Have you got any tips for maintaining motivation on a longer tour? I’m just past halfway through a Spain to Ireland tour, and I’ve just been feeling a bit burnt out. Been on the road since April with a bit of time off in July.

Thanks so much for the question! This is a really interesting one. Because you’ve touched on something not often mentioned about long-term bicycle travel, which is that it can sometimes be a draining, rather than a replenishing, experience.

And I’m no psychologist, but my impression from my own cycle tours is that riding in densely-populated Europe tends to involve a lot of stimuli – not just the sensation of motion and the ever-changing visuals, but the social aspect of meeting other people with diverse backgrounds and worldviews, and of course the intellectual challenge of testing your concept of the world against lived reality in a culturally dense part of the planet, as well as quite possibly a language barrier.

Of course, for many people, these are all aspects of cycle touring to be sought out and embraced.

But that doesn’t mean that everyone has the capacity to absorb an unlimited amount of sensory input with no recovery time!

Looking back, it’s telling that my own first big cycle tour across Europe consisted of about 50% riding and about 50% reflection and recuperation.

I was lucky in that I had a few friends dotted across the continent with whom I could rest up. At the time, I chided myself for not being tough enough to just keep riding; yet time off was what I truly felt I needed. And I would typically rest until I felt I had regained the mental energy, rather than the physical energy, to continue.

Adhering to this pattern became the means by which I sustained my cycling adventures for several more years. I quickly learned that if I pushed it too hard for too long, I’d end up feeling burnt out and demotivated. Perhaps that’s why I spent several years as one of the LDCJ’s slowest long-distance cyclists!

In retrospect, that first trip in Europe was also when I learned to identify as an introvert, even if I hadn’t quite put a label on it. Public discourse about the introvert-extravert spectrum has become a lot more commonplace since then, as (thankfully) has the de-stigmatisation of introversion and the emergence of a more helpful perspective in support of the quieter chunk of the population (great book, by the way) who find themselves to some degree exhausted, not energised, by the constant stream of stimulation inherent in today’s lifestyle.

If you feel like any of this applies to you, then the best advice I can pass on about motivation is to think in terms of managing your emotional energy levels.

See if you can identify what it is that drains your battery – it may not be cycling! – and what recharges it. Then adjust your tour as such. If it means spending less or more time riding, or taking it faster or slower, or spending more or less time with other people, or changing the ratio of solo camping to socialising, or taking more breaks from cycling altogether, then so be it. It’s your adventure and you get to choose how to conceptualise it. Just because you have a bike doesn’t mean you always have to be riding it.

Hope this helps!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: Any Tips For Staying Motivated On A Longer Tour?.

I’ve been following you for about five years now. Am retiring next summer and setting off in May 26 for a ride to Bali. I currently live in Bolton so it was Bolton to Bali but I’m moving when I retire to Lincoln where my son is based in the RAF. So I’ve rebranded – Lincoln to Lombok! My question is about malaria. What’s needed in terms of protection. I’ve read that you’ve had malaria – not nice. What do I need to do in terms of pre trip purchase and on the road?

Thanks for the question! Firstly, don’t do what I did when I cycled to Africa: set off unprepared, realise I was in a malaria-endemic area, buy dodgy medication locally, and then catch malaria anyway. It isn’t pleasant!

Secondly, I am not a medical professional, the following advice should be considered anecdotal at best, I’m not responsible if you do end up catching malaria, etcetera etcetera.

Now. Assuming you’re in the UK and have access to NHS services, the obvious starting point would be to go and see your GP for a chat about your travel plans.

What they will probably do is look at the NHS website or similar to see if malaria-endemic areas and your planned route intersect, and advise on what medication to take for a given area. Malaria prevention in high-risk areas is usually achieved with prophylactic drugs, which means taking tablets before, during, and/or after your time at risk of exposure.

(As a bonus, you’ll also get other vaccination recommendations into the bargain, some of which may be available on the NHS; get your vaccination record updated and printed out to take with you; etc.)

Another way to source preventative medication for malaria is to go private. I’ve long used Nomad Travel (no affiliation) for pre-trip medical advice, vaccinations, and bespoke first aid kits. They have clinics in several major English cities.

Malaria medication is usually prescription-only in the UK, so that’s the reason for starting with a visit to a healthcare provider.

With malaria prophylactics, be aware that different medications are available, at different prices, with different dosage regimes, and with different side effects! Also know that the advice does change over time as strains become resistant to certain drugs. The World Health Organisation publishes some good data visualisations on this topic.

Depending on how long you’re planning to be on the road, you might also discuss with your GP or clinic the expiry dates of any medication that’s prescribed. You might need to plan what you’re going to take in advance, but then source the actual medication down the road.

Having said all that, the first line of defence against malaria remains avoiding getting bitten by carrier mosquitoes in the first place.

Data from malaria prevention projects around the world cites bednets as the single most effective method. Emulate this as a traveller. I’ve found it really useful to have a freestanding tent with a mesh inner that can be pitched indoors. On some trips I’ve also carried a Lifesystems lightweight travel mosquito net (again, no affiliation) that can be hung from whatever attachment is available.

