Remember those spam emails everyone used to get, with 20 different versions of the same message, slightly different because some of the words have been swapped around? “IMPROVE the SPAN of your TOTEM! Only SOME dollars, what a NICE value!” You may not see many of those emails nowadays, but the technology making them didn’t go away, it just got much better.
It used to be basic substitution: The human would provide the computer with a sentence, and the computer would swap out words for synonyms. The resulting sentence wasn’t meant to fool humans, it was meant to fool other computers to make it through spam filters. It was a war between computers and we got to see the ridiculous consequences of it. And now the technology is so good that it can be used to fool humans directly.
The idea is the same: The computer doesn’t come up with an original opinion, is takes a piece of writing and reconstructs it with fresh words, so it looks like someone else is saying the same thing, and there’s a consensus. You don’t even need a very powerful computer by today’s standards to do this.
Technically, you don’t even need a computer, because this is just a new spin on a very old thing: Propaganda. The Russian government still does propaganda the old fashioned way for example, by hiring its own underemployed citizens to write fake opinions on the internet. Why pay programmers thousands of dollars to write custom software when you can just hire poor people at the equivalent of two bucks an hour to write what you tell them?
Either way – whether the opinions are generated by hired hands or by computer code – advertisers do not need to spend their money trying to change the opinions of real people any more. They can just change the contents of networks and announce victory, relying on people to believe that the network and public opinion are the same. Peer pressure bridges the gap.
It’s way, way cheaper than actually trying to convince you directly. Pay a company like Facebook for metadata to identify your core buyers, or voters, or supporters, or disciples, or whatever, and then crunch it to figure out the best way to get a rise out of them. Pay Facebook again for your content to “randomly” appear to those people, endorsed by some friend-of-a-friend that they’ll never know well enough to question … And watch the needle move in your favor, or watch your enemies go down in flames.
“Gosh, this must be what’s on everyone’s mind! I’ve heard about it from two seemingly unrelated sources, what are the chances of that if it’s not huge? I better investigate…”
Your friends and family wouldn’t deliberately pass you fake information. (Well, unless they like practical jokes.) Generally, you can trust that when they swear something is true, they’ve at least verified it to their own minimum standard, right?
Consider the social media feed of any one of those people. How accurately does it represent what they believe? Huge chunks of their personality are missing. Plus there’s additional stuff, that they didn’t technically endorse, mixed into it. Links to videos and blog posts and other external content, attributed to them, or their friends, or their friends-of-friends. You barely have to scroll a page before you see something supposedly placed there by a person you barely know — or don’t know at all.
Do you rely on feeds like Facebook or Instagram for your news about the world? For your entertainment? Do you read comments beneath videos and blog posts, to get a sense of how a thing is being received? Do you cultivate a Twitter feed, narrowed down to things that interest you, and track the world from there? How about on Snapchat? Reddit? Tumblr? Nextdoor? How about on any website – of any size – claiming to present you with “articles”, curated by “people?”
Everything you see that was not researched and written by someone you know personally, is suspect. You could be looking at a deliberate distortion of facts, in pursuit of a goal, often a political one. No paranoid conspiracy theory is required to justify this idea: It is merely the confluence of money and modern networking hardware. You honestly do not have any way to verify that the person – or thing – that wrote the words you are reading is who or what they claim to be, unless you meet them in a physical space and ask. So you act on faith, almost all the time.
We don’t need to be engulfed in dystopian oligarchy, thank goodness. There are two escape hatches already in place:
The first one is traditional news reporting agencies. Slowly they are leaving the dungeon of paper media and finding decent electronic means to support themselves. Do your best to find an impartial source of news, supplied by real journalists, and subscribe to it. If you’re worried you won’t be able to tell who’s impartial (and good for you, for having that thought) consider my handy dandy list of three metrics you can apply:
Is this thing:
Hilarious
Inflammatory (making you afraid or angry at an enemy)
Clearly wrong (begging for correction)
If it’s big on any of these three things, you’re probably looking at something that was designed to manipulate you, and perpetuate itself by stoking your desire to share it with others. (Easily offended is easily manipulated.) Find a source of information – even if it charges a modest fee – that doesn’t traffic in these three areas, and you’re already ahead of the pack. The service they deliver will be worth a few bucks a week.
You already pay that much to keep parasites off your dog. It’s worth at least that much to keep parasites out of your mind, right?
The second part is, people are learning to be skeptical of any online comment or editorial from anyone they haven’t met face-to-face at least once.
(Something written by a stranger and merely “liked” by someone you know is not enough; in fact it’s almost worthless. The government of Finland recently realized this skepticism was so important they began teaching it in their schools.)
