A bike, for all it’s roaming abilities, is a terrestrial creature. Wheels are only useful with a ground to roll against. With no ground, a bike will flounder. And yet, I believe it is possible to cycle on water.
Think of cycling, and I’m sure you’ll have a image of a bike in your mind. Two wheels (maybe more), main propulsion from peddling, that smell of chain oil and rubber so pervasive in bike shops, perhaps some brightly coloured lycra, if you’re so inclined. True. Fair enough. You’ve described a bicycle and rider. But not, I think, the feeling of cycling, the reason why someone might choose to perch on a narrow seat to force themselves up a hill with bugs sticking to the sweat on their face.
There are as many reasons for getting on a bike as there are cyclists to think them. But for me, cycling the closest I can get to flying on land. Oh the freedom from zooming along, far faster than a lumbering walk, with wind whistling past, feeling every drop of rain, every glimmer of sunshine… The people rushing to overtake me in cars are moving faster than I am, but in a bubble of their own. Too cold, turn the heating up. Look, it’s raining! Turn the wipers on. I’m bored, turn the radio on. Are we there yet?? You’ll get there, but without noticing that little bumblebee bumping into a foxglove, without the relief of breaching that really long hill and gliding down the other side, without getting too hot or too cold or soaked through, without the best-tasting cup of tea when you stop. And cars are really noisy! Have you noticed? Four fat wheels and a heavy machine just make a lot of noise rolling along, even if the engine is quiet. Not that I don’t get a little pang of envy when I’m passed by a lovely warm car for whom the headwind I’m struggling through is nothing more than a tickle. But I like that smug feeling of getting there by bike anyway.
Cycling for me is like flying under your own steam, with very little between you and the world around you.
If cycling is flying on land, what is cycling on water like? What could give that same sense of freedom and vulnerability to the outdoors? Having lived by the sea for a few years now, I’ve decided that it is stand-up paddleboarding.
If you see someone in the distance who looks like they’re walking on water with a long stick and a sense of deep serenity, they are in fact standing on a board holding a paddle. It’s like surfing without getting battered by waves. Or like kayaking without the fear of capsizing. Or like swimming over the jellyfish and seaweed. And, most importantly, it is like cycling on water. Here’s why:
You can go places
Strap the snacks and waterproofs on to the bike or board, and go! Go for an hour, a day, many days…
Paddle-cycling on a flat sea-road, I find my body takes on a rhythm of its own paddle-peddling. These are excellent journeys to gently ponder things, and bring friends along to gently ponder them with. But, hills are a bit addictive. They make you concentrate on the route rolling towards you (whether by wheels over land, or waves over sea). Suddenly you’re up, suddenly streaming down, and each hill-wave is a little different from the last. Every crest conquered will make the next one seem more forgiving. Besides, the changing scenery is a constant source of distraction for getting over those sometimes wearisome hill-waves.
The weather is fickle
The choice of journey isn’t always up to you. Sometimes it can be downright dangerous to be on a bike-board. A strong wind can stop you in your tracks or blow you off-course into oncoming traffic or rocks. Swell can quail the bravest of boards in a storm, and topple trees into the path of the sturdiest of bikes. But allow yourself to go out in anything less than dangerous conditions and you’ll notice how different that cliff looks in this weather, how blue the Cornish hedgerows become in May, how fun these hill-waves are now you know you’ve managed worse already… After a run of bad weather you’ll appreciate that sunshine all the more!
Find solitude or friends
Most bikes and boards are made for one, which means that you don’t need anyone else to go for an adventure. Of course it is sometimes nice to have company to share the weather with, whatever the weather. Other people have taken me on some of my longest bike-board journeys, with friendly chatter all the way there and back again. It makes that wider world just a little less scary if there’s someone with you who knows the way.
But sometimes keeping up normal conversation with other people is just too much hard work. Bikes and paddleboards are wonderful vessels for solitude without the ache of loneliness. Much like books, I think. Leap on your vessel of choice and fly away!
Complimentary?
Strong legs will get you further on both bike and board, and a sense of balance will help no end. But while cycling cultivates thighs like pistons and an upper body as solid as a table, staying upright on a paddleboard means straight legs, rolling hips, and an upper body able to keep up with banter from the sea (which is quite ideal for allowing my knees room to heal from excessive cycling)!
Cycling on water
Have I convinced you that it is possible to cycle on water? Or perhaps you’d prefer to draw different comparisons. Surfing is like downhill mountain biking. Sea swimming is like bouldering. Walking is like cycling and paddleboarding without the burden of complicated kit. Teams sports are better than lonesome solo adventuring anyway. Each to their own opinion, but I’ll politely disagree with the last one.
Whether cycling or paddleboarding (or any other ‘-ing’), each adventure is only one moment at a time. One turn of the pedals, one stroke of the paddle, one more breath to keep you going. Even the longest adventure is broken down into one moment, then the next. Some moments are horrible. You’re sore, cold, tired, don’t want to do this stupid thing anyway. But moments pass, even the good ones. Take them all as they come!
ArchaeoCyclist 