Sage & Cooper arrive in London
Thursday, September 24th, 2009First a little background: Sage and Cooper are riding single-speed WorkCycles bikes around the world. Here you can check out the first two trip reports:
Around the world on WorkCycles bikes 1
Sage & Cooper are somewhere else on WorkCycles bikes
Fresh on the heels of Alexis’ escapades at Buckingham Palace, Sage and Cooper also reached London on their way down from Scotland… but not without a little adventure in Wales en route:

English country living
Here’s Sage’s explanation for the posh, English countryside accommodations:
This odd pic comes with an odd story. Cooper and I found a nice hilltop campsite on what seemed to be unowned or no mans land. We were awakened at 9pm by a man who seemed homeless and crazy. With a beer in his hand he tells us the owner of the property is psychotic and just came out of prison for almost beating someone to death. He warns us that if we stayed there the man will run us over in his jeep while we’re a sleep. He tells us to pack up and meet him down the hill at his place and he’ll give us a spot to camp. To make a long story short he wasn’t homeless, but is crazy and was telling the truth about his neighbor. He offered us to stay for several days at his gypsy like home, but one night was more than enough.
I also enjoy camping “wild” while bicycle or motorcycle touring, especially when I’m trying to cover some distance fairly quickly in a rural area. I just ride until it’s almost dark and find a nice, quiet spot that seems to be either public or wouldn’t be noticed anyway. If stealth seems necessary I skip the tent and hide the bike with whatever is available.
This has also backfired on me too. One late, cold night in the Ardennes in Belgium I tossed my sleeping bag out near a dirt track. I slept fine under the stars for a while until I awoke to the creepy feeling that I wasn’t alone. As I came to my senses I heard groaning, breathing, stomping noises all around me. Peeking my head out of the sleeping bag I was met with the noses of a half dozen cows poking at me. Better cows than psychotic ex-cons.
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