Michigander

On the 10th Michigander, the last one sponsored by the Detroit Free Press, my dad and I almost got in a fight with 3 teenaged hicks in Ionia Michigan. They were driving around in a station wagon, the color of which was primarily rust. They had quite a lot of fun shouting at us cyclists about our tight cloths, and I told them to do something unpleasent. They stalked us for a while, and my dad and I decided to dismount, and take out the weapons we had for dogs. He had an old, long pump filled with birdshot and a water bottle filled with amonia. I had my rather nasty looking dagger. I don't know if they had weapons. My dad shouted at them to get the F away from us and they did. I am very glad nobody got hurt. If we had got in a fight, somebody might have died.

That was the worst thing that ever happened to me on a tour. Does anybody else have a story of something scary, traumatic, or perhaps even something really funny or embarrasing that happened to you or someone you know while on a tour?

Bikepacker67

As in shotgun??!

BWHAHAHAHA!

I've heard of carrying a small .38, but what the hell?! Did he have that thing strapped to the top tube?

Shades of Spike Bike!

hillyman

Sounds like your mouth is the worst thing that happened to you on a tour.

hillyman

Lower yourself to their level and you get their level results.

Michigander

Thats part of it. I don't give anybody a hard time, and I also don't take crap off anybody unless I am being payed to do so, like with rough carpentry. I don't take kindly to people screaming at me for no reason.

No, air pump filled with tiny lead bb's for use as a club. We have been attacked by dogs before and we are always ready. We certainly can't carry guns on the michigander because we stop overnight at schools.

Michigander

I've had at least a dozen flat tires, a 30 mph accident, my tent pole shattered in the middle of the night during a t storm, a guy I met one day died in a crash the next day, and probably a lot more stuff I can't think of. I'd think somebody has some interesting story to share.

chipcom 

A friend and I did a weekend tour of Kauai, Hawaii when we were stationed over on Oahu. We decided to follow an old trail we found, leaving our bikes and hiking. Within a few klicks we found ourselves a big ole pot field! Just about the time we thought 'wow, this really is paradise', a couple of 'nackers come running at us from the other side of the field...we heard the 'zip, zip' (gawd I hate them killer bees) before we heard the sound of the gunshots. We panicked and ran for our lives...I think we broke the world's record for a 10k through the jungle. We didn't even bother to show ourselves when we found the road again and kept to cover all the way back to the hotel, never even bothering to try to get back to our bikes. I figure getting out of there with our skins was worth the loss of our bikes and gear. Sometimes, following those paths off the beaten trail just ain't worth the risk. I hope whoever found our bikes got good use out of them.

Machka 

Hmmmm ... let's see ... the worst thing that ever happened to me on a bicycle tour was probably the accident I had on a remote gravel road. I had to walk several kilometers out to pavement, and then when we got riding again (very slowly and painfully) the bats came out and kept dive-bombing us.

When we got back to the campground I tried to clean out my wounds as best I could - no easy task given the limited equipment I had available ... and the pain was so bad I was sick to my stomach and started to convulse.

We set off the next day to get back to civilization, and it was two days and 100 miles of slow, painful riding to get there. At the end of the first day we bush camped in a rainforst jungle and I was a bit concerned about infecting my wounds out there.

Happily, when we did get into civilization again, I caught a bus to Airlie Beach and spent the next 5 days relaxing and soaking up the sun!

But I've still got quite a scar!!

jamawani 

Years ago I was touring on a gravel road in the Black Hills of South Dakota. A pick-up was coming towards me - just flying. I kept doing the flat palm downwards motion to get him to slow down - to no avail. Well, as he passed me he threw up a lot of gravel - I tried to duck and cover as best I could on the bike, but a chunk hit my leg and cut me pretty good. So I gave him the universal middle-finger greeting.

The truck screeched to a halt. I spun around on my bike facing it. There were two of them. It seems that idiots work better in pairs. The driver got out and demanded to know what I had just done. So, very diplomatically, I replied, "My, my, my. You were in such a hurry just a minute ago. And now you have time to stop." I had my right hand in my handlebar bag. His buddy screamed, "Get back in the truck, he's got a gun!" It was a banana. Fortunately they took off.

So the moral of this story is, "Speak imprudently and carry a big banana."

Bekologist

Not the most traumatic thing to happen to me on a bike, humorous in retrospect, but on a short week tour almost 20 years ago, a wilderness backcountry solo trip with about %60 pavement %40 gravel. Early generation mountain bike.

