One day I feel I'm ahead of the wheel

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

14.28. Back to idle writing on the train. This time it's the Lightning that's tucked away, but right at the other end of the train. Turns out that the quiet coach is next to the power car - presumably First Class doesn't have to put up with the whoosing, but is also first to crash into anything when southbound. I still think the Mk4 carriages are overly stiffly sprung.

It's kind of nice not having that tight an itinerary, aside from the Shildon bit. But I'm beginning to think that I'm finding it increasingly hard to improvise in situations, or rather that I can cope perfectly well but prefer to be as well-informed as possible. Perhaps trains are a bit of an exception because timing is critical and any delays from time spent thinking, like trying to get a bike onboard, are not acceptable.

I've sort of gone to town with supplies, as I've packed a towel, my hairdryer, shampoo, about four top layers but on bottom only the Endura bike shorts I'm wearing and my lightweight 'desert' trousers. I ought to have included my lycra tights ... perhaps some leg warmers might be available in Cycle Heaven.

I need to find out why the train lurches every so often, as though the driver dabs the brakes and then floors it again. It rather mucks up my handwriting. Timing, it's about three or four minutes between lurches but not totally predictable. Just coming into Morpeth and there's almost no wind whatsoever, and the wind farm isn't doing any business today. My stolen half-window seat is only good until Newcastle so I'm sort of watching the world slip by like a hawk; a hawk who's half-asleep perhaps; a hawk with a GPS unit. The orange brick barn in the middle of fields has collapsed a bit more some last time too - now both walls of the nearer half have gone. The roof's rafters are still there though. Gosh, this bit of track is really bumpy and lurching, and we're only doing 105mph. Through Dudley and Brunswick Village ... they really do like their bricks here. Ok, time to pack up a bit.

21.16. Predictably, no-one arrived for the seat, so I was able to stretch out diagonally at least. It's hard to concentrate to write when someone's mobile phone is playing a slightly honky-tonk rendition of The Entertainer, with a small mistake in it, round and round and round. And round again for good measure. Surely no-one can be that desperate to call someone.

We arrived at York and I spent some time looking at all the bikes parked, and taking the odd photo. I then went to Cycle Heaven and looked at Birdys and Bromptons, thought about buying the third edition of Bicycle Design by Mike Burrows, but didn't: it's not all that different from my first edition, except he wrote about recumbents more. I did get Mike Carden's new book about his Scotland tour. A bit better written, more narrative. Then I got checked in and stowed the bike in the usual place, then went out for food. Since I was on foot I thought I'd stop by Jessops and the other camera shops but every one of them was shut! In the end I wandered back to get a pizza, noticing an enormous motor trike passing by, and chatted to the Turkish guy serving me in the kebab/burger/pizza place. On reflection, a smaller pizza would've been enough—this 13 incher has done me tea and supper and I've drunk about two litres of water: BBQ chicken is good but more sweet than sour, and not enough peppers. Bacon is nicely crunchy. I've spent the evening watching Film4; I came in halfway through a film about secret agent children (weird, especially at half volume so the dialogue didn't really work), then Fool's Gold, which was fun but very silly. And Donald Pleasance is a good actor but here he really looked a bit lost.

21.33 and that phone is still ringing, and that pizza was just too big.

22.02 and almost to the hour, The Entertainer has realised his audience—Mr iPod and Mrs Earplugs—isn't interested and has stopped playing. Hurrah! Now I can read my book properly.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

13.03. Sitting on the steps outside Shildon railway museum, near the children's sandpit, and seven mums with about eight children. The sun is shining but was raining in York when I left. I thought York to Darlington would be a Class 185 but turned out to be a XC Voyager, so at least I knew what to do with the bike. Plenty of seats at 10.00 too! Then onto a Class 142 rail-bus thing of concertina doors and two carriages with tip-up seats. I had a quick ride around Shildon—not a big place—looking for a shop that sold OS maps, but nothing doing. Not even a supermarket here. I don't think Shildon gets too many recumbent bikes either. There didn't seem to be any bike parking at all here, but I managed to get things stowed in a Staff Only cleaners' cupboard. I took my camera and bag, but didn't need any GPS—but wish I'd taken my sunglasses, which it seems I've already scratched today. So, the sandpit is doing a roaring trade, the sun is lovely, and I have a little under two and a half hours before my train back to York. I'm in absolutely no hurry.

