When I toured through Central Asia last summer I noticed that the cyclists I met were pretty well informed about global current affairs. Given that travel by bike is often inspired by escapism and a desire for disconnection, this surprised me. But the more I listened to their itineraries, the more it began to make sense.
Between Western Europe and Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan, there are quite a few spots absent from the high street travel brochures. A number of countries that have ongoing ethnic tensions, territorial disputes, and full-scale wars. The North Kosovo Crisis, volatility on the border of Azerbaijan and Armenia, plus Ukraine’s fight against Russian aggression. That’s all before you’ve reached the Revolutionary Guard’s Iran, authoritarian Turkmenistan, or even Afghanistan, if you’re that way inclined.
As I spoke with them, each cyclist would sandwich tales of generous hospitality and scenic camp spots with details of complicated embassy visits, or foreign office alerts that had reached their rotating list of electronic sim cards. By the time I reached Kyrgyzstan I’d met a duo of Germans that had spent twenty-four hours in Russian prison, and another German had gone missing in Iran, a story being circulated widely on global touring WhatsApp groups and Facebook forums.
Most cyclists where trying to keep vigilant to avoid the same thing happening to them. They understood the complexities of the journey ahead, of passing through the Kashmir Region, or entering China after Tibet.
These discussions took me on a tangent to conclude that cycling around the world is more dangerous and difficult than it was a decade ago (purely anecdotal from white male perspective).
I use my friend and long-time source of inspiration, Jonathan, as the benchmark. He set off from London in January 2015, and returned home three years later after 50,000km on the road. His circumnavigation was one for the purists. The full distance using plane travel where absolutely necessary e.g across the Timor Sea to Australia, or across the Pacific to the US. His route ventured straight through the Caucuses, through the Xinjang Province of China, even through Myanmar. Somehow he survived with a South London accent and less than £5 a day.
The point is that some of these places are absolute red zones now. And the result is that most people’s circumnavigation of the world by bike has become a series of sections, connected by air travel. Paris to Tblisi. Samarkand to Almaty. Chang Mai to Kuala Lumpar. Eventually through enough countries to cover the 29,000km required for an official lap of the world. Everywhere in between is reduced to a point on an in-flight interactive map.
Maybe I’m saying nothing new? The world is ever changing, and always will be. Albania was the modern day equivalent of North Korea until the 90s, now its best known for bike races in the Accursed Mountains and along its coastline. Equally, whilst I enjoyed cycling across the USA in 2019, I might not be able to get a visa for a separatist Texas in 2030.
Still, I think it would be cool to get a heat map of global bike touring journeys over time, and see how the trends align with geopolitics. One for a rainy day.