First day out, noodling around, lose the bag of weed before I leave the pavement. Lose my sleeping bag off the rack the first day, have to do a major backtrack and search in a field I'd been dicking around in with the bike.

Next day, on a killer rattletrap downhill, a pannier jumped the rack and splits wide open at the seams, spewing all the goodies off a steep embankment while I'm doing 25-30. By the time I've stopped, I've lost the toilet paper, a flashlight, and the main stash of the matches. Maybe some other stuff. I can't find anything off the embankment.

Luckily, being prepared (and it literally saved my fanny that trip!) I always have a backup stash of toilet paper and matches in case the shizzle hits the fandizzle.

Duct tape up the pannier. Shortly afterwards, I hit loose sandy roads. Have to deflate the tires and ride on about 10psi to get enough float to granny thru sugar sand for endless miles of toil.

Later in the tour, I'm pulling up to a mud puddle to filter out some water, and as I slow to a stop, my rack teeters, pivots off the back and crashes into the ground-
I had sheared off the flat aluminum monostay on a Blackburn rack.

This is all taking place in total wilderness, having not seen any people for a couple of days. Middle of BFE. But on this old logging road, I scrounge around and rustle up some bailing wire, and juryrig the thing back togther.

Finally, after the dirt portion of the tour was over and I hit pavement again, it wasn't a half hour afterwards that the heavens opened up a deluge that left the roadway 3 inches deep from too much rain all at once. I couldn't find a dry patch to pitch tent, all the ground was swimming in it, so I spent the night on the back porch of a small oil company's truck yard under the only dry patch of real estate I could find.

The next day, I rode my first century, on a loaded mountain bike. Slunk back home, tail between my legs, spirit totally broken, riding home with a mini-epic under the belts of my tires.

xilios

The worst thing that happend to me was in Italy on a country road. A small animal ran in front of this truck and got squashed on the opposite lane, and having my left leg spreyed with watever was in it. Along with the sound it made, I almost got sick, it totaly freaked me out.
I wouldn't wish that on anybody.

cyclintom

I understand all of that but why the weapons? Dip ****s are a dime a dozen but most of them are totally harmless. The sap would have put your Dad in the city jail but a dagger would have put you in prison with a lot of people from whom you'd be taking a lot more than ****. This isn't some back alley in Morocco.

Matthew A Brown

OK, dunno if I'm missing something. I've yet to be in any situation really hairy or anything, but still. Yeah, in the middle of nowhere, people drive like *******s because there generally isn't anyone else around, and it would probably take something past just "another person" to get ******* drivers to become non-******* drivers even temporarily.


**** the weapons. Put a guitar in a plastic bag and lash it to something. One fits perfectly on top of a BOB. I rarely played the damn thing on the last tour, but it was nearly invaluable in defusing potentially ornery situations. "Hot damn man, you carrying a guitar around? That's some goddamn dedication, I tell you what. And is that thing steel? Hoeeey.... How far you been carrying that thing, anyway?"


Worlds better than preemptively planning on one-upping somebody with a real or implied firearm/weapon.




That said: (longish)

Day Twelve: Folkston - Patterson
89.52

OK. Today was preposterous. It was hell. If I can survive this, humor intact, wits functioning, then the rest of the tour is cake.

So it would be a long day anyhow. This was planned. What was not planned was arriving at the last gas station before the campsite and not having a ****ing wallet. Little billfold fella, ID, the UF ID, my Social Security card for some reason, some traveller's checks. Check card. Five dollars.

No. Wallet.

So I'm standing outside of Thompson's Grocery dumbfounded. No. Wallet. Its 7:30, maybe an hour of workable daylight. I need to be pitching a tent NOW, but no. I have no, wallet. I go inside, get some water, sit. Try and think. Make some calls. Charge the pooter. Sit, think. What the hell do I do now? The biggest hassle by far would be the ID. I'd need it to travel, and to get another I'd need to get back to ****ing FLORIDA. And I just LEFT ****ing Florida. The HELL.

So I'm standing there, lady pulls up. Says hello, how're ya, and of course I'm visibly frustrated, but still trying to maintain humor. Trying, trying. Are you lost? Well, yes. She comes over, I show her the map. See, today I did this, from here to here. This is where we are. Well, you're not lost at all! No, I may be. See, Hortense is where I made my last purchase. Somewhere between here and Hortense, but most likely just between Hortense and Patterson, I lost my wallet. Small gasp, hand towards mouth, oh jeez, I'm so sorry....

