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A Couple of Days Ride Outta Vasco da Gama.

Well a couple of minutes, and by taxi.

After my crash in Spain I have been pretty apprehensive about getting back on the bike, let alone getting in amongst the Indian, world renowned, traffic.

Without a doubt my body is not totally ready. My leg is mainly healed, but my back is still considerably paining me. Grrrrrrrr.

I stayed in UK with my good friend Shpend who looked after me perfectly, I am immensely grateful. Well his wife and daughter fulfilled the lions share of the work. Shpend as always sat at the back and provided ‘help and advice’.

Seems like good weather.

Packing went well. Check in went well. The check in guy booked the bike all the way to Goa.

Couldn’t sleep on the plane but watched 5 movies.

Arrived in Mumbai. 5 hours in Mumbai. Hmmm e-visa, India seem to be obsessed with paperwork. The e-visa has to be printed out. But I had and was let in.

I had to recheck in my bike, I think so they could charge me excess luggage. 2000 rupees (about £22), card came to my rescue.

I tried all 4 cash points at the airport all refused. Then I felt a buzzing in my pocket, texts, my bank freezing all my cards thinking they had been cloned. A couple of texts from me later and I had access to my money. Whoop, panic over.

Flew to Goa, I had to wait a long time but eventually my bike turned up.

I got a taxi to the guesthouse. Seems quaint.

I met a Swiss couple we talked till late.

I spent the morning putting together the bike. I was supposed to leave today but have booked a second night… it’s quite nice, beach, sunshine.

Then my swiss friends left for Kerela.

And I am now set and ready to hit the road tomorrow.

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It’s not all a bed of roses.

This is where it all starts to fall apart.

I had had a fantastic ride down to Motril, a cup of coffee and a few jealous making snaps and banter to my friends. I set the bike aiming towards Orgiva.

Twists and turns through Motril and then off the mainish road down to the roundabout. Turning left, I was indicating to come off the roundabout, a car slowing to stop on my right hand side, but the driver had not seen me and accelerated into my side, pain, I was flying and knew it wouldn’t end well, I landed head then my back.

The pain in my leg and back was excruciating and blood was gushing out of my leg onto the ground… hmmm that’s not good. Cars stopping, people swarming, Spanish from many different mouths, I could only feel pain. I was not knocked out, I looked up to see my beloved Reilly being moved to the side of the road, my light, for visibility, forlornly blinking at me. The driver of the car was crying, I was crying (I do have a history of crying). The police were there she was admitting culpability. Ambulance called, all the emergency services were fantastic, we gesticulated our way to the hospital.

There I was treated to stitches in my leg and multiple x rays to my ribs. The prognosis was….. nothing broken.

I took a taxi to the police lockup, collected my bike and took a taxi back to my apartment.

Battered and bruised, I forgot to get a police report number but remembered to get a taxi receipt.

Ripped shirt, ripped base layer, ripped gloves, dented helmet, ripped shorts, scuffed shoes broken Garmin 1030……. socks ok.

Now I’m ok while I stay here but as many of you know I am of no fixed abode when in UK so nowhere to rehabilitate, No doctor to go to. Nowhere to get off the plane and go to.

I’m also supposed to be going to India on 18th Jan……… it’s a fucking mess and I am miserable.

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Embrace the ascetic.

I camped on a stark hill behind a derelict barn. Pitching my tent in the lush green grass. Ticks, I thought. It wasn’t much after 5 but the sun was setting and I knew once it dropped behind the hill cold would set in. It’s always great to have a wall to lean the bike against (easier to unpack and to pack).

I couldn’t be bothered hanging around I dived into the tent. Changed into my night clothes (merino long John’s and a long sleeved base layer, yes yes that was merino also). I have a cooker, I have a pot, I have a bit of food I could cook, but I just cut 4 slices of cheese and 4 slices of salami, chewed them slowly savouring the Spanish taste. And that was my evening meal.

A fitful night tossing and turning, I read on and off for lots of it, steps and noises outside kept my eyes open…. I hope animals. The slight slope of the ground caused me to slide to the bottom of the tent and force the inner and outer together causing condensation to soak my sleeping bag.

Eventually daybreak came to my rescue, I did sleep but not a great deal. Slid into my now 4 days unwashed shorts and shirt, shrugged into my ever used overshoot and went out to greet the day.

A glory to behold, mist covering the valleys and mountains shining in a multitude of different colours. A long sigh of the joy of every day.

My tent was sodden, I rammed it into it’s bag… I’ll deal with that tonight I hope. Wiping the rat shit off the bike (hmmm that must have been what the noise was). Filled each bag with its specific piece of equipment.

As I rounded the front of the barn I saw a car and lorry and 2 guys emptying the lorry, dodgy business, probably, I just ride on by.

20 mins later I got into a cafe for breakfast coffee, toast rubbed with garlic and tomatoes lashings of olive oil and Pinga… the guys in the cafe recommended it.

