The Cycle Path
Cycle Log
Aftermath - August 2004
It seems almost like a fuzzily remembered party but I have to keep reminding myself that this sublime experience did actually take place and I did cycle 800 miles on a folding bicycle with 18" wheels. I can feel my more sharply defined muscles and I can fit into shorts that were two inches too tight a month ago. Despite the best efforts of predatory ticks and their biochemical nastiness I do feel much more 'alive' and content. Perhaps the seeds of this calm were sown as I planned my route, described my ambitions and thought through my 'Plan B' and 'Plan C' contingencies. I was unconsciously building in calm from the concept through to the execution. This, in part, enabled me to start at noon and to end at noon on the days assigned to the start and the end of the journey whilst allowing latitude for all manner of things to happen in between. There were times of anxiety related to mechanical failure...particularly the tyre ruptures or tick induced fatigue but I never felt in any way threatened by people or situations. Indeed the opposite was true; people contact energised the experience greatly and I always said "hello" to everyone. The weather was just as it was...it rained or it didn't...the sun shone or it didn't. I carried on cycling and adjusted my outer clothing to suit but I always wore my shorts. There were superb bits of kit: my Altura shorts; the Camelbak (slogan: 'hydrate or die'); my Helly Hansen wind (but not water) proof top that dried off quickly; all the Ortlieb panniers and bar bag that never let in a single drop of water; the Nikon 3100 digital camera that didn't fluff a single shot; my Pedlar's travelling towel and my Pedlar's 'moleskine' notebook (with ticket flap); my two T-shirts bearing the legend LONG, SLOW AND WIGGLY IOW TO CAPE WRATH SUMMER 2004; the iPAQ 5550 loaded with Memory Maps of my entire route on familiar OS; a Craghoppers vest that let out the sweat (and kept me cool but not clammy) and my high pressure Morph road pump. Kit I didn't use included: the breatheable flourescent yellow poncho cape; a similar hued safety tabard; a space blanket; a piezo-electric insect bite zapper; waterproof overtrousers; several extra emergency packs of insulin, hypodermic needles and blood presure tablets for my diabetic condition; the first aid kit; adjustable spanner; screwdriver; biketool; bike lock with chain and the bespoke Birdy pump. Bits of kit that fell off, broke or disappeared: some socks and shreddies left in youth hostel drying rooms; my Alaskan anti-grizzly bear bell; the Birdy kickstand (Banbury Cycles); the front mudguard (Inverness and a cattle grid near Kyle of Durness); the front suspension unit bolt (later fixed) of the Birdy Grey (Drumochter Pass); two tyres made in Taiwan (Birdy Road-bottle glass in Cotswolds, Schwalbe Marathon - sidewall beading in Tomatin) and my Palm 3 electronic diary screen (although this has since recovered albeit that it kept all my contact numbers out of sight for the duration of the trip!).
Being on the road gave a different sense of energy priorities with the principle of energy conservation top of the list. On a couple of occasions journalists phoned me to ask if I could pop in to their studios to do radio interviews...I would explain that I was on a bike several dozen miles away..."but it's only for a couple of minutes"..."I'm on a bicycle several dozen miles away and I won't reach you until 6pm"..."but we close at 5...can't you speed up?" Hills were not a problem because all hills have two sides; even if clawing your way up one side for a couple of hours was tiring, the freewheel down the other was exhilarating and probably covered a huge distance. A snakes and ladders type of progress but one to relax into not fret about. I grew accustomed to the different geomorphological attributes of landscapes from folded and eroded chalk; oolitic limestones with gradual dip slopes and scarred scarp slopes to the cycling challenges of glaciated northern scenery. Surfaces and traction were very varied and scanning the way ahead for bottle glass became a strong feature of progress. The worst 'rideable' traffic-free surfaces were undoubtedly parts of the canal towpath system through northern Birmingham/Wolverhampton, the tragic Irwell Valley Sculpture Trail, but also off-road parts of Hampshire, Oxfordshire and the NCN route over Drumochter Pass. The best traffic-free rideable surfaces were Seaview to Ryde, Redditch NCN, the southern Birmingham canal towpaths, NCN sections under Pendle Hill, Clitheroe; the West Fife cycleway, and parts of the old A9 in Scotland. Most of the on-road sections were chosen for their in-built narrowness, quiet road characteristics, heritage qualities (old Roman Roads, drove roads and Ridgeways) or parts of the National Byway. I selected the route to take me through some of Britain's finest landscapes: Isle of Wight AONB, South Downs National Park, North Wessex Downs AONB, Cotswolds AONB, Cannock Chase AONB, Forest of Bowland AONB, Lake District National Park, Southern Uplands, Ochills, Cairngorms National Park, Black Isle, Mackay Country. However, everywhere I went the strength and character of place shone through and people's utilitarian or creative responses to it were visible. Local distinctiveness is alive from the IOW to Cape Wrath...exemplified by the Mackay Country Project in Sutherland and Claire Taylor's dinosaur bone jewellery from the beaches of West Wight...a little bit of something at either end and a whole lot in the middle.