Some dialogue, and then Joe's there. Big guy, pickup truck, getting some dinner from the grill at the store. Hears part of it, says I can take you to Hortense, sure thing.

See, my thinking is that if I can get back to Town A, I can backtrack slowly, eyes on the side, and find the wallet. Maybe. Its the only chance. The hell else am I going to do? I got nothing.

Vicky asks if I would like a sandwich, offers me her philly cheesesteak since its almost ready. I can take that one to go, she'll get the next one. Vicky is amazing.

We had out to Hortense. Joe's a fifth grade teacher at a local elementary, same place he went to school. We talk, he's great. Nice new pickup, lots of room, delicious AC.

He drops me off at the gas station of my last purchase. We exchange information and salutations, disappear. I head back west on 32, slowly, slowly. By now it is 8:30. It keeps getting darker, of course. And I ride. 7 mph, which is nothing, nothing at all, maddeningly slow. I have all the lights on on the bike, totalling five. I find nothing. 9:10, it becomes officially too dark to see, I decide to head to Patterson at a proper speed. I had begun biking exactly twelve hours previous. I'm still looking, see a few close ones. I roll through a wildlife preserve, and I have never seen so many insects in my life. Seen, no. Far better is felt and heard. An infinite chirp, a scraping fluid. Everywhere. I plow the heart, lit like Vegas. I ride squinting still down and right, though now because I need the helmet's visor to block the creatures.

I move like this for half an hour. I am still not at Patterson, though technically within the city limits.

My wallet appears beneath me. ID up, in the road, half on the white line. I nearly ran it over. The five bucks is gone, but everything else is intact. I should feel joy, but its fleeting, I've still got all this stress and tension wired up, I can't shake it. I get into town, talk to some people, set up camp at the city park. Its not a nice park. There are bathrooms, in a large shed with plywood walls. The stalls are made private by old shower curtains. But damnit, I have a shelter, outside with the benches. Which means I am on concrete now, but I am also safe from rain.

Which is all I need right now.

Cyclist0094

El Kabong rides again!

Michigander

Never before then, and never since have I been treated so rudely on a bike tour, so I suppose I reacted fairly stupidly in a way I probably shouldn't have. I may have made it sound like I am some sort of nutjob looking for a fight, but I'm not. While I have studied martial arts for years and sparred with experienced streetfighters just in case, I have never actually got in a real fight. Its not nessasary for you guys to lecture me about what to do in tricky situations, because I do pretty well talking my way out of fights while still not letting people mess with me. The bottom line is, while I know laws on weapons and self defense and I am always ready for trouble, I have seen Easy Rider and I take its message seriously.

SteveFox

The worst thing thats happened to me as of yet...is a flat tire on my first little tour. I was flying down a hill on a back road and my tire ran over some things in a pile, punching numerous holes in my tire. so i patched what i could as i had a few tire patches, and no spare tube, then duct tapaed what i could but there were still holes. so i got on my bike and pedalled until the tire was flat, then pumped it up, then pedalled, then pumped and so on for about 15 km. took me all day to get to a phone to call my friend to bring his truck to pick me up. taught me a valuble lesson though i suppose. allways bring more than youll need and youll be safe. not very horrible, but still, the worst for me as of yet.

steve

womble

My worst thing? Realising that I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Flew into Ushaia, Patagonia to tour with two people who were far too fit for me (they'd ridden from Anchorage). Frequent 60kph headwinds and a lack of fitness really hammered my confidence. The trip was a great experience, but poorly executed (entirely my own fault though).

Baz

I'd have to say that it was on the very first day of this summer's London-Istanbul tour, where I was forced off the road by a truck and went over the bars into a patch of English stinging nettles. I've had bee stings that hurt less than that. What you see on my back was through my shirt. The backs of my legs were worse...

I got my revenge later, though, when I ate nettle soup in France!

Bekologist

Nettles are funny that way, boil them twice and they're pretty tasty! That, and some cattail roots will make you a nice soup out in BFE if you find ramps and some cress too even better.

jo5iah

Just started touring with a tour in Andalucia last month. 1 mech - freewheel broke, but was in Arcos, and quickly found a bike store and replacement. Worst thing was nearly a bus full of people shouting at me b/c I was temporarily removing their luggage, so that I could put bikes on the bus. There was plenty of room, only the driver hadn't opened everything up. He was also resistant to having bikes on in the first place (we learned this totally driver dependent, and that you just have to BS your way through it). So, about 20 spaniards yelling at me for gently, carefully, moving their things around. I'm just saying "No entiendo" again and again, while some 60-yr old man is calling my mother a *****. I understood better than I let on. It seemed better to let them cast aspersions, and just get things packed up, but it was less than pleasant. Afterwards, no problems - everyone seemed to find their luggage, the bikes fit in just fine, and folks calmed down. Still, it sucks to be in a foreign place and have all of the locals pissed.