Topical insect repellent can also be effective, but in heavily mosquito-ridden areas don’t expect anything other than high-strength DEET to have much of an effect. For what it’s worth, I tend to carry a bottle of Lifesystems 50% DEET spray for extreme situations, and make it last as long as I can. They used to do a 95% DEET product but it looks like it’s been discontinued. Treating clothes with permethrin can also help, but you probably won’t want to carry a bottle of it across Asia.

In short, the best advice I can give you is to do plenty of research from up-to-date, trusted sources, and then make a plan that works for you and your trip!

Don’t rely on hearsay (eg: this blog post), which may be long out of date as well as inherently subjective.

Hope that helps, and good luck with what I’m sure will be a fascinating and rewarding bicycle journey across Eurasia!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: How To Avoid Catching Malaria When Cycling Across Asia?.

How do you keep the brain intellectually stimulated whilst on a long bicycle touring trip ? Reading, writing… any other tips?

Thanks for the question! Seriously, thank you. Now we’re into the good stuff!

I really wish more people would ask questions like this, instead of about the relative merits of 9- and 10-speed drivetrains and whether or not buying a vegan Brooks will help save the planet.

That’s because the details of your bike and gear are things you’ll forget about the moment you start riding – but you’re going to be living with the contents of your mind for every waking second.

And it’s an interestingly formulated question, too, because there’s an assumption here that the brain will need intellectual stimulation on a long cycle tour.

So forgive me if, as part of my attempted answer, I question this assumption, among others that may be floating around within the topic of mind management for bicycle travellers.

I might as well start by relating some relevant parts of my mental journey as a long-distance cyclist. This is a personal blog, after all!

At the start of my first long cycle tour I was, like most Westerners of my generation, preoccupied mainly with stuff, information, and personal liberty. I thought these were the important inputs for a process that would transform me from blithe newbie into accomplished pedal-powered rider of Earth.

What I had failed to prepare for was the sudden absence of all the usual forms of intellectual stimuli.

(You have pre-empted this in your question, which makes you a wiser person than my younger self! Some of my advice here is, I suppose, directed at that excruciatingly self-obsessed 23-year-old white male who had to learn the hard way.)

To get back to the point: yes, things like reading and writing can help fill the void left by a sudden withdrawal from the information diet we’re all fed to some degree as part of the day-to-day of modern life.

Reading – aside from being intrinsically rewarding – is particularly good for filling long evening hours when you’re camped and fed and there are just too many hours of darkness ahead to spend them all sleeping. (I also, without shame, will happily confess to binge-watching downloaded Netflix episodes in my tent or hammock once the sun’s gone down.)

Personally, I’ve found writing – specifically journalling, which is how this blog started before anyone read it other than my mum (she still reads it) – a great way to unload persistent thoughts that have found no other form of expression or resolution. Indeed, it is true to say that my adoption of writing as an intellectual-creative outlet during long-distance cycle touring is the reason you’re reading these words now.

But! And this is the key point I want to emphasise: intellectually stimulating activities like these mostly just serve to compensate for widespread mind-management incompetence in Western society at large.

Others might refer to what I’m talking about as part of a more general “mental health crisis”, but that isn’t quite what we’re discussing here.

Wouldn’t it be nice if it was possible to cycle around the world without needing to stave off boredom with entertainment and distractions?

Good news: it is possible – we just might need to do a bit of training.

There are a few approaches you might take – and I’m loathe to use words like “mindfulness” and “meditation” because of the baggage they possess – but all involve learning how to rise above the background chatter of the mind and to find a place from where you can devote your full attention to the actual experience of being.

My basic advice is to try a few of these techniques and methods out for size, settle on one that works for you, and get practicing. (James wrote a guest post about a particularly intense such experience he had while cycle touring in India.)

On a bicycle, the world is constantly passing you by at an average of… ooh, somewhere between 13–20kmph? It is not something you can draw the curtains on and forget about until you reach your destination. Attempting to do so would be to deny reality. Cycle touring is a constant state of arrival and departure from everywhere. (I’m sure someone cleverer than me has already made that observation and put it into neater words.)

There may be a steep learning curve involved in perceiving everywhere as equally interesting. Yet I think this is one of the keys to cycle touring being actually enjoyable. Failure to learn tends to result in boredom.

Forgive me if I’m drifting off-topic, but I do worry that – in a world where most people seem to have their faces buried in miniature computer screens and their ears plugged with tiny loudspeakers the whole time – society is rapidly losing its ability to engage with the ground beneath its own feet/wheels.

Yet for me this is the entire point of going on a long journey, especially by bicycle, especially anywhere new.

Seen from that perspective, the act of cycle touring itself could – should? – provide all the intellectual stimulation anyone could wish for – even if that stimulation is occasionally an absence of stimulus and an opportunity to instead spend some quality time with your Self.

I well remember my early days of cycle touring when the act of riding, having become second nature, unleashed torrential thoughts to the point I began questioning my sanity.

