Machka 

When I've toured, I've frequently encountered people, complete strangers, who have helped me out along the way. I've heard that this is not infrequent among cycle-tourists, so I was wondering if you've got any stories about the kindnesses you have been shown from strangers.


My (first) story:

My friend and I were cycling around Tasmania, and I had reached a point where I had enough and decided to rest a couple days then take the bus and catch up with my friend who was going to continue cycling. We checked the bus schedules and agreed to meet in a small town called, Hamilton.

I checked the tourist information about Hamilton and while it seemed to have an over-abundance of Bed and Breakfasts (quite expensive ones), it didn't seem to have cheap hotels, hostels, or even campgrounds. But nevertheless we decided to meet there and see what we could arrange for accommodations when we got there (stealth camping is always an option).

My friend arrived there before I did, and settled in at the local pub to wait for me. Hamilton is a VERY small town which doesn't appear to get a lot of traffic, and so the presence of a cyclist from a foreign country attracted attention. He got chatting with the people in the pub and before long they fed him, for free, and after a bit one of them offered him (and me) a place to stay for the night.

I arrived and my friend and I made our way over to the home of the person who offered us a place to stay (Paul). Paul lived in a large 18th century inn which he was restoring!!! Cool!! He showed us all around the place and explained some of the history surrounding it. He also explained some of the restorations, and showed us photos of the before and after. He made sure we had supper before bed, and breakfast before we set off in the morning.

I had never had a complete stranger open up his/her home to me before. It was incredible!

lorrer

I was out on a ride with my friend and her knee started hurting. Better safe then sorry, we knocked on the door of a woman who turned out to be very sympathetic, and she drove us to a hospital. While waiting in the emergency room, another woman approached us and asked if we needed a ride. Her husband thought he had an appendicitis and they had been waiting for three hours! They drove us along our way to the town across the river from our destination that night. There, a lovely woman from the local cycling group had earlier offered to drive us across into Havre de Grace, MD. I'd met her while asking the local biking group about appropriate routes through a month prior, at which time she offered to drive us.

PS my friend's knee is totally fine, after consulting a sports med book she decided it was just sore from overuse with not enough training. We'll always have memories of the great people we met that day and can talk big to our friends that we "hitchiked" with these interesting folks . Not to mention the cool couple that works at the Havre de Grace tourist center. They drove us around in their own car showing us the sights, and regailed us with the story of a French fellow who had actually *run* through on his way running across the U.S. He'd chosen to run through Havre de Grace because it sounded French, but alas there were no francophiles or francophones in sight .

Mr_Super_Socks

this is an excerpt from a story my wife wrote about a tour we took in the Dordogne region of France:
As we pulled into Tremolat, a speck of a village with red geraniums bursting from golden limestone windowsills, two sets of elderly people ambled out of a restaurant and headed straight for the tandem. Jokes and questions ensued, and they asked where we were from and where we were headed.

The French couple offered to let us stay in their guest house when we arrived near Sarlat. The wife insisted on giving us her phone number and describing the route, to the dismay of her friends.

"You can't just invite strangers into your house, especially not Americans, they're ready for war and armed to the teeth," said the English woman accompanying them. Our soon-to-be hostess waived off the words of caution and told us she hoped to see us. And she did.

We wheezed up the hill outside La Roque-Gageac to the ancient farmhouse they restored into their home. The guest house was once the bergerie, where the sheep slept.

They insisted we dine with them in the main house, where we learned they lived in America for 30 years after World War II. They said Americans were so open and wonderful to them, they felt the least they could do was treat us with the same graciousness.

They even offered to loan us their car so we could visit the area around the Lascaux caves. We declined the car but were forced to accept a basket of breakfast food handed to us as we set off for the bergerie. When we left the next morning to head to Rocamadour, the husband stood on the driveway and watched us leave, like any father or uncle.

Camel

I've recieved "the usual" bits of small kindness so far on tour. Unsollicited directions that were bike friendly, unsolicited free beer/water/meals, unsollicited discounts, folks going way out of there way to help with language translation etc.

By far though, I recieved the best "kindness from strangers" on/after my last big backpacking trek. I hiked the John Muir trail (part of the Pacific Crest Trail) a few years ago, and have a bunch of fond memories of kindness.

