introduction

I love bicycle touring. Strapping a tent and a sleeping bag onto the back of my bike and riding off into worlds unknown is just about the funnest thing I can think of.

I come by it honestly. Growing up on the east side of Houston, I didn't do any camping. We lived along the Houston Ship Channel, where there was always noise and always light. There was never a time, day or night, that I couldn't hear cars, and after sunset when I gazed upwards there were only three stars visible because of all the light pollution. And actual pollution? Here's a photo of the area:

This is a small section. The refineries, where my dad, all of my uncles, and many of my high school classmates ended up working, span miles and miles along the channel. It's worth noting that the University of Texas released a study suggesting that children living within 2 miles (3.2 km) of the Houston Ship Channel were 56% more likely to develop leukemia than the national average. (Our house was within that two mile range, and one of my friends died from leukemia in high school.)

Like I said, my idea of a great vacation is riding my bike to someplace new and camping along the way. On the other hand, my wife's idea of a great vacation is to travel to someplace exotic and stay in a 4-star hotel. She was raised in Utah, which has more national parks than any other state in the contiguous 48 states. Although she enjoys the outdoors, and has done an extensive amount of camping (as well as rock climbing, backpacking, etc), she simply woke up one day and decided she no longer wanted to sleep on the ground. And she wants a shower after riding. And, I joke, she doesn’t want that pea under her mattresses.

Now I'm wondering if the stress will finally end out 27-year marriage. We made it through the Cover Stealing Era in which I was relegated to sixteen square inches of our bed, shivering because of the purloined blanket that two hours prior had belonged to me. We made it through the Toilet Seat Trials, the Outlaw Inlaw Years, and even a home renovation project. But this... can our love withstand it?

But wait! Compromise, the core of any successful relationship, tapped me on the shoulder. Why not do both? I decided that we could take our bikes and loaded panniers to some exotic location, ride to our heart's content, then stay in a hotel at the end of the day. And, considering the layers of sunscreen, sweat, and attached bugs, a shower wouldn't hurt me either. Hopefully.

At that point I elicited help from my fellow Cycleblazers, who share a wealth of knowledge and experience, by posting a question in the Forum. I got a lot of fantastic recommendations and ended up deciding on the Moselle river.

Karen Kislingbury, an old school friend of mine who accompanied me on my 2020 trip, and my sister, Wanda, who travelled with me on my 2004 trip from San Francisco to San Diego, are planning on going as well.

Thus came the origins of Bingham Cycling Tours. It's a one-person operation, and I only have one client, so we'll see how this gig pans out.

This journal, unlike most of my others, has more pictures than narrative, which may come as a relief to some. To me, it seems like it's a lot of "I did this, then I did that. And here's a picture of some food." Regardless, I hope you enjoy the ride.

This is one of our refrigerator magnets.

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