycle touring,just as we were scouting  around for the temple in the village of Trapeung Rung.

La La and Tom were new to temple camping, but we quickly indoctrinated them in the joys of pitching up amongst  the monks.

We chatted late into the evening (almost 11 PM–usually I’m out around 9:00) and in the morning still had more to discuss.

There’s often an instant understanding between cyclists–kindred spirits of the road that we are–which makes these random meetings so meaningful.

Alas, La La and Tom were headed in the opposite direction, to Central Asia perhaps, they’re not quite sure.  What they are certain of is that two-wheeled travel will occupy their lives for the next coming years.

Packing up after a night camping at a temple with La La and Tom

More friends on two wheels

A few days later, after we’d crossed the border back into Thailand and were pedaling furiously towards Bangkok, I spotted a couple pedaling ahead.

When I’d caught up, the guy turned to me and said, “Amaya, is it?”

Not quite as eloquent as Stanley’s, “Doctor Livingstone, I presume?” but I was taken aback.

Turns out we’d run into Julian Bloomer and his new cycling partner Ellie.

Wonderful!  I’d first been in contact with Julian as Eric and I were cycling through Africa way back in 2007.  Julian set off on his own ride through West Africa in July 2008, which eventually snowballed into a world tour (does this story sound familiar?  It could happen to you!).

I dare say we didn’t make a particularly positive impression on Julian and Ellie, given that we were experiencing a rash of mechanical issues that left us bickering and bad-tempered.

In the end it was Ellie who rescued us, after our final “spare tire” blew out completely and couldn’t be resuscitated even with the help of a boot.  Ellie kindly lent me her spare and I wobbled into Bangkok without further problem.

Wild dogs and a madman

Our final evening before reaching Bangkok was spent not in the company of Julian and Ellie (whom we’d lost track of on the busy road near Chonburi) but with 44 feral dogs and a madman.

Temple camping means you never quite know where you’ll end up, and this time it was at a Wat specializing in stray dog outreach.

The kindly monks spent their days sweeping up dog do-do and attempting to keep the noisy hounds quiet and maintain a semblance of control.

There were no cages and it was every dog for himself at the feeding trough.  The madman was just as territorial as the dogs and his grimace made it all too clear that he didn’t take kindly to having to share his camping space with the strange farang on bicycles.

Using the toilet was tricky since not only did movement set the dogs off into fits of prolonged howling, but it also set off our campmate who began frantically sweeping  behind us where our path had sullied the earth.

Just a few of the many dogs being cared for at the temple.

Sleep-deprived

It was no wonder then that biking into Bangkok proved so stressful, given the fitful slumber of the previous night.

The heat combined with the traffic and pollution of a city of 10 million was a lot to handle.

Urban sprawl begins around 80 kilometers from the city center so it was a full day of breathing in noxious fumes while dodging cars, buses and motorbikes.

My mood was lifted around 2 PM when we stopped for a rest at one of the many markets.  That’s one thing about Thailand, you’re never far from food…delicious and cheap food, to boot.

As we were gorging ourselves on some fresh deep-fried cod, one of the vendors popped by and offered us two ice-cold bottles of coke.  It was a simple gesture, but my face lit up with joy brought on by this unexpected kindness.

After that, the traffic didn’t feel so aggressive, nor the heat so searing and I even managed a smile or two.

All thanks to that random encounter of the very best kind.

Even riding through Bangkok can be made tolerable through the power of coca-cola and kindness.

This may come as a surprise, but for many long-distance cyclists Iran tops the list of favorite destinations.

Friedel and Andrew Grant absolutley fell in love with this misunderstood land.

In the latest A-Z of bicycle touring guest post, they tell us more about the charm of pedalling through Persia.

1.  Friendly People

Out of all the places we’ve cycled (33 countries so far), the people of Iran top our list as the friendliest we’ve ever met. Everywhere you go, people are genuinely interested in your trip and want to help you out in anyway they can.

Invitations to share a meal or spend the night with a family are an almost daily occurrence. If you need help with anything on the road, it normally takes only a few moments before you find several people willing to help.

Once, on a busy road, we even had 2 men who kindly acted as our escorts all the way up a mountain, riding in front and behind us so we would be safe from cars as we rode through several dark tunnels.

The kindness from Iranians is humbling to experience. If only the whole world were so nice!

2.  Amazing Heritage

The Persian culture is rich and well preserved.  From the beautifully tiled mosques of Esfahan to the archaeological wonder that is Persepolis , there’s plenty to explore. There’s also the desert city of Yazd (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yazd), the heart of Zoroastrian culture.

And the best part? Because there are so few tourists, you get all of this almost to yourself to explore. In Italy, these sorts of sites would be heaving with visitors but in Iran they’re generally tranquil.

3.  Great Free Camping

There aren’t many official campgrounds in Iran and there’s plenty of open space so it’s easy to set your tent just about anywhere. In addition to the wide open landscapes, you sometimes come across rest areas where Iranian families often stop to set up their tents as a break from long road trips.

Although a bit noisy, these informal campgrounds are free (with toilets and water) and a great place to meet local people.

Finally, we found the police were always happy for us to pitch a tent next to the station, and they often let us use the facilities as well.

4.  Affordable Prices

Inflation is shooting up in Iran but you still get a lot for your money. You can enjoy a hotel every night, meals out and tourist sights without breaking the bank. We went for a mix of budget hotels and wild camping during our time there, with a few meals out, and still only spent about 5 euros a day each (2008).

5.  Cyclist-Friendly Services

In Iran, it’s no problem to put your bicycle on a bus or on the train. You might have to pay a small fee, but there’s no fuss about it and no annoying need to box your bike. Every town also has a hammam (bathhouse) where for less than $1 U.S. you get a private room with unlimited hot water – perfect for scrubbing up after a few days of camping or for doing your laundry!