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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)
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Studied
in Wales - BSc Econ in Social Anthropology
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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!)
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Dislikes
– cars, particularly driving one.
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Looking
forward to life back on the road, picking up how to speak Spanish and visiting
schools en-route.
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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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