I’m a keen armchair cyclist and always enjoy books like this - a bike seem the ideal way to traverse a country. You don’t zip through it, but you don’t tarry either. You get to meet people, but the bike quickly takes you away from them too, sometimes necessarily. Meanwhile the physical feat of it is impressive, and it’s pretty amazing that a two wheeled bike powered by your own body can take you across the whole world in less than 200 days (in this case.)
Mark Beaumont is a Scot from my neck of the woods, and I felt I saw the world from a similar perspective to his own. There was no glorification of other nations and peoples as being friendlier, or simpler, or kinder, or anything else in comparison to others (i.e rich Westerners). Beaumont always gives a straightforward assessment of whoever he meets, warts and all. A man’s a man for aw’ that, which means a man can be a total pain in the arse too, especially as a member of the Pakistani police. One thing that was striking as the ride moved through Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and India was that men were all Beaumont saw and met. Women seemingly disappeared off the planet during this stage of the journey. Very young boys and adolescent teenagers always showed an interest in him, but there were no little girls mentioned anywhere. Not that Beaumont really spends time in any one place or community, because his goal was to race across the world, trying to set a new record by averaging about 150km a day, meaning he’d almost no time to dally or spend meaningful time with people he encountered.
In contrast to Ted Simon in Jupiter’s Travels, Beaumont is relieved to depart Asia and arrive in Australia, not dwelling on the poverty versus affluence he sees. It is what it is, seems to be his attitude, but he has a tougher time on the paved roads of Australia than he has had the rutted tarmacs and mud roads of India. This is largely due to the heat and headwind gales that sweep across the Outback, and the monotony of the unchanging scenery where a road can travel straight for 90 miles without a bend on it.
America is next, and the miles and States fly by on paved roads from the West to the East before the final leg from Portugal back to Paris. This is quite a long book, but it’s always interesting and kept me hooked to the end.