Emergency Exit: Escape, Adventure, Hope

Adventure, Escape and Privilege I've been creating paper zines for over ten years. These days they often seem to take a back seat to online content but I still feel that there is something great about being able to carry around some folded sheets of paper, something easy to pull out of your bag and read wherever you want, on a train, a bus or the toilet.

A lot of my past zines have been generated at crossroads in my life, times when I've been thinking a lot and looking at different avenues I can take. The zine you hold is no exception; it documents a point in my life where I try to hold true to my ideals more than at any other time up to this point. A lot of the content of this zine was originally written as blog posts at www.punkrockbikeclub.com but I've tried to piece it together into a coherent narrative where possible. This is far from perfect but I wanted this zine to be something more than just some blog posts printed on paper.

Essentially it tells the how, why and where of me leaving behind a life that I found unsatisfying and stifling. It's the first part of a journey that doesn't have a pre-determined destination. I don't have any long term plan and I'm enjoying that. My antidote to modern life is 'adventure' and bicycle touring. I've spent the last three months cycling, thinking and living.

I have been thinking about privilege for a while, ever since I had a quick look at the online long distance bicycle touring database1. The thing that jumped out to me from that website was that I am your average cycle tourist: British, white and male. This shouldn’t surprise me - Jason Lewis 2 has already succinctly summed up the fact that the majority of explorers and adventurers are white, male and from middle class backgrounds. We are the people who seem to have not only the drive but also the opportunity to travel and explore this globe.

The question is: are we self-aware enough to realise the position of privilege we are in and also to deconstruct the drivers for those adventures? My cycle tours will not be an exercise in self promotion. To be honest, I know that I am far from gifted or special, I am just your average cycle tourist. In marketing terms I have no unique selling point to differentiate me from any other person travelling by bike. Which, to be honest, is totally fine with me. So I promise you the following three things: 1. I am not going to write a book specifically about my travels.

2. It is unlikely I will circumnavigate the globe, or even leave Europe for that matter.

3. I have no rigid rules for my trip.

So why are you holding a zine about my travels if I don’t want to promote the activity I am doing?

The answer is that I know that people enjoy reading about my journey and are interested in the adventures I have - plus I enjoy writing. I’ve been a writer since I was young. I enjoy the mental exercise of taking an idea, thought or experience and conveying it to paper. Writing has contributed the sum total of zero to my bank balance over the years yet it brings me immense pleasure. I therefore am a writer currently on a trip which could theoretically present stories and ideas worth money. Yet I have no aspiration to make a living from it, and there is a very real reason for that.

I am sick of the modern world.

I’m sick of having to sell my time for someone else’s benefit, sick of endless consumption without consideration for the impact on environment or other people, sick of all the things that I’m told to care about that I just don’t relate to. Put bluntly: I feel like my brain can’t comprehend it, and that

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has brought me on occasion to the point where I have felt life isn’t worth living. Yet again, I hit that point in 2014 - and after mentally climbing back out of that hole to somewhere where I could think clearly, I knew I had to hatch an escape plan. So here it is: I’m running away. I’m not playing the game any more. I know I can’t escape entirely but I can sit on the margins for as long as possible and use my privileged position to think of longer term plans and try to shape an alternative philosophy for living.

This is of course all personal and I don’t expect people to agree with me - but I know I’m not alone in thinking that there is something fundamentally rotten in the state of Denmark. So I want to explore this continent that I was born a part of and investigate whether there actually is something rotten in Denmark or if there are flickers of light in the bleak reality of our current existence. I have been called a cynic and a pessimist in the past but the future isn’t rosy when you consider the impacts that inevitable resource depletion will have on our society. All empires fall and our current capitalist paradigm is no exception. I think we need to build something new rather than try to alter and shore up what is an inequitable and ultimately flawed system.

So one day I may write a book - but it won’t be a blow by blow account of how I rode around Europe for a bit looking for answers and inspiration. I hope that it will be something that shows us a route out of this mess and gives some hope for the future. Sadly, I’m probably not smart enough to write that book. However, I know the practice of living in the day to day moment required when cycle touring will feed my soul more than participating in modern life ever has. My remuneration and reward is happiness; it’s the memories and experiences fuelling the ideas that will fill those pages.

