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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the older i get, the less appetite i have for "adventure". my life has been "adventurous" enough already, is my usual train of thought. nevertheless, i am always thrilled when i get an opportunity to go ride somewhere else. twice a year, i get the hell out of town for a weekend to go do something new on my bike, or at least do something i don't do often. gotta freshen the well somehow.
Reading this as an avid MTBiker it has a completely different taste. Though Velominati is rather road cycling realm cycling opens another universes once you are willing to leave paved roads and to go for uncharted paths in the woods. And yes, finding the way on the map and then making the hypothesis reality is certainly one of the great pleasures in cycling.
I don't take many journeys by bike, car or train without craning my neck at a glimpse of unknown tarmac, wondering 'where does that road go...?'.
I'm also completely obsessed with maps - spend a lot of time on Bing maps with the Ordnance Survey maps turned on, looking for those squiggles.
Being a former avid boyscout, I still enjoy scrutinizing maps.
Yet, as Switzerland is still not my homecountry, and me not always having a fair idea where I am (with almost every village -even the one where I live- ending with ****-ikon , like Buttikon, confusing!) I tend to be less adventurous (ok, the risk of meeting sudden unanticipated and steep hills just around the corner, stuck in the big ring, plays a wee role as well). But, when back in the Netherlands, where I have no fixed routes, and more familiar with the topography, I ride as far as I want anywhere and then turn back. Going there as from Saturday this week!
This article perfectly captures my feelings of maps and roads.
I spend a lot of time looking for climbs on here: http://en-ca.topographic-map.com/
@KogaLover
this is always fun i like doing things this way. i'm not a huge fan of maps, really, as i looked at enough of them in the Marine Corps to last well into my next life.
When I'm out and about locally, I like to follow the mantra of "I don't know where I am, but I'm not lost." The beauty of the States is that most roads (well, here in WI at any rate), are usually on a grid pattern so getting totally lost is kinda impossible so long as you have a decent sense of awareness and direction.
Great article! I love maps and still use them, considering I don't have a gps device on my bike and still use a basic cell phone.
Oh man, the only way I can stand the frequent trips to eastern NC to visit the in-laws is by looking at all the country lanes running along the new highways, wishing I was on a bicycle and not in a car. With all the crazy motorists, I find myself riding more and more on the quietest routes and at really off-peak hours. Besides, nothing beats starting a weekend morning with a nice two-hour loop, back before the VMH is even out of bed.
mapped 58mi allroad route December 2015 because I had sent my frame to Toronto – no riding, may as well map a route – perfected this *essential route* thru 2016 – motivated to collaborate, sponsor and support it as The Saluda Roubaix race April 2017 – overheard race director David Hall with his team, "have no idea how he found some of these roads." P.S. can someone figure out how to define *essential route* for the Lexicon here
fotos via UNPULL