Fresh faced and cleanly shaven, kitted up in my new lycra and learning on the job how to handle a 50kg bike without completely stacking it.

August 29th 2023

Today was a day of many firsts – first time riding the fully laden 40ish kg bike; first time cycling over 100km in a day; first time wearing ‘proper cycling gear’

My good friend Seb, who was joining me for the first 10 days of the adventure, had been in charge of logistics for the first day while I was busy running around trying to find last minute equipment. He had manage to persuade a relative who was involved in running FUEL10K, a nutrition company, to ‘sponsor’ my trip with some free energy snacks for the road. What this actually meant was two huge boxes of cookies, bars and porridge pots rocking up on the morning of our departure, only about half of which we could fit into our bags, making the bikes obscenely heavy. My mum and my friend Joe also joined for the first day cycling from London to Newhaven, and after a slow start getting ready we pedalled over to Trafalgar Square to officially start the adventure. A few photos later and we were off, cycling down the mall towards Buckingham Palace.

I have a habit of leaving most tasks in life to the very last minute, and preparing for this 17,000km journey in the saddle across 2 continents was no different – I didn’t even have my bike until a week before setting off. A wise person (probably) once said “you shouldn’t overprepare, but make sure you’re not underprepared.” Unfortunately I am an easily distracted person, and only paid attention to the first part of this advice.

Nevertheless, things just about came together thanks to some very helpful bikeshops and the wonders of next-day delivery, and on an overcast late-August Tuesday I set off from Trafalgar Square for an adventure that I hoped would take me through Europe, across the Sahara, through West and Central Africa, and finally down to South Africa.

I am ashamed to say I was very much a case of ‘all the gear but no idea’, having literally bought all of my equipment for the adventure in the past week. One embarrassing example of this was that I couldn’t figure out how to use my new Garmin bike computer – if I turned it on it would start beeping angrily at me, and I couldn’t figure out how to make it start recording. It was only 2 days later that I discovered the stop-start button on the bottom of the Garmin.

This was also my first time cycling the fully loaded bike, which was probably over 50kg at this point. Central London isn’t the most friendly place to learn how to handle such a beast, while simultaneously getting used to riding clip-ins.

1 year on now as a London resident, several times a week I find myself cycling past Buckingham palace on my way home, and think back to that day where I was both immediately terrified of what was happening, feeling completely out of my depth with no idea what I was doing or getting myself in for.

After a couple of hours stop-starting through red-lights and heavy traffic, we eventually left London behind us and were into the Surrey hills, with some steep climbs on the heavy bike really testing my complete lack of physical preparation.

Seb had persuaded his friend Toby who lived en-route in Reigate to host us for a late lunch, which was a total game-changer (given I had barely eaten anything all day). Avocado, bacon, haloumi and homemade sourdough replenished the many thousands of calories we had collectively burnt so far, and Toby and his girlfriend Kat joined us for the next section of the cycle through the Surrey Hills.

Fast forward 18 months, and Toby is now a close friend. However at the time this was maybe the second interaction we had had, and I recently asked Toby what he thought about what I was doing when I explained my grand plans to cycle to South Africa as a complete beginner. His response was:

“I thought you were going to make it, but I thought you’d probably discard at least half your stuff before you did – your bags were insane”

I guess it’s reassuring to know that Toby had faith in my prospects, albeit less so in my preparation. At the time I couldn’t say I had too much faith in either.

The lack of physical preparedness kicked in around the 80k mark as we crossed the North and South Downs. Spirits were not high as it started raining, and to make matters worse

I realised that I didn’t have any kind of rain jacket. Thankfully, my friend Joe’s dad Martin came to the rescue, very selflessly gifted me his spare cycling waterproof shell. This would join me all the way to Cape Town, coming to hand both in cold French drizzle and sub-Saharan African downpours.  

As darkness fell on Day 1 of the trip we finally rolled into Newhaven, and sat in the ferry terminal shivering, eating fish and chips. I realised this would be the last time I would see my mum until I arrived in Cape Town nearly 7 months later, and I remember actively trying to avoid the thought that this might be the last time I see her. The previous day she’d quietly asked me if I had written a will, and if I could send her my laptop password – just in case. I chose not to allow myself to think about that possibility.

I sat there, drenched, eating fish and chips for what would be the last time until I reached South Africa, totally exhausted after just one day cycling 100km, and the prospect of doing the same again 180 times felt utterly overwhelming and way beyond what I was capable of.

I decided not to even think about Africa, and just focus on the task ahead crossing France and Spain, which felt a lot more attainable: I would first do my best to get down to the Pyrenees, taking it easy and becoming familiar with the bikepacking routine, and then aim to make it across Spain to meet a group of friends in Málaga for my birthday weekend. Anything beyond that would be future Rob’s problem.