In this new age, a comments board on a website that appears to be full of lively discussion may not necessarily be the product of living beings. It is possible to manufacture something just like it, in the guts of a computer, in less than a second, all the way down to the typos and the jokes, and even grow it dynamically as real people interact with it, and it’s all about as authentic as a hunter’s duck whistle. Knowing people personally is your only sure escape from this madness. So, when you do meet a new person and manage to get a conversation going, ask where they get their news. It’s a fine opportunity for you to gather a source. You’ll learn something however they answer.
And now we arrive at the way this ties into bike touring. (I bet you thought we’d never get there!)
More than any other method of travel, bicycling gives you a way to meet new people – curious and active people – face to face in new places, and gives you the time (and an excuse) to talk to them. It’s faster than a run, but way more accessible than a car. Less confined and more independent than a boat or a train or a plane. Even with just a short trip and a little bit of moxie you can have a hundred conversations, and learn about events near and far, from real people. And not just people concentrated in large cities either, but people everywhere.
A journey is always a perfect subject for a new conversation, and when you’re standing next to a bike loaded with gear, it’s obvious what you’re doing. You’re a curious sight, and you’ll invite questions. Even if you don’t, you have important reasons to practice connecting with new people: You need ground truth information. What’s the best place to eat, for a good price? What’s the best way across town? Do you know where I can find a clean public bathroom?
You don’t need to “pull over” and roll down a window. You just put your feet down and you’re there, ready to talk. You could turn to your smartphone for advice, and most of the time you probably will, but there will come a time sooner than you think when it will drift too far from ground truth.
Seirei no Moribito, translated
When you finish your questions, you pedal the bike for another half-hour, and there you are with a fresh crowd. More practice.
A world-touring cyclist wrote on his blog that one of the key things he learned on his epic journey was to ask people for whatever he wanted, no matter how outlandish the request felt. He’d just been wrong so many times about how generous people could be that he stopped trying to be skeptical. Instead he learned that people would often provide food, shelter, hardware, or advice in exchange for a couple of hours telling stories about his time on the road.
That personal connection, and that first-hand view of the wider world, is a universal human currency. The more you exchange it the more authentic your life becomes — and the weaker the computer-manipulated phantoms of the internet become in turn. They automatically become less real and less relevant as you refresh your humanity. That stress you feel when the online world seems to be in chaos, full of hate and fear — it fades away. Social media is not the truth of the world. It’s something happening in a series of tiny little containers. Good thing you’re not stuck in there, huh?
Ghost In The Shell Arise
Despite what the science fiction of the 90’s promised us, the future of humanity is not spinal cords drifting in tanks full of holograms. That would be the future of something less than humanity, without breath or heat or texture, without the sense of place or limited life, without the danger. Humanity is anchored to this “middle world,” where all truly real phenomena reside.
Outside this middle world, perhaps there is another universe, or heaven, or nothing. Inside the middle world, there is virtual reality, social media, and altered states of mind. No matter how amazing and intricate those other things become, the middle world will always anchor us. It’s not a simulation (despite what you may have heard from some wacky industrialist) and it’s not merely a container for simulations. We all live our one real life within it, until we cease being human completely.
Refresh your humanity, not your browser.
And by the way, it’s not my intention to shame anyone who cannot get out there and ride because of a physical limitation or because they are too buried in work or in caring for others. But insofar as people have a choice, I hope they choose to spend their free time interacting with the outside world and other people directly, rather than punching smartphone buttons and arguing with digital ghosts. The online rabbit hole doesn’t lead anywhere, it just keeps going.
The road outside, though — that leads everywhere good.
Frodo did not return to Bag End for long. Neither did I.
When I got back to the Bay Area I moved my possessions into a sublet — a second-story victorian flat with lots of windows, only a few blocks from my house. The tenants I’d rented my place to carried right on renting it. I really didn’t want to move back in there.
I pictured myself, walking into the bedroom of that old apartment at the end of the first day, laying down – probably on my unrolled sleeping bag – and looking at the ceiling, and being seized with a gut-wrenching mixture of panic and disgust, as all the old memories of being in that place crowded forward from my past and trampled on my wonderful memories of Iceland, crushing the life out of them. I was determined to avoid that.
It was a very good decision. As I write this, the sublet has been running for six months, and one month remains. I’ve been working, writing, re-assessing the long-term view of my life, and also hosting my eldest nephew as he lives away from his parents for the first time. I’ve reconnected with family and most of my friends, and done a lot of dating — carefully at first, then with increasing confidence. And that has led to a good place as well.
