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North Pennine Cycle Camp Day 3

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  I could have lit the stove this morning for my brew but the combination of a cold morning, a ridiculous dew and splendid facilities for brews at the reception centre made the decision an easy one. Before crawling out of my tent, I attempted a video of myself in bed in the tent. I envisaged myself cutting the figure of an intrepid explorer surviving against all odds in some frozen wasteland with just a tube of toothpaste to eat etc. As it was, the video was just me mumbling about the fact that I was in bed in the tent – obvious to the most casual of observers. I grabbed my cup, a tea bag and some milk and went over to the room at the reception area. There were settees, a kitchen complete with kettle, toaster and cups and so on and it was warm and dry. There was one other person in the room when I walked in. She was probably in her 40s and she was attending to het blisters. After several minutes of silence, I asked her if she was attending to her blisters. It seemed like a safe e...
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North Pennines Cycle Camp Day 2

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  It wasn't supposed to rain. But at around 6am, as I lay in my tent, I heard the unmistakable pitter patter on the tent. If I'd been about to get in the car and drive off, I would have enjoyed the experience but the snug and cosy feeling which that sound can illicit was tempered by the knowledge that fairly soon i would have to pack up in it. I tried working out how to roll up mats and stuff sleeping bags into their impossibly small bags within the confines of a one-man tent. (I use the word man loosely) By the time I did get up the rain had stopped but the tent was soaking. I unpegged it and gave it an impressive sounding shake. Admittedly the other occupants of the site had yet to emerge but they had been quite evident through the evening and one man (sorry to assume it was a man) snored from before 10:30 until about 7:30 without omitting a single snored inhalation as far as I was aware. I imagined it would be more or less down to Penrith for breakfast. When will I learn ...
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North Pennine Cycle Camp Day 1

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When I woke up, I was ready to go. I plan these trips quite meticulously. Absolutely everything is on a list. If everything is ticked off then I haven't forgotten anything. Barnard Castle is an hour and a half's car journey up the road. I spent most of the journey listening to radio 4. How often it is that you arrive somewhere and realise that the plight of those stranded abroad by airport staffing issues doesn't fascinate you enough to warrant 50 minutes of invasion to your headspace but only too late do you realise as you switch the engine off at the end of the journey. Still, it kept me from tiresome thoughts concerning why I was actually doing this.  It's the same every time. I want to go and i don't want to go. I want the adventure of surviving with all that i need balanced on two wheels but i don't want to be on my own. It always takes me about 24 hours to get into it. It then gets easier to the point where i wonder if it might get too easy. Eat, move, sle...
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On a sea of prattle

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We've done some stuff over the last few weeks but getting up at 5:30 and setting off in the pitch dark was a new one. (Don't forget, we are an hour later in France) We needed to catch the ferry from St. Malo at 8am so there was no choice but to set off from my parents at unearthly O'clock. After hurried hugs and goodbyes, we set off down their track. They live in the middle of nowhere so it was very black. We just took each pothole as it happened. So did the tandem, of course. The tandem has been amazing over this trip. One puncture and a few cable adjustments and tyre reinflates, as you'd expect.  We set off like coiled springs. Probably the combination of knowing we had a boat to catch and having a whole day off cycling, the day before! We arrived fifteen minutes before the gates opened for the port and first spent some time talking to a neighbouring motorist then to two men who turned up on the bike lane behind us. We had plenty of time to compare notes. They had spe...
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Tomorrow...

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 Final blog is tomorrow. Then you can relax....
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Up a gear

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 For the record, neither Kate nor I sneaked down to the 'pub' below us for a snifter of alcohol in the night. In fact we slept. It was the first night for a long time with rectangular pillows. French pillows are square. Why does that make a difference? I don't know but we're both obviously rectangular pillow sorts of people.  I was up before I needed to be. I think it was the lure if the Golden Grahams for breakfast.  They didn't disappoint. With Cooper's original marmalade on my toast and cup of good coffee, we hit the jackpot.  Thus fuelled, we set off for what was the last full day's ride, saying goodbye to Auntie Susan and Uncle Eric and thanking them for being wonderful hosts. There was much up and down today but geographically only. Our spirits remained up. We seemed to be 'up a gear' in every sense. Was it the smell of victory? Was it the slightly favourable wind? Was it the Golden Grahams? We had wondered about having lunch in Fougeres, but w...
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Familiar and familial

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 Café? Oui. Orange? Oui. Baguette? Oui. Confiture? Oui. Buerre? Oui. I was beginning to panic, as the slightly terrifying host demanded to know our exact breakfast requirements. I hoped he'd say Tripe? So that I could say Non, and stop looking like I was out for all I could get. But no. His list ended with an affirmative answer to everything he had suggested. And don't drink anything in bed! Now I know we were staying in a 15th century castle but the bed was not 15th century. It was like one of IKEA's finest. I'm afraid we broke the rules. Kate doesn't function unless the day has started with tea in bed. Even if it's Liptons. We ate the carefully prescribed breakfast in a lovely room with huge windows which opened out onto the roofs of Laval.  The morning was more of the same in terms of cycling up the Mayenne River. We were able to tank it. The surface was good and our legs were in good form. We even 'took out' a few electric bikes which was quite satis...
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