Setting off in Spring
There are three things guaranteed in life; death, taxes and unsettled weather in April. The former two I have fortunately dodged on the trip to date, but the latter has come at me in spades. See, setting off in Spring brings with it a unique set of pros and cons which I have been experiencing and thought it would good to write about for any would be explorers who read this blog. Those who are thinking of jettisoning out of society and into a life on the road….but doing so during the most unsettled time of the year for weather.
An ominous road ahead
It’s a sad fact that despite what even the most positive traveller might tell you, the weather has a huge impact on travel and especially bike-packing. When the sun is out, no cars on the road and dramatic scenery surrounding you, there is genuinely no better feeling or place I’d rather be. However, when the rain is at play, you’ve not showered in five days and only have a wet tent to look forward to that night, bike-packing might seem like the worst decision of your life. If Carlsberg did seasons it not might be Spring, but in terms of packing your bags and seeing the world it might be the best time to set sail.
The positives
It’s always better to start with the good news…right? Well starting off in headwinds and rain can have some major advantages, most notably space (less tourists) and costs (less tourists). Roads along coastlines that are littered with car parks indicate that come the summer months, cycling would be a non-starter. Towns and cities that are usually pumping are at present a more muted, but organic, version of themselves. There’s no need to queue for my bare essentials and no ridiculous surcharges levied at me. Like a bear gorging itself ahead of the lean winter ahead, many places I have cycled through so far have a very clear linear increase in prices set for the summer…..prices I have no intention of ever paying.
From a cycling perspective a lot of roads get repaved in Europe around Spring and this can be an absolute Godsend after a few miles of off-roading. Before the RV’s chew up the roads, for a few weeks, maybe a month if you’re lucky, you have a pretty good shot at riding virgin surfaces. A chance to not worry about destroying spokes in potholes and getting punctures from accumulated detritus and rubbish along the side of the road. In a nod to a previous blog (‘Mountains in Between’, please read….need to get viewership up) the reduction of traffic, combined with good roads, mean I have been able to take in the scenery as I travel. Stopping on a hairpin bend in the Alps in July, that’ll be an emergency helicopter ride down. The same stop in late April, a lovely 10min water break and a motivational Dua Lipa video to get me up the next hill.
Most importantly though, cycling through Spring will allow you to watch the rejuvenation of land as it wakes from the slumber of winter. The scent of blossom is your reward for enduring a sleepless night in storms, cool and clear rivers are the prize at the end of a hard day in the saddle, and the feeling of ‘earned’ sunshine when the clouds finally break. As each day passes the cacophony of life increases. From chirping frogs at it until 4am outside my tent, to a wall of noise, fields literally buzzing with insect life, as you reach the edge of rural towns.
The negatives
The savage side of Spring, and there’s no beating around the bush here, is the weather. No amount of weather websites (BBC weather has ambushed consistently), local suggestions or prayer can accurately predicted what the weather will do over a 24 hour window in Spring. I knew from the get go weather would be a hurdle at times as I prepared for the expedition, with this fear confirmed in Portsmouth Harbour awaiting the ferry to St Malo. Wind whistling through the docked boats, waves splashing against the ferry but apparently an easing of conditions expected by the morning. Well, one very restless night across the Channel was met with thunderstorms in Brittany the next day….not what I was promised and had got my hopes up for.
Reading some blogs, a lot of people try and gauge their route by following wind patterns. For the uninitiated this would mean having the wind blow from behind you, thus pushing you along. Despite reading up on this, and thinking it a marvellous plan, I can genuinely say I have had far more headwind than should have been expected. From being blown backwards trying to hit France’s Atlantic coast, to basically not moving at times in Northern Italy going into a wind whipping off the Alps. My advice for weather in April is to plan for the worst and expect worse….and vaguely hold hope for the occasional good day.
Another, albeit unexpected, negative is that I have found it pretty difficult going meeting other travellers. I have had the most amazing company in the friends that have joined me and local hospitality I have been shown, but bumping into other likeminded explorers has been hard going. Now I won’t pin this solely on Spring; the very odd route I’m taking in search of sturgeon and the hangover of Covid means that less people are probably on the routes I am taking. But still, I have been surprised by just how few people there are on the road. I have yet to trade tales of my route so far with someone going in the opposite direction and telling them which spots are best for wild camping. But as I approach the Danube and then into Georgia I expect the roads to funnel into fewer options eastwards, cyclists on quieter roads to avoid lorries and for my easy gradient tips to come in handy when meeting other cyclists.
Wrapping this all up in a short summary (I have just got to Zagreb and a beer is calling my name) I would encourage any expedition to begin in Spring. The weather will test you and your kit and out the other side will emerge a toughened person, ready for harder tests as the journey progresses. The space to explore and moments of indescribable beauty that Spring offers will far outweigh any weather it will throw at you. Those following more usual routes, or have the budget for hostels, will certainly meet more likeminded travellers…but when there’s a chance to ‘wild camp’ in a meadow with a gin clear river running through it, a book and some tuck biscuits as you watch the sunset might be all the company you need.