And I’m glad I spent some time working through that, rather than building a dam of distractions to restrain it. Today it’s only very occasionally I’ll put on some bone-conduction headphones or fire up my e‑reader. When I’m in motion, I’m there to absorb the whole experience, whatever form it takes, so I’ve become very deliberate about being present for it.

Please feel free to take all I’ve said here with a pinch of salt. My aim is to highlight one of the less well-articulated aspect of life on two wheels: the effect it might have on the untrained mind. How people respond and adjust to the sudden change of perspective and routine is going to vary drastically from one rider to the next.

If nothing else, I hope I’ve helped draw attention to a relatively unconsidered aspect of life on the road – and I want to thank you again for raising the question.

Hope this helps!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: How Do You Stay Intellectually Stimulated On The Road?.

I love traveling, and I have a lot of experience backpacking, but I also ended up being “forced” (by her cuteness, affection, and a LOT of purring) into adopting a kitten a few years ago. I’m getting her used to going outside with me with a harness and leash, and I am hoping to get her into backpacking. How about bikepacking with a cat? Any info, recommendations, and advice on that?

Thanks for the question! The first thing to say is that I have no personal experience of cycle touring or bikepacking with a cat, or dog, or any other pet. But I know plenty of riders who have, so rather than try and answer the question myself, I’m going to suggest a handful of topics for further research, based on what I’ve heard of their experiences.

1. How will your cat travel while you’re riding?

The classic solution for cycle touring with pets is a two-wheeled trailer, so you have a stable, covered platform for them to call home while on the road. Cargo bikes have also come into vogue in recent years.

These approaches will, however, add bulk and complexity. This will also limit where you can actually ride – say goodbye to singletrack trails – and make transporting your bike and gear more difficult.

See my post on the trailer versus panniers debate and the recent question about trailers, backpacks and frame luggage for more on this topic.

Cats generally being smaller and more portable than dogs, there may be other solutions here, and I’d love to hear what you settle upon.

2. How will you feed her?

At home you might be used to buying commercial cat food, but that might not always be an option. You haven’t said where you’re planning to ride or for how long, but I’d suggest considering what types of food might be available given the specifics of your bikepacking plans.

3. Don’t forget about import/export regulations.

Every country is different when it comes to bringing animals across borders. This may not apply to you, but if you’re thinking of cycle touring internationally with your cat, you’ll almost certainly need to prepare documentation in advance, and this will probably involve health certifications and/or proof of immunisations.

4. Prepare for accommodation options to be limited.

If you’re camping on your bike tour, and especially if you’re wild camping, you’re (mostly) in control of your circumstances.

But if you want to stay in guesthouses or hotels, you’ll be subject to someone else’s rules, and not all accommodation providers are pet-friendly by far.

This is also something that tends to vary by culture, again depending on where you’re going.

5. Anticipate varying cultural attitudes towards animals.

Again, this is for if you plan to travel far and wide. Just don’t expect everyone to “get” the idea of a pet cat, let alone travelling with one.

Where I live, for example, dogs are kept purely for security, guarding either property or livestock, and are typically abused and aggressive. Cats are tolerated as they help to control vermin. But the idea of an animal as a friend and companion simply does not exist. Until very recently you’d have to travel to a specialist store in the capital city to buy pet food!

In other places you might find that restrictions apply to animals in protected areas for conservation reasons. Australia and New Zealand, for example, are famously strict about this. It’ll be wise to check before, say, cycling through a national park or state reserve that you aren’t breaching their rules by bringing your cat along for the ride.

The last thing I’d suggest is that travelling with a cat – possibly in her own trailer – will make you something of a novelty! This can be a double-edged sword: you’ll be such an unusual encounter for many of the people you meet that you’ll inevitably draw reactions, most of which I imagine will be good (who doesn’t love a cute, affectionate, purring cat?), but some of which may be unpredictable and difficult to understand. Depending on your personality type, becoming the centre of attention in this way may or may not appeal to you.

Hoping these are useful starting points – and if you do go ahead with the bike trip, I’d love to hear how you got on!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: Any Advice On Bikepacking With A Cat?.

I’m 60 and been a cyclist forever but, aside from a 2 week youth hostel JOGLE in 1993, I haven’t toured. I’m planning a 3 night first go to start a week on Monday. I have a great tent (second-hand Wild Country Helm 1) and all the basic stuff and all second-hand but how to pack away a damp tent? Do I just do it and hope the sun comes out and I air it at some point during the day or not worry about it until I set it up at the next stop?

Thanks for the question! There’s plenty of general advice available on the subject of ultralight tent care and storage – and tent manufacturers will usually tell you not to pack your tent away wet.

However, there’s not so much advice on how to actually achieve that on a long bike trip.

What if it rains for weeks on end? What if your tent is still covered in dew and condensation every morning when you want to pack up and leave?

Perhaps an underlying question here might be – how can you avoid ruining a very expensive ultralight tent by not knowing how to look after it properly?

This seems a good opportunity to share a few of my own tent care tips from long personal experience of cycle touring in wet and damp conditions.

