Just about every touring day for us has some encounter that brings a smile to our faces. I think that's one of the main reasons we keep plugging away at it.

The first one that popped into Kirsten's head came from our day in Corner Brook Newfoundland as we were nearing the end of our cross Canada/USA journey. We both remarked that every day in Newfoundland was filled these, but this one  stood out. Andrea, a young local gal who worked at Cycle Solutions, at the spur of the moment decided to drop what she was doing and ride along with us for the first part of our day (we had popped in for some minor work on one of our riding companions' bike). What really was memorable though was her unfatigueable spirit, optimism and determination to find a way for us through some major construction that was blocking our way ... first up, call the police. Sure, they're really going to call back about this one we thought. Within a minute they did, but even Andrea couldn't convince them to give us an escort ... she came close though. Undaunted she immediately tweeted the Mayor. The Mayor immediately tweeted back too. After several back and forths she was ultimately unsuccessful and we had to detour. Still her good natured pluck and resourcefulness amazed us but to her it was just something any Newfoundlander would do. Over the next few days, we came to that conclusion too!

For me, the first thing in my head was from our last tour, 2019 Copenhagen to Lecce (this may be an indication of how long things stay in my head??). Climbing / pushing our bikes up some insanely steep and muddy farm tracks in the Apennines near Montese south of Modena, we stumbled into Alberto's farm yard, surprising him and his dog. Even with limited common language, we had a great conversation with him and were directed to a cafe  he owned a few km's in Montese. Shortly after arriving there, Alberto shows up, sans his farmers coveralls, and we end up in an engaging meal and conversation with him and everyone in the cafe, including Polly, who lived in London and was visiting relatives in the area, and provided amazing translation services. She ended up following along with us (vicariously through the journal) for the rest of our trip.

We're hoping that after our next trip, these two vignettes have been replaced by what is yet to come!

So many stories come to mind.  Recalling one brings back another, and then another and another.  Hard to choose, until we recall the memory of our arrival In Lukang, Taiwan on the day of a large Matsu festival.  There are too many sides to this magical day to retell here, so if you’re interested I encourage you to read our post for the day.  Also, I’ll put in my plug here for Taiwan and it’s wonderfully warm and receptive people.  At least three of our happiest touring memories took place on this beautiful island. 

That's a great story Leo and so typical of the kindness and friendliness that gets extended regularly to cycle tourers.

We were eating at the market in Ben Tre, Vietnam and I noticed two other folks sitting nearby with handlebar bags and cycling gloves. We struck up a conversation with them, they were Londoners and riding the opposite direction from us, toward Ho Chi Minh City. Will gave Bruce some advice on his shifter and six months later they were in Portland to commence a portion of the Pacific Crest Trail to California. We sprung them from their overpriced downtown hotel, put them in our guest room, and then took them to Cascade Locks where we got them settled in a campsite near the trail head. 

We had a meal and a beer overlooking the Columbia River, and gazing up at the heavily treed slopes of the Columbia Gorge. Little did we know that barely a week later the Eagle Creek Fire would decimate that entire slope, and wildfires would be dogging them in several sections of the PCT. We tried to keep them appraised of the fire situations near them, and they let us know when they were safely to the next leg of the trail. They loved their hike, and we were honored to help get them started. These are the little treasures of travel, meeting people that end up part of your life afterwards. 

And even if we never meet again, we are enriched by these encounters, we give folks our card with CycleBlaze info on it and sometimes we hear from them months later using Google Translate and including a photo of us they took. What a treat that is.

Just an FYI...Emily has her own website - https://rambleoutyonder.org/. Her writing is wonderful and just as clever as always. 

Jonathan

Thanks, Léo.  My ride through the Rockies & Cascadia to the sea, in June/July 2016, was chock full of chance encounters--brief and extended, and generally cheerful.  A tour planned to celebrate the mountains did so, and brilliantly; but within just a couple of hours in the saddle it became a journey about the kindness and generosity of strangers.  It seems almost disloyal to highlight just a couple, but I will:

Cycling west towards an intended campsite at the foot of Mt Washington, with clouds heavy with rain starting to blow in from the southwest, two cyclists pulled up alongside.  One, Kurt, hearing of my plan to camp some 25 kms further along, asked me to stay the night at his place. After another 25 minutes or so, we reached his house, just as the rains came.  Kurt, a retired physicist, and his wife, Susan, a self-employed weaver opened their spacious and comfortable wooden house to me.  As I was making myself clean and presentable after the day's ride, I noticed that their bookshelves included Ronald Wright's Stolen Continents, and a couple of titles by Martin Cruz Smith. "You're with fellow travellers, mate," sez I to myself, and so it was.  We spent a delightful evening over food and drink, doing a global-round-the-houses, from acquiring paintings and sculptures for blankets at craft fairs, to bikes of all kinds, to touring and Rohloffs, to the southern hemisphere (their daughter and her family were in the midst of a 6-month safari to Brazil and southern Africa), to Canadian healthcare, and to their foreboding about the upcoming US election.  They sent me on my way the next morning with a lighter heart and a full tummy, along with advice on potable water sources on the mountain.

