In 2015, I married Will. In 2019, we finally took our honeymoon. It wasn’t the result of four years of planning. Rather, after letting life get in the way for too long, I found a crazy deal on flights to London and booked them. I didn’t consult Will, but I knew from his endearingly deep appreciation for grime music, Cockney rhyming slang, and Guy Ritchie movies, it’d be a trip of a lifetime for him. Carried away with the excitement of surprising Will, I concocted a plan where I’d take him to the airport under the guise of a trip to Chicago. Then, once we arrived at the airport I’d declare we were headed to London!

After I realized that was insane, we talked and decided to make it a honeymoon of Will’s design, since I normally plan everything. He wanted to drive around and visit mountain bike trails. Though I’m supremely confident on pavement—in another life I was a messenger, and in a normal year I race Pro/1/2 fields—dirt, and the obstacles that come with it, was a new challenge for me. But we’d recently both started mountain biking, and I was excited to try out my skills in a new place with my ride partner for life. We also booked a camper van to fulfill our desire to try van life—and combine the travel and accommodation costs. Will picked the destinations and I planned the route. We’d make our way across the south of England to visit the U.K.’s Whistler, BikePark Wales, hitting quaint towns with trails along the way.

I’m still not sure if I should be annoyed or honored that he thinks so highly of me.

We landed in London, picked up Bonny the Van, an adorable Citroën Relay complete with a bed, kitchen, and well-secured succulents, then unpacked our bikes and immediately broke them. Short on sleep and low on food, I had the bright idea to shorten my dropper post cable before we started our journey. Will followed my lead, and we were so distracted by how sick our bikes were going to look with more aesthetically pleasing cable lengths that we didn’t notice we hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. With our brains short-circuiting from fatigue and hunger, we both botched what should have been very simple jobs. I cut my cable too short, and Will removed both his cable and housing to a point where he was unable to reinstall either. We surrendered, decided to figure it out after we’d eaten, loaded up Bonny, and started the journey west.

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ayesha mcgowan and husband will on their honeymoon in a bike park
Heading to our first stop at Stonehenge.
Courtesy Ayesha McGowan

After a first stop at Stonehenge—my one request for the trip—we made our way to the nearby Croft Mountain Bike Trail in Swindon and parked for the night. Will was adamant about not riding until he had a functioning dropper post. With a shrug, I put on a headlamp and took my first-ever night ride alone. Riding at night wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I’d always imagined. I love the peace of night rides on the road, but the fear of sharp rocks, pointy sticks, and hungry predators swirled as I approached the wooded trails. (I figure in the daytime, at least I’ll see them coming.) Something did actually leap out at me—repeatedly—and even if it was consistently my own shadow from the headlamp, I remained convinced there was a large animal pouncing out of every corner. At least the adrenaline rush was a lot of fun.

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Croft was reminiscent of our local trails, South Rockdale Park in Conyers, Georgia. They were flowy and relatively flat, nothing too steep in either direction. The mild jumps, occasional roots, and (barely) elevated bridges were within my ability, but also near my limit. I got back to the van, feeling exhilarated and confident. Maybe this whole trip would be a little easier than I expected.

The next day we hunted for a bike shop to fix our mess. At our first stop I found a new dropper post cable I could install. But Will needed his bottom bracket removed, and shop after shop informed us that they were too swamped to fix his bike today, tomorrow, or anytime during our trip. We even took our chances on a Google listing that turned out to be a friendly and confused guy named Phil fixing bikes out of his home. He took the bike in only to bring it back outside minutes later to explain this was beyond his ability. The situation was too ridiculous to get angry. We’d let jet lag and empty stomachs nearly derail our honeymoon.

Will and I complement each other in that rarely does one thing stress us both out. Really, Will only gets anxious over running out of gas—I can live on E. I was annoyed at his insistence on a working dropper post, but as the problem-solver and usually anxious one of us, I kept making calls and googling shops. Meanwhile, with a full tank in Bonny, Will was unfazed. We’d simply either bike the U.K.’s greatest trails or have a different trip.

Finally, the Swindon Cycles Superstore lived up to its name, took mercy on our pathetic souls, and got Will up and riding the next day. It meant we’d have to change our plans a bit, but we’d get to ride bikes!

ayesha mcgowan and husband will on their honeymoon in a bike park
Cruising canal path in London.
Courtesy Ayesha McGowan

After a few loops around Croft, we loaded up the van and headed west to our next stop, Woodchester Cycle Trails. We were expecting something at least on par with Croft. We found a not-quite-400-meter pump track.