I have indeed destroyed at least one top-of-the-range tent by not paying attention to drying it properly over long periods of wet-weather riding, so this post is partly about helping you avoid making the same expensive mistake!

Why You Shouldn’t Store A Tent Wet

As you’ll have already heard, storing a lightweight tent wet or damp over long periods of time can cause issues. That’s because water is incredibly good at destroying delicate things.

Left damp for too long, the waterproof coatings of your rainfly and floor bucket will start to disintegrate or delaminate from the fabric. Seam tape will start peeling away. You might even find mould or mildew starting to appear. Metal (usually aluminium) parts such as poles and fastenings may start to oxidise, and the risk of breakage at the weakest points will increase. In short, you’ll end up with a tent that is no longer waterproof, and possibly weaker as well.

So you’re right to be concerned about your tent staying permanently wet on a bike tour, stowed damp on a rear rack by day, pitched in wet or humid conditions at night, and never fully drying out for weeks.

(I can’t help remembering riding in the Pacific Northwest of the USA one spring when it didn’t stop raining for a month! On that ride, I was less concerned with tent care and more about simply having a dry place to sleep on every night – before putting my wet clothes back on and continuing into the rain. I paid dearly for that lack of care later on, when the entire waterproof coating of my rainfly began to flake off on the inside of the tent.)

You already know all this and are looking for ways to avoid such problems, especially since you’re planning on touring in England!

Well, the good news is that it is possible to protect your tent from the deleterious effects of moisture, mainly by working a few simple steps into your daily routine.

Here’s a few tips on how to achieve that:

Tips On How To Dry Out A Wet Tent

If you’re camping in damp conditions (which can mean morning dew and condensation, not just overnight rain), and you’re rising early and hitting the road at the break of dawn, it’s honestly unrealistic to expect to depart with a 100% dry tent.

But there are techniques you can use to get your tent perhaps 90% dry.

Assuming it isn’t raining hard, in which case you’ll have other concerns as a rider in the rain:

• Let the tent air out in any available morning sun (freestanding tents are great for this as they’ll hold their shape if you want to move the tent to a different spot),
• Use a travel towel or microfibre cloth to wipe remaining moisture off the taut surfaces of the pitched tent before you strike it,
• Vigorously shake as much water off the various parts of the tent as possible (maybe wearing a waterproof jacket while doing so!), and
• Leave packing away your tent until the until the last moment, so it gets maximum drying time.

But even in good weather, if you want to get an early start, it’s likely that at least some parts of your tent will still be damp when you leave.

There is a simple solution to this. As soon as the day warms up and/or the sun comes out, you simply stop, unpack the tent again, find a suitable railing or bench or fence to drape it over – your bike will do in a pinch – and have a tea/coffee/snack/nap while it finishes drying out.

It’s really worth making a habit of fully drying out your tent during the day, as it’s probably the one thing that’ll best prolong the life of your tent in the long run (as well as occasionally giving it a good clean).

As you’ll know if you’ve ever done your own laundry, full sun and a bit of breeze will dry things out most rapidly. Ultralight fabrics in particular, of the type most of the best cycle touring tents are made from, tend to dry very quickly in these conditions.

If windy, make sure all the various bits are tied or hooked securely to something, perhaps using the stake loops or guylines. That includes the lightweight carry sack. Ask me how I know.

If the weather stays wet and cold, don’t worry – your tent will survive short periods of being packed away wet. Issues arise when you forget to unpack a wet tent while taking time off the road, or you get really good at find excuses not to bother… and then the sun comes out and your tent ends up steaming itself inside its own carry sack.

Habitual daily airing and drying is the best way to avoid that happening.

Deep-Drying Tents & Camping Gear On Tour

As well as that, rest days are the perfect opportunity for deep-drying everything (also including sleeping bags, camping mats, etc).

As soon as you arrive, find a good drying spot in whatever campsite/hostel/guesthouse/host’s house you’re staying in and leave things to dry as long as possible.

Even if you think your tent is dry, it’s possible that the nooks and crannies, as well as more absorbent parts like zipper linings, stake loops, adjustable webbing straps, etc, are still holding a bit of moisture.

(You’ll see that in well-used tents, where it’s the corners that start to leak and where seam tape peels off first.)

Take the poles and stakes out of their separate carry sacks and dry them too. The elasticated shock cord holding your pole segments together? Make sure it’s left exposed so it dries out too. Seriously – that’s the kind of thing I mean by deep-drying.

Especially if you have a freestanding tent, actually pitching it somewhere completely dry (indoors, for example) can be a really good way of airing it out.

But even if you can’t do that, or find a suitable drying line to hang everything on, simply unpacking the tent fabric and leaving it in a pile in a dry corner will be much better than nothing.

How To Protect A Packed Tent From Rain While Riding

Some riders keep their tents in waterproof dry-bags strapped to their rear racks or handlebar harnesses in an effort to protect them from rain.

