At the end of my previous post, I think I possibly went off at the deep end with fascism, climate change, and Phaedrus, and my readers are owed an explanation, so I’ll attempt one and hope that it proves satisfactory.
Continue reading “Of Dust and Valour”
It takes only a few minutes to get from one side of Santander to the other. At the waterfront near the ferry port there is Continue reading “The Pilgrim Returns”
Guernica is a few sombre miles behind me when I espy something I’d not seen before in real life: a Continue reading “Biscay Blues”
The reason for which all of the interactions on this trip so far have been so rich is their intensity, from my perspective, due to Continue reading “Echoes of Guernica”
The morning comes and I am still undecided as to which way to head. I type a random address in Santander into the satnav to see which routes are available. There are several, via Continue reading “Back in the Basque Country”
From Lyon to Castelnaud La Chapelle it’s nearly 600km. Not a short run, made longer by the fact that a considerable section of it is tiny rural lanes, many of Continue reading “En Garde!”
Solitude and loneliness are different things. During a few nights, on my own in a pension or guesthouse bedroom, I experience Continue reading “My Echo, My Shadow and Me”
My body is changing visibly and invisibly. The neck muscles are Continue reading “Liberté de Lyon”
I have no real plan from Prague onwards, except to try and get to Castelnaud for the weekend. Munich is in a convenient location on the map, and my time Continue reading “Austrian High, Swiss Low”
Moving south along the Autobahn towards Dresden, rolling at a comfortable velocity somewhere in the high Continue reading “Prague Autumn; Bavaria Bound”
Today is the first day without the threat of rain anywhere along my route, so the waterproofs are happily packed away. Breakfast is Continue reading “I’m Not a Donut”
The morning entails the routine which is becoming familiar: shower, repack everything, vitamins, sun block, gear. I say my goodbyes and head out. A fuel stop a few kilometres beyond Amsterdam. The previous Continue reading “Rocking Reeperbahn”
One is jolted awake by loud distorted bird noises being piped through the ship’s radio. In a pitch black room which appears to be swaying Continue reading “‘Dam It”
Setting off from Zenith Motorcycles after final checks, I swing by Halfords who sold me a faulty single barrel pump. A shop assitant, Sin, is extremely helpful and replaces it with a working one without qualms. I roll to the border of our neighbourhood escorted by my best friend Yvonne on her Suzuki Van Van. She turns West, I turn Continue reading “The Norse Emissary”
Planning is for sensible people. My own planning has consisted of putting a few waypoints into Google Maps and having dinner with a motorcycling living legend, who specifically advised me not to overplan. Continue reading “Planning, Prepping, Packing”
History shuddered. A creaking three-hundred-year-old economic model collided with
Continue reading “Ted Simon Tells It Like It Is”
“Blac” means “pale” in Old English. This can be interpreted as the opposite of its current Modern English meaning. It also makes total sense: colourless. “Rīdere”: “mounted warrior”, “rider”, “knight”, from Middle German, or possibly Old Dutch. Irish and Welsh have similar words. It also means “smile” or “laughter” in Latin. Continue reading “Before We Begin”
Blac Ridere 