20.04. I enjoyed the museum, almost immensely. I actually spent a lot of time looking at the books and DVDs before the exhibits, but decided not to buy any—but The Waverley Route and The A4s' Final Years were tempting, though not at £20 each. I sort of saved the best 'til last and photographed the APT-E and DP1 together, in a sort of 'the future' pose. And Henrietta Brompton is very close in colour to the latter. In the end, I bought a little Rail Art picture and a mug.

By the time I was waiting for my train I'd decided that while architecturally 'nice', Shildon is also full of neds. On the platform, a group of five who delighted in taking a shortcut across the tracks several times. The bike was an extreme curiosity. I got to Darlington easily enough and then found no-one to unlock the luggage door of the Class 91 DVT. A platform person eventually came to help but I had to make a fuss. I spent the 30 minutes standing in the vestibule of First Class rather than wander the entire length of the train for my seat. I was off and running quickly once at York with an East Coast person waiting to unlock the door. I pottered over to Jessops but after all that they didn't have the lens case I needed. The good news is that the new air-padded strap from Calumet works great.

Looking at the OS map I thought I could see the sewage works north of the station, that was Art Deco styled, so I went round the block onto the A19 and then onto the Ouse cycle and footpath (NCN65 I think). I followed it—cattle grids and everything—beyond the ring road and although I smelled it, I didn't see it. It turned out that it was a filter bed and not a sewage works at all. So I went a bit further before joining the A19 again to bomb into town. I paused to photograph a 'Deco cinema, but there are lots of them and the like. Back at the hostel I had a long chat with Aussie guy Duncan, who was about to steal my bed, and then met another Brompton rider who I saw yesterday evening. I ended up getting a load of pasta and salad from the supermarket, rather than more pizza or other junk food, but kept the side up with more chocolate milk. Feeling a bit headachey so I'm calling it a day.

Friday, August 26, 2011

16.37. Today ought to have been 'my' day, for ambling and enjoying and I'm somehow feeling bummed out. It took me ages to get ready to go, then on and off with layers and waterproofs. A quick ride down the road to photograph another Art Deco cinema and then out for the A64 cycle path to Tadcaster. It might be fairly flat and direct but it's bloody scary with 70mph traffic a few metres away with only a metre-wide strip of grass separating road and path. I had to work hard not to sprint along at 21mph or more as I planned to do more than just to Tadcaster and back. The rain came on and basically got steadier.

I spent some time in Cyclesense. I decided to buy some legwarmers (in a thrilling 'extra-large' size) and then looked at Moultons and Bike Fridays. The Pashley Moultons seemed entirely too small for me, while the Bike Friday Pocket Sport with drop bars and telescopic seat tube actually fitted me well. Not that I really want a Bike Friday sort of machine. Would I end up using one in preference to the Brompton? I already know from experience that it stows in places where the Dahon-sized Birdy doesn't, and that was why I bought the Brompton in the first place. Besides, I can't see any unsuspended small-wheeled bike being that much better in Edinburgh than the Brompton. After finishing there, I asked if there was anywhere I could eat my sandwiches out of the rain, and they let me use their kitchen, and made me a cup of tea. I chatted at some length with one of their mechanics who was having lunch. I didn't want to outstay my welcome and left in a bit of a hurry. Again it seemed to take ages packing my panniers and then I realised my back light was missing. I'd ridden a few yards and turned back but there was no sign of it. Nothing for it but to leave, so I started retracing my steps along the crappy bike path. I didn't see my light anywhere. I think my extra bungee must've tripped the release catch on the bracket.