While I can see this working on short trips, I’m not a fan of this as a long-term approach, as it can easily create a pressure-cooker-type environment inside the dry-bag, gently steaming your tent in its own juices as soon as the sun comes out.

As mentioned above, in wet or damp conditions it’s probably wiser to prioritise tent-drying strategies over attempting to stop the tent getting wet in the first place, which in my experience is often futile.

The carry sacks that come with many popular tents are made of the same waterproof material as the flysheet, and if pedantically packed and precisely positioned provide plentiful protection in most conditions, allowing some air to circulate too.

Most seasoned riders stash their tents separately from panniers and other waterproof bags because they know keeping a damp tent in a shared stowage space would introduce moisture to everything else. This isn’t necessarily obvious to the newcomer as-yet unaccustomed to life on the road.

And whether you end up strapping yours to a rack or harness, make sure you’ve thought about protecting the tent from road spray, which tends to linger long after the rain stops and you’ve left that cosy café. (Hint: that’s what mudguards/fenders are really for!)

Worst case scenario in hideous downpour, or when wading through a swollen river, or both at the same time? Chuck the tent in a bin liner.

What’s The Best Way To Pack Away An Ultralight Tent?

Getting even deeper into gear-nerd territory, you might comes across disproportionately heated debates on the internet about tent-packing methods, of all things.

Should you fold or roll them up neatly so they take up less space, or simply stuff them into their carry sacks so they don’t develop creases?

And what’s the best way to pack a wet tent so the inner tent is still dry on the inside next time you pitch it?

Yes, these are questions bored gear nerds on Reddit absolutely love to argue about while procrastinating at work.

But rather than summarising these discussions and thereby sending you to sleep, I’ll simply tell you what I do and why:

• Assuming a two-part tent with detachable rainfly, I fold my inner tent in half across its shortest dimension, so the (damp) outer groundsheet remains on the outside and the (hopefully still dry) inner tent is sandwiched and protected.
• I then fold it again longways so it’s the same length as the carry sack, then lay the disassembled poles at the end where the first fold was made, and roll it up. Any remaining air gets pushed out through the mesh panels of the inner tent as I roll.
• Then I shake off the rainfly as much as possible, fold it similarly (the shape will likely be a bit weird but you’ll eventually find a way that works), and roll it up with the inner tent inside. Done this way, the important part – the inside of the inner tent – stays separated from any wet or damp parts.
• This all goes in the carry sack with the open ends of the folds/rolls towards the opening of the bag, so air can get into every part of the tent even when packed.

(Maybe this would be better explained in a video on that YouTube channel I recently started…)

As a side note, I find routine tent drying a lot more fuss with double-skin designs which have the inner tent clipped into the rainfly by default.

And again: this is just what I’ve ended up doing after almost two decades of touring, six tents, and a lot of wet-weather camping.

But I’m sure there’ll be someone out there on the internet waiting to tell me I’ve been doing it all wrong.

Long-Term Tent Care For Cycle Tourers

Last but not least, don’t forget to store the tent dry when it isn’t being used!

It’s easy to forget this when you’ve just got home after a long trip and all you want to do is decompress.

Some people store their tents unpacked, but that takes up a lot of space and is arguably overkill.

Personally, I just make sure everything is bone dry, pack the tent as described above, leave the carry-sack open for airflow, then store it in a dry and airy environment (top of the wardrobe or under the bed: yes; damp basement or garden shed: no).

Well, that was a longer answer than I was expecting it to be. But at least I’ve now brain-dumped everything I know on the subject of camping gear moisture management when cycle touring.

Hope this helps!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: How Do I Dry Out My Wet Tent Every Day?.

I am going to order in September a new Oxford Bikes Expedition — what panniers would you suggest? I really only need to carry clothes, a very small tool kit and a lap top.

Basically, I want to ride to my office down various gravel tracks and roads — my office is 550 miles from home!

Thanks for the question! And congratulations on your excellent choice of bike – not that I’m biased or anything…

Anyhow. Along with a few other factors such as budget, pannier choice has a lot to do with what the contents will be.

And the fact that you want to carry a laptop on a kind of extended tour-commute brings some special considerations.

Many panniers are tapered towards the bottom for heel clearance, and/or have protruding rivets or fixtures on the rear inner surface, which depending on the size and shape of your laptop might damage the laptop’s shell or make the corners or edges vulnerable. 

You’ll also want to make sure the pannier is waterproof and can be properly sealed when the laptop is inside, especially if it’s a roll-top pannier, so the size of the laptop matters here too.

A final consideration is overall capacity. From the sound of it, a single large rear pannier might be sufficient for your needs, although you might buy a pair for future flexibility. Some people worry about balancing the load equally left and right, but this is more important for fully-loaded touring when the total amount of luggage is perhaps four or five times greater. Commuters ride with single rear panniers all the time.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, some pannier manufacturers have already thought about all of this!

Ortlieb offer an easily removable commuter insert, featuring a padded laptop sleeve and other organising compartments, for their rear pannier ranges. It’s compatible with the popular Back-Roller Classic and Plus touring panniers (and more).

