I got started back in the early to mid-70s when I got a Huffy 10-speed in 6th or 7th grade. I grew up in rural Nevada and it was about 15 miles to the next town. So I would pack a lunch into my Cannondale seat/handlebar bag (I don't think they even made bikes then) and make a day of it. I read anything touring-related I could get my hands on but there wasn't much. My older brother brought home a copy of "Richard's Bicycle Book" from college, which was probably the first book I found with any information on touring in it.
When I got to college, I decided to do a tour of the UK. I talked a friend into joining me and we spent most of the summer of 1981 touring in England and Scotland. My bike was a "Tiger" 10-speed that wasn't really built for touring, but it actually held up pretty well. It had no braze-ons so I had to use those bendy metal clips to mount racks, bottle cages, etc. I was able to get most of the gear I needed from a local bike shop in Reno, including a nice set of Kirtland panniers and handlebar bag that I still have. I learned much more about touring that summer than I have since, from all other sources combined. I think I was too stupid when I started to realize that this was probably way too much for a first extended tour. My friend and I were both out of shape but that changed pretty quickly. It was a lot of fun.
I had one incident where a cell phone would have been nice but they didn't exist yet. In retrospect, I'm glad they didn't. We were riding into a grey industrial town in South Yorkshire. My front derailleur had been giving me fits and I was fiddling with it as I rode. Unfortunately, while I was thus distracted, a parked car jumped right in front of me.
[Yikes!] Luckily, my frame and fork were undamaged, but my front wheel was a total loss. We were walking into town, looking for a bike shop. I was balancing my bike on the back wheel, with the remains of the front wheel bungeed to the top of my panniers. Suddenly, a passing car pulled to the curb in front of us. The driver jumped out and asked, "Do you need a wheel?" My friend stayed with the bikes while Mr. Turner whisked me away, presumably to the nearest bike shop. Actually, he took me to his house, introduced me to his wife, then rummaged through his garage until he found a wheel that would work. He said there weren't any bike shops in town but that wheel was good enough to get me to York where I could buy a new one. He refused payment and wished us both a good trip. At several different times that summer, we received similar offers of help, friendship, or just a kind word when we needed it. I'm afraid being "connected" by a cell phone or wi-fi would have isolated us from at least some of this.
Don't get me wrong. I love the internet. It allows me to connect with people all over the world who have similar interests. But I sometimes feel fortunate to have grown up when the world a bit larger.