Couchsurfing, WWOOFing, Warmshowers: they all have one thing in common. Money is forbidden. In other words, these concepts are based on mutual assistance and exchange.
And as someone who loves cycling tours, I was immediately attracted to the Warmshowers network when I heard about it, because it’s aimed at amateur cyclists. I took the plunge shortly before leaving for Greece.
Find out how the Warmshowers platform works and what encounters it has allowed me to make.
Warmshowers: what it is and why I decided to use it
Warmshowers was founded in 1993 by Canadians Terry Zmrhal and Geoff Cashman. The mission of this not-for-profit organisation, based in Colorado, was to connect travelling cyclists with hosts. Initially, it was a database of people willing to host cyclists, which became a website in 2005. The platform brings together a community of 180,000 cyclists and hosts around the world.
This hosting service is free, but you have to pay to register, in order to search for and contact members on the site.
When I decided to spend a month working remotely in Greece, I chose to go there without taking a plane. This example of slow travel, by train, bus and ferry, rhymed with rich adventures and the chance to experience several trips in one, but also with a substantial transport budget. To compensate, I had to spend as little as possible on accommodation. That’s why I thought this service would be perfect; I wouldn’t have to pay anything in exchange for a seat on a sofa.
What’s more, the idea of helping a stranger, without involving any money, appealed to me. The hospitality of cyclists for the community is well-know, and I wanted to experience it, both as a host and a guest.
Another motivation was the opportunity to meet new people. I saw Warmshowers as a way of discovering the culture of a country and learning more about a region, through exchanges with the locals.
Looking for my hosts
3 weeks before my departure, I paid $30 to validate my registration on the site. It’s available in French and 4 other languages.
I fill in my profile with the following information:
- Profile picture
- Self presentation
- Accommodation facilities in my home: I choose to make the sofa in my living room and my shower available, and to offer a meal to cyclists.
- Travel mode: there are 3 modes: ‘available’, ‘travelling, not available as a host’ and ‘not available as a host’. I’m taking the 2nd option, as I’m about to leave for Greece.
Then I open the map of hosts to look for accommodation in Milan, where I was going to arrive by bus late on the day of my departure. About 10 profiles pop up. Each one contains the following information:
- Activity: has the person been online in the last 30 days?
- Mode of travel: can the host receive travellers?
- Experience: has the person ever hosted or been hosted via Warmshowers?
- Reviews from other users: a rating and comments from hosts and guests indicate how previous stays have gone.
I send an initial request to a person living near the Milan bus station. To my great surprise, he can welcome me, despite my late arrival.
On the other hand, on the map of Bari, from where my ferry to Greece will depart, I only see one available host. He tells me that he won’t be there when I arrive. Then I widen my search and come across a profile in Foggia, a small town a few dozen kilometres from my target. The host, Antonio, is active and has numerous reviews, all positive. What’s more, his accommodation is attractive: a garden in the countryside, where you can pitch your tent. I admire the fruit trees and pine trees in the photos posted by previous guests.
A few hours after sending him my request, I receive a positive reply. However, as he won’t be there when I’ll be travelling, I won’t meet him or anyone else. He sends me instructions on how to get in shortly before my arrival, via WhatsApp. I knew that cyclists were good at helping each other and showing hospitality, but not to the extent of inviting a stranger into your home without actually being there.
Now it’s time to look for hosts in Greece. My ferry from Bari will arrive in Igoumenitsa. No profile visible in this area. Widening my search, I notice 3 hosts near the town of Janina. Can I get there by bike, or possibly by bus, from Igoumenitsa? I don’t have the time, as I have to work remotely from the day after my arrival. Besides, I’m not really interested in visiting the region.
My search then turns to Thessaloniki, a city I wanted to visit. There are very few results. Among them, one host doesn’t reply to my message, and another says he won’t be at home when I arrive.
Then I see someone available, further north of the big city. He doesn’t have enough room in his flat, but offers to pitch my tent in his father’s garden. I’m delighted by this hospitality, but it doesn’t seem a good option for my plans, as it would be difficult to get to his house by bus. What’s more, it would take too long by bike.
