Thomas Stevens: A Victorian Cycling Adventure in China
- Alex Van Egmond
- Jan 10
- 18 min read
One of the greatest pioneers in the history of cycling was the English adventurer Thomas Stevens (1854–1935). He became world-famous as the first person to travel around the world by bicycle.
In April 1884, Stevens set off from San Francisco on a high wheeler, or penny-farthing bike. His extraordinary journey lasted more than two years and ended in Japan.
After his return, he collected his experiences in the two-volume work Around the World on a Bicycle (1887), which is still regarded as a classic of travel and cycling literature.
With his curiosity, perseverance, and pioneering spirit, Stevens embodied the optimism of the nineteenth century, a time when technology, a thirst for discovery, and personal freedom were central values. In this article, I highlight Stevens’ experiences in China.
Text: Alex van Egmond
Not so long ago, I found myself lost in thought while standing at the grave of Thomas Stevens in East Finchley Cemetery in London. The expansive grounds feature graceful avenues, ancient trees, and beautiful gravestones from the Victorian and Edwardian eras.
The cemetery invites visitors to take a leisurely walk past imposing family tombs, obelisks, and statues. Many British notables are buried here, among them, of course, Thomas Stevens.
His grave, marked by a weathered cross, appears rather unremarkable compared to the other monuments on the grounds. Yet Stevens is arguably the most important resident of the cemetery—though as a cycling enthusiast, I admit my bias.
Between 1884 and 1886, he made history as the first person to cycle around the world. The first stage of his journey took him straight across the United States, from San Francisco to Boston, a distance of almost 6,000 kilometers (3.700 miles).
Stevens largely followed the transcontinental railroad, first and foremost for navigation. In major cities, he often received help from local véloclubs. These early cycling clubs had only been active in the United States for a few years but were already well organized.
Their enthusiastic members provided Stevens with lodging and route information. Sometimes they even rode alongside him for a while to make sure he took the correct turn. Nevertheless, Stevens completed most of the journey on his own.
Secondly, he followed the railroad because of road conditions. The pneumatic tire was still under development at the time of Stevens’ journey. As a result, he rode on solid rubber tires, like all bicycles of that era.
These solid rubber tires were already a significant improvement over the wooden wheels of the so-called 'boneshakers' of previous decades. Without major delays, Stevens reached Boston on August 4, 1884.
He had been on the road for exactly 103 days, becoming the first person to cross the United States by bicycle. From there, he crossed the Atlantic Ocean by steamer to Liverpool. The European leg of his journey took him from England to Constantinople, present-day Istanbul.
The route then continued through Kurdistan (Iraq), Persia (Iran), and on to Afghanistan. There, he ran into trouble due to the political situation. Although the country was officially independent, both Russia and Great Britain were quietly attempting to exert their influence.
In Herat, Stevens was arrested and briefly detained on suspicion of espionage.
After lengthy interrogations, the Afghan authorities concluded that Stevens was indeed an eccentric, but not a spy.
Stevens was escorted back to the Persian border. Reaching China overland proved to be an unfeasible plan. Via Karachi and British India, Stevens was forced to cycle on to Calcutta, where he boarded a ship bound for Hong Kong.
Months earlier, in Boston, he had spoken with a certain Mr. French about the Chinese Empire. Mr. French had traveled for some time through the Middle Kingdom and was able to provide Stevens with first-hand information.
Mr. French politely warned him not to visit China with something as otherworldly as a bicycle and urged him to set aside his Anglo-British instincts and calmly accept Chinese curiosity.
Stevens prematurely concluded that, when dealing with the Chinese:
'One needs more discretion than valor in dealing with the Chinese'.
He would indeed need considerable courage for his cycling journey from Canton to Shanghai.
First Kilometres
Stevens’ equipment for his world journey was extremely minimalistic and probably weighed no more than five kilograms. An extra pair of socks, an extra shirt, a raincoat, tools, a candle, matches, a diary, and a revolver were the items he carried on his high wheeler.
