You’ve liked the photos; you’ve read the blog. But whilst it might look like one big holiday, it’s not all fun, fun, fun. There’s a less glamorous side of cycle touring.
We have to travel pretty light on the bikes – which means carrying a limited wardrobe. Which in turn means washing as you go along. Which consequently means it’s not uncommon to find yourself scrubbing your way through a bath tub full of sweaty cycling shorts, tops, socks and pants and hanging it all out to dry before you can even think about going out at the end of a hard day’s riding. If we knew we were going to be handling each other’s undergarments, we might not have agreed to this trip.
In fact, being a cycle tourist means becoming a creature of habit: wake up, write the blog, have breakfast, shower, change, pack the bags, check out, sort the bikes, ride, check in, shower, wash the kit, have a pint, eat, go to bed. The same routine, every day.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving the trip. But next time you think “I wish I was doing that too”, picture yourself washing Squeezy’s kacks or Bailey’s socks or my sweaty shorts and you might want to reconsider…
Lifecyclist.co.uk 
OK Thommo, I was with you all the way until now. I’ve been vicariously (there’s that word again) enjoying the journey of a lifetime but the illusion is now permanently tarnished. There is surely no experience great enough to justify washing Squeezy’s under crackers? The weather is improving down south so be careful the Dawg doesn’t break out a mankini…you have been warned! Keep pedalling fellas. Sels
Ha ha, a touch of dramatic license there my friend: rest assured there is no power in this world or the next that could convince me to wash another man’s smalls. Least of all the Dawg’s. But sometimes when they’re all in the same basin together, contact is inevitable… Yikes, I’m even grossing myself out!
One more pint of Tennants and that’ll be a dim and distant memory…
It was a good job the water was boiling when my said underwear was ‘touched’. However, I think I should be the one who comments on the ‘grossing out’ in the thought of contact with someone else’s ‘kacks’, especially one that has slightly more fur! That goes to you too Mr. Hairy.
I have no idea what that even means. No more Strongbow for you, young man!
Oh god, I can just imagine the smell! Yuk!!