Snowy New Year

After a horrible Xmas, I more than made up for it with a few days playing in the snow in the Dolomites with friends.

There could be worse places to spend it I am sure.........

2008...in short

5078km

4 countries

3 bikes

Knocked off my bike by a sheep.....
....and a duck.......
...and ridden into a river, albeit drunk.

Here's to another year and no new scars

Cheers!

trains and bikes...

.....are never a good combination. Especially in France.

My week back in Paris was spent trying to get me and my bike back to Italy at the same time.

The first step was finding out if it was possible.....and no one seemed to know. I was given countless different pieces of information, most contradictory, none accurate: I could send it freight, but not to Italy; I could take it onboard with me but only in a box; I could book a space on the train, but not the international trains.......it went on and on and on......and on.

Eventually, I opted for the box. After disassembling the bike outside the station and ending up covered in dirt and grease, I was ready to get it and all my bags on the train. This was the next problem.

When I got to my carriage, the attendant told me I could not take my bike on - the box was too big! After a week of frustration with SNCF I finally lost my patience. Thinking he was French, I started to abuse the attendant in all the bad Italian I knew before adamantly insisting that both the bike and I were getting on the train. The box fitted perfectly on my bed, which luckily was the top berth, and all my bags piled on top of it neatly. I would figure out where to sleep later.

After the train took off, I discovered 2 things; the man I had abused was our carriage attendant and....he was Italian! Luckily he had a sense of humour and found it all very amusing. He even moved some of the people from our compartment so I would have somewhere to sleep....pity he couldn't do anything about the snoring by the remaining occupants.

12 hours later....I was putting my bike back together on the station at Vicenza. We had made it back to Italy relatively unscathed.

Back to the Continent

My time was up. It was goodbye to the rain and slugs and back to the epicurian delights of the continent.

From London I made my way south to Dover and followed the coast westwards to Newhaven and the ferry to Dieppe.

Once across the channel, it was blue skies and flat tyres all the way back to Paris where I was meeting my parents. My tyres were bald, I had destroyed yet another set of brakes and there were 7 different types of mould growing on my gear but at least there were no more slugs.....only garlic snails!

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.