Maybe this is all pretentious bollocks - just another manifestation of my generation Y identity crisis. But I’ve carried the burden of these ideas around for a long time. My recent writing 1 with regards to society isn’t that different to what I was writing in zine columns 12 years ago, just hopefully more thought out and with less of the ‘angry young man’ syndrome that I know afflicts me on occasion. I’ve tried to squeeze myself into the round hole that I’m supposed to inhabit and to be honest I can’t.

So I’d like to raise a toast to sticking to your guns and honouring your principles. If that makes me unemployable and I end up starving to death on a mountain side somewhere, so be it. As it says on the back of my AHTBM2 cycling jersey (a quote lifted from a song by the band Refused): ‘I’d rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in’.

Excuses, Excuses Before I left on my cycle tour I had a lot of people telling me they were jealous of my forthcoming trip and how they would love to do something similar. This was usually followed by a number of excuses as to why they couldn’t or what was holding them back. In some instances, I think the sentiment stemmed from the same dissatisfaction with the world and the current system that I feel. They realised that although I can never escape completely, I can spend some time living outside the hamster wheel of work, buy, consume.

At the time, people telling me they were jealous made me feel odd. I didn’t have a good response, I didn’t know what to say. I felt embarrassed, like I was doing something I should be ashamed of because they felt they couldn’t. Of course this made me go away and think - and I started to realise that actually those people could do it and they were putting up barriers to stop themselves.

With this in mind, I can easily split the people I’ve spoken to into two camps: those with no commitments and those who do have responsibilities, usually in the form of children.

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If you sit in the former group and have no commitments, then stop making excuses and just do it. I have taken a fairly radical approach by selling or giving away everything that is unnecessary. We are so ingrained in our culture of consumption that this seems insanity to some people. But most things we hoard and buy are essentially unnecessary; we don’t need them to survive or live. We spend our limited monetary resources on them and have to work more to afford those things we find ourselves desiring. I think the phrase is that ‘your possessions posses you’. So if that possession has a second hand value convert it into cash and you can then use that to meet the most important need you have - food.

Handing over our limited financial resources isn’t restricted to investing in material items. So alongside selling your possessions, there are other ways to save cash by living the simpler touring lifestyle at home. This is well documented by Tom Allen 1 on his blog. I didn't do all of the things Tom suggests as it was quite hard in a shared house where other people had access to the heating and lighting - but it was a good starting point.

It’s also important to consider other things such as your alcohol consumption, wasteful habits when it comes to preparing food at home or the premium of buying take away food instead of cooking etc. As an example of this, I stopped drinking at the end of June 2014. At that point I didn’t really have much money behind me for the trip to the Alps I had planned for the September of that year. Within two months of not drinking, I had enough to survive on the trip without budgeting and feeling like I had to count every penny.

The less radical method of course is to save up money over a defined period of time to pay for equipment and your living expenses on the trip. In 2014 Alastair Humphrey’s promoted the Adventure 10002 initiative that encouraged people to save a little each month until they had £1000 for an adventure. Putting a little bit away every month can lead to big gains. It’s also good because you can piece together your touring gear whilst in this saving phase and have some fun testing it out. The only drawback is you’re not committing to actually using the money you save to go cycle touring. Circumstances do change and it’s very easy to suddenly find yourself sucked back into modern society before realising your dreams.

The people I’ve spoken to who have commitments in their life are pretty exclusively part of family units with children and mortgages. Essentially having children is a big thing because you have to provide shelter and food for more than just yourself. But having children does not preclude you from cycle touring. Clearly the most radical approach would to be to do all of the above but take the kids with you. Most people freak out a little bit at this point and say you can’t take children cycle touring... except a quick search on the internet will reveal that there are plenty of people who have done just that. The usual argument against going on an extended cycle tour with children is education. However, if you are dissatisfied with modern society why are you letting it educate/indoctrinate your kids? I mean, essentially do we only let someone else educate our children because we don’t have the time to do it ourselves? One example from the web the ‘Pedouin’ family3 highlight that there are an endless number of things you can learn on the road which we normally associate with formal schooling.