Highlights included a lift back to Yosemite from a couple who were going in the oposite direction-but insisted on driving me & another hiker back (way out of there way). The other hiker then insisted to entertain me for a few days untill I cought my flight back home. She showed me around San Francisco and the surrounding highlights. She also invited me on her Mt Kilimanjaro trek which she was heading to. UNFORTUNATELY at that time I didn't have a passport, and couldn't get one in time-so couldn't go.

Shifty

Gosh, there are so many! I live in Oregon today mostly because of the impression of the people as I toured here, I was living in Colorado when I did several tours in the west coast states.

I was riding from Astoria Oregon, southbound to a campground near Cannon Beach. Just before Seaside I noticed a sign near a driveway which said "Free Bicycle Camp". Well, that was sure inviting, so I checked it out. This nice fellow had built three buildings in his backyard, two were three sided bunk houses, each with foam matresses, pillows with clean covers each morning, and the other building was a shower house with hot water. There were picnic tables in the yard, and the man who provided this all would come out in the evening with popcorn and talk with whoever dropped in for the night. He said that he was doing this because cyclist were such nice and interesting people, so he enjoyed their company. Well sir, we enjoyed your company too, and the special night of comfort you provided!!

Same trip in Florence Oregon, Honeyman State Park (yes, that wonderful place with the swimming lake at the sand dunes). I was waiting in line to take a shower after riding the most beautiful section of the Oregon Coast, between Newport and Florence. I was having such a pleasant conversation with the man in line before me, so as he went into the shower, he invited me to have dinner with him and his wife in there motor home. Have ya ever turned down food on a bike tour? Neither have I. Well this couple had just finished a trip to the Rogue River for salmon fishing, so guess what was on the menu? yep, fresh chinook. After the dinner, as I was leaving, they said that if I was passing through there town, I would be welcome to stay with them. I quickly changed my route to include their town. Nice people are one of the best things about touring, that and the bakeries!

chipcom 

MMMMM, bakery!

EmmCeeBee

Just finished a 2800 mile loop from Portland, Oregon to Banff/Calgary and back. 10 weeks on the road, enough time to collect a couple dozen stories.

Here's a couple:

Pulled into camp in Hells Canyon after an 85 mile day (fortunately mostly downhill, but with a 108*F blast-furnace wind). My wife claimed the showers first, so I took the chore of getting dinner ready. I could check my journal, but most likely the menu was seared hotdogs and canned chili on tortillas -- yeah, I know, but after 60 miles anything tastes good. Walking back to the campsite with a jug of water, I met Charles and Rocky, from Seattle, at their RV. They were absolutely floored by the journey we were on -- Charles' dream was always to do a month-long bike tour. They spend a month or two every summer along the Snake River fishing and soaking up the sun. Popped a beer for me and we swapped stories till my wife came by from the showers, then invited us inside their (airconditioned!) RV and piled up plates with potato salad, fresh fish, french bread, grapes, and a couple chocolate chip cookies each. We didn't ask -- we were ravenous, and it probably showed. When we got back to the tent, carrying our plates, there was another biking couple set up; looking like sad puppies when they saw our feast! That was the end of the first week; after that, my wife let me take care of the dinner chore quite often.

After four weeks of riding we got to Banff. The weather had been perfect, if not too hot (see "Hells Canyon", above). Not a drop of rain, not a single day below 70*F. The day we crossed Vermillion Pass into Banff, we descended into thick, low clouds and a freezing rain. We weren't ready for this -- prepared, yes, but not ready, after a month of sun and sunburn. At camp in Banff, we put on all our layers and our trusty ponchos. But it was too late, it was 36*F and the cold had already soaked in. We were shivering, ready to call it quits and crawl into the miserable comfort of the tent. But my wife met a couple a few trees over, Michelle and Peg in a VW camper, who invited us in for a cup of tea (and another, and another, each with a higher percentage of brandy) and turned on the furnace. A VW camper is small for four people; amazingly, they turned their dog out to sit under the picnic table, to make room for their guests. Eventually we were warm and dry enough to get down to two layers. Swapped a lot of stories; between the four of us, we figured we'd been to over 120 countries.