I rode on in 20 km stints stopping once for some more cheese and rolls. No lunch just water and a litre of milk.

When I entered Osune, rain started to fall. I just went to the nearest hotel.

Tent hanging, sleeping bag hanging. But I still just eat bread and cheese in the corner of the room.

Restaurants galore. I suppose I quite like being hard on myself.

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Sleep, blessed sleep.

I told Per I would be up at 07.00, but I did not make an appearance till 08.00. And having gone to bed at 22.00 I am pleased to say I had the best night’s sleep for a year.

So after a delicious breakfast, cheese, Swedish biscuits, great coffee. I put my life together and left at about 10.00ish. Thank you so much for your hospitality Per.

A pretty uneventful day, slow ride to Villa Real ferry across to Spain where I met Ben a French cyclist who had been cycling since October. Lucky guy.

We parted and I went in search for a camp site. Yep that’s pretty much it. Hey it can’t all be exceptional. 😏

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😦😥😏😎😂😂😂

For 2 weeks now I have been throwing stuff out, gradually the closer to the end I get the more vehement and upset I got.

But we had a completion date (17/12/2018) and I was driving to have the house empty by that date. So to complicate matters I decided to leave UK for India on my bike on 10th Dec……

Anyway, it became apparent this date and destination was stressing me way too much, so I changed it. So now the plan is 12 Dec fly to Portugal, ride to Spain, stay in Spain for a month, leave 14th Jan then fly to India 18th Jan for 28 days, then Sri Lanka for 28 days then Oman 15 days then well see what life brings.

I booked the taxi the afternoon before, specifically mentioning the bike box, for 01.30 for a 02.00 bus. Packed the bike dumped the last of the stuff in the skip and waited. 01.25 the taxi turned up, the situation went a little like this ‘Can you put the back seats down for the bike box’ ‘No’ ‘I specifically said I had a bike box’ ‘it won’t fit in’ ‘ waaaaaaaaaaaaaat’ ‘No’ ‘Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuk, fuck fuck fuck’ 01.30 neighbours now probably are not asleep. I’m running in the house out the house swearing shouting ‘well you might as well fuck off then’ I have to say I wasn’t particularly gracious. I phoned another taxi with a fully automated system. He turned up within 15 mins and restored my faith in humankind he was so good. I got to the bus stop 15 mins early, caught the bus, put my feet up at Gatwick caught the plane and……….

As I ride to Loule from Faro my back derailleur plucked my spokes like a badly tuned guitar, hmmm bent cable hanger. I got to a bike shop

It may not look it but it’s bent enough. We have bodged it a bit, but no bottom gear.

I got to see Kathleen for coffee which was fantastic.

I then cruised down to see Per at the beautiful Quinta Verda (QV B & B on Facebook).

Shower and a bit of rest to catch up what I missed from last night.

Then I received a message from my son Luke, which I can hardly find superlatives enough to describe how proud I am of him. Not only has he been unconditionally accepted on a PhD course for the next (god knows how long he can stretch it out for, surely one day he will get a real job) which we found out last week, but he has just received a distinction grade for his masters degree. You are a bloody star Luke. Well done will have to suffice. 🤩

That’s how to celebrate. 😀

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A fool and his Money are Easily Parted

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Yep, he’s the bloke, the fool, lucky you are not looking at him from the side there would be daylight shining through.

Now I have made it no secret that it is my desire to go travelling for a bit. I was in a quandary as to what bike to ride. I have my Reilly Gradient that is a spanking good bike, but I do feel sometimes that a little fatter tyres would be more conducive to the terrain that I desire to travel over.
I follow blogs and I watch people travelling distances off road, camping in the wilds of countries desolate places, hard to get to places. Places I can come back from and smile happily to myself that I cycled there.

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So I made the decision to buy a 29″ off road touring bike and came up with the Surley Ogre I promptly went off and bought the frame and for sure I was pleased, I put in some anti rust (yep it’s steel), pressed in a Chris King headset and I was nearly ready to go.
I have always maintained that if you buy a touring bike it should be as unobtrusive as possible. Black and scratched, in that way people do not notice it, and people do not think it’s up to much if there are scratches.

But……….why does there have to be a but, but there always is a but in my case. Something caught my eye, it wasn’t black, it wasn’t green, it wasn’t dark blue….20180912_091152

Fuck me that’s PINK you may say but you would be wrong, it’s a very demure Rasberry. I talked to my lovely niece Emma who is living in our house at the moment (quite a little happy community we have going on here), she is the knower of all things beautiful and colour coordinated and I asked her what colour headset and bottom bracket would suite and she came up with green, I promptly went out and bought a Matt Emerald Green, Chris King, bottom bracket and headset, hard to get hold of the limited edition matt.

The consensus, Myself, Emma and the guys in Bike Zone St Michael’s Street, Central Oxford, all agree that it looks perfect, as unobtrusive as you could get.

