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Compostela to Land’s End
Santiago de Compostela is full of the walking wounded – but they are the happiest, most joyous band of walking wounded you will ever see in peacetime. Under the watchful gaze of the statue of St James flanked either side by the two soaring lichen and moss-covered spires of the cathedral (okay, one was covered in a facsimile of its real self as it received a facelift but I do hope they leave the lichen where it is), the vast expanse of the Plaza de Obradoiro is the perfect place to sit and watch the extraordinary scene of pilgrims enter the concourse in pure celebration and sheer relief that their…
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Camino calling
It has taken a while but the bean is back on the bike – this time to follow ‘El Camino’ (also known as The Way of St James) across the Iberian Peninsula towards Santiago de Compostela. My original intention has been to update the blog as I go; to write about the exhilarating highs and occasional lows of cycle touring, or the elemental experience of wild camping across the diverse patchwork of regions that make up northern Spain. Yet, I’ve not been able to commit the words to the page until now. It’s partly because I’ve wanted to resist the compulsion to write and be in search of the next…
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Road to Lalibela
You can understand why King Lalibela wanted to establish his ‘New Jerusulem’ in the back of beyond. Reaching the holy town is a journey in itself. Nearing the final leg of my ‘Tour de Ethiopique’, I set off at daybreak from the junction village of Gashana to get some kilometres behind me before reaching the fabled ‘pista’ that I knew lay in wait before me. Affectionately termed by Ethiopians as a road without tarmac, the ‘pista’ is by all intents and purposes a ‘road’ surface consisting of rubble, volcanic detritus and infinite quantities of dust. Riding it on two wheels is little like skiing without poles; it’s a controlled fall,…
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Eat sleep cycle
Once the circadian rhythms of cycle touring fully set in, it’s the simple things that take on a special significance: The honey-dew light of daybreak as the early morning sun spreads its golden wings over a jagged table-top horizon; an aromatic stove-brewed espresso with the restorative power to clear the mist of a dream-state mind; the perceptible physical gear change of aching leg muscles as they burst back into life again; encounters with sprightly, giggling groups of children as they make the long walk to school; starbursts of luminous green aloe lining the roadside verge; the faltering flight of butterflies that pass miraculously through a blur of spokes in a…
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A Roundabout to Coffee
I never thought that I could be so overjoyed at the sight of a strip of tarmac. So overjoyed, in fact, that I wanted to kneel down and kiss its smooth, bitumen-coated surface. This was trumped shortly afterwards by a giant pot of coffee. After battling through seemingly endless kilometres of ungraded gravel, I finally reached Jimma, the capital of the coffee growing region in the western highlands. In addition to its bold claim to be the origin of coffee; the dusty, chaotic but charming university town is worthy of a visit for many reasons. For one, I can’t think of any other town that can boast of its very…
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Highland Hysteria
You know you’re getting off the beaten track because the faranji frenzy turns into pure highland hysteria. If you could bottle it, it would be strong, potent stuff. The more ‘off-piste’ you go, the more hysterical the children. It’s an overwhelming, psychologically challenging, at times hilarious, often surreal, deeply moving, endlessly entertaining experience; especially the bizarre sight of young boys jigging about whilst shaking their ‘moneymaker’ for all it’s worth on the dusty roadside verge. Following on from an account in a previous post, here is the latest abridged version of the perpetual roadside chorus that has accompanied my ‘Tour de Ethiopique’ wherever I go: Habasha (Ethiopian): High, high, highland,…
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Tour de Ethiopique
When the day of departure finally came, the early morning sun was shining brightly in a big, blue African sky without a threatening storm cloud in sight – the first time in a month. A sign that Kareumt (the long rainy season from June – September) was finally coming to an end as the warm rays bathed the Friary garden with the promise of an Ethiopian spring. After bidding farewell to the Brothers over a simple breakfast of honey and bread, washed down with copious amounts of freshly prepared coffee, I took a deep breath and started to turn my wheels once more. If the truth be told, I had…
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Fast and Furious
Negotiating the chaotic bumper-to-bumper traffic of Tripoli in a vain search for a hostel shocked me into the feeling that I had been grabbed by the scruff of my neck and pulled through a proverbial Lebanese bush backwards. I must have had the stunned look of a rabbit caught between the headlights because a Swedish chap of Lebanese descent called Nasser – who had recognised the EU ‘halo’ of stars on my mudguard – pulled up in his 4×4 to insist on subsidising my night’s accommodation. This was followed shortly by a pit stop of fresh carrot juice prepared by a kindly roadside vendor who refused payment. Yet again, random…
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A Turkish Tale (of two halves)
There’s a word for it in Turkish. It’s called ağırlamak, which means ‘to show hospitality.’ And it has blown me away – except from the one occasion when it nearly did. But let’s start with Turkish hospitality in the truest sense of the word. I had only been on Asian soil for a couple of hours after taking the short evening boat trip across the Marmara Sea from Istanbul when I stopped off for a roadside sucuk (spicy beef sausage) to fuel the legs. Night had fallen fast and I still had a good stretch of road to go before I could get into any serious wild camp country. Whilst…
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La Ciclista Dolce Vita
Italy is unquestionably a cyclist’s (and coffee lover’s) paradise. It’s as if the country has been designed for the bike. Then again, for a nation that celebrates the romance of cycling with such style and passion it is hardly surprising. And thanks to Tullio Campagnolo’s ingenious invention – who changed the course of the history of the bicycle with the momentous words ‘Bisogno cambiá qualcossa de drio!‘ (something must change at the rear!) – of the first quick release wheel followed by the derailleur, Italy is one of the few countries that can be credited with revolutionising cycling beyond recognition. In evolutionary terms, it is akin to our own leap…