I tried to divert to the quieter path marked on the map, and I did find it, but it was a path across a field and not biking territory. I eventually took the Copmanthorpe turning, to Acaster Malbis and Naburn. I 'photted' the bike on the swing bridge, and noted that they'd painted the bridge all grey; it was rust coloured last time. Then it was a simple matter of following the Velovision route to the race course and back into town, for about 25 miles. Not that far and yet I felt quite tired, and my knee was twinging at about 20 miles. At least I wasn't cold, as I'd put on the leg warmers about five minutes down the road from the shop.

Back in the hostel I was all set to wash my hair but the shower only did cold water, and as I fiddled with the handle it turned in a way it wasn't meant to and then wouldn't turn off. It did once I'd turned it a bit more, but I'd had enough by then. I'm thinking about teatime and what to have. More pizza? It never occurred to me to buy anything while I was out.

Quite frankly, if my train home had been at 16.00, I would've gladly taken it. I've sort of enjoyed myself and sort of not. I've met several 'nice' people, all fleetingly like ships in the night. No-one else seems to have shared a need to chat or for company. And so I carry on my merry, singular way.

Here's a thought. A Bike Friday uses ISO406 wheels, so generally the same sort of machine as my Dahon was. And I got rid of the Dahon because I didn't like its riding position anymore (although BFs are made to measure). It folded to largely the same size as the BF, but didn't pack into a suitcase. A Birdy has the full suspension, and folds to about the same as the Dahon. A non-folding Birdy is kind of what a Moulton ought to be like. And what niche is one of them meant to fill? Not folding, because I have a Brompton. Not longer distance comfort, like today, because I have the recumbent bikes. The Bike Friday did feel impressively rigid. If I was without Annie, what would I use in winter when it snows? If I was doing passenger trains—busy stuff in cities—then the Brompton would win hands down. Do I need a (B+1)? That is perhaps the real question.

21.15. Having read a good chunk of A Bit Scott-ish, it's nice, in a schadenfreudey kind of way, to know that I wasn't the only B&Ber ever to have a bad experience. I had pizza for tea: ham and pineapple as a trust failsafe option, from Chico's a bit further down the road. Almost half the price, half the service, two-thirds as good food as the kebab place. A bit thin, but nice enough though.

Tomorrow's plan is to be up by 8.00 and out before 9.00 with enough time to photograph the other Art Deco buildings I saw in town, and the windmill on the far side of the station. I meant to do that today but ended up on the wrong side of town, but I've marked it as a waypoint in the GPS. Dumbass gave up the ghost in 2009, so maybe I should call this one Dumbass 2, or Divvy, or maybe Dropkick... No, too daggy. The dorm seems quiet this evening: me, the guy with the cratered face who I think is Scandinavian and who never did tell me his name, and maybe one other judging by the luggage, perhaps the Egyptian guy from yesterday whose name I did learn and immediately forgot.

I jumped on a computer for half an hour yesterday to check stuff; I think it was long enough and I wasn't going to pay more for the privilege given my luddite status of non-interconnectedness. Time does fly when you're writing e-mails. I'll head over to Cramond once I'm home tomorrow and see if anyone is around, and if it's not raining. Nearly ten pages of notepad since Wednesday: I must have too much spare time.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

13.16 and Berwick-upon-Tweed is a little way behind and back to bumpy, twisty track. Had a generally lovely morning. I was up early and out to photograph those buildings, and then wandered to York Minster. I took some photo of the outside, then locked the bike and went inside to listen to the organ. Some odd pieces being played: discordant and textured. I looked at the stained glass for a while, and might've mouthed the word 'wow' once or twice. Then out to see the windmill, marooned on its little hill amongst houses. Back at the station, I took the opportunity to make sure the platform staff know I needed the train's luggage compartment open, and then the train was delayed because of engineering restrictions a block or two south. So I chatted with a couple of Australian people and a guy from East Coast, so there were no problems in the end. After all that!

I'm now relaxing at a vacant table so there's plenty of legroom compared with being wedged in before. What are tall people meant to do? Sit and suffer? Or drive cars perhaps? Huh, and motion sickness beckons now, less than ten minutes of writing, but I did read a lot earlier on. Yuck. Cramond later? Time to find out.