Hosting a stranger at home
A week before my departure, I receive a request for accommodation. It’s a surprise, as my status is ‘unavailable’. It’s an opportunity to meet a cyclist!
I’m delighted when I open his message: the traveller is Israeli, and I spent a month in the country last year.
His message tells me that he’s a retired airline pilot who spends a lot of his time travelling by bike. I notice many reviews on his profile page, which leads me to believe that he has been using Warmshowers for a long time. I agree without thinking too much.
2 days later, Avner is outside my building. Seeing him, dressed in sports clothes and carrying a bike loaded with 4 luggage, I tell myself he’s experienced.
– ‘Where did you leave from this morning?
– Bergerac. I arrived in Bordeaux at the end of the afternoon. Are you coming from work?
– Yes, and I stopped to do some shopping for this evening.
– Thanks, otherwise, I’d have invited you to the restaurant’.
In my flat, he unpacks the content of his luggage in my living room, on the sofa where he’s going to sleep: ‘One of the hardest things about touring by bike is getting your stuff out every day.
Welcoming a stranger into my home for free makes me happy. What’s more, I’m enriched by our exchange. He has crossed the United States from east to west, cycled in South America and travelled long distances in Europe. His current journey takes him from Paris to Santiago de Compostela, and even Portugal. When he tells me that he’s over 70 years old, I’m impressed and in awe. I want to be able to do the same thing when I’m his age.
Avner sleeps on campsites, in hotels and, occasionally, at hosts known via Warmshowers. However, he finds very little accommodation in France via the platform. Or to be more precise, he gets very few responses when he contacts people. According to him, the level of adoption of the site varies greatly from country to country. In Germany, for example, it’s easier to find hosts than in France.
After chatting about our respective lives, we discuss the next stage of his trip. I show him how to get to the cycle path from Bordeaux to Lacanau tomorrow. Then he’ll take the Vélodyssée to Hendaye.
The next morning, after sharing breakfast, we leave the flat together. Avner heads for the coast, and I go towards Bordeaux city centre.
Puglia as 99% of tourists will never see it
After this first successful experience, on the eve of my departure, I receive a message from the Milanese who was supposed to host me. He informs me that he won’t be able to accommodate me due to a family emergency. I immediately contact all the hosts I can find in Milan, including those who are unavailable, but there’s no reply.
A few hours later, I receive instructions from my host in Foggia, Antonio, on how to enter his garden. A video shows how to get the key to the gate. He also tells me where I can find water and food nearby. What’s more, I can take as much fruit as I like from his garden. He says that there are figs this time of year, but in November that seems surprising. The recorded message must have been written several months ago.
On D day, on the Bordeaux-Paris train, I write to Avner, one of my last hopes of finding accommodation in Milan. With a bit of luck, this great traveller knows someone there. He tells me he’s going to ask one of his daughters, who lived in the city several years ago, if she has any contacts. However, at the end of the day, on the bus from Lyon to Milan, I receive a negative reply.
I’d rather spend the night in Milan without accommodation, so as not to add to my budget. What’s more, booking a hotel would be a rather easy solution, and I do this kind of travelling for the adventure.
Arriving in the Lombard city after midnight, I saddle up and ride towards the city centre. I decide to cycle around aimlessly, as there are several hours left before the station opens.
If I had to describe the city in one word, it would be ‘monumental’. The beautiful buildings are illuminated. I stop in front of the sublime Duomo, then walk past several imposing structures. Pedestrians are becoming increasingly rare and the chatter I hear less and less discreet.
My bike jolts on the wide cobblestones that cover the streets. As a Bordeaux guy used to comfortable cycling facilities, I’m thinking that this is not an ideal city for cyclists.
At around 3am, as I’m starting to feel tired, I see a small deserted lawn behind a basilica. The place is sheltered from view by trees, but the presence of a group of noisy young people nearby makes me wonder. What are they doing there in the middle of the night? This will do. I put down my floor mat and lie down.