It turned out to be exactly what I needed—a chance to nail my fundamental skills and receive an impromptu pep talk. A local boy around 9 or 10 years old took a break from practicing his pumps and jumps to admire our bikes, tell me I looked like a pro, and ask every question that popped into his head: Where are you from? What do you do? We bonded over our lack of confidence and rode together, pushing each other a little bit more every lap.

What he and friends that joined later lacked in technical pointers, they made up for with cheerleading. I can handle a bike, but I’m still scared of demolishing myself off a jump. The kids insisted on teaching Will and me how to jump off a berm. And while their advice was “no, go faster!” it eventually stuck and I was getting both tires in the air.


ayesha mcgowan and husband will on their honeymoon in a bike park
Getting the hang of rocks at Bike Park Wales.
Courtesy Ayesha McGowan

I still didn’t understand Will’s insistence on an operational dropper post. The trails we rode back home were all doable without one, and Croft was no different. But I trusted him.

The next day we reached BikePark Wales. I was in shock. I’d never experienced anything like it. Even just the prep to ride—signing waivers, buying lift tickets, and attempting to wrap my mind around the billboard of a trail map—was overwhelming. I followed Will onto the shuttle van, dazed. That trail map clued me in that this was a place where you follow gravity, like when I’ve gone snowboarding, but I was still processing what I’d signed up for. As the van ride kept going up, around a turn, and up again, I became aware of a few more details that weren’t like the mountain biking I was used to. As I glanced around at the other riders in the van, I noticed they were staring at us. We already stuck out like sore thumbs as Black cyclists in rural U.K., but I also saw a lot of full-face helmets and all sorts of padding. There I was in my road-racing kit—my only protective gear was a helmet and glasses.

It was only once we reached the dirt lot at the top that I fully realized the dire situation I’d gotten myself into: We were at a downhill bike park and there were no beginner trails. I could have done a bit more research beforehand, but I was trying this new thing where I wasn’t in control of everything. I trusted Will. But Will trusted back a little too much, like that I knew where we were going and that I’d made the conscious decision to throw myself down a gravity trail with almost no protective gear. Even he had knee pads. I’m still not sure if I should be annoyed or honored that he thinks so highly of me.

My roadie mentality told me that rocks, gravel, and roots were obstacles to be avoided at all costs. I had to relax and let my mountain bike deliberately roll over them.

We settled on the easiest-looking intermediate trail, and I did my best to follow Will’s lines. Whenever it seemed like too much, I took it slow. I don’t have the ego to get myself hurt when I have no idea what I’m doing. The downhill features, the berms, rock gardens, and jumps, mimicked those of the trails I’d done before, now just bigger and faster. I remembered to breathe, look where I wanted to go, pedal through the berms, and trust my bike. My roadie mentality told me that rocks, gravel, and roots were obstacles to be avoided at all costs. I had to relax and let my mountain bike deliberately roll over them. Will’s insistence on a dropper post was making more and more sense. And now on the steepest trail I’d ever ridden, I learned that going downhill made it even easier to roll over things. As the adrenaline started to build, I allowed myself to ease off the brakes enough to pick up speed.

I reached the bottom, put my heart back into my chest, and promptly made my way to the gear shop, where I scooped up the first elbow and knee pads that fit from the bargain box. I knew I had more runs in me.

I never imagined my honeymoon would be a weeklong intensive mountain bike training camp. I learned so much in just a few days and walked away with way more experience, confidence, and vocabulary—and not just “bike park.” Our adventure of errors also built more trust in our relationship. Despite feeling very unprepared for BikePark Wales—and wishing Will had encouraged me to bring protective gear—I’ll admit that Will was right to feel that I was capable of the challenge. It was definitely not the trip I would have planned for myself, but it gave me a new appreciation for the U.K., van life, mountain bikes, and going with the flow. But Will is also never again allowed to plan anything sight unseen. I will ask all the questions.

ayesha mcgowan and husband will on their honeymoon in a bike park
The view from halfway up the bike park.
Courtesy Ayesha McGowan

HOW TO TRY #VANLIFE


honeymoon van life
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Find Your Van

With no established Airbnb of camper vans, city-specific rentals are common. But the largest renter in North America is Escape Campervans, with fleets in 13 cities starting at $40 per day. Mileage, and gear like bedding and a kitchen kit, cost extra.


honeymoon van life
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Make a Bathroom Plan

We’d done our fair share of camping and can get creative. We started a system of peeing in empty pasta sauce jars, but because we weren’t exactly in the backcountry, we made friends with the bathrooms at 24-hour supermarkets.


honeymoon van life
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Secure a Shower

Bonny had a water heater for warm showers and it was glorious, but that’s not standard. If your van lacks a shower, there are three options: buy a solar shower plus pop-up shower tent; park at a campground, like KOA, with amenities; or get a national gym membership, such as Planet Fitness.