Vaude have taken a different approach, designing a business-oriented messenger bag with a shoulder strap that fits perfectly inside an Aqua Back waterproof touring pannier.

And if your preferred pannier manufacturer doesn’t sell such an accessory, I doubt it’d take much to make  something suitable yourself, perhaps starting with a standard protective laptop sleeve.

You mentioned gravel roads, so as well as reiterating the need for good laptop protection, it’ll also be wise to go for racks and panniers that are proven durable enough to take a lot of bumps and vibrations.

Tubus is the default rack choice here, but whatever you decide to go for, I believe Richard at Oxford Bike Works usually uses a thread-locking solution when mounting them, which will prevent the bolts working loose over time.

And while both of the pannier brands mentioned above are tried and tested on demanding tours, you’ll find more suggestions in my big round-up of touring panniers.

Hope this helps!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Question: Best Panniers For A Road/Gravel Tour-Commute?.

My stupid question (asked with the understanding that you are not a medical professional but a great resource and researcher): Can biking on a touring bike be bad for your back? Can biking on inflated tires on bumpy roads – because you’re too lazy to reduce pressure or anxious about reinflating them – be bad for your back? How can you mitigate potential back problems from biking on a touring bike? Are recumbent bikes less safe on busy roads – they look that way to me, even with the flag on back?

Thanks for the question! As you mentioned, I am not a medical professional, but I do ride touring bikes, and I also have a back, so I think that makes me at least qualified to respond anecdotally.

The first thing that comes to mind is to point out that riding a bicycle can be both beneficial and detrimental to one’s health.

If your bike is well-fitted, you don’t have any underlying health issues, and you exercise good judgement regarding volume and exertion, it’s an established way of getting fit, and doing so in a relatively low-impact way compared to, say, running.

But cycle tourists tend to take this to something of an extreme, riding all day, every day, with few breaks and few rest days, often for months or years on end. I remember one rider joking about how, on their days off, they would only ride 50km or so instead of the usual 150 or more.

You don’t often hear about back injuries sustained as a result of riding in this way. I would guess that’s partly because people on long-haul bike trips have spent time adjusting their touring bikes to fit as well as possible. But it could also be because not everyone feels the need to publish the story of their trip-cancelling back injury to the world.

So, crashes or accidents aside, it is of course possible to injure yourself through the physical act of cycling, whether because of poor bike fit leading to repetitive strain injuries, or from pushing your body too far beyond what it’s capable of, triggering some underlying condition or weakness that appears to be caused by cycling but was already lying dormant, or for some other reason.

To answer part of your question more directly, I would say that mitigation strategies for cycle touring-related injuries – back or otherwise – begin with the purchase or building of the bike itself. Getting a touring bike properly fitted in advance of your tour won’t eliminate the potential for pain, discomfort and injury, but it will greatly reduce the risk, and give you a head-start in the inevitable process of minor tweaking you’ll go through on your journey with that bike in order to get it feeling just right.

And when it feels just right, then – all else equal – it hopefully means your body is telling you it’s fine to keep on riding like this.

But things change on the road. You mentioned riding bumpy roads with firm tyres – it seems to be that this could certainly contribute to the jolting and jarring that might well trigger an injury. Deflating your tyres on rough terrain is, in my personal experience, more about comfort than traction. There’s big difference between cruising on good asphalt and having your bike and body shaken to bits on a rough descent, and softer tyres can take the edge off it.

Secondly – and I don’t want to state the obvious – as time goes by, bits of your body start to wear out as well as bits of your bike.

There are plenty of tales of people realising – often under painful circumstances – that their joints and muscles can no longer quite do what they used to! We have to pay attention to these incidents, because they’re a sign of things to come if we don’t do things differently. The annoying thing is that these occurrences are hard to predict.

Without wanting to confuse subjective experience with general advice, I personally find upper body strength training seems to help correct the imbalance that comes from a lot of cycling and not much else. This might be something to consider if you’re concerned about back injuries while cycle touring.

And I recently wrote an answer to a slightly different question that might also be relevant. It was about reducing wrist and neck pain while riding on bumpy roads, but it would be applicable to back pain too, as what we’re really talking about is cushioning repetitive impacts on the body while riding.

Finally, as for recumbent bikes being less safe, in my experience this is mostly a visual effect and a consequence of diamond-framed bicycles being normalised. Looked at objectively, the act of balancing any bicycle alongside high-velocity multi-ton metal boxes with only a polystyrene hat for safety seems inherently questionable – hence, perhaps, the rise of off-road bikepacking.

Having said that, I did post a four-part account of my first recumbent bike tour which touches on this subject and might be of interest.

Hope this helps!

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: Can Cycle Touring Be Bad For Your Back?.

Last week I had the pleasure of hosting a French couple on a mission to cycle round the world – preferably without flying – who had spent eight months riding across Europe, Turkey and Georgia, and had recently arrived in Armenia after almost 10,000km of pedalling.

Their company evoked feelings of nostalgia for the time when, aged 24, I first arrived in Armenia on a mission to cycle round the world – preferably without flying – and had also spent eight months riding across Europe, Turkey and Georgia.

