Ooh! 10,000 kilometres Bimbled…

We just realised, looking at our Strava (well, Beck’s Strava as mine is just a carbon copy because I don’t log my rides independently anymore) that we have reached the arbitrary kilometrestone of 10,000 Kilometres Ridden since we started our Bimble. Our route has been nothing if not a bit convoluted—and somewhat unconventional—but we are where we are (Nouakchott in Mauritania) and we thought we’d use this point as an opportunity for reflection.

We’ve also been considering writing some posts from both of our perspectives, to capture a bit more what travelling as a couple can be like, and how it might differ for each of us. Our friend Martin has asked us to write a post reflecting on touring as a couple, which will follow in due course, but for now, we asked an as-yet-non-sentient-large-language-model to spaff five questions for us each to answer independently. The first we have read of each other’s answers is when we published this post. As follows:

1. When you think back over the last 10,000 kilometres, what’s one moment that feels like the essence of this journey?

Beck: Being given armfuls of oranges, in the middle of the desert, in Ramadan, by a totally random truck driver.

Sam: When we left a homestay in Morocco, Mohamed, the father of the household cried, which set me off too. In that moment, after only a few hours together and with no shared language, somehow we both developed a great fondness for each other and we were sad to see that moment pass. It’s hard to say exactly what it was. For me, I suddenly missed my dad and was overwhelmed by the gratitude I felt towards a man and his family that had so little but had given us so much. This has been the overwhelming theme of our trip so far, for me.

2. How do you think your idea of travel, home, and freedom has shifted since you rolled out of the UK?

Beck: The more we travel, the more privileged I feel. I am more aware of my freedom and how lucky we are to have had a safe, comfortable and stable home life. I have the freedom (as a UK citizen with access to a passport and funds) to travel almost without restriction anywhere in the world. Many people we have met dream of travelling to the UK or elsewhere but do not have the means to do so. Others are travelling because they have no other choice, either for work or to leave somewhere behind. Seeing how people survive in homes in the desert with the wind howling, also makes me very aware that up until leaving, my home, unlike others, has always been secure.

Sam: Pretty much all of my ideas around these topics have been challenged or entirely upended. One thing is clear, the extent to which we can consider these as any sort of choice is a huge privilege. The passport we were born with, the resources (money, time, health etc.), our upbringing, and anything else that leads us to this point. The things that I miss on the road are family and community, but it’s already hard to consider what ‘reintegration’ might look like. There is much to cogitate here.

3. Of all the roads you’ve ridden, which place caught you off guard — for its scenery, culture, or sheer unpredictability?

Beck: Ah, this one is hard. I’ve picked one for each topic (sorry Sam!)… Scenery: I was really surprised by the Outer Hebrides. I’m not sure I knew what to expect but the white sandy beaches, moon-like rocky landscapes, Black Houses and the bird life (particularly eagles and hen harriers) were a real joy and always a feast for the eyes. Culture: Morocco and its tea making. It is done with such great care and attention as demonstrated at our dinner in Laayoune with a local family. The mother, Fatima, spent 15 minutes carefully brewing and mixing the tea to be shared and it was worth the wait. The Moroccan culture of kindness and giving was off the scale and will be very fondly remembered. Unpredictability: For me this is Dakhla. A place of such huge contrasts from the city with its hotels, restaurants and commerce, to the fishing village of Lassarga just 15 km away. A huge complex of homes for fishing families, built using scraps, found materials and anything that makes a place weatherproof. I found this inequality particularly confronting. Sadly this theme has cropped up all too often on our travels.

Sam: I’ve barely travelled outside of Europe before and most of that travel was in Western European countries. I think the most striking thing so far has been how remotely individuals and communities live in the Sahara. There seem to be so few resources and a relentlessness to the conditions that I find mind boggling. My definition of remote living keeps getting extended. I’m still forming my opinion in terms of inequality but coming into the cities is also wild in these terms where ramshackle tents stand in close proximity to luxurious new builds. I realise my naïvety here and I know our—as yet not quite complete—trip across the Sahara is very fresh in my mind but this section has been a real eye-opener.

4. What have these ten months taught you about your bike, your body, and your capacity?

Beck: Honestly, I’m amazed at and grateful for what I have been able to do. In 2022 I was so poorly with Long Covid that I had to stop everything overnight and spent almost 6 months in a horizontal position. The plan to travel was already an aim for us and it was difficult to imagine during that time if it would even be a possibility for me any more. It took a couple more years to get back to almost full health and we set off 10,000km ago hoping that my body could manage it. After all those kilometres including lung-busting Norwegian climbs and endless desert, I’m just so grateful that each day I can get back on my bike and ride alongside Sam, eager to see what we’ll discover the next day.

Sam: Firstly, isn’t it just so cool that such a simple tool can carry you such a long way under your own steam? Our bikes have been a delight (thanks Ben!) but we’ve met people riding all sorts of machines who are just doing it. In fact, the people just walking have given us pause for thought. My body has managed ok. Though it has moaned a little about the longer sections we’ve had to do through the desert. My biggest failing has been my mental capacity. I’d like to be a tad more positive and constructive when the going gets tough. I can be a grumpy old man at times when I am overtired, hungry, hot etc. Nobody needs this…

5. If you could go back to that first morning leaving the UK, what advice would you give your past selves before the first pedal stroke?

Beck: Chill out. Do not worry so much about the detail. So far at least, it really does work itself out 99% of the time and you have to be really unlucky for it to go bad. Very little needs to be meticulously planned and you don’t have to know (and can’t know) everything about what’s ahead, what’s around the corner, or what to expect. People made these types of journeys by bike before the internet, and people continue to do so with apparently little research before departure. If they feel comfortable doing that, more kudos to them but for me, a level of planning and knowledge takes the edge off the anxiety and means that we’re not putting each other at risk (e.g. checking the weather for storms or super high temperatures, or making sure we’ve got the right visa information). Finding that planning balance has been a journey but it means more thinking time can now be dedicated to the here and now.

Sam: Pretty much just to leave. That’s the hard part. Don’t sweat it too much if you have the opportunity and it’s something you long to do. That’s pretty much the advice I’ve always lived by…

Here’s to another 10,000 kilometres and all that comes with it…