Ok so maybe you’re not comfortable taking the kids with you - why not plan a cycle tour for a shorter period of time? Perhaps we need to see contact time with children in terms of quality over quantity. Would you rather be more satisfied and happier - which would translate well to your children - or dissatisfied and depressed - which children also pick up on. The infuriating thing is that our society sees it as perfectly acceptable to work long hours or to go away for a long trip ‘on business’ - but if that trip is more cerebral and not generating an income then it’s clearly abandoning your responsibilities, even if your trip is time bound and you plan on returning to them.

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The other clear commitment people have is providing shelter for their family, and that usually revolves around mortgages. Essentially, you are then limited in the length of your trip based on how much you can save to cover the mortgage in your absence. However, if you are touring as a family then renting out your property is an option. The most radical solution of course is just to sell up and use the proceeds to fund your tour. You might need a longer term plan though unless you intend cycle touring forever.

There are also arguments about your partner’s views if you did any of the above. This sounds very blunt but in my opinion you have to do one of two things. You can either persuade your partner that this is the path for you and your family and show them how much it means to you.

The alternative is that you need to find a new partner who is supportive or go it alone as a lone parent. If escaping is important enough to you that it causes you some mental anguish, then it’s important enough to discuss with life partners as a possible deal breaker. As someone who is currently single that is very easy for me to write, but essentially I know that my previous relationships have broken down in part because myself and my partner didn’t see eye to eye in terms of world view and how we should be conducting our lives.

So I hope that people reading about my adventures and travels will stop feeling envious or jealous and instead start planning to do it themselves. It doesn’t even have to be a cycle tour - any action that moves you towards future happiness is valid. It’s ok to dream - it’s even better to realise those dreams and push aside the excuses you let win every day.

England The first part of my journey was to travel from Leeds to my parent’s house in Dorset. I had the idea of cycling to Cornwall and Land's End before returning along the south coast. However, my route changed and I didn't head south west from Bristol – instead, I cycled straight to Exeter. The reason was that I was offered an opportunity to volunteer on an organic farm for two weeks.

‘Woofing’1 was something I was considering doing as part of my long term travels, so through a friend who works there, I arranged two weeks thrown in at the deep end on a commercial organic vegetable farm to see if I enjoyed it.

As someone with a definite ‘back to the land’ philosophical/political rhetoric, I guess it was time to put my labour where my mouth is. I was swinging between excitement and dread. The future is such an unknown quantity. It is often hard to really fathom it and I try to live without expectations.

Doing that though is hard, especially when you are used to routine. For most of my life I’ve known pretty much what the day ahead will hold. Even when cycle touring, there is a routine of sorts based around food, distance and shelter. It’s exciting to throw different things into the mix as it definitely challenges me and makes me anxious.

There are still the regular questions from friends and family - ‘what are you going to do when you finish touring?’ If I knew the answer to that maybe I wouldn’t be touring. The sub-text of that question is always shrouded in terms of work and jobs. Now I know I can be naive and idealistic but I still possess enough realism to know I can’t tour and/or volunteer forever. But the world of paid work – Woofing included - makes me more anxious than the ‘unknown alternative’ that currently doesn’t exist. Watch this space. I reckon I have approximately a year to either dream one up or stumble across it. Ever feel the pressure that the clock is ticking?

On the organic farm the starts are early, the work physical - and I was really slow. I did enjoy it though and learnt a lot. As a volunteer, I finished at 1pm so I had plenty of time to read and think.

Whilst on the farm I read a book on psychology by Ernest Becker called ‘The Denial of Death’.

The basic premise was that man is governed by his anxiety about dying and his awareness of life being finite. There are some really interesting concepts in the book around how this anxiety affects us.

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One such concept that jumped out to me was in the analysis of fetishism and particular our sadomasochistic tendencies. Becker writes: Masochism is thus a way of taking anxiety of life and death and the overwhelming terror of existence and congealing them into a small dosage.