Beginning of the last week, we had one last climb, one last mountain range to cross: Washington Pass in the North Cascades Nat'l Park in northern Washington. Pushing into the second half of September, dangerously close to the end of summer. I checked forecasts for days before we got the to Methow valley, at the base of the summit, trying to convince my wife we didn't want to get stuck in the rain at 5600 feet altitude. Hopefully, we'd hit a break between storms to get up over the pass. Almost made it..... We mosied through the Methow valley to time the storms, and camped below the summit on a drippy day, with the forecast saying "sun and warm weather tomorrow". It wasn't to be. The next day, with 2000 feet to go, the skies opened up. I must say, Washington Pass is beautiful even in ugly weather. But it got colder as we climbed, decked out in full rain gear for the last 5 miles. My wife is from the tropics, and doesn't take cold well -- I was watching for signs of hypothermia. At the summit, 37*F, she was shivering and fumbling with frozen fingers. Gary and Peggy in an RV came by; they stopped to talk about our trip, about their own bike tours; saw my wife's situation and invited us in with the furnace going and coffee brewing. This was a nasty day, even car traffic was almost non-existent, we only saw a dozen cars in the morning. But two other people stopped by to check on us, and even offered us rides in either direction; having just finished the last climb, we appreciated the thought, but weren't about to take 'em up on it. To them, we probably looked desparate. In all, it was the last big challenge of the trip. But it made the downhill feel oh-so-good!

-- Mark

Machka 

More Australian stories ...

My friend and I had been on the road for almost 3 weeks when we arrived at Port Welshpool. In that time we had desperately been trying to keep to our rather unrealistically low budget and in order to do so, we had not been eating well. In particular we had not eaten much meat at all - our protein levels were very low.

When we got to the campground at Port Welshpool all we had with us was a couple cans of beans ... which is exactly what we had been eating pretty much the whole time.

We set up camp and then made our way over to the camp kitchen to see about cooking up our cans of beans. When we got there, it was packed full of men ... fishermen, we discovered, who had all come out for the weekend to have a men's weekend out quite likely consisting of very little fishing and a lot of drinking and playing cards.

We sort of stood by hesitantly, but they made room for us and we came in and sat down. And then the questions started ... who were we, where were we from, where were we going, were we the cyclists they had seen on the road, etc. Meanwhile they were cooking a FEAST of meat. They had chicken, sausages, and hamburgers ... and they had a lot of everything.

My friend and I sat there drooling with our cans of beans.

When the men had finished cooking they cleaned things up a bit, to allow us onto the BBQs to cook, and my friend emptied our cans of beans on the cooking surface. We were quite pleased with that because the beans would at least pick up the taste of all that cooking meat.

The men stopped what they were doing and looked at what we had for supper. "That can't be all you have!" "You can't be out there riding bicycles on that!" ... and before we knew it, we were loaded up with all kinds of meat ....... which we devoured like hungry wolves!! They even brought us seconds and then brought us beer ... and we all sat around and talked and ate and drank for quite a while.

The very next day we went on to Tidal River on Wilson's Prom. When we pulled up to the camp kitchen there, all we had were those beans again, and a few eggs, which we cooked. While we were doing so, a couple men (not the same ones from the night before) were cooking a FEAST of meat on the next grill ... and we got chatting about what we were doing and so on. They also saw what we were eating and before we knew it, once again we were loaded up with with all kinds of meat!! Two nights in a row!!

paul2

My bike club was doing a loaded, long weekend tour on Manitoulin Island. One day, there were about ten of us riding together, when we heard rumbling. We hoped it was blasting at the dolomite mine, but soon it started to rain. Then the thunder and lightening moved in. It got closer and closer, while the rain came down in sheets. The lightening was cracking right over our heads, so we decided it wasn't safe to be cycling anymore.

We pulled off, and stood under the eaves of a cottage. After a few minutes, a hatch opens in the side of an addition being built on to the cottage, and a woman invites us in. We climb up a ladder, and through the opening, into the half constructed addition. The woman then brought us tea, cake, and towels to dry off with.

CyLowe97

Not cycling related, but related to travel.... the Travel Channel has a show now called "Stranded with Cash Peters" where they take him to some (supposedly) unknown-to-Cash location and leave him w/o money. It's fairly entertaining to watch Cash worm his way into some local's life to learn about the location. If it goes well, Cash will get somebody to buy him food and drink and invite him to stay at someone's place for free. Who knows how much may be staged, but it is a neat show to see how locals feel about their homes. Locations have included Coober Peedy (Australia), an island in Vanuatu, Charleston (South Carolina), a city on the tip of Newfoundland (Canada), and others. It's all about the kindness of strangers and getting to know them. Show an interest in learning about someone and they will open up their homes and lives to you!

drcrash

I keep a journal as I travel. Nothing fancy. Sometimes an entry takes the form of a letter (to my wife, lost college buddies, my deceased brother, etc.), sometimes short (or extended) essays about the "thought of the day," but most of the time I write about people I met during the day. It might be about a waitress at a cafe, a flagman at a road construction site, or a family at the campsite next door. The one constant in most of these instances is the interest, openness, and kindness of these folks.