Postscript. I made it to Cramond in a fairly efficient half an hour or thereabouts, but as I rather suspected all along, the group had been and gone. I sat at a bench to eat the remaining half of my cereal bar before taking to the promenade again and wending my way home. Although the bike ride calmed my stomach a bit, it only suppressed the nausea, and a day and a half later I'm still not feeling right unless I'm either eating or working out. All in perfect time for my return to work, too!

A few minutes on the internet revealed that the film with the secret agent children on karts was apparently Catch That Kid, from 2004. I'd never heard of it either. And according to ChrisCooper on RailUK, the lurching or jolting that I've noticed on the Class 91 trains is probably related to the automatic speed controller and the application of the rheostatic braking system. I shall need to have my GPS recording a journey and then later annotating the speed profile with the occurrences of the jolts, but that's for another day.

In bright unbroken beams

Saturday, June 25, 2011

12.06. I've been on the ECML lots of times, on Class 91 electrics, HSTs and Voyagers, and today takes the biscuit. It's cramped here in coach B for anyone with long legs and the ride is stiffly sprung and harshly damped, which means my handwriting is all over the place. Mind you, this is the Edinburgh to Newcastle section, which is always slow and bumpy and twisting. I even had to change seat because my booked seat was so tight as to wedge my kneecaps hard up against the one in front. It's also very stuffy in here, in the quiet coach, and not all that quiet. Just passing Morpeth now. My GPS has recorded an average speed of 95.1mph over 107 miles, and 123mph top speed.

I still feel sure I've forgotten to bring something, but I never did make a 'going away' list. I checked with next door for feeding the wee ones, so that's ok at least. The Brompton is wedged into a luggage bay, not as much space as on a Voyager, but it's ok. I slung the lock around it to be safer, but I'm at the power car end so it's less populous on the station platform. I did scout around the back-to-back seats but they're full of bulkheads or too narrow or have boxes marked "Danger" and "Risk of Electrocution" taking up the space. Man, it's really stuffy in here.

Dave says he'll come to this evening ride if he's there in time, so I might at least have some company, though I think everyone probably knows him. It should be fun, though, as I haven't seen Peter since the last time I was at the show. I'm not really sure why I keep going -- I'm not unaware of new bikes, but I also don't need another one (yet), and I don't need more clothes or more tools.

12.25 and Newcastle. At least this time there seems to be a fairly strong forum presence planned, if they hang around for Sunday; I've booked Monday off for travelling home, so I'll be doing that fairly early. It's interesting how you hear the 'whoosh' of the power car as it energises itself before the train moves off. Ok, another 80 miles to go and maybe time for some proper speed! I'm obviously in too deep already, noticing where goods yards used to be, sidings, old embankments ... it's all ever so slightly ridiculous. But it also reminds me of how much our railways have gone to the dogs, and the roads. We'll be into York about 13.30 so there should be plenty of time to get to my hostel and dump some stuff before visiting the museum. I might -- ooh, this train really jerks as it changes gear -- spend a bit of time seeing York more, and maybe see if I can buy a decent case for my telephoto lens.

Heh. There's a Dad in the seat near me who's just been told off by his seven year-old daughter for letting his iPhone start playing music far too loudly. Twice. Lots of disapproving looks, not just from me! 12.38 and Durham, and we still haven't gone more than 123mph. Driver must be conservative today.

Just gone 13.00 and speeding out of Darlington to Northallerton. I've just noticed that the old train shed at Darlington South Junction still has its little turntable.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

14.16. Well then, I had a nice wander around the National Railway Museum yesterday afternoon, once I was installed in the hostel, which took a while. It was really quite busy. I took lots of probably not very good photos, and then walked back to the hostel to get my bike and collect my bikey stuff. I pottered over to the show, and rode up and down, before eventually finding Peter and a bunch of Velovisioners, and then the yACF contingent arrived as well -- all doing the pub ride! I saw Tony and Joan and TJ, and it was good to see them again. Once at the pub I bumped into Charlotte and Julian who somehow hadn't spotted me earlier (I must've been on the wrong bike), plus Kim and Adam and others. Dinner, which was a big veggie burger with chips and coleslaw, took ages as they had so many orders but it was excellent food. I chatted with Peter, Sue, Mr Sue, Dylan, and Dave who'd just arrived. It was beginning to get dark about 21.45 but we didn't set off until gone 22.00, though no problem as I'd brought lights anyway, and rode back into town along the cycle path through Bishopthorpe and over to the racecourse.