These belongings were stored in a small leather bag that was strapped to the handlebars. The raincoat was a so-called gossamer, a precursor to modern polyester rain jackets. The rubberized fabric was waterproof and easy to roll up, though rather fragile.
For the Asian leg of his journey, Stevens prepared himself thoroughly. In addition to the equipment mentioned above, he had a pair of leather moccasins made in Istanbul. These easy slip-on shoes had upturned toes and 'fit like a glove'.
He also had a tent made from a strong canvas that took up little space when rolled up. He treated the canvas with linseed oil to make it waterproof. His bicycle could be used as the tent poles.
In doing so, Stevens probably created the world’s first 'bicycle tent'.
On October 7, 1886, Stevens set foot ashore in Hong Kong with his equipment. His faithful bicycle had been safely shipped from Calcutta. The world traveler then waited several days in Canton (now Guangzhou) for a safe-conduct pass from the viceroy.
Chinese diplomats at the consulate advised him against cycling solo through China, but Stevens was determined. Upon receiving the safe-conduct on October 12, 1886, he set off immediately.
The language barrier was the first obstacle, for try explaining where you want to go when you do not speak a lick of Cantonese or Mandarin Chinese.
Stevens wrote about this lightly and used a comparison:
'Imagine a lone Chinaman who desired to learn the road to Philadelphia surrounded by a dense crowd in the Bowery, New York, and uttering the one word 'Phaladilfi', and the reader gains a feeble conception of my own predicament in Fat-shan, and the ludicrousness of the situation'.
In hindsight, Stevens could laugh about it, but at the time it often drove him to despair. When he spoke to Chinese passersby, he often received no more than 'an expansive but wholly expressionless grin'.
And when a Chinese person spoke a little 'pidgin' English and tried to give him directions, those instructions proved useless. Stevens quickly realized that he would have to rely on his own intuition and follow the roads marked on his map.
The cities held little appeal for Stevens. With their narrow streets and 'filthy crowds', these overcrowded places were a trial. He had more appreciation for the countryside.
His route followed reasonably passable, paved and unpaved paths, passing sugarcane and rice plantations, as well as bamboo forests. The villages struck Stevens as 'striking and pretty', capturing his attention and admiration.
Along the Pearl River, he saw cultivated fields and arched graves on the hillsides. Women, men, and children were working in the fields, as the peanut harvest had begun. Stevens wrote:
'A party of peanut-harvesters are regaling themselves with stewed turnips and tough, underdone pieces of dried liver. They invite me to partake, handing me a pair of chopsticks and a bowl'.
The scene may sound idyllic, but Stevens gradually learned that the local population could also turn against him.
Difficulties
Physical ailments were nothing new to Stevens. In California and Colorado, he had firsthand experience of how the sun could burn his neck and cause painful blisters. Thirst, a side effect of the sun, constantly made him long for a nearby water source.
He also frequently described himself as a 'hungry traveler', which was understandable given the long distances he covered under often harsh conditions. A lack of calories left him fatigued and weakened.
Deep in Guangdong province, he suffered a serious injury: an overstrained knee. The injury slowed him down, causing him to limp.
In his book, he describes how he waddled through the town of Chin-yuen (Qingyuan) in the morning, while the locals nudged each other and called out to him with giggles. Stevens realized that he could not count on their sympathy.
A foreigner limping through the streets on something as unusual as a bicycle was seen by the Chinese 'as a creature so remarkably comical, that the mere mention of him causes them to laugh'.
However, that same day, at dusk, Stevens arrived in a village where not a single smile could be seen on the faces of the inhabitants. Normally, a large crowd would surround him in such situations, but the villagers kept their distance and watched him with suspicion.
When a number of villagers erupt in 'a torrent of angry words and excited gestures', Stevens knows it is time to go.
With a growling stomach and a painfully swollen knee, he hurriedly continues on his way. The angry villagers give chase with torches, but the falling darkness works to Stevens’ advantage.