Next tour I'll plan to fly, ride and fly again. Mixing riding with train and bus isn't so hot.

axolotl

This wasn't THE worst thing to happen to me on a tour, but...

I landed in Frankfurt airport to begin a bike camping tour, only to learn that the airline had "lost" the box containing my bike, my sleeping bag, and my handlebar bag. My plan had been to bike south for about 3 days to meet a couple of friends who lived in SW Germany. Then the 3 of us intended to head to France for 4 weeks of touring & camping in central & SW France. I took a train to my friends' town from Frankfurt. After 3 days of waiting, I was pretty sure I'd never see my bike again, and I never did. The only mystery is which airport was it stolen from. I borrowed an old bike from one of my friends, though the frame was far too big for me. I put the seat down as far as it would go. Anyway, we had a great trip, and I managed to cross the Massif Central and the Pyrenees on that way-too-big bike. Then, at the end, the French railroads managed to lose my friend's bike that I had borrowed. I couldn't believe I had lost 2 bikes on one trip and started freaking out the 2nd time. At least this time it was found a few days later and I was able to return it to my friend.

vixen2yall

Ah, but i bet none of your joints hurt for a week. i'm not old enough to have arthritis but i do have it. when it's the absolute worse and i can't handle it anymore i'll rub the joint w/ a nettle plant and the joint pain goes away. but then again i don't think nettles hurt all that much. when i was a kid we used to run bare foot thru the stuff.

if you do get stung again there is a low growing plant that is always found growing with nettles. i have never not found it when looking for it in a patch of nettles. don't know any names for the plant we just always used them for the nettle stings. has very green, long and broad leaves, grows from the center like a dandylion, 8-12 inches off the ground, and usually has rust colored spots semi speckling the leaves. the rust will be more pronounced the older the leaf is. you take a few leaves of the plant and rub it across the nettle sting. leaves a good grass like stain on your skin but takes the pain away instantly so it's a small price to pay. if i find one i'll snap a photo and post it so peeps know what it looks like.

cheers
kat

jens5

After cold, driving rain all day, while touring through Germany, my wife and I stuck out out our thumb's and hitched a ride. A Mercedes Benz Ice Cream truck picked us up. Not thinking, we put our loaded Bikes in the back. The driver let us off at the Hostel we were goin to. We marveled at our stupidity as we unloaded our frozen solid bikes from the back. Took 2 day's for my camera to work right again.

One of many tales on that tour in 1989.

mongoose

My wife and I were cycling through Jordan and after 8 hours of hills we were confronted with the biggest hill of all.

So we hitched a ride with two guys and a truck. Me and the two bikes in the back. My wife and two guys in the front.

Big big mistake.

I couldn't understand why it kept slowing down then speeding up.

When we got to the top it suddenly stopped and one of the guys came spilling out of the side door followed closely by my wife.

Quick she said don't ask questions...chuck the bikes down and lets go!!!!!

We rode off and she told me what happened.

They both grabbed at her boobs and crutch all the way up the hill untill she eventually pushed one of them out of the door.

Moral of the story? Even if they're friendly (which they are in Jordan) don't trust anyone, anywhere anytime.

Of course there are lots more stories. Like constantly falling off your bike while looking at all the beautiful girls walking aimlessly down the country roads in Cuba.

Ouch!!!!!

Sigurdd50

On the first tour I ever did (1970), on the next to last day, we were hiking in Starved Rock State Park when one of my mates took a dump in the woods and used poison oak or ivy for T-P. A day later, he was in misery and we were broke, so we had to shop-lift some ivy ointment to get us home.

On the next tour, I drank some bad water on the next to last day, was up all night barfing, could only manage a couple pieces of watermelon and water on an 80 mile leg home.

Oh yeah (these aren't so bad really... not life er death) I got sunburned on my ears so bad that they blistered, my long hair fell in the popped blisters, and they dried. When I tried to comb my hair... uh oh

there were the 5 days of rain between Green Bay and somewhere in southern Ontario