A blank on the map

According to my map Salisbury Plain is empty. Absolutely nothing there. Roads enter it and never leave, rivers stop flowing. It is just a great, white blot on the page.

I daydreamed of uncharted territory and the edge of the world. I envisioned warnings of imment danger from sea-monsters and dragons. Instead, it was tanks crossing and unexploded ordinance. It seems like the Ministry of Defence beat me to the discovery of the Salisbury Plains.

All except for those spots the tourists got to first.....

Cranking through Cornwall

I didn't quite realise what would be involved in a visit to the quaint Cornish fishing villages along the South West coast. A seemingly endless hell of 20 percent (+) climbs, squalls and gale force headwinds....perhaps I should have gone the other way around the coast!

Stopped at the circus that is Land's End for the obligatory photo with the signpost...and the Tardis....before following the coast around to the north. At least this side was a bit flatter, even if the wind was stronger. Spent several days cursing the wind, dodging the rain and exploring around the ruined tin mines and celtic stone circles that dotted the coastline.

Going to the show

If I thought the country fair was a thing of the past the Llanthony regional show soon proved me wrong.

Centered around horses, there was everything for the equine fan: dressage and show jumping, gymkhana and rodeo...even awards for the prettiest pony. I have never seen so many breeches or check shirts in one place.

Apart from horses, there was a plethora of alternate entertainment...usually centered around the mobile bar perched up on the hillside.

At the end of the day, the tempo picked up along with the blood alcohol level. There was a Land Rover parade, sack races, dog races, fancy dress for the children and a beer race. This rather amusing team event involved sculling a pint of beer, turning around a pole 10 times, picking up an apple and putting it in a bucket, jumping over a hay bale, going commando under a tarp and running around a barrel before racing back to your team to send off the next person in the relay. Of course, by this time of the day, most of the contestants involved had already imbibed a few warm up pints so a straight line was rarely guaranteed.

If you want a day of good, harmless fun, go to a Welsh country show.

Wet and Wooly Wales

Good weather isn't one of the things I will associate with Wales in the years to come. Instead I will remember the hills, the rain and the sheep.

Within 2 weeks I have worn through a brand new set of brake pads and the adage "a rolling stone gathers no moss" does not apply to anything within the Welsh borders.

Charity Cycle

Waiting to cross the channel at Calais, I met a group from Vodafone doing a ride from Dusseldorf to Newbury to raise money for youth at risk and street kids in Germany. After an invitation to join, I thought....why not! It turned out to be one of the highlights of my trip so far.

My "team", Stephen, Ed and Hadrian (from l-r), always seemed to find the more 'novel' routes to take compared to the other teams, which usually included stairs, stiles and stinging nettle. My thanks to all the cyclists from Vodafone, particularly Hadrian (for talking me into it), Michael (for doing such a great job as organiser) and my team (for the fantastic company).

Route of Remembrance

Armed with the Idiot's guide to World War I and a collection of trench maps, I cycled through some of the key battle sights on the Western Front starting at Amiens and ending at Passendale in Belgium.

The soft, green, rolling hills and woods hide the horror that happened here. Even a vivid imagination can't touch on the monstrosity that swept through this region and destroyed millions of young lives and hopes.

After one day, I was thoroughly depressed. After 2, I despaired and cried for the needless waste. By day 3 I could take no more death as I travelled through a region which is nothing short of an extended cemetery. Even after 90 years, bodies are still being recovered from where they disappeared into anonymity in the mud.

All I hope is that we have learnt.......................

.................though I am afraid we haven't.

The Pillars of Paris

Death

Sex

Protesting

Churches

Bicycle shopping

and Friends



A lot of stairs, a lot of queues............

There is something for everyone in Paris. Just be sure to wear comfortable shoes.


To Benedicte and Robin......thanks for everything

End of an era

In remembrance of my trusty steed

Rosinante (Big Bertha)

sadly stolen in Paris
12 May 2008

.... and bonjour France

This pretty much sums up the first few weeks back on the road after months of sloth and gluttony.

If I thought the Alps was going to be bad......I didn't stop to think what the Alpettes or the Central Massif would be like. In my first 2 days after crossing into France I managed a cumulative altitude gain of 3846m....and my legs were like jelly. When a road cyclist passes me by with a cheery "bonjour" I know I'm in trouble....when an entire team goes past I have definitely chosen the wrong road!

Spring in France has also thrown everything at me, from sun, rain, wind,hail and sleet....usually in some particularly nasty combination.

Making my way up through the center of the country, visiting

the old historic places along the way. There is pigeon poo in these towns that is older than Australia's oldest buildings....it still takes some getting used to!

If I thought the cycling in Italy and France has been pedestrian.....I am makng up for it with my search for unusual place names. I have been to Die (and survived), had lunch at Mars, talked bollocks in the bar at Craponne.......and still the search is on.