A few kilometers outside the village, he struggles to reach a small island in the river, where he can hide in a dense bamboo thicket. From his hiding place, he watches his pursuers shuffle along the opposite bank with their torches.
When the coast is clear, Stevens leaves his mosquito-infested refuge. Night has fallen, which again works in his favor. He follows the riverbed through the darkness until, the next morning, he reaches a place called Quang-shi.
Stevens’ maps are exhausted, both figuratively and literally, as the village does not appear on his chart. He must stop in the unknown settlement to rest, but if the residents are just as hostile, he cannot flee with his hungry, injured body.
He decides to hobble into the village, hoping for a favorable outcome.
'With revolver pulled round to the front ready to hand, and half expecting occasion to use it in defence of my life, I grimly speculate on the number of my cartridges and the probability of each one bagging a sore-eyed Celestial ere my own lonely and reluctant ghost is yielded up'.
The villagers, however, prove to be friendly, much to Stevens’ great relief. He satisfies his hunger and thirst and boards a sampan, a small boat. The vessel carries him over three days to Chao-choo-foo (Chaozhou, now a district near Shaoguan).
On the sampan, Stevens was temporarily safe and able to allow his battered body to recover. In retrospect, he realized that the residents of the hostile village had probably heard of the humiliating losses suffered in the Sino-French War.
Between August 1884 and April 1885, the Chinese Empire had been at war with France over Tonkin (northern Vietnam). One of the most striking events took place in the harbor of Fuzhou.
On August 22, 1884, the French delivered a humiliating blow to the southern fleet of the Qing. Nine ships were sunk within an hour, resulting in 3,000 deaths, while French losses were minimal.
This event sparked a wave of patriotic sentiment and xenophobia among the Chinese population.
By the time Stevens arrived in China, the hatchet had long been buried with the Treaty of Tianjin on April 4, 1885. Nevertheless, news of the peace filtered slowly into the interior regions of the country.
Stevens had therefore arrived at the wrong place at the wrong time and had narrowly escaped with his life. It would not be his last dance with the grim reaper.
New Province
Despite all his hardships, fortune smiled on Stevens in Chao-choo-foo. After announcing his presence to the local official on duty, he was ordered to follow him through the narrow streets of the city.
He arrived at a large complex that clearly served an official function. To his astonishment, the door was opened by a young Englishman—one of the two Presbyterian missionaries stationed in the town.
The missionaries provided Stevens with a hearty meal, but even more importantly, they offered him valuable information about his onward route.
Hired coolies would carry Stevens’ bicycle over the Meiling Pass (Meiling guan) to Nam-gnam (Nankang). From there, he could solo continue by sampan, if the water level in the Zhangshui river permitted, to the next settlement, Kan-tchou-foo (Ganzhou), where he would be able to mount his bicycle again.
The Meiling Pass had served as the border between Guangdong and Jiangxi provinces since the Qin dynasty (220–206 BCE). It lay on an important trade route between the south and the north, and a number of fortifications had been built over successive centuries.
The significance of this historic mountain pass had somewhat escaped Stevens, for his attention was more drawn to the peanut stalls along the road.
'Peanut stalls one encounters at short intervals, where ancient dames or wrinkled old men preside over little saucers of half-roasted nuts, peanut sweet cakes, peanut plain cakes, peanut crullers, peanut dough, peanut candy, peanuts sprinkled with sugar, peanuts sprinkled with salt, and peanuts fresh from the ground'.
In a less flattering vein, Stevens then described the effects of peanut consumption on the people:
'The people seem to be well-nigh living on peanuts, which unhappy diet probably has something to do with their marvellous ugliness'.
Many peanut-laden kilometers later, Stevens reached the outskirts of Kan-tchou-foo (Ganzhou) on foot. The water level in the Zhangshui river was too low for boarding a sampan. As the city drew nearer, he had to get rid of the coolies, who by now had become more of an 'insufferable nuisance' than a benefit.
Stevens had anticipated that the carriers would start making a fuss and demand a higher fee. However, the Smith & Wesson revolver he produced from his pocket brought them to more peaceful thinking.