An hour later, I’m off to the majestic Central Station to sleep in the warmth. There are plenty of places to lie down, and I find one against the lowered iron gate of a shop. However, a group of security guards chase me away.
Suddenly I realise that my train leaves from another station in the city. I get back in the saddle and ride past the Duomo again, just as the sun is rising. The scenery is magnificent and there’s hardly anyone in the square. That’s why I take the time to admire the building, which is fairly modest in size but has a very finely decorated facade.
It was a fascinating night in Milan. On the other hand, I haven’t met anyone since I left Bordeaux, and that’s been weighing on me.
During the direct journey from Milan to Foggia, when I’m not sleeping, I enjoy the passing scenery, first the countryside and then the Adriatic coast. On arrival, I’m delighted to get back on my bike after spending the whole day on the train. It’s been dark for 30 minutes. In the small town, with my eyes on Google Maps, I ride along a lane shared with cars, then join a wide cycle path in the middle of the road.
The route then follows an unlit road through a rural area. I ride for several kilometres with an emigrant from Guinea Conakry, whose bike has no headlights. I’m worried about him. I slow down so that he can be illuminated by my powerful lights. In the darkness that surrounds the long road, there must be huge fields.
After 10 km, the red gate at the side of the country road appears. There’s a central driveway lined with shrubs and, at the end, a small house. It’s a mysterious place, plunged in darkness, but at the same time welcoming. With my mobile phone in hand, I light up the path to see where I’m going. The fruit trees are nowhere in sight.
After filling my water bottles at a fountain indicated by Antonio, I go shopping in a small village. There are a few shops, including a restaurant in front of which some locals are sitting at a table. I enter the mini-market.
‘Do you know Antonio?
The two men who run the shop recognised me by my outfit: leggings, trainers and k-way. They speak to me in Italian. I’m delighted to exchange a few words in this language, which I don’t speak very well. One of them offers me some cooked chicken wings. I tell myself that travelling abroad by bike is just amazing.
After a picnic in the garden, half-lit by the lights from the road, I move into the tent.
The night is excellent, and as the sun and I rise, the garden unfolds before my eyes. There are trees on both sides of the central path. Some have fruit on them, like oranges, clementines and pomegranates. The fig trees and tomato plants, on the other hand, have nothing to offer.
Behind the little house lies a field. I’m overwhelmed by the beauty and calm of nature. This idyllic setting makes me want to buy a plot of land in the countryside to grow fruit and vegetables.
I go and pick some oranges and a pomegranate, then make tea on my stove. What a magical place, under the pine trees, to have breakfast. The orange is delicious, but the pomegranate, though refreshing, lacks flavour. I take two more citrus fruits, in anticipation of the rest of my journey.
As I pack up my tent, I hear a man and a dog. It’s a worker. After exchanging a few words with him, I set off again, towards the small station of Incoronata, where the train to Bari will soon be passing.
Summary of my experience
This night was the only one I spent at a host’s found via Warmshowers. I would have liked to found one in Athens, where I stayed at the end of my trip. Unfortunately, out of the 4 people I contacted, only one got back to me, several days after I’d booked my Airbnb.
In my opinion, the advantages of the platform are:
- Ease of use.
- Affordable registration fees and free accommodation.
- The opportunity to meet people from the other side of the world and local people, which is one of my goals when I travel.
- The possibility to enjoy unforgettable experiences in sublime places.
On the other hand, keep in mind that this is not a reliable accommodation solution. By definition, it relies on the goodwill and availability of people. What’s more, as Avner told me, the penetration rate of the platform varies greatly from country to country. For example, it was impossible for me to find a host in the major Greek cities, probably because they are not suitable for bicycles.
In the future, I will contact as many hosts as possible, at least several days before my arrival. However, I will be planning other accommodation options, such as bivouacs or camping.
Have you already tried Warmshowers? What did you think of it? Tell me in the comments!