I made a presentation of my Iceland journey at work, which was fun. I put together a slide show, and now I bust that out whenever a friend or relative wants to hear the story. They often comment on how green and fresh the countryside looks. They also like the sheep and birds and horses.
Life is good for an Icelandic horse.
Lookin' for snacks
Every time I go through the slideshow I re-live the trip a little. I remember how the people were kind and gracious, the air was clean, and every day led to a new discovery. But … six months later, you know what I miss most about Iceland? The fish.
Some days when I’ve been exercising and I feel a bit hungry, my stomach stomps upstairs into my brain and bellows, “MORE OF THAT ICELANDIC FISH. WHERE IS IT?“
I’m trying to save money for the next trip, which is coming soon, and I’m struggling with that because there are taxes to pay and lots of house projects to do. Icelandair keeps sending me emails with promotional prices for flights to Iceland, and whenever I see one, my stomach says, “Forget about saving! Just go back there and stuff me full of that fish!!”
It’s very silly. Half of the appeal of that fish was due to the exercise I was getting, and the calorie and protein deficit I ran every day. I know that abstractly. But my stomach is too dumb.
The Gear
Looking back there isn’t a single thing I would change about the gear I brought. It was fantastic, especially the inflatable tent. I set it up and took it down around two dozen times, often in bad lighting conditions, and it was effortless and quick. It stood up in the wind, it didn’t leak, it didn’t get too hot or cold, and it didn’t weigh much more than a tent of similar size.
Tent all spread out, ready to inflate.
Tent inflated, with bicycle stowed under attached tarp. That red mark is the taillight, visible through the fabric.
Tent inflated, with bicycle stowed under, from a different angle.
You can see my hack job here, where I ziptied a tarp to the side of the tent. From a distance it almost looks like it was designed this way...
Set up in less than 5 minutes, and ready for snoozles!
Another fine setup, tucked into a corner.
Set up in the corner of the campground, for maximum wind blockage.
Had to pitch on a bit of an incline to avoid the mud, but the night only cost 6 dollars.
The tent, tucked into a nice corner of the Búðardalur campground.
Striking camp. Takes about five minutes!
I do enjoy being able to keep the bike out of the rain.
Snug as a bug.
Gotta have my morning music!
Starting with the tent in a compression sack, I could get it staked down and inflated, then get my gear inside and the bike covered, in about five minutes. I sometimes daydream about going on another bicycle camping trip just so I can use that tent.
Here’s a short list of problems I had on past trips but didn’t have to worry about this time:
Non-waterproof bags soak up rainwater which adds a massive amount of dead weight to your bike until they dry.
Generators can charge devices but it’s always slower than you’d like. Their true utility is in removing headlights entirely from the power equation, and making it so your headlights never die. This may save your life, several times over.
Braking with V-brakes and hitting a pothole at the same time on a heavily loaded bike can crack your rim. With disc brakes this is not an issue.
In a high wind, your bike may pitch over while you’re camping. If your bike is covered this isn’t a problem. You can also tie it upright with a guyline and a few stakes. A velcro strap is also handy for holding down one of your brake handles so the bike doesn’t roll. (Don’t use a tightly wound rope or a rubber band, or the high pressure will rapidly stretch your brake cables.)
A partially broken rack or a rack with one bolt missing is repairable if you detect it quickly. If you don’t, you will soon discover a completely broken rack, which is not repairable. Inspect your rack at least every other day. If the bolt ends stick out far enough, consider putting lock nuts on them so they don’t unwind on the road.
When I could find a clothes washer (almost impossible on this trip) I washed everything cold in one load, with the exception of the wool sweater and the rain gear. Usually I had to wash clothes in the shower or the sink of a hotel room, then hang them to dry near the radiator. That worked pretty well in the dry Iceland air. No issues with mold.
And of course I can’t forget the bike, Valoria.
Pausing on an uphill
Yeah, I spend a lot of time spinning on hills rather than powering up them like some cycle tourists do. But the comfort! The panoramas! The safety of never going over the handlebars! The dashboard!
All in all it was a massive success and I’m excited for the next adventure. Onward!
A stout luggage strap, of the non-stretchy variety.
If you can’t find these exact items, don’t worry. Cruise around on Amazon and you’ll find lots of similar options.
It's a medium-sized clip.
The luggage strap rolled up for storage.
Clip the carabiner onto the lower rib of your seat where it’s accessible on the back.
Looking down at the carabiner-style clip, through the open top of the mesh seat.
This is roughly how the Ortlieb bag hangs.
Adjust your recumbent bags so that the retention hook grabs onto the seat strut like so:
The bag hook can rest directly on the seat strut, or just hold it, as shown here.
Then put both bags on the rack.
Thread the luggage strap through these.
