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Christmas,
aged about 8 years old. Trying out my new bike.
The
day before we flew to Spain.
I
wouldn’t recommend Cambridge as a place to
practise for any cycling touring – unless you
are going around Holland
Kayaking
from Fowey, Cornwall
to Poole in Dorset.
This
is one of the better days we had on our trip. The sunset was out of this
world.
Getting
into whitewater kayaking
Working
as a tour leader in Vietnam
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Primary School Teacher
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Ex-
Explore Tour Leader (www.explore.co.uk)
·
Studied in Wales - BSc
Econ in Social Anthropology
·
Ex-pupil of two ESF schools in Hong Kong.
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Aside from biking – loves kayaking whether it
is in the sea or white water – (so long as I don’t get sea sick!)
·
Dislikes – cars, particularly driving one.
·
Looking forward to life back on the road,
picking up how to speak Spanish and visiting schools en-route.
·
Previous cycle touring experience – 5 weeks
around Spain and Portugal
(now I just cycle to and from work and occasionally get out mountain
biking).
I
was born in Germany,
but brought up in Gibraltar. TV was limited, and was only broadcast
from 7pm in the evenings, therefore we were
always outside playing: Star Wars, MacGyver and ET were favoured imaginary games as they allowed us to
explore new places and other dimensions.
One
Christmas, to my delight, my parents brought me a yellow bike. I loved
it. I used to love roaming around Europa Point
on my bike, along with the other “Europa Kids.”
The bike allowed us to have more freedom to explore and go further afield then we were meant to, and often, we would set
up our “camps” in far off lands under cactus bushes or make our own tree
houses overlooking the Gibraltar Straits, waiting for pirates and
wondering what treasures lay across the waters in Morocco.
I
have very fond memories of growing up in such a small and safe
environment, and more often than not, I would always come home late,
covered in scratches and bruises from making dens. Indeed, I was thrown
out of the Brownies for always turning up scruffy and late as I would get
waylaid along the way on an “adventure.”
Even
at that young age, I would dream of travelling
the world and exploring far-off lands. I would often sit in the front
room with a large atlas and trace my finger over the lines on the map and
whisper in awe the names of unknown countries. I wondered when I would have
the opportunity to sleep under the stars in the desert, or gasp at the
sight of one of the majestic snow-capped mountains that were pictured in
the atlas.
I
remember reading somewhere that happiness comes from rediscovering the
things you enjoyed most as a child, and I certainly believe this is true…
I
met Dave whilst I was working for Explore, (www.explore.co.uk)
an adventure tour company in Peru and, as our tours crossed every couple
of weeks we would go out for a few drinks and chat about what the future
had in store...that was when we began to hatch a plan to cycle around
Spain – which had always been one of the things on Dave’s ‘wish’ list.
Although
I had not ridden a bike in years I was up for the adventure and brought
myself a Scott mountain bike. A week before we flew I decided to try out
my new bike (minus the panniers and any other equipment) and struggled
and puffed my way up and down a few kms of the
hills of the Cambridge
countryside. Dave, through muffled laughter declared them mere
inclines…and I began to worry!
Day
one was a baptism of fire, not only did I have to try and assemble my
bike at Bilbao airport, but it was the first
time cycling with panniers and all of our kit, and somehow we ended up on
the motorway pedaling for dear life and trying to avoid the Spanish
Guardia police. Needless to say, I was quickly thrown into the deep-end
and day 3 saw us cycling over the Pyrenees
to start the first leg of the Camino de Santiago and we completed 120km,
our furthest day yet. It was a
make or break day and after crying up many of the hills, but refusing to
give up, the sense of achievement at the end of the day was phenomenal. I
remember flying down the hills with a grin on my face as large as a
Cheshire cat. I was hooked and all my childhood memories came flooding
back – that sense of freedom which only the bike can give – it soars the spirits and puts you back in touch with the
rhythm of life. It gives you the chance to stop and take stock of the
world around you, enabling you to marvel at the beauty of nature.
After
2000kms and five weeks later, not only had we had peddled through
Northern Spain, Portugal and found ourselves in Malaga, but we had
survived being chased by numerous dogs, luckily missed an ETA bomb
explosion, learnt what was and what wasn’t necessary to take with us in
our panniers, my thigh muscles had expanded and finally we had run out of
cash.
After
successfully living in a tent together and being in each others pockets
day in, day out, the relationship had passed the test – and concluded
that we should get “proper” jobs back in the UK.
Five
years later, Dave is now a sea survival instructor and I am a primary
school teacher. However, we both still seek challenges in our everyday
lives – for Dave it is marathon running and for me it has been learning
to kayak and face my apprehension of the sea. Last summer (2007) we
completed a sea adventure, kayaking from Fowey
in Cornwall back to Poole in Dorset
– 300 kms in 10 days in somewhat more
challenging sea conditions than we were used to. This summer (2008) we
are hoping to spend three weeks kayaking around the rest of the South West coast, from Western-super-mare to Fowey.
However,
it is the Spanish cycling trip that still stands out as one of the
highlights of my life and it has always begged the question “What next?”
Notices
have now been handed in, our families have been informed and the wheels
are now in motion for carrying out our grand plan…15,000 miles across the
Americas.
Who knows what the future may hold. But one thing is for certain we won’t
look back and say “if only…”
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