Exploring Somerset – A solstice microadventure

‘Do you want any specific days off in June,’ my manager asked as she prepared to write the team rota.
‘If I could have the 21st and 22nd off it’d be brilliant.’
‘No problem.’ She left the shop floor for the quiet of the stock room, leaving me grinning like an idiot at the idea of having the whole solstice off work.

Planning for what to do was a short affair. I had wanted to cycle south from my front door since moving in, following Sustrans cycle route 3 to Glastonbury. After that, I didn’t know or care very much. There were plenty of options. So on the 21st of June, I packed my panniers, pumped my tyres, and pedalled away from home, my skin lathered with sun cream.

My handlebar bag was full of camera and recording gear and my mind breaming with ideas. I had been wanting to film one of my journeys for a while but I didn’t see the point of filming me. There seem nothing extraordinary or worth recording about me, not on film anyway. So for a long time, I did nothing. It was only when attending the Cycle Touring Festival a month earlier that an idea had began to emerge. I had joined the ‘Filming your trip‘ talk and discovered another way to record cycling journeys. Most videos focus on a person, but Geoff Broadway offered another possibility. His film excerpt was about the place he had visited, not about him. It was a simple idea but one that, for some reason, hadn’t occurred to me. I kept thinking about what I could bring to a cycle touring video and this is my answer:

For photos of the trip, visit my Flickr account.

#30DaysWild – Week 04 and a bit

Make room for nature!

This is a cry from The Wildlife Trusts, urging us to remember nature and pay attention to it during our everyday life. Nature isn’t something to be enjoyed during our time off and lose sight of when we fall back into our daily routine. It is a home that needs to be nurtured and taken care of constantly. But this, is too easy to forget.

So this month, I, and hundreds of people across the British isles have pledged to be a little more wild. Here is what I chose to do during the second week. Catch up with week 01 here, week 02 here, and week 03 here. For daily update on what I’m up to and spotting around me, follow me on Instagram or Twitter.

Day 22

The day before I had pedalled away from home with no destination in mind. It didn’t matter that I would have no bed for the night, I was sure to be able to find a spot of grass somewhere in Somerset to lay down in. And sure enough I did, ending and beginning days in my favourite way: outside. Breakfast over, I cycled on, home a vague destination to reach before sundown. I found small roads and dirt roads, a long beach and plenty of head wind, long grass and insects against my bare legs, and birds happily flying and singing in this season of plenty.

Day 23

I was cycling once more but this time to commute along the Avon New Cut. As I’ve written before everything is green along its bank, a monochrome world only broken by the brown flow of the river. So when this spot of purple appeared, I immediately pulled the brakes to inspect what they were. My botanical knowledge being quite poor, I turned to the Internet and was told those are common mallow (malva sylvestris). I’m okay with identifying trees, but get completely lost when flowers and other plants are involved. I want to be able to name the world around me, know it and make it mine, but I’m so often frustrated by the difficulty of browsing through endless Google pictures. Do you have resources you find particularly helpful?

Day 24

I had a date with the library before I had to rush to the post office and then work. It was all a bit of a blur until the yellow of this label caught my eye. ‘Be happy, and smile‘, it said. So I did. I raised my eyes, looked at the trees and the breeze swinging their leaves left and right. And I smiled. And I was happy, my perception that little more acute again.

Day 25

Since returning from my mini cycle tour in Somerset, everything had been frantic. I found myself having to cram so much outside of work, I was running like a headless chicken most of the time, only stopping for sleep. So that evening, I decided to drop my plans of video and sound editing and sat in the garden with a cup of tea. The sun had set but there was still some light. I listened to the children next door playing quietly, the birds singing the last of their songs, and the traffic dying down on the road nearby. And gradually, the stillness that had escaped me for the past few days began to return.

Day 26

The clouds had settled in, turning the world grey once more. But it’s near impossible to find a monochrome dullness in summer. Instead there were yellows and purples glowing bright in the grass lay-bys, and pinks and blues of flowers in the cracks of the pavement and buildings. I was reminded that it’s not the blue skies that make summer.

Day 27

Work over, my partner picked me up and we headed to mid-Wales. We drove out of Bristol without a problem, A roads soon replaced by B roads and the familiar sights of Gloucestershire by the Shropsire Hills. Mounds of earth rose and we slowed often to watch them undulate in the landscape. We crossed the border between England and Wales several times, a squiggly lines that doesn’t care for roads. But soon the signs were in Welsh, and we swapped B roads for small lanes, finding our way to the yurt we had booked. We lit the fire, settled in, and watched the world grow dark with a glass of wine in hand.