After Kan-tchou-foo, Stevens was finally able to mount his steel steed again and rode, without too many difficulties, along mountainous paths to Ki-ngan-foo (Ji’an). The fortified villages he passed through bore the scars of the Taiping Rebellion.
Breaches in the walls and ominous ruins still served as reminders of the upheaval caused by the Christianity-inspired leader Hong Xiuquan between 1850 and 1860. Between 20 and 30 million people, mostly civilians, lost their lives in this devastating civil war.
Along the way, he also saw women with bound feet, who startled and tried to flee from the foreigner on the bicycle..
He describes this tragicomical scene henceforth:
'One might well imagine them to be a colony of crippled rabbits, alarmed at the approach of a dog, endeavoring to hobble away from his destructive presence'.
The practice of foot binding was very common in the poorer areas of Jiangxi. The Manchus did not practice it and even officially banned it, but without success.
What had originally begun as a custom among the Han elite during the early Song dynasty (960–976) gradually spread to the peasant population, as having so-called 'lotus feet' could secure a higher bride price for a daughter.
The Boat
Fear and astonishment also marked the welcome Stevens received at the gates of Ki-ngan-foo (Ji'An), but the mood quickly shifted. A few constables, as usual, accompanied him to the Manchu headquarters in the city.
Halfway to the headquarters, stones began to fly through the air, aimed at the unwanted foreigner. It was thanks to Stevens’ typical colonial pith helmet that serious injury was avoided.
At the first gate of the Manchu headquarters, the angry crowd seemed to calm slightly, and the party used the momentary hesitation to seek safety.
Once through the gate, the furious mob swelled again, hurling stones with even more frenzied force. The constables quickened their pace, and for good reason.
One constable was badly struck on the arm and continued wailing in pain. Fortunately, soldiers from the headquarters arrived just in time to keep the crowd at bay.
A few broken spokes, a dented pith helmet, bruises, and a constable with a likely broken arm summed up the encounter, Stevens noted matter-of-factly.
In this city, too, the populace was still enraged over the Tonkin conflict with the French.
That Stevens was not a Frenchman in the slightest mattered little. The crowd wanted his blood.
At the headquarters, Stevens learned that a few foreign missionaries had been forced to flee just a few days earlier; they too had narrowly escaped lynching.
It was not until around midnight that the tumult outside the walls of the headquarters finally subsided. Stevens was discreetly lifted into a palanquin and swiftly escorted to the river, where a sampan awaited to take him to the next town.
The calm of the night and the gentle flow of the water made Stevens reflect on the stark contrast with the events of the past hours.
'[A]s we drift noiselessly along with the current, [with] the crescent moon, the shimmering water—and the slowly receding lights of the city; what danger can there possibly be in so quiet and peaceful a scene as this?'
Things could have ended very differently for Stevens had the Manchu soldiers not been nearby. Further down the river, a small frigate accompanied Stevens’ sampan and his escorts.
Stevens realizes that his cycling adventure in China has come to an end, for the authorities were in no mood for a dead Brit riding something as strange as a bicycle. It is not until Kui-Kiang (Jiujiang) that Stevens begins to regain some of his strength.
The English consulate in the city receives the weary traveler. There, Stevens takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror.
'Hair long, face unshaved for five weeks, thin and gaunt-looking from daily hunger, worry, and hard dues generally, I look worse than a hunted greyhound'.
Stevens did not allow himself much rest. Within an hour of his arrival, he boarded a steamship to Shanghai, reaching the city on November 18. The following day, he left China on a steamship bound for Nagasaki, Japan.
In six weeks, he had covered over 2,000 kilometers across China on foot, by bicycle, and by boat, but the adventure had left him physically and mentally exhausted. He wrote in his book about China:
'I am at last bidding farewell to the hardships, the horrible filth, the soul-harrowing crowds, the abominable paths, and the ever-present danger'.
Stevens continued his world journey through Japan, where in many ways he experienced the opposite of China. The city of Nagasaki, for example, was '[...] clean as if it had been newly scoured and varnished [...]'.