It was good catching up with people. I chatted longer with Dylan before creeping back into the hostel without turning on the light. It was a very hot night and I eventually slept only on and off, plus I needed my earplugs which I'd also thoughtfully brought with me. The man in the top bunk was snoring like a trooper, poor guy.

I was up again at 8.15 and had a lovely breakfast of cornflakes, a croissant with peanut butter and some orange juice. I ambled into town for the show and then over to Charlotte and Julian's tent to say hello and have a cup of tea. I never had tea with milk that came out of a squeezy tube before. So it was about 9.30 and already t-shirt and shorts weather, but I'd brought layers with me just in case, because it always rains at York during the show (except the very first time when I went with Liz, and when it tried to thunder and ended up being roasting hot). And so far, it's roasting hot here! I wandered around the trade tents afterwards with Tony who was camped nearby, and we had a long and interesting conversation about everything under the sun. I did buy a second headlight in the end, although the shoes and socks were all in 'common' sizes so there was very little to fit me. After that I was kind of done by about 11.00, but I wandered around some more anyway.

I chatted to Tony, Joan, TJ and Kim in the food tent and then bought a big hotdog for lunch. It came out of a caravan but actually it was very good. Gosh, it's so warm today! They left and I finished my hotdog, then I went back to Tony's tent and met Adam again. While we were chatting there a guy from Edinburgh came over to us -- he wasn't from yACF or any other forum I knew of, but he was interested in my bike because he was tall too. So then I had a longish chat with him! I didn't bring any sunglasses or a hat and the sun is intense. But so far I'm not burned so that's ok. Dave just called so maybe I'll catch up later on. I can see a huge queue for the ice cream van that's parked up a little way from here. I cannot believe the weather -- it was trying to rain when I cycled down to Waverley. Actually I'm feeling a bit heady right now, and I'm not sure what's best to do, but some riding might be better than sitting like a sea lion on the the rocks.

There are lots of Bromptons around, I saw an Easy Racers Ti-Rush, Lee's brought his Fujin, and there's a Greenspeed tandem; then there are Dawes Galaxies, the odd Litespeed and all kinds of tourers. I also met Nick Lobnitz from Carry Freedom, so I spoke to him for a while about the Paper Bicycle. Decent guy, and a good simple bike.

Hmm, it's interesting how it's now mid-afternoon and I've defaulted to writing and sitting by myself. It's not unpleasant, mind you, except for the heat. It's only a shame that the silence is broken by so many little petrol generators for the burger vans.

16.23. Well I wanted good weather and I got it. This afternoon I think the sun's got to me -- the sweat is pouring off me (mmm, nice!) and I'm feeling headachey and wobbly. I took myself to the supermarket down the road to buy bananas and chocolate milk because I remember what A told me two years ago when I was in the same condition ("eat this, and drink a ton of water"). So I've had one and a half bananas -- they're a good size too -- and I've drunk everything in my water bottle, so fingers crossed. The shop was closing at 16.00, which I couldn't believe, so there was no time or presence of mind to buy paracetamol or a towel or a hat. If I'd only brought my Buff I could have soaked it in cold water. And I'm too cheap to buy another Buff, because goodness knows there's enough choice of them here today. I really need a lie down, to be honest. Dave is off somewhere, Tony's in his tent for a siesta and a plunk, and I wish I didn't get so affected by things like this. The chocolate milk is very good, even though it's Tesco and therefore I don't like it.

It's been a mixed day, really, it started nice and people gradually dispersed. I could have wandered around York but I didn't.