My other encounter was much briefer, barely a minute, but I can replay every moment of it if I need a pick-me-up.  Approaching the lower slopes of Highwood Pass, south of Canmore, the driver of an oncoming pickup waved me down. "Just wanted to let you know there's a bear up ahead." "Thanks!" I said. "What colour?" "Brown," he said. I gave him a thumbs-up and continued along. Sure enough, a couple of kms later, I crested a slight grade, and saw a queue of 5 or 6 vehicles stopped maybe 800 metres ahead -- a sure sign of wildlife. I slowed a bit, and saw a young ran grizzly amble across the road from my right , disappearing into the bush to my left.  The cars all drove on.  I continued, and the road rose on a slight upgrade.  I reached a point maybe 100 metres from where the bear had crossed, and eased up slightly.  He reappeared on my left, ambling out of the bush, down the embankment, onto the road perhaps 50 metres in front of me.  I slowed right down and watched.  So far as I could see, he gave me not so much as a glance -- happily, I was downwind, facing a brisk southwesterly.  What a magnificent creature he was--close to 3 metres in length, a lustrous golden brown, rangy, but with a big frame and clearly some growing still to come.  He crossed the road with just a few strides and melted into the bush.  I breathed again. Oddly, I didn't feel afraid--perhaps because I wasn't wholly surprised?--but I was stirred [not shaken, mon vieux ;) ], awed, humbled, and lastly, as I cycled onwards, grateful; and I still am.  I've been privileged to see a lot of wild creatures, especially in southern/central/eastern Africa, but nothing quite so close, with nothing shielding me.

Cheers,  J.

Thanks for this Scott! I doubt she recalls me but I will touch base and reacquaint myself with her travels and her storytelling. 

When I tour solo, I'm not very social. When my wife is on the tour, she is an encounter magnet. Probably, my favorite was when we toured the Aland Islands and reached Saltvik and the Kvarnbo Guesthouse, which dates back to the late 1800s. The owners, Martin and Ella Cromwell-Morgan, have run the place since 2001 and were great to talk to about the history of the area and the local music scene. 

This was in 2017, when Putin and Trump were to meet in Helsinki and there is a lot of history between Russia and the Aland Islands, especially around Saltvik - some very animated discussions.

It was on a solo long day ride, not a tour, but my favorite random encounter was about 30 miles into century ride here in the Washington DC area back in the early 80s, when I was on the C&O Canal Towpath on a hot summer day and had stopped at Fletcher's Boathouse to use the restroom and get some water (didn't even carry water bottles back then!) I got going again, passing many people who had rented canoes from Fletcher's and were paddling in the watered stretch of the Canal, when I heard "Hey John!" - three college friends were in a canoe.

They laughingly asked how much "mule power" I had - two mules used to pull heavy barges on the Canal, could I pull their "tiny" canoe with two guys and one girl?

Challenge on - they tossed me their rope, I tied it to the seat post of my Schwinn Le Tour and quickly gained an appreciation of fluid dynamics and the stoicism of mules, who make it look easy.

I pulled them for what was probably a few hundred yards, but now seems like miles, and then claimed victory and pedaled away - until I was out of sight and could collapse. I pretty much "burned all my matches" doing that pull - for the next 30 miles or so on the Towpath I stopped every 5 miles or so at the hiker biker sites that had water pumps. The last 40 miles were on roads with rolling hills and no water until I finally got back to my car in a severe state of bonkdom.

Many years later, while on the Towpath pulling my daughter in a Winchester trailer, I had another "Hey John" from more canoeing friends - and said "Wow, I'd love to give you a pull but can't because of the trailer..."

Ah yes, I remember it well, Kelly.  It was an enjoyable encounter not far from the Canadian border, but for me it wasn't exactly a "chance" encounter.  I had been reading your journal and knew you were going to be on this highway, so I was keeping an eye out for you.