I do stuff. I go places.
Shocking behaviour, I know. Needs to change. Went up to the co-op for some salad for dinner in an attempt to arrest the dependence on the Land Rover. Legs are burning, throat is raw. Only a 2km trip. Caught a midge in the eye too. Must get better.
It is the first half of his autobiographical account of the 4 years he spent traversing the globe by bicycle on a slim budget of £7000. From London, through Europe, the Middle East and down the east of Africa.
Mornings come peacefully on the road. I wake slowly with the daylight, turning in my sleeping bag, adjusting the bundle of clothes that act as my pillow and dozing off once or twice until my head is clear and ready to begin the day. I lie still and listen to the sounds outside my tent. Sometimes birdsong, sometimes whooshing vehicles, sometimes water, sometimes silence. I unzip the tent door and feel the fresh air on my face. I check the weather and particlarly the wind: strong winds can seriously spoil my day.
Turns out, not a whole lot.
“This was not a typical backpacking or camping trip—there is no real time spent in camp, per say. You’re not sitting around and roasting marshmallows and singing songs. You eat for functional purposes—not for the experience of eating. At the end of the day, all you want to do is set up camp and get to sleep so you wake up and do it all over again. So bringing books, Kindles, or other luxury/recreational items that have nothing to do with survival or with walking very clearly becomes superfluous.”
is one of the best things in the world. So fast and easy. Running on the flats is tolerable to acceptable. Uphill sucks.