Day 28

The forecast was for rain and clouds all day. And it was correct, mostly. We didn’t see the sun that day and we got damp but it didn’t stop us enjoying a walk in the countryside. I had hoped for right of ways through fields and meadows but we were advised against it if we didn’t fancy sinking into mud and muck. We didn’t and took to the lanes instead. Tarmac under our feet didn’t mean nature wasn’t all around. Sheep grazed and called one another, snails make their slow way to where they wanted, and the vegetation glistened under the rain drops. Four hours went before we reached the yurt again.

Day 29

The day began with an outdoors breakfast before we had to pack our stuff and head away from the yurts. Eager to see more of the Shrophire hills, we drove in their direction, selecting a different route than the one we came through. We slowed often, stopping the car for a good look at the views and a walk in a forest. I breathed in the smell of wet rotting earth and for a moment all was still and quiet in me.

Day 30

30 days have passed and it ends as it began, in my garden. I’m no longer suffering from the flu, the spittle bugs have gone, and the flowers have transformed. And I’m a little different too. I’ve gained new knowledge, I’ve tried new things, and I’m a little richer in life.

Bonus video

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The Cycle Touring Festival – 2017 edition

Two years I ago I attended the inaugural Cycle Touring Festival. It was an experience of wonder and excitement, a realisation that I was not alone. Someone put it much better than me and said it was like finding your tribe. And they were right.

If you look online, you know there are other cycle tourists around, whether round the world cyclists or week-end and holiday cyclists. But when you step out of your front door and start pedalling, you don’t often catch sight of them. More often than not, you meet fast bikes adorned with a lycra-clad person on top. You share a smile, a nod, both happy to be on the bike. But it is not the same thing, not quite. But there, at the festival, people understand. They don’t think you’re brave, they don’t assume you’re fit, and they don’t ask at what speed you’re going. Instead we talk about the other stories like the pure joy of seeing the world from the saddle, the hard times of dealing with your own mind, or the fun moments with strangers and their warmth. We don’t need to dig out for words we never feel are quite right because the other person understand.

And if you’re new to the scene, it’s not a problem. No question is deemed stupid, and there is an eagerness to share knowledge. We’re a small tribe, any new member is welcomed with an embrace and encouraged to find their own way. Because at the end of the day there is no right or wrong way to go cycle touring. The only prerequisite is to have a bicycle and an open mind. The rest is up to you and how you like to ride and see the world.

If you’ve missed this year’s festival, there is always next year. And in the meantime, find a cycle tourist online and ask questions. We’ll all be happy to give you a hand and assuage your fears.

Pedalling Portugal – Photo report

In early March 2016, I found myself in a deserted coach station in Spain. At my feet lay my bike, wrapped in industrial size bin bags. Next to it, my four panniers rested in a line ready to be mounted on the racks. And I stood in front of them, the reality of my journey slowly sinking in. Eventually I hooked the panniers to their rightful place. I got on the bike and off I went. This is what I saw.
For 32 weeks, I will post a batch of photos every Monday morning.
Later words and sounds will come. But for now, I’m going to share what I experienced through the photos I took. If you miss a post, go to this page to find all the links.

I left Santiago on a coach as I needed to get to France quick so I could visit my dad. I got back on the bike in Irun and cycled along the Vélodyssée for a while, met up with my dad, cycled along the Loire à Vélo for a bit, met up with my mom and little sister, ditched the bike in favour of coaches and trains as I got reunited with my partner once more and we set to explore pockets of France. I couldn’t have wished for a better end to my journey.

Pedalling Portugal – Photo report

In early March 2016, I found myself in a deserted coach station in Spain. At my feet lay my bike, wrapped in industrial size bin bags. Next to it, my four panniers rested in a line ready to be mounted on the racks. And I stood in front of them, the reality of my journey slowly sinking in. Eventually I hooked the panniers to their rightful place. I got on the bike and off I went. This is what I saw.
For 32 weeks, I will post a batch of photos every Monday morning.
Later words and sounds will come. But for now, I’m going to share what I experienced through the photos I took. If you miss a post, go to this page to find all the links.

As I left Portugal, I found myself back on the Camino but this time I was with friends. I’d stumbled upon them on one of their breaks, got chatting and found out we were heading the same way. So I tagged along, the hardship of being alone on the road forgotten for a week.