17.03 and I'm feeling a bit better, as long as the sun doesn't get too much. I seem to have acquired rather red legs and arms, in a rather typical cyclist manner. It's still so warm! The show is mostly tidying up now. There are rumours abound that this show is going to be the last one, even more so than the one before, and the one before that.

22.00. I spent the early evening with Tony, Kim, Marj and her family at their caravan and was fed cake. Dave came along later on. I talked to them for a while before the family left for town to get a meal; the rest of us talked a bit longer and footered around in the sun ... but I had to get into the shade because I was cooking and I felt pretty rubbish. Tony came over to chat and I suddenly felt ready to cry from the heat and exhaustion. Fortunately I got over it. We finally left about 18.30; Tony and Kim left for their tents and Dave and I went to find something for dinner. I had a quick change into more normal clothes, and thought I was looking a bit red. Just down the road was a take away, so we ordered pizzas (nice and safe, ham and pineapple for me and about the right size). We eventually ate them at the river side, sitting on the wall with my feet dangling. I would've liked to have my feet in the water but it was a bit manky, plus there were lots of ducks and geese to peck at me. We had a long conversation about cycling and trains and stuff.

I'm sitting here on my bed with my Buff finally soaked in cold water and draped over my forehead. Ahhh! So, an interesting day, not the best for heat and health, but ok. At least I can do more night riding now. When I got back to the hostel the others weren't around yet so I put the light on. I am BRIGHT RED. It was never meant to be so sunny or warm -- I had my cotton 3/4s, my long sleeved HH top and my Goretex jacket with me in my bag because I was sure it was going to rain or be cold. Nothing of the sort, just heatstroke. Mmm, I'm trying to finish my chocolate milk before going to bed; feeling hot and full, and my Buff is dripping cold water on me! So to tomorrow, and an easy start.

Monday, June 27, 2011

11.23. I've just caught my train home. The coach is lovely, the weather is lovely, the temperature in here is lovely, everything's lovely. I was expecting a Class 91 electric at 10.32, and I'm actually onboard a Voyager at 11.18 -- running just a touch late. I'm in the quiet coach on this formation, right at the back, with loads and loads of leg room and little Henrietta Brompton is living on the not-busy-at-all rearmost luggage rack.

I went for a wander over to York Minster to get some photographs and to generally enjoy the place. I set off from there for the station about 10.00, and fairly whizzed along the road. I bumped into Tony on the station concourse so we had another long chat! At that point an Australian cyclist turned up, all sunburned nose and scalp, with a Revolution touring bike and a bike bag for his flight. We talked to him for a bit, he left for his airport train, and then we resumed our own, to talk about wildlife photography. It was a nice, final, chance meeting.

I also had a long chat at breakfast time with a couple from Dunoon who'd been at the show as well. He, a teacher, immediately recognised my engineering interests, and they went so far as to offer me a cup of tea and a bed if I was ever over that way and drookit! Otherwise, the hostel itself was quite businessy, in a way, not as homely or bohemian as Oban was, or indeed mad Carole's place. I took some pics of the grand insides before I left and some of the outside. Apart from dying from the heat, it's been not too bad a trip -- but then adventures always suck when you're having them. What I am looking forward to is seeing the wee ones again.

12.33. The train is still running about 45 minutes late. They said it was to do with problems with lineside equipment near Tamworth, and they hinted at further problems. Great! The quiet coach filled up at Newcastle with the Ibiza bunch, all suntans and overly-blonde hair and mobile phones not set to silent. Mind you, there is precious little reception here and the coach (or DVT I suppose) is completely GPS-proof, so I have no idea how fast we're going. The train guard did acknowledge this fact, with a knowing yet weary smile, when I asked him earlier.

Postscript. The journey back to Edinburgh was as quick as it was uneventful, and true to expectations it was raining when I pedalled out of Waverley Station. But after a mile of Princes St and a stop to buy a birthday card the drizzle was no match for my sunburned arms and legs, as I peeled off Goretex for Helly Hansen and then just my t-shirt for the hilly ride homewards. Through the door and after a quick change of clothes I was out again to buy a present for my next door neighbour, then I was lifting kitchen floor tiles to clear up a little reminder that I wasn't the only one who'd felt unwell during the weekend. With the tiles disinfected and hosed down I then set to repairing the bag of cat food which had been sliced open and cut to ribbons by claws unknown, and then retired to the garage to drill holes in Velma the VFR's windscreen to fit a spoiler.