Anyway. As they were packing up to leave, I noticed that the bikes to which they were attaching their fully-loaded panniers were made by global big-box purveyor of outdoor and sports equipment, Decathlon.

Originally founded in France almost 50 years ago, Decathlon is now one of the world’s biggest sports equipment retailers, with outlets in 69 countries. It is also, in my experience, a brand looked down upon by adventure snobs, who perhaps dislike the idea of a huge multinational corporation making perfectly decent outdoor equipment that does the same thing they pay boutique manufacturers and retailers many times more for.

If you’ve been reading a while, you’ll know I’m a big fan of bespoke touring bikes, and you might be wondering why I’ve suddenly decided to post about Decathlon products.

Well, here’s a reminder that while I’ve been touring for almost two decades, and have the resources to engage with what can easily become a rather costly way of perfecting one’s bike, I also clearly remember being a cash-strapped newbie with €750 in my back pocket and the world laid out before me.

Like my younger self, there remain many budding cycle tourists for whom keeping costs to a minimum is a legitimate concern. And it’s for these riders that I publish posts such as this list of the cheapest commercially-available touring bikes, and, for the ambitious, how to travel for free forever. For riders trying to surmount the financial obstacles to hitting the road, all that talk of high-end bespoke touring bikes is irrelevant.

The modern version of Decathlon’s Riverside Touring 520 has been on my list of cheap touring bikes since it was (re-)launched a few years ago. But although I made a special visit to Decathlon’s flagship UK store to check it out and test-ride it, I obviously haven’t ridden it far enough to be able to comment on its quality first-hand.

That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to interview my two guests about their experiences riding their Decathlon Riverside Touring bikes on the first 10,000km of their world tour. They aren’t affiliated with Decathlon (aside from being French!) and have no reason to be anything other than honest. Watch the video above to hear their verdict.

For reference, Simon is riding a factory-spec Decathlon Riverside Touring 900, which has a component selection more suited to fully-loaded touring than the 520, and is a little more expensive.

And Diane is riding what is technically a custom-built touring bike based on a vintage Riverside 520 frame, made back when Decathlon was a much smaller company and still produced steel frames for their range of in-house hybrid and touring bikes (probably in the late ’90s or early ’00s, according to Simon). The current Riverside Touring 520 is based on the same aluminium frameset as the 900, with a stripped-down factory specification better suited to light touring.

Follow Diane and Simon’s ongoing journey via their Polarsteps page. And don’t forget that you can find more videos like this on the TomsBikeTrip.com YouTube channel.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title Are Decathlon Touring Bikes Actually Any Good? Verdict After 10,000km (Video).

I want to go cycle touring on an e‑bike, but there are obstacles. Firstly, nobody makes electric touring bikes. Secondly, other types of e‑bikes are too heavy to fly with, and airlines won’t carry e‑bike batteries. And finally, how can I possibly keep an e‑bike charged on a cycle tour? Help!

Thanks for all the questions! Straight up: I have never toured on an e‑bike, and I don’t own an e‑bike, so the following advice is theoretical.

That said, I’ve received enough similar-sounding questions to make it worth looking into more deeply. What follows is a collection of thoughts on the topic of e‑bikes for cycle touring – and ultimately on whether or not it’s viable.

Context helps when exploring any question, and for this one I want to share a personal anecdote.

It was August 2014, and I was cycle touring in central Europe with my wife and a couple of friends when I realised our route would intersect with the annual Eurobike conference in Friedrichshafen, Germany.

Eurobike is, for the uninitiated, one of the biggest bicycle industry conferences on the planet. Everyone is there, from Giant manufacturers (pun intended) to solopreneur startups.

Each year has a theme, and the theme for 2014 was e‑bikes. How – the global bicycle industry’s top representatives had been asked to demonstrate – can we market and deliver e‑bike technology to the masses?

It’s worth reminding ourselves that in 2014, e‑bikes were practically unheard of – the domain of crackpot inventors tinkering with inherently problematic technology that seemed to have little chance of crossing over to the mainstream.

A decade later and everyone has a reason to buy (or build) and e‑bike.

This is no accident. The e‑bike is one of the most successful industry-led trends in cycling we’ve seen since… well, to be honest, since ever.

This is in spite of the fact that replacing human power with stored electricity comes with inherent challenges, as anyone considering using an e‑bike for cycle touring almost immediately realises… hence the volume of questions I’ve received in recent months.

I relate all of this because I think it’s worth asking whether your desire for an e‑bike is genuinely the result of a considered, logical thought process which concludes with an e‑bike being the only way you can go on a bike tour, or whether it’s a result of the bicycle industry’s sustained and intentional efforts to persuade you that this is true.

Put simply: are you being sold something you don’t actually need?

If you suspect so, I implore you to consider the KISS principle. Remember that the freedom engendered by the humble bicycle stems largely from its ability to transform the body’s exertion into movement. The price is getting a bit sweaty on the way up a hill. Tying it into the power grid, however, will inevitably compromise that freedom.