He could not fail to notice the abundant supply of nutritious food, especially fish. Even in remote villages, he was able to indulge in fresh provisions. like '[...] a big skate for supper, which [made for] first-rate eating [...]'.
Moreover, there was no trace of anti-Western sentiment in Japan. The Meiji Restoration had already been underway for several decades. Stevens observed a country rapidly industrializing and developing socially and politically at a remarkable pace.
There was a craze for all things European, as Stevens noted.
'The craze for foreign innovations pervades all ranks of society, and every village dandy aspires to some article of European clothing. The result is that one frequently encounters men on the road wearing a Derby hat, a red blanket, tight-fitting white drawers, and straw sandals'.
Above all, the roads were excellent for Stevens’ steel horse, allowing him to reach Yokohama on December 17, 1886, where he concluded his world journey. By his own account, he had traveled nearly 22,000 kilometers (13,500 miles).
Praise
When Thomas Stevens returned by ship from Japan to San Francisco in December 1886, he had accomplished something no one before him had achieved: a journey around the world by bicycle.
His feat made him famous not only among cyclists but also with a broad audience eager for stories of adventure, technology, and distant lands.
Almost immediately after his return, Stevens began a new chapter in his life as a writer and lecturer. His travel accounts were first published in magazines (Outing and Harper) and later collected in the two-volume book Around the World on a Bicycle (1887–1888).
The work sold well and was widely read, both in the United States and Europe. Its success lay not only in the achievement itself but also in Stevens’ style: ironic, self-aware, and sometimes sharp or biased, in the tradition of 19th-century travel writers.
In addition to writing, Stevens became a sought-after lecturer. In 1887 and 1888, he toured theaters and halls across the United States and Great Britain, entertaining audiences with maps, anecdotes, and sometimes even his bicycle.
His lectures tapped into the popularity of the cycling movement as well as the broader fascination with world travel and technological progress. Financially, these years were likely the most successful of his life.
The wind has died down, and a gentle sun shines over the cemetery. I leave the grave where the adventurer Stevens found his final resting place and walk back toward the exit along the graceful avenues.
Imperial China ultimately proved to be the most challenging part of Stevens’ world journey, but through sheer perseverance, he managed to reach Shanghai. It is a trait that commands respect even in the 21st century.
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Columbia Standard
The bicycle on which Thomas Stevens became the first person to cycle around the world between 1884 and 1886 was a Columbia Standard, manufactured by the Pope Manufacturing Company in Boston.
The Columbia Standard was distinguished by its large front wheel, approximately 50 inches (about 1.27 meters) in diameter, paired with a much smaller rear wheel.
The pedals were directly attached to the front wheel hub; there were no gears or chain drive.
Speed and progress relied entirely on muscle power and riding skill. The frame was made of light yet strong steel, with forged spokes and solid rubber tires.
The bicycle was carefully balanced to carry the rider high above the ground, a position that offered both an excellent vantage point and considerable vulnerability.
Riding a high wheeler required significant skill. Mounting was done via a small step on the frame and demanded precise timing. Dismounting was equally risky, especially when encountering unexpected obstacles or rough terrain.
Stevens recounts several falls in his travelogue, yet he continued to rely on his bicycle. For a world tour across Europe, the Middle East, South Asia, and East Asia, the mechanical simplicity of the Columbia Standard was crucial.
The absence of complex components made the bicycle relatively reliable and easy to maintain under primitive conditions. Stevens performed repairs himself along the way, often with limited resources.
In regions without infrastructure for mechanical transport, the simplicity of the design proved decisive for the success of Stevens’ undertaking.
Wherever Stevens went, the high wheeler drew attention and amazement. For many onlookers, it was their first glimpse of a bicycle, let alone a Westerner who had ridden thousands of kilometers on one.
The high wheeler later came into the possession of the Pope Manufacturing Company, which naturally saw it as a showcase for reliability and quality. Unfortunately, the bicycle was scrapped during World War II to support the war effort.