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I have a Shimano XTR crank with a Middleburn 40 tooth chainring (last forever those buggers) , some Avid BB7 brakes taken from another bike, surely I’ll get some Alligator i links for the brakes.

I still have an old set of Hunter Luv Handles that will go on, they are, sadly, not made anymore, but I am so hankering after an Oddity Razorbar wide, and with acres of space to attach luggage and lights and handholds and maybe tri bars, the full array……… anyone want to spring for the titanium ones for me.

The wheels with my Rohloff hub, are on their way, so excited.

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Timon and Bart

Way back in October 2012 I met 2 guys, Timon and Bart. We rode together for a couple of weeks. The account of our ride together is available by clicking the photos below:

I am riding to a small camp site close to Winchester to meet up with them. We try to meet every year, but of course, life and work sometimes gets in the way. Timon visited me in Portugal last year. Bart pretends to be working hard, for Katusha cycling (but I have only seen minimal freebies)

We will relive our travels together and separate adventures. They will reinvigorate my enthusiasm for life and travel.

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A few things I learnt.

Once again mainly I relearnt that, too much organisation is never a good thing. As they say, ‘Adventure begins when certainty ends’. Discovering resourcefulness, ability to adapt in all situations, struggle is my friend. If everything is planned certainty will never end. Run with a vague framework. I like that.

Organising my packing system takes a week to perfect (sort of).

I brought some stuff I didn’t use, applies to this trip only:

  1. A mug or pot, I used one, but could reverse.
  2. Coffee maker.
  3. Coffee
  4. All cooking equipment.
  5. A T shirt.
  6. The paper map.
  7. Paper map holder.

I probably could have done without the rain fly on the tent. I reckon that’s about it, that would have freed up a lot of space for food.

I could possibly have done with a pair of evening shorts.

Always rely on local knowledge, thanks Tom Kirk, who runs cycle camps based in Órgiva, for telling me about the Alpujarra region of Andalusia, and for putting me in touch with Alpujarra Bikes who sorted my back wheel.

Buying a rack called ‘expedition’ and not really trying it out before the trip is not a good idea if the makers idea of an expedition is getting across the border to Derbyshire from Yorkshire. Grrrrrrrrrr. Bin for that.

Carradice Super C Saddlebags are great, still wish I had bought the Camper long flap though.

Rest of the bag setup was great. 3 litre water bladder in the half frame bag was perfect. I could carry 5.5 litres, I still ran out twice.

Even the front bag system worked, much to my surprise.

The new Sinewave Beacon was great, charged my external battery enough to make me think it’ll be a good investment.

The Reilly Gradient still is a beauty to ride.

Gutted my Keen spd Sandals have broken. They don’t make them the same any more.

I could have done with my GoPro, there were some days I would have loved to have filmed some long sections of my rides.

Blogging with a phone is good.

Bikepacking is frustrating,

  • As there is less space I am limited in the amount of fresh food I can carry.
  • Practically everything has to come off the bike at night.
  • It takes much longer to pack up every morning.
  • It’s much harsher on the bags I use, causing more wear and tear.
  • Zips are not a particularly good form of closure.

I’ll definitely be going there again. 🙂
There may be more but bed is calling.

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The last throws of my Spanish sojourn.

As you get closer to Malaga the campsites become a living hell. People have permanent slots, with full on houses in the allotted pitch, full size tv’s, ghetto blasters, music till way after midnight. Now I’m a man of very simple pleasures and going to bed early is one of them, so all this late nightness didn’t sit well.

I still woke up at 7ish packed and got out fast. The campsite was still humming with communal snoring.

I stopped for breakfast.

Early morning roads are the best and the quiet road and cool breeze suited me just fine. I set the Garmin on Malaga and followed it’s directions.

Entering Malaga I looked from side to side seeking a bike shop, one came up on my left, Recyclo Bike Shop, and I swung in.

Talked to Greg who was from London I asked and received a bike box for my return to UK. That’s the hard bit of my day done. Now all I have to do today is sightsee around Malaga till I want to pack up and get to the airport.

Then I went for a coffee at their other shop in the centre of Malaga.

Then I cycled back to the original shop packed up my bike.

A last day made easy by finding an amenable owner of a bike shop.

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Down to the coast.

I’m sort of a day ahead of schedule so I thought I’d do a bit of a loop between Órgiva and Lanjarón then cruise down to the coast and near to Málaga.

The route took me past Beneficio so I was intrigued. I turned and turned again I hiked the bike, I pushed, I lifted, I dragged, I sweated bagnabit I sweated, I swore, I got angry, I got scratched, I slipped and bounced down a slope…. I turned back, and hit the road.

Lanjarón is a beautiful little town, there are some run down bits but, they had put the flags out for me so I liked it.

After coffee, I put the bike on the road and rode to the campsite, got in about 6pm. There were some hills, some of the scenery was great.