Still curious? Welcome to a technology craze so fast-moving I barely know where to start…

Until this year, I would have said that the biggest problem with using an e‑bike for cycle touring is that nobody is making touring e‑bikes.

But now they are.

If you have a spare $6–7,000 lying around, for example, you may now spend it on a top-of-the-range Koga E‑Worldtraveller.

The classic Koga Worldtraveller was already one of the most expensive and revered expedition-grade touring bikes on the planet. Now, as of 2024, you can buy a purpose-built, pedal-assisted, electric version of it, with or without front suspension, and with all of the touring-specific touches of the original.

At 31kg almost no airline will accept it. And it costs about as much as a shoestring traveller would spend cycling round the entire planet.

But it exists.

Or if you’d prefer your electric touring bike to be German rather than Dutch, why not splash out on one of Tout Terrain’s new E‑Expedition bikes?

The Pamir starts at a cool €7,849, and features not just a Pinion e‑drive internal gearbox but also a Gates Carbon Drive belt-driven drivetrain. It’s hard to think of a more expensive way to make your bike as unserviceable as possible when, for example, riding the actual Pamir Highway.

Okay, okay – I apologise for any sarcasm you may have detected.

In any case, I suspect these are showcase products, designed to make a splash and demonstrate what’s possible when you put the best engineering minds in the business to task. And it’s a taste of things to come: I have no doubt that more touring e‑bikes are being prototyped as I write, and will begin to surface sooner rather than later.

The bikes above are not a sensible choice of touring bike on which to head off round the world. I believe the manufacturers would, if pressed, admit this.

But I can easily see bikes like this scooting between lodges in the European Alps, or meandering down the Donau Radweg between B&B (that’s Bett+Bike) accommodation. And it’s a sure bet that charging infrastructure in such places will develop to meet demand.

Because if all you want is to tour somewhere you can transport your bike to by land, you know you’ll be able to charge your e‑bike regularly, and you’ve got money to spend on all of the above… then why not?

(This goes for using any e‑bike on a cycle tour, whether or not it cost you the same as a new car.)

The alternative for the determined and possibly cash-strapped DIYer is to build your own electric touring bike using a relatively affordable e‑bike conversion kit.

I would like to thank Dustin – one of the readers who originally wrote in about e‑bikes for cycle touring – for sharing his ongoing process of converting a touring bike using an e‑bike conversion kit from Amazon. You can find a full description of his project on Hackaday.

Because I don’t have any personal experience converting a touring bike into an e‑bike suitable for long-distance touring, I’m going to refrain from speculating about the nuts and bolts (pun also intended) until I have done it myself.

But if this ends up being a starting point for you to tackle your own DIY electric touring bike project, and you think the results are worth sharing, please do write in and let me know – I’d be very happy to feature it here for the benefit of the community.

Beyond the question of how to actually buy or build an electric touring bike, all else is detail. On a regular touring bike, you’re already looking for places to charge your phone. On an e‑bike, you’ll be plugging in the bike as well. The charge time might be longer, but otherwise, it really is that simple.

And as for how to fly with an e‑bike to go cycle touring if the bike is overweight and/or you can’t take the battery on the plane?

Simple. Don’t. Either ride somewhere closer to home, take the train/bus/ferry, or fly out and buy the bike (or battery) at the other end.

This is part of my “No Stupid Questions” series, in which readers write in with questions about cycle touring or bikepacking and I attempt to answer them. Check out more recent posts in the series or ask one of your own.

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title No Stupid Questions: Is E‑bike Touring Possible? (If So, How?).

On this occasion, Seattle-based Cascade Designs (parent of MSR, Therm-a-Rest, SealLine and more) have launched a major sale on many cycle touring gear classics across their brands, running from May 17–27 – although I expect the most popular items will be gone in a matter of hours.

Of special interest is the legendary MSR Hubba range of lightweight freestanding tents, whose 1‑, 2- and 3‑berth models have been circling the globe under pedal power for decades (I have one of each).

Among riders from the English-speaking world, these are arguably the most popular cycle touring tents ever made – and there’s now 40% off all three. This never happens.

Also heavily discounted are the MSR Elixir tents, which are essentially heavyweight versions of the Hubbas, cheaper to boot, and theoretically more durable – as long as you don’t mind the extra kilo or so.

(I’ve written extensively about tent choice for cycle touring in this detailed blog post.)

And while the remainder of the sale will be of more interest to hikers and trekkers, I also spotted some excellent-quality SealLine dry bags (mine are still watertight after 11 years) which are great for the organising and selective waterproofing of gear inside your bike luggage, and the also-legendary Z‑Lite SOL closed-cell foam camping mat for those whose backs and joints are up to it (more on sleeping mats/pads here).

The sale is, unfortunately, for Cascade Designs’ USA online store only, meaning about 50% of readers will now close this tab in disgust. Sorry – I promise the next post will be more relevant!

This post originally appeared on Tom’s Bike Trip with the title The Most Popular Cycle Touring Tent Ever Made Is Now 40% Cheaper.