While I both travel and cycle a great deal, I have come to the conclusion that bicycle touring is not for me. This is not to say that I have anything against bicycle touring at all; it sounds like fun for those who enjoy it, and I love reading others' accounts of it. But it does not appeal to me personally for the same reason I've never liked touring in general: I am not satisfied passing through places. For instance, the idea of touring Ireland - that is, trying to see as much of the island as possible by going from town to town - would leave me feeling disoriented and empty. I enjoy getting to know a place, connecting to it in some way. And I don't feel that I can do that via sight seeing and moving on.
The way I see bicycle touring, is that it is first and foremost about traveling by bike. But what if we want to delve deeper rather than go further? Exploring by bicycle could be a rewarding alternative.
My idea of exploring involves choosing a location of significance, and committing to staying there for whatever length of time is sufficient in order to feel settled. For me that means a minimum of a week. The key is then to have something to do there other than sightseeing in of itself. A work-related project. An artistic, literary or research pursuit. Relatives or friends to visit. Something that anchors me to the place and provides an occupation.
Long ago I've noticed that when we approach a trip as a vacation, we expect the place we are visiting to entertain us. But that approach cannot possibly reveal what this place is truly like. For that we need to actually experience it in a real-life setting, as a temporary resident with a purpose rather than as a tourist. We will still get to see all the sights while there, but everything we see will attain a far greater sense of context and personal meaning.
We will also be much more likely to notice nuances that might have otherwise evaded us.
So where does the bicycle come into all of this? Well, to me the bicycle makes an ideal tool for exploring, in that it allows me to set my own pace and to vary that pace spontaneously. I can go as fast or as slow as I like. I can cover long distances or I can ride around in circles. I can carry all that I need with me for the day, transitioning easily between cycling for the sake of cycling, exploring, and transportation. On my first day on the Antrim coast my travel radius was tiny, but I rode quite a bit. Another day I might find myself 50 miles from my home base.
On my bike, I can feel the landscape open up and reveal itself to me as it never does with any other mode of transportation. I can also ride to the grocery store - or to the pub, or to the library, or to a meeting, or to a friend's house.
The bike allows me to feel at home, comfortable, and entirely independent in the place I am exploring and I couldn't ask for more. Maybe I will tour some day. But for now I prefer to stay put and go deep. The bicycle is as perfect of a companion for this kind of travel as it is for touring. The possibilities are endless.
Coming home the other evening, I was charmed by the grace of this lovely cyclist in the Vienna twilight. With her silver flats, tutu skirt and perfect posture, she looks like a beautiful ballerina.
And on a nearby street, a woman walks her bicycle past a stationery shop, looking longingly at the illuminated display of fountain pens and leather journals.
Maybe it is the blinking lights mingling with the streetlamps, or the sound of the spokes in the dark, but there is something about bicycles and the city at night that evokes a sense of tenderness and magic.
Hidden amongst the shadows of the morning light, the trail winds its way along the Zion Canyon Valley, up that “short” wall on the left, through Refrigerator Canyon, up to the West Rim and on towards Angels Landing (the top of that center peak).
Actually, even in the full light of day, the trail is discernible from ground level only in a few places (like that diagonal “line” towards the top of the short wall).
Heartbreak hill. That's what I called this steep section nearly a mile into the trail. It's that “diagonal line” shown in the previous photo. And it seems like it will never end. And what's around the corner? Why, yet another steep section!
Taken on the way back down, this shows the switchbacks that had to be navigated before getting to the steep section shown in the previous photo.
The trail weaves its way though the Zion Canyon Valley. Looking back towards the start of the trail on the other side of the river (photo taken on the way back down).
After nearly a mile through Refrigerator Canyon, you get to Walter's Wiggles, comprised of 21 short but very steep switchbacks and named after Walter Ruesch, the first superintendent of Zion National Park. In 1924, he helped design and engineer these switchbacks. (Photo taken on the way back down.)
Ascending the last of Walter's Wiggles you arrive at a broad area called Scout Lookout. There is more to come, and believe it or not, the easiest part is behind you!
The probable household of Jonas Joslin: 
Another picture of my grandmother (on the right) and her sister Jane. This time they are sharing a piece of watermelon. I don't recognize the background scenery so don't know where it was taken, but it was probably the summer of 1954.
When I wrote about wanting a longer stem on one of my bikes, several people suggested I get ahold of a vintage adjustable stem. I did not know that such a thing existed, but clearly there is much I don't know.
Looking northeast from Rock Creek Vista Point (elevation 9,190 feet) in the Custer National Forest, Montana. The highway is that ribbon of white way down in the valley.
Looking northwest from Rock Creek Vista Point. The speed limit was 25 mph along this stretch of winding switchbacks that traveled up the south side of the mountains.
The view to the north, a short distance from Rock Creek Vista.
From Rock Creek Vista, the road continued upward and into Wyoming where the peaks were viewed from across wide-open meadows.
Stopping at almost every overlook along the way, I was taken by surprise when I saw this view as the lake was not visible from the road. The wind was quite strong and several times I had to brace myself when a big gust came along.
Taken from near the summit (elevation 10,947 feet at Beartooth Pass) in Wyoming, looking towards the north. It was windy and cold, and the short walk to get this picture was quite exhilarating.