Currently (Spring 2018) I am cycling towards Russia. If you are here to find out where I am at the moment, or to read a little about this trip, go here.
At about the age of twelve, my family and I moved from London to the north-east of Scotland. We lived at first on a huge country estate, a few miles from the nearest town or bus stop, and so cycling was the only way to get about and one of the few things to do. Not long after that, I became obsessed with mountain biking. I’d cycle to school, cycle home, and then to relax i’d cycle around the woods. I’d jump my bike as high and as far as I could, or ride it down stairs, backwards, on one wheel, up pieces of street furniture, across scaffolding - basically anything traditionally unsuitable for cycling.
I moved to a school too distant to cycle every morning, and discovered the guitar, which subsequently took up all of my free time. This gave my bike a well-deserved temporary retirement, but strained the musical tolerance of my family. By the time I came around to recommissioning the bike, I had developed a sense of self-preservation that prevented me from picking up where I left off, so cycling became a form of transport once again.
Some years later, three university friends and I decided (for some reason - none of us were cyclists) to try cycling from my family’s house in the north east, to Applecross on the west coast. We borrowed bikes (including my old Orange mountain bike), cobbled together some racks and bags, and set off east with no idea what we were doing but with the perfect cycle touring spirit. In four days, we rode to Applecross, unaware that we had to cross the third highest road in Scotland, with the steepest ascent of any road in the UK, until we got there. After 140 miles, we took the train home, as it was due to rain.
The next year, tired of walking to lectures, I brought a beautiful old Reynolds 531 road racer (that dad bought at an auction for £5) to Oxford with me. When my then-girlfriend suggested we go walking in North Wales, it was more her decision than mine that we bring our bikes - I had removed the smaller chainring on the lightweight road bike when the front derailleur gave up. But, at the last minute, I found a way to fix an old rack to the machine, and purchased some military surplus haversacks to use as panniers - I had no idea they would later make it to Istanbul with me. Both the bike and my legs survived! Amazingly, so did I, despite Janine’s enthusiastic leadership along the Crib Goch ridge.
A few years onwards, I finally got a little more serious about touring. When I lost my job in Aberdeen, I took my redundancy paycheck and bought a beautiful red Surly Disc Trucker. With the same old haversacks, I went on a few rides around Scotland.
This was enough to pique my interest, and anyway, I had not heard back after interviewing for the one job I really wanted. So I sold my car and set off east, hoping to get to Budapest or somewhere like that. I made it as far as Istanbul - the end of Europe, the start of the Asian continent. You can read a little about that truly life changing journey here.
En route to Istanbul, I had signed the contract for the aforementioned job. While they didn’t allow me enough time to get to China before my start date, they were instead tolerant enough to give me some sabbatical time later in the year. I used that to take the Surly to Iceland, land of ice, fire, headwinds, river crossings, northern lights, skyr, vikings, black metal, busking Germans, hitchhiking acrobats, naked Russian cyclists in glacial lagoons, and all sorts of adventures that I haven’t written up in any proper way. Maybe one day.
The adventure continues. 2018 brought change for me, and I quit my job and sold my mx5 to take an ageing recumbent to Northern Europe with me. You can find updates on my progress here.
