Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
On floors, that is… but why not?
I’ve been a serial chancer/cheapskate/ ‘economic lifestyle enthusiast’ for years, especially when travelling. I’ve been that guy who phones up someone I met ten years ago, saying ‘Hi! Remember me? No? Well, we met in a hotel bar in 2008… Anyway, you said that if I was ever in Bismarck, North Dakota, that I should come and stay and you’d show me the mountain biking… Yes, I am in town… yes, just down the street from your house actually… of course, I’d love to…’
Even travelling for work, the Singletrack World travel budget was always (and is still is…) tight. In the early days of the magazine, I would arrive at the Sea Otter event in California, (having taken someone up on their offer of a lift from the airport) without a hotel booking, knowing that I had the duration of the first day to find someone I vaguely knew, who had a company-paid room with a spare bed, or floor I could scrounge. And it always worked.
Another time, I went to Moab on a six-week sabbatical, with a motel reservation for just the first three days. And on day three, a friend of a friend offered me a room in their (sumptuous) static caravan that they only used once a month or so. They charged me $100 for my six-week stay.
I have so many examples of the kindness of (usually) strangers in my life, and yet now that I have a house, and sometimes even hotel rooms, I’m surprised by the lack of low-budget travellers (known and unknown) who’ve invited themselves to stay in return, or who have ‘just been passing on the off-chance’ and needed a place to stay. And as a lifetime chancer and beneficiary of many kind moments, I’m duty-bound to offer whatever I can to help.
Perhaps my floor is no longer needed? What if everyone already has somewhere to stay? Or perhaps my positive experiences were simply as a result of a super-pushy attitude that didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer? I doubt it. No one has ever described me as ‘animated’, let alone ‘pushy’…
No, I think it’s just because I asked. It was never easy, and British reserve and a well-hidden shy outlook just made it worse. However, if I didn’t ask, then I’d be sleeping under a car, or walking to the airport. I didn’t have much of a choice.
I think that it just takes for that moment where you ask, with embarrassment and humility, for help from someone. We’re so conditioned that once you ‘grow up’ you need to be self-sufficient and to know how it all works. But that’s not always (or even ever) the case.
All of us have benefitted from favours and good turns on our journeys, so when there’s a chance to pay back, anyone who can do, will often jump at the chance, because we’ve all been there and we want to start paying back those favours to the universe.
Whether it’s a simple ‘You OK? Got what you need?’ to a trail-side rider with an upturned bike, to a ‘Do you need directions/some riding company/a place to crash’ to a bewildered and soggy bikepacker you find in the woods, those offers will only be cashed in if someone really needs it.
With today’s technology in our pockets, perhaps the need to crash at someone’s place has been designed out of our lives. Witness the throngs of people who ignore the taxi and hotel hawkers outside the station for the late evening train’s arrival. They’ve already booked an Airbnb, rated 4.8 stars, and are finding their own way there.
And yet, I believe there’s still room for gatecrashers and sofa surfers in our world. Mountain bikers are a sociable bunch and, as a rule, a like-minded group as well. A love of bikes is usually all it needs to elicit a ‘Hey, come and ride with us the next time you’re up north/down south/over here/there…’ and to which the only answer is surely ‘Sure thing. Can I crash at your place?’
I’m braced for those calls… I have a lot of favours to repay.
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