Insatiable
After his world tour, Stevens quickly looked forward to new adventures. In 1888, he received an offer from the New York World newspaper to travel to East Africa. Henry Morton Stanley, the man who had famously found the Scottish Dr. Livingstone seventeen years earlier, had himself been missing for nearly two years.
Stevens eagerly accepted the assignment and departed for Zanzibar in 1889. For six months, he led an enormous search across Kenya and Tanzania. In the newspaper, he vividly reported on his climb of Mount Kilimanjaro and his encounters with the Maasai.
Later that year, Stanley himself made contact. He informed Stevens that he was alive and returning to Zanzibar. Stevens sought him out, and his accounts resulted in the book Scouting for Stanley in East Africa (1890).
Barely returned from the Stanley adventure, the New York World sent Stevens on a new mission to Russia. Instead of taking the train, he traveled for six weeks on horseback to the Black Sea, reporting his discoveries to readers along the way.
The highlight of the journey was his extensive interview with Leo Tolstoy. The celebrated author of War and Peace received Stevens at his estate near Tula, 200 kilometers from Moscow. Stevens compiled his experiences in Through Russia on a Mustang (1891).
Naturally, Stevens was not yet satisfied after this journey. He acquired a boat and managed to sail from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea without any formal knowledge of navigation.
His next and final adventure took him to India, where he investigated the mysterious feats performed by Hindu hermits—first noted by Marco Polo in Il Milione (c. 1298).
It later turned out to be largely fraudulent, but Stevens did manage to photograph a hermit performing one trick after another. He used this 'convincing evidence' in a series of lectures across the United States.
The American public, however, remained skeptical, and even questioned Stevens' reputation. A book on his travels in India was never published, and in 1894, he decided to leave adventure behind for good.
In 1895, he married Frances Barnes, a widow with two daughters, and returned to England, his homeland. He worked for many years as manager of the Garrick Theatre in London and lived largely in anonymity until his death in 1935.
Véloclubs
In the 1870s, when the first 'ordinaries'—high wheel bicycles with a massive front wheel—arrived from England to America, a new sensation was born.
The bicycle symbolized speed, modernity, and freedom, attracting especially young, enterprising men from the growing cities of the Northeast. What began as an individual curiosity quickly developed into an organized movement: the first bicycle clubs in the United States.
The oldest and most influential was the Boston Bicycle Club, founded in February 1878. Boston, with its intellectual and technological elite, was the perfect breeding ground. Members, mostly wealthy businessmen and students, viewed the bicycle not just as a sporting device but as a means of camaraderie and self-improvement.
They wore uniforms of knickerbockers, woolen jackets, and caps, riding in small columns out of the city in search of the freedom of the countryside. Their rides were described in newspapers with admiration, though sometimes with ridicule—after all, a man on a high wheeler was still a rare sight.
Boston’s example was quickly followed. In 1879, the New York Bicycle Club was founded, followed by clubs in Philadelphia, Chicago, and San Francisco. These organizations arranged group rides, races, and public demonstrations to promote the new vehicle.
The atmosphere was both sporting and social: members dined together, held meetings and parades, and proudly wore their club colors. They called themselves 'wheelmen' and took it upon themselves to make cycling respectable in a country where roads were often unpaved and traffic chaotic.
In 1880, representatives from various clubs united in a national organization: the League of American Wheelmen (LAW). The League quickly grew into an influential body with thousands of members.
Its goals were ambitious yet practical: to promote cycling as a sport, improve roads, and standardize rules for races and touring.
The LAW also spearheaded the Good Roads Movement, initially aimed at cyclists but eventually benefiting motorists as well.
By around 1885, the United States counted dozens of bicycle clubs. Some, like the Chicago Bicycle Club, opened their doors to broader segments of the population, giving the movement a more democratic character. Others, such as the clubs in Boston and New York, remained more elite.
Yet all shared one thing: a belief in the bicycle as a symbol of progress and personal freedom. Stevens’ daring exploits fit perfectly into this framework.
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