Now my friend introduced me to the concept of ‘type 2 fun’1 - the idea of things being hellish at the time but fun in retrospect - in 2013 and Becker starts to unravel why we gain enjoyment in suffering like this. His theories neatly give a nice solid basis for seeking ‘adventure’, as we put ourselves in perceived dangerous or arduous situations to look death in the face and challenge our anxiety.

'Adventure' also gives us a platform for another concept in the book - that of personal ‘immortality projects,’ where we try to transcend death through heroism. The heroic explorer is a mode of making sure we live on in the minds of others. These days we try to consolidate that through creative mediums such as writing. However, it is hard to be heroic. The bar for heroism has shifted and we may also lack the talent required to be seen as a hero. Thus if we follow Becker’s analysis, this self generated solution to solving the problem of death anxiety will fail. It's a great book and I would recommend people read it if they are interested in the 'human condition'. In terms of practical use I have found since reading it I am able to better understand my actions and be more in control of my psyche.

So my two weeks on the farm drew to a close and I made my way back to my parents in Dorset.

The ride from Exeter across to Poole was tough; East Devon and West Dorset are quite hilly. The hills of Yorkshire are individually brutal, but the hills I rode in Dorset were more a war of attrition.

The highest points reached weren’t great - but each time you conquered a climb you then dipped back down to almost sea level only to start again. A continuous roller-coaster eastwards. Luckily it flattens out a bit after you pass Dorchester and I managed to reach my destination just as darkness was falling.

I enjoyed my time Woof-ing, but I was ready to move on again. The work was interesting and I learnt a lot. However the scale of the operation meant that tasks lasted just longer than I wanted them to. This gave a level of monotony to the jobs which meant the novelty wore off after a while. I would highly recommend that people go and work at farming though, if only to see how little we know about our food and what is involved in getting it to your plate. If I go to another farm in the future, I’ll probably try to find a smaller one.

My time on the farm was also fun because I realised that I knew more people in Exeter than I’d previously thought. For the whole of the trip so far I’ve been finding that I’m either totally on my own or surrounded by people. I’ve grown accustomed to being alone and enjoy the solitude; conversely any trip into an urban area with all the trappings of modern society generally does not fill me with glee. However it has been nice to spend time with friends and meet new people.

Sometimes I feel very detached even from friends, relatives and the social scenes I mix within. I don’t see myself as a particularly happy, positive person and a lot of the thoughts and feelings I have differ quite heavily from what is considered the ‘norm’. I’m increasingly not bothered about being alone in both the physical sense and also in an emotional sense, be that friendship or something more than that. I am aware that there is a part of me which does naturally trend towards being social or forming bonds with people but I guess I’ve suppressed that and promoted a certain level of disconnection. However when I was in Exeter talking to old friends and meeting new people, I could see that maybe I was taking too negative a view.

We are all unique in our personality, experiences and outlook on life, yet there are common threads. So life is almost like one big Venn diagram - we all have thoughts and feelings which 1

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overlap and sometimes those overlaps are greater than you might think. I was yet again reminded to not judge people too quickly - something I am definitely guilty of far too often.

In addition we are, as people, all at different stages of our journey through life. I’ve spoken to people who hold future aspirations to do things or alter their lives in certain ways but don’t want to act on those thoughts quite yet. Whilst I know that, as a person, I can be impatient and if I have an epiphany I want to change things up now.

I know it’s been said by many people that we travel to learn about the world and other people, and in doing so we also learn things about ourselves. I would add to that that as with most things, there is a balance to be struck between the space given by solitude and the knowledge/experience of interacting with other people. I can see now that I have to a degree been forcing myself towards isolation. I need to make sure I seek out social experiences on occasion to better address the balance - and if I do that, then in the future anything is possible.

France After a break over Christmas it felt good to be back on the road again. The problem with stopping and starting on tour is that I get pre-trip nerves when I restart. However I found that spending a couple of days looking at maps on the internet to distract/excite me made getting on the bike feel very normal. I was expecting to wobble off down the road as my parents waved goodbye. A few miles is usually required to get used to the touring weight on the bike but I was surprised when it was natural, normal and great. So I set off into France; time to reacquaint myself with wild camping. I had my first Warmshowers 1 host lined up in Nantes with approx. 200 miles to complete over 4 or 5 days to get there. Easy?

