Early in 1983 I was 32 years old and had been doing a lot of fast local rides and a few supported overnight group tours in downstate Illinois for years, but no loaded touring.

Through my job I had occasional contact with a friendly guy in Chicago, and at some point we realized we were both into pedaling and decided to try a couple of rides together. He would show me the city and I would show him the prairie.

Over beers after our first ride, the topic turned to riding in Europe, something that sounded pretty cool to both of us. After a couple more rides together, and a few more beers, we started kicking around plans for a tour that seemed to get longer and more ambitious the more we talked about it, egging each other on for a trip together neither of us would have undertaken alone.

This might have turned out to be nothing more than big talk, but the conditions were right for both of us:

(1) We both already had good bikes that would work for loaded touring

(2) Although certainly not wealthy, we both had ample financial resources

(3) We both had jobs that would allow us to take extended vacations over the summer

(4) We were both healthy and in decent riding shape

(5) Neither of us had a clue about how tough such a ride could be

(6) At the moment neither of us had a wife or serious girlfriend who needed to be consulted

That meant things started falling rapidly into place.

We knew it would be possible to bike across Europe, but neither of us had ever been there and neither of us knew anyone who had attempted such a two-wheeled journey. Resources were scant to non-existent, so we tried to figure out everything for ourselves.

Starting in about January (damn cold on the prairie) I got into a fairly serious training regimen including an indoor trainer as well as longer and longer rides in all kinds of weather, intentionally pedaling through snow, rain, raging winds, fog, darkness, and other adversities in order to toughen up and get into better shape. Because we lived a couple hundred miles apart and both had jobs, Mike and I didn't ride together much at this stage, but before departure we did manage one three-day ride together that included pounding rain, flooded roads, and howling wind while tornado sirens blared.

We also honed our European route. Without making day-by-day plans, we agreed to fly into Athens at the beginning of May, ride north into Yugoslavia, take the ferry from Dubrovnik to Italy, pedal up the boot, then hit France, Switzerland, Germany, Scandinavia, the Netherlands, Belgium, France again, Ireland, and the UK. We would end up in London and fly home from there at the end of summer, whenever that might be. We also agreed we would ride fully self-supporting, each with his own tent, sleeping bag, tools, and gear. That would create some redundancies and add some extra weight, but it meant neither of us would be dependent on the other.

We agreed that we would mostly camp, but would occasionally stay at a hostel or even a hotel when we felt like it. Also, because we would never be far from civilization and finances weren't a major concern, we decided not to carry cooking gear. Instead, almost every night we would have dinner at a restaurant or tavern or pub or snack bar.

Meanwhile, we got passports and visas and booked our flights. The return ticket was open-ended, but had to be used within 90 days of departure, which gave us a definite ending date. I took a Red Cross course in first aid, attended bike maintenance classes, studied French, found a reliable friend willing to take care of my house over the summer, chopped off my waist-length hair except for a rat-tail braid, and memorized in multiple languages the words for bread, cheese, beer, and bathroom.

After searching bike shops and studying gear catalogs, Mike and I both picked brand new Eclipse racks and panniers. I invested in a new tent, sleeping bag, and excellent North Face Gore-Tex Stowaway jacket and pants. (In Europe and on other expeditions over many years afterwards, the jacket and pants turned out to be the best investment in portable gear for heavy-weather I ever made.) Some of this equipment was just rolling off the production line, and neither Mike nor I actually had everything in hand until just a few days before departure, giving us time for a single dress rehearsal ride. (Many thanks, in 1983 and again in 2010, to the crew at Vitesse bike shop, who made sure I got all the right stuff and I got in on time.)

My mount, a Roberts "club" bike made in England, went by the name of Bob. It carried two low-rider front panniers, a commodious handle-bar bag, two water bottles in cages, a flat kit tucked under the seat, two rear panniers, sleeping bag, foam pad, and a lightweight June Bug tent with just enough room for me and my gear. Fully loaded (but not counting food or water or what I was wearing), this amounted to around 37 pounds according to the bathroom scale at my neighbor's house. Mike lugged pretty much the same set-up.

Keeping in mind this is a 2010 introduction to my 1983 journal, I should remind the intrepid reader how in those ancient days we didn't have cell phones, MP3 players, GPS devices, laptops, "bicycle computers," or any of the other electronic gadgetry we take for granted in this century, and my trusty Apple II+ (pre Mac) computer at home was not exactly bike-portable. No Internet, Google, Facebook, Twitter, bicycle touring websites, etc. The only way I communicated with friends and family back home was by sending an occasional postcard. 

In 1983 we also had no digital cameras. I decided not to take a camera at all -- too much hassle with film -- and consequently have not a single photo of the entire journey, which is my one big regret about the expedition.

Checking my original gear list, I realize that much of what I used would nowadays qualify for display in a museum of forgotten antiquities, although my wife claims I'm still wearing some of the same clothes. This was also basically before the time of the EU, so there was no Euro, meaning currency conversion from one country to the next was always a hassle and expense. No ATMs. On the other hand, neither airlines nor anyone else seemed to care what was in our bike boxes or panniers. (Well, TWA -- oops, that airline has been out of business for years -- confiscated my chain lube.)

In any event, by the first week in May in 1983 we were ready to roll, and in 2010 we're ready to get on with the journal.

PS: Following pages, by the way, are straight from my real journal, kept pretty much every day -- often multiple entries per day -- on the expedition, still preserved as a longhand scrawl in a yellowing notebook after all these years, just slightly edited and censored for clarifications and public consumption. Names of places and people along the way probably aren't always spelled correctly, especially in Greece. Daily distances are approximate (no bike computer; just worked from maps and made my best estimates at the end of each day) and include side trips, meanders, detours, wrong turns, and backtracks. See the postscript for info on how I turned my handwritten 1983 journal into this 2010 Web-based version.

Heart

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