And then with a dinner of huge slabs of lasagne inside me, I had very long, very enjoyable, hot shower. Maps were put away, batteries were recharged and photographs were pored over. And so, happily, to bed.

Fate and skill and chances

Well then.

Over the past few years I wrote at great length with great enthusiasm, but inevitably the naïvety of a beginner turned out to be much of its undoing. Perhaps the story will live on in the minds of those who did read it, before I culled it from these very pages to leave a jarring silence, and perhaps one day I might treat it to a subtle -- or not so subtle -- reworking, even an extension. That its successor behind the scenes is being brought forth oh-so-slowly from my fingers leaves me with the rather bold notion of producing it as a single work rather than by instalment as I did with an earlier work; perhaps it will even see print should someone be mad enough to support it. Not for me is NaNoWriMo, as I seem to have neither the time nor the on-demand ability to crank out material, but I will be plying the lexicon in my own incremental way.

I actually feel bad for shutting everything down for so long and wiping the board clean. I shouldn't have expected too many to be exploring my Are You Sitting Comfortably? page for updates, though that has been my natural receptacle for rekindling my enthusiasm for the written word. I can't keep blaming my accident two years and more ago, and about which I wrote very little, but it destroyed my confidence in many aspects. Those who were here at the time will remember it, and my shoulder mended fine, while my hand mended mostly fine. For several months my guitar playing was badly affected; indeed, my handwriting was affected, with a knuckle joint that even now pops and creaks in a way that it never did before. While I am tearing up the roads, albeit still tentatively, on my motorbike, and tearing up the roads with gusto on the same black bicycle as ever, my writing has come and gone and come again. This time I'm going to write stuff when I feel like it, and when I don't, I shan't; if a piece ends up long, it's because it wanted to be long.

So I guess over the last, hurmmm, two dozen months, I've probably come full circle. Over a summery two weeks in August in 2009 I rode 500 miles across New York and southern Ontario. I saw snakes and hedgehogs and deer. I comprehensively broke, and then mended, parts of my bike. I carried out my own little archeological history investigation. I got lost several times. I climbed over a train while carrying my bike. I discovered I knew more about the CN Tower than the local tour guide. I used a staff bathroom without permission. And worst of all, I caused a statewide shortage of Oreo cookies.

Prologue


A FAMOUS cycle tourist once wrote, "Solitary long-distance travel is addictive". Intrepid touring cyclist might be a more accurate description, sufficient to have written, oh, several books at least and fitting in a ride or two around the world, probably because it was there. My degree of intrepidation had seen me leave Scotland for the far away lands of the seafront on the south coast, once or twice, and even then I'd had a train journey to help me out. I did discover that there not be dragons, just occasional partygoers wearing fluorescent yellow plastic sunglasses, a lot of peeling pale green ironwork, and a shop that sold really excellent chocolate milkshakes. Encountering, at speed, the bicycle lane that kinked alarmingly left and right between the end of a cul-de-sac and a raised flowerbed was possibly the most noteworthy event. Spending the day tootling back and forth from one end of the town to the other, eating paninis and salads, taking an occasional photograph and being very investigative of everything and nothing was my foil to the fact that I was somewhere where I didn't know anyone at all. The problem was, I quickly realised, I wasn't actually enjoying it. So much so in fact that I parked myself somewhere along on the shingle beach, wriggled myself a nice depression in the stones to relax in the sunshine, and wrote about how much I wasn't enjoying it.

Give me thirty years or thereabouts, and hopefully I'll have the rest of it written. In the meantime I'm making plans for the next adventures and quickly realising that I tend to have them faster than I can record them. Last year I took the summer off to go wrenching in my garage, but instead I found myself doing photography and picking brambles along the canal, and not writing very much.