You’re going to thread the luggage strap through these clips. Squat on one side of the bike and pass the strap through the carabiner, then down through the far clip, then back through the carabiner, then up through the near clip, making a loop. Then thread the strap into the buckle on its other end, and tighten it down a bit.
Tighten the strap to pull the two bags into alignment, transferring their weight onto the clip.
Note how the carabiner lets the strap rest evenly.
If you’re doing this with full bags, you’ll notice that the carabiner takes on a good amount of the weight of both bags, and even provides a little bit of a suspension.
The strap should pass through the carabiner twice, not just once.
I attached six add-on bags to these panniers: Four mesh bags and two pocket bags. The weight hangs nice and low. Then I took this setup on hundreds of miles of bumpy road. No leaks, no breakage.
I’ve got so much volume for carrying that I don’t bother to compress my sleeping bag or pillow each day. I just push them into these panniers and take off.
For my own reference, here is the overwhelming amount of gear I packed for my Iceland tour, and how I arranged it.
This is what everything looks like packed onto the bike:
Here are the bags without the bicycle:
In the back: Two Ortlieb sport packer plus bags, each with an add-on net pocket and an add-on large roll-top pocket.
In the middle: Two ortlieb recumbent bags. The one on the left has three net bags attached to its underside in a row. The one on the right has a net bag, and then two small roll-top bags attached below, since it hangs over the drivetrain of the bike.
In the foreground: A Kelty Redwing backpack. On the loaded bike, this is placed sideways on top of the recumbent bags, where it fits nicely behind the seat, and is held down with two bungee cords.
This is all the gear that’s held in the Kelty backpack and the recumbent bags, or in the add-on bags attached to the recumbent bags.
The sleeping bag, with an inflatable insert and an extra liner included, is kept inside the large cotton sack which is then stuffed into the right-side recumbent bag and takes up all the space. The blue bag of rain gear goes into the net bag on that side, along with the raincoat, and the small add-on bags that hang over the drivetrain carry the bicycle lock and the drone.
The recumbent bag on the left side of the bike carries the tent, the stakes, and the pump. Suspended in the net bags beneath it are the blue sack with hiking shoes inside, and the red sack with pants, swimsuit, and other off-bike clothing. The net bag on the rear carries the big wool sweater. The yellow sack of sleeping gear and the other bags go into the backpack.
All this stuff goes into the sport packer bags, along with the laptop and the camera which are not pictured.
This is the charging gear for both the drone and the laptop, with a Y-connector so that they can both be run from one power cord with one international adapter. Between the two charging bricks, six USB devices can be charged at the same time.
These are the portable speakers, adapted to attach to the handlebars of the bike. There’s also an old iPod mini in here, for playing bedtime music. An iPod shuffle is not suitable for this purpose since it has no ability to stop playing! It will always repeat the current playlist forever or until it runs out of power! How silly. Not that it matters, since all iPods have been discontinued and will soon die out, and we will all be locked into digital subscription services and completely abandon the whole idea of controlling what we listen to without it being mediated from one minute to the next by a jealous corporate overlord in the sky.
This is a kit of spare music hardware. None of it is essential; it’s just here to give me options, or in case something breaks. Spare headphones, a spare microphone wire, airpods, a bluetooth transmitter, et cetera.
These are camera accessories. A macro attachment (not very useful but very lightweight, so might as well bring it), a wireless camera control that pairs with an iPhone app, an external IR focus-assist lamp, a tripod collar, and a smaller tripod for the iPhone.
Camera and drone charging stuff, plus an extra cable.
Lens and laptop cleaning cloths, plus a set of spare blades for the drone.
A collection of media cards, holding music, audiobooks, photo archives, and other stuff that’s non-essential and can be deleted as necessary to make room for photos. All formated APFS with encryption on, for the heck of it.
Micro-USB charging cables, a camera card reader, an add-on hub for the laptop, and various small adapters to extend the utility of the micro-USB cables.
A boom microphone for calling up friends and for video conferencing in strange places. The strangest place I’ve used this so far is by the side of the road next to a geothermal power plant in the middle of Iceland. The boom snaps into place on the side of my headphones, using a small stick-on magnet. It works with the laptop and the iPhone lightning adapter, and it sounds far better than anything else I’ve tried.
The travel toolkit. This is kept in the bag under the seat, along with a small tire pump and an emergency spoke repair wire.
The kit contains everything I need to disassemble the bike and put it back together, including removing the pedals and seat. I can repair chain, fix a flat, replace broken cables, patch wires, adjust brakes and shifters, and also prepare food and trim my nails and mustache. Each of these tools has had a lot of thought put into it.
