Bob's Blog

Long Way Down

The Beginning

15th October 2010 • London

So the journey begins.The first leg from John O'Groats certainly started as all great adventures do (touch wood), in harsh and biting conditions. The Scottish wind and rain poured and rapped to the bone. The famous landmark was hosting various journeymen, either leaving from or arriving to Lands End - off road or on road peddling or throttling levers.

The famous signpost that usually points in all distant directions stood as an empty pole against the vast North sea and the Orkney Islands, after the man who owns the signs that sticks into the pole, refused to drive from his nearby home due to the weather conditions. So I ended up with Cape Town written on a small piece of paper in a waterproof map case held against the pole as the starting moment and the photo was shot.

The weather blasted and howled, soaked me to the bone and swept my inept poncho back and forth (not the wisest choice of waterproofing). So wet and beaten, I didn't manage many miles that day and decided to dry off in a B&B and get a better mac for the journey to come.

Adios Blighty

19th November 2010 • France

'Farewell, so long, auf wiedersehen, goodbye' as my dear sister wrote on my good luck banner, see you in another time Blighty! I was edgy to leave England, the trip had been on my mind for far too long, I'd spent far too long lingering after the dream of travel, wasting time looking at gear, mulling over every detail, reading the extent of other peoples expeditions, now was my own time, experience my reality, and realise my long held wish.

The trip from John O'Groats was a solemn one; Scotland touches the soul with it's vast and bleak landscape. England... I perhaps didn't give it the chance it deserved, I saw the back of HGVs, burger vans and an endless repetition of dull farming fields. I raced to London eager to claim as much time to sort the last few details for the months ahead. For me, the real adventure existed out there, in those exotic places, not speeding along an A road near Darlington.

The goodbye from London bridge was a brilliant send off, the family had organised a banner, a bottle was popped and spilt over the bike. The emotion was intense, kept at bay until the last wave goodbye, but now the route was on!

After a two week delay in London after trouble with teeth that didn't like highland toffee, winter approached ever closer, but after racing out of London, the white cliffs of Dover finally represented the transition from planning to action, to wave goodbye to any lingering doubts. Thoughts moved to the months ahead, the European winter, aiming for the Danube cycle paths, but even more so for the next big leap, across the Bosphorus to Asia, where I thought the real adventure would really begin.

But could I ever focus on the now, the journey in action, enjoy the day as it was? The dream is often in the planning, enjoy today and forget tomorrow. So could the French, the threatening rain and fenced farming fields provide the greater depth searching for? I doubt it, we'll see.

Dark Expressionism

22nd November 2010 • Germany

The brisk cold welcome of an aging European Autumn. The journey to the Danube was never going to inspire minds, the bleak empty expanse of northern France was both that in landscape and mind. France presented huge swathes of flat land ripped of life and replaced with un-breaking farming fields, no hedgerows, no room for a sliver of grass to rest my head.

Still, at least the French don't surround every inch of land with barbed wire or aggressive electric fences (ahem England), people need to stealth camp you know!

Cheese and bread exempt, I was glad to have passed through France quickly. As much as their 'traditional' way of life is much loved by themselves, I saw little of the quaint life and welcoming communities, more the disregarding attitude expected in any metropolitan city, more so when an utterance of English left my mouth, no matter how hard I tried! Passing into Belgium and then Luxembourg I was happy when my English tongue was more welcome, no longer did I need to be ashamed!

The journey from Luxembourg and through Germany brought all shades of autumn to my journey, the hills of Germany were vivid and haunting. Halloween had just passed but it seemed as if it had a year round presence in the black forests, the pumpkins and witches brooms left out in the doorways and windows, were adding to the dark impressions I got. So much of it brought the history of the area to my mind, the German expressionist films of the 20's matching the same atmosphere as I was riding through the villages and towns. Nothing much had changed for hundreds of years, stuck in a pre-enlightenment era, surrounded by mist, woods and hills, tales of terror haunting every corner.