I don't know how much thought other cycle tourists give to travelling alone or travelling in groups. I didn't, really, until this year. A lot of the time, if I said that I was going on a bike trip, I'd have six people express interest, two of whom would actually come along. But this year is different....aside from ending a relationship (such as it was) with a guy who was (almost) always ready to head out on a trip or two, if he could...and learning the hard way that a lot of my friends are... um.... well... not as up and prepared for cycling long distances as I am... I'm doing two long trips in the space of six weeks. I'll be heading to Andalusia between March 29th and April 9th; and then heading out to do the Camino de Santiago between April 26th and May 8th.

Alone.

As in, I'm looking forward to this "camaraderie among cyclists" kind of thing because, truth be told, I am REALLY excited to be doing these trips...but I'm also freaked out, too.

One of the disadvantages of being in a cycling relationship with someone (which does not have to be the same as a romantic relationship, by any means) is that you get kind of lazy about finding new partners. Maybe it's a kind of hangover from being in a romantic relationship, as well - you get so reliant on one person that it doesn't occur to you what would happen if that person decided not to take part in a trip. Or when that person becomes effectively divorced from your life. It's like losing a part of your geographic memory. And at the beginning, I was really excited about going solo ("Thank God, no more snoring/nookie at weird hours/silent treatment/listening to his teeth chatter because he's in a summer sleeping bag/complaining about pain/complaining about having to cook"), maybe out of a misplaced sense of superiority, maybe because people are really good about mouthing off about how much they don't need people - and how they do it when they're at their most vulnerable.

And there are practical considerations as well, too. Things are a lot more expensive when you travel by yourself - hotel rooms, food. There's no one to share pannier space with if you decide to camp. But it's a lot easier to get you and your bike onto a bus when you're by yourself. You don't have to justify changes in the schedules to anyone but yourself. You've only got one voice whining at you, if at all; you know that at least one person is going to find your jokes and wry observations funny. The worries that typically come with travelling by myself don't tend to worry me ("You're gonna ride off into a gulch and break your bike/neck/ankles/legs and no one will know where you are!"...or..."You're gonna get raped/attacked/robbed/hit by a semi/food poisoning/sunburn...")

The first bike trip I did was supposed to be from Écija to Ronda, going through a lot of the mountains that I plan on doing this year. My inexperience (and a €99 bike) meant that I had to cut it short after the second day because I didn't have enough strength and experience (and chain ring power) to battle the wind coming in from Africa. And I remember being scared absolutely SHITLESS when I set out because I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't going to die. Sure, things happened. Five kilometres out of town my bra strap snapped (right in front of a pig farm, no less), nearly sending me into the ditch in shock. I had a head-on collision with the sirocco winds the next day. The trains linking Seville and Osuna (where I'd stopped the night before) didn't take bicycles. But things weren't totally unmanageable, either. There was no problem getting the bike on the bus to Seville, and then onto Ronda (three cheers for midweek travel!). I can still taste how good the avocado and shrimp salad tasted on the terrace of the restaurant in Marinaleda. The owner of the hostal in Osuna couldn't have been sweeter. So, yes, a five-day jaunt got cut short by about three days because of various problems. But that was fine.

And I know that it'll be fine when I go. I'm a smarter, more prepared, fitter cyclist. I don't anticipate having to deal with a lot of problems on the bike; but if I do, it's no big deal because I know what I'm doing. I know the territory where I'm going, and I know that I'm never further than a phone call away from reassurance. And I know that I'll be a much better person when I finish these trips, because I will know how to deal.

I forget which suffragette said that a bicycle was a key to freedom. It is, and not just when it comes to questions of mobility - it's also a key to gaining confidence when you feel that life has knocked you back a bit more than what's fair.