For example, I was passing through a small town in central Illinois a few years ago. There wasn't much to the place: a town hall and, across the street, a post office. I stopped and bought a Coke from a machine on the town hall's porch. I was sitting there, drinking my pop, when the post mistress came out, invited me into the air conditioned post office, and offered to fill my water bottles. We chatted for a few minutes, and before I took my leave, she stamped and addressed a post card to herself, gave it to me, and asked that I mail it to her when I finished my tour. "I just want to know that you made it home alright," she said. Isn't that sweet?

staehpj1

There have been too many to list, but I will say that I have been overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity we were met with especially on the TransAmerica.

We were often offered a place to stay or fed a meal. That was always great, but some of the instances that stick in my mind are the little things.

1. The time we were sitting in the only shade for many miles on a 100F+ day and a van pulled up a guy got out and tossed us each an ice cold bottle of water.
2. The time we were given half of an ice cold watermelon while we were taking a break in a town park, again on a very hot day.
3. The time when Lauren left her washcloth behind and at the next campground/cabin rental place asked if she could borrow or buy one. They said they could loan her one and did. After we were settled in a little boy who had overheard the conversation came by and gave Lauren a washcloth to keep. Later his mother came by to be sure we knew it was OK and to check if we needed anything else.
4. The time that my daughter was at a QuikMart or similar when on the TA. She was paying for a bottle of gatorade and a snack on her visa card. The lady behind the counter said, "Oh, honey I can't let you put that on your credit card. Just take it." My daughter tried to explain that she was not destitute, but just preferred to not carry much cash. The lady would not take the card. My daughter then tried to insist on paying in cash. The lady only took her money after some effort on my daughter's part to convince her that she could afford it. I thought that it was heartwarming to see the concern and generosity toward a stranger on the cashier's part. I think she intended to pay for it out of her own pocket.

foamy

Too many to write about here.

Folks had always asked if I made any "self-discoveries" or had any epiphanies on my CC tour. The biggest thing I discovered was that the U.S. is chock full of of really nice folks. Kind, caring, considerate, helpful, giving—I could go on. I went out to see my country and that was what I found. That was the real discovery.

wmcmiii

I was touring through Patagonia and met up with a woman on a ferry who lived on our route but about two weeks ago. She invited us to look her up when we went through her town. We got there and she let us stay in her guest-house (which wasn't much, but it had a stove and it was freezing) and she turned out to be a local radio celebrity and brought my friend an I for an interview on her radio show. It was a pretty cool experience--and she had two sons about my age and they invited to do some hiking with them, but didn't take them up on it.

WeTommyD

People have been most friendly to me on tour. Really the people that I meet are what makes my tours truly special. Last year in Gaspe, QB two families invited us in their homes and allowed us to use their wonderful showers and set up camp in their backyard.

My trip this year I bumped in to a family @ the farmers market in Lancaster, PA that put me up for the night in his home. About 40 miles out of town another family waived me over to invite me in for a great meal I'll never forget (vegetarian crab cakes, fresh homemade tomato soup, freshly baked zucchini bread & brewed tea)

Or even the guy at the farm stand that gave me some peaches. Lots of small instances that people went out of their way to be friendly.

Caspar_s

I stopped at a gas station and used their bathroom and bought some gatorade. Middle of summer and really hot, so I must have been really sweaty etc.

Left the store and was a couple of kilometres down the road when this car zoomed past me and pulled over. The young guy from the store had chased after me to return the wallet I'd left on the counter. Not sure how he'd guessed which direction I'd gone (it was on a crossroad and I don't recall mentioning which way I was headed) Who knows, maybe he'd tried a couple before finding me.

That would have been a shock - going to pay for something later on in the day and not finding a wallet.

nancy sv

I've also got way more stories than I can possibly write up here. I've posted a couple of htem here:

Gatorade Angels

Rescued from rain

I suppose I should write up some of my other ones one of these days...