The road unknown. Photo via Szymonbike
I have memories of my life before Cycling, but as the years wear slowly on my mind their edges become less pronounced, like water wearing away at a sharp stone. My memories of Cycling, which start at the age of eight, remain somehow vivid.
As Pedalwan learner to my father, one of the many arts I was taught was that of route finding. My first exposure to this was in the Alps near Vizille, France – just outside Grenoble and near the base of the legendary l’Alpe d’Huez. Here I learned firstly that the well-known routes are filled both with bicycles and automobiles. Secondly, I learned that if one is to discover the less-travelled jewels hidden within the countryside, that one is to procure a map of sufficient detail to provide the information one seeks. At first, we had only the major auto maps at our disposal, but even on these crude things he showed me how to judge a road’s approximate interest (a word he has always used to describe the gradient), based on how squiggly it looked on the map.
I was quickly introduced into the realm of detailed maps; maps which showed topographical lines to indicate elevation, roads of varying degrees of maintenance, and where roads had squiggles on them that looked like beats on a cardiogram: one beat for manageable “interest”, two beats was “interesting”, and three beats had you breathing out of your ears to get up it. Other roads were dashed which meant they were smaller and possibly gravel, and red dashes meant you had to be prepared to go back in case the road wasn’t passable.
Most importantly, I learned to use the map as a guidebook, but never to rely on it entirely. Maps can be wrong, and when you are looking for the roads that aren’t well travelled, they often are. The most rewarding aspect of route finding is to explore by sight; to follow your instincts once you are on the bike and explore opportunities that might not even have shown up on the map.
To this day, I love route finding; I can’t turn it off. Give me a map, and I’m immediately in search of cardiograms and squiggly roads. On a plane, I peer out the window and imagine what it might be like to find my way across the landscape on two wheels; whether the roads below are even passable on a bike. When I’m in a car, my mind instinctively inspects every side road for signs of “interest”. On the bike, it does the same. When I’m in form – or something approaching it – I stick to my routes but when I’m in search of form, I like to go exploring; I like to use the opportunity of ambiguity in my fitness to find new routes.
Those are the days I live for; riding down fresh lanes, with the road unknown to me. On such days, I thank Merckx I’m out of form.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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As a former Moto tourer and aspiring bike tourer I am with you on the route planning. I used to be known as the navigator in my motorcycle riding group cause I knew all the best back roads, using you're squiggly line theory :D
@Pali65
I thirst for the chance to find myself lost on roads l recognize faintly or not at all! Then, all is new; l’m 8 riding my first big kid’s bike and searching for the edge of the world. I can time travel both directions!
I drove a taxi for fifteen years. Love maps, the organization of a route in my mind before I proceed. Taxi driving changed my mind, literally. I can see different orientations of route, move it around in my mind, see quality of light, time of day, the addresses along the way. I think they studied London cab drivers for spacial reasoning if I am not mistaken. It's my superpower, ha!!
With riding, my minds mapping is far more elegant. Less logistical and more feature rich. Driving is so quick. So quick that a route's nuance is dispensed in favor of expediency. But with cycling, I get to know what I will see, hear, smell. I can feel the humidity, what kind of traffic I will likely run into and in what direction. I want to know some of the thrills - like a dog leg up a short fast hill with a quick but bumpy turn at the end of a fast descent... The kind of features that let the bike tell me what and how she was made. The kind of features that give me smiles for weeks. I once slid on post rain gravel into a parked car at 41 mph. Really bolluxed me up for a good while. You know where the first place I went when I started to feel good again? More smiles. Hells yeah...
Where I live if I get about 30 miles away from town, there are some breathtaking rides with almost no traffic - not even other riders -, good roads with fantastic climbs and smooth descents. The air is fresh. It's a paradise. It's thrilling just to look at the maps and imagine the possibilities. Any of you reading this, come to Western North Carolina some time. I'll put you up!
I always ride a new route slowly the first time. I don't want to slide on a wash-out again. Maybe it's years of trials motorcycling and walking the course first to choose my line. I don't know. The first ride is a good opportunity for a slow ride day, then hit it hard enough next to scream my yayas out.
@Perry Engstrom
You reminded me of a strong experience I had as a kid. With my first bike I dared to ride out of my home city and suddenly I saw another city sign and till today I can recall the strong feeling of the very moment. I felt like Amundsen, Livingstone and Humboldt – my childhood heroes. Sounds odd, I know. But I was hooked and I never stopped scouting the unknown.
More than 40 years later I am still on that trail and found some beautiful roads yesterday...
It would seem that the Wiggins household is not best buddies with the Froome household