I’m conscious that the account of my previous journey – 5000 sort of unplanned miles across France and Spain – ended abruptly two years ago. Those who care, know: I made my way to Bilbao through harsh winds, got on the ferry to Poole and ground my way back to SE England through rain and roadworks.
Continue reading “A couple of years and a few thousand miles later…”
The evening before I look at several routes to Biarritz. The most obvious one, via Zaragoza and the Spanish side of the Pyrenees is the longest, but it seems the easiest. However, around the point where I’d have to actually cross the mountains there’s a severe weather warning for thunderstorms and flooding in place. Recalling my near death experience not far from there a few weeks before, I decide to extend the route, taking me across the mountains a bit further west, somewhat closer to San Sebastian. In all it’s just over 600km, a hard day’s riding. I ensure I have enough fruit, baby food, cereal bars and water with me, and before setting off, along with coffee and breakfast I take an aspirin to alleviate numbness and ensure good blood circulation.
Continue reading “Wheels, Waves, and Wanderlust (Biarritz)”
A journey without music is no journey at all, as far as I’m concerned. There are many famous aphorisms about music, some so famous and true that they’ve become cliches. “If music be the food of love, play on”, wrote Shakespeare. Nietzsche went further: “Without music, life would be a mistake”. For me it was Dick Clark, US television’s equivalent of John Peel, who summed it up: “Music is the soundtrack of your life”. My journey would have far less meaning without it.
Continue reading “I’ve Been Everywhere, Man (a musical interlude)”
I need to get to Leon in North Western Spain to meet with a colleague. The route I broadly have in my head involves stopping in Nantes and Bordeaux in France and then in Vitoria-Gasteiz on the other side of the border and the Pyrenees, before a merciful 300km to Leon to get there with enough time to freshen up before meeting with my colleague. I’m not entirely confident that I’ll manage it all, but as the old saying goes, “eyes fear, hands do”.
Continue reading “The Long Ride South (part 1: France)”
“D Day”, (or “J Jour” as it’s known in France) when the Allies opened the Second Front in 1944 and the largest military operation in history, has been documented in countless books, treatises and films, including such epics as ‘The Longest Day’ and ‘Saving Private Ryan’. It’d be pointless me trying to recount the sequence of events which occurred in early June 1944, as so much scholarship and popular culture is far more informative than anything I as an amateur could commit to this page.
Continue reading “D Week”
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!”
My body is changing visibly and invisibly. The neck muscles are Continue reading “Liberté de Lyon”
Blac Ridere 