Reaching Nantes and travelling onwards to Audenge was actually fairly painless despite some bad weather - so yes, it was easy. My first Warmshowers host Quentin was great and I spent a really relaxed day off wandering the streets of Nantes. A short hop to the coast, a couple nights in the tent and then my second Warmshowers host Damien in La Rochelle, who was also fantastically hospitable. I am not sure what the chances of them both being vegetarian was but it made life very simple. Then after another night in the tent and my longest day in the saddle of the trip to that point (75 miles), I arrived at my third host Rachel’s house which she shared with her three children and Ernesto the cat.

If you want an example of a) French hospitality and b) the touring ‘community’ then the fact that I first typed these words on a borrowed laptop in Rachel’s house whilst she had gone out speaks volumes. The fact that Rachel's three children were also there too shows that distrust of strangers isn’t (and shouldn’t be) the norm. I am really glad that I joined and used Warmshowers as it is a great way to meet people and also gives some respite when the weather is less than favourable.

After leaving Audenge, my plan was to use my tent until I reached the bottom corner of France around Biarritz. Both Quentin and Damien advocated knocking on doors for somewhere to pitch it and as a way to meet people but I never managed to find the confidence for that. At the time, I also said I wasn't going to ride more long days (a vow I broke pretty quickly!). The weather was forecast to be slightly better but still not great but I felt that it was time to ease back, take my time and admire the view.

Sometimes things aren’t great on tour. January 21st was such a day. I woke up feeling a bit ‘out of sorts’. I wasn’t looking forward to the day ahead. I listened to the rain on the tent, pretty sure it was a shower and delayed getting up until it had passed. Bags packed and on the bike I set off south, bracing myself for the forecast rain. I reached the first town of the day and the weather was almost pleasant. I bought some pain au chocolat and set off again joining the cycle path on the edge of town.

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Of course, once I was away from all buildings and all cover, the rain started. It was one of those rain storms that taunt you by getting heavier even when you think that isn’t possible. My waterproofs were doing the job they are designed for and my head, body, hands and legs were dry and warm. The weak point I have in my waterproof set up is my feet. My boots quickly soak through and waterproof socks still have the hole in the top that your legs go through. I could really do with some gaiters to create a good seal between my waterproof trousers and boots;within half an hour my feet were wet and starting to get cold.

The bike path I was following took me towards the coast. This was a mistake. The coast road that it followed was fairly exposed. At times the gusts of wind were so strong I had to get off and walk.

It was still raining; my destination for the day was deliberately not far but I didn’t have anywhere to stay when I reached it.

The 20 miles ahead were mostly built up so wild camping was likely to be hard. After two and a half hours I stopped in a café in Capbreton. Whilst I was sat in the café, the rain stopped. I checked my phone for messages about a place to stay. Nothing. Despondently I looked at hostels and cheap hotels in the area. Finishing my coffee I set off again, the rain recommencing.

It had been raining for nearly three hours and I managed to lose the bike path. I just followed the road. At this point my rear tyre was really worn which I didn't feel was an issue as I had a spare. I was expecting a spate of punctures to prompt me to change it. However, instead the sidewall started to split and the tyre deformed, giving my rear wheel a weird wobble as I rode. When that happened though, I carried on thinking ‘I’ll swap the tyre tonight’.

After another ten miles I stopped at a supermarket and bought a chocolate bar. I hadn’t eaten any lunch at this point as I’d seen nowhere dry to stop and shelter. I checked my phone again and see that I might have a lead on somewhere to stay. I sent a text to the number I had been given. The rain stopped but I still couldn't really feel my feet.

I reached the outskirts of Bayonne and stopped to check my phone again. No news. It started to rain again. I’m was cold and starting to wonder what the symptoms were for trench foot. I gave in and rode to a cheap hotel on an industrial estate. I felt defeated but my feet tingled in the shower as heat seeped back into them.

Sometimes you have to give in.

Spain Upon entering Spain, I suddenly gained a strange irrational fear from somewhere. The change of language and surroundings had made me uncomfortable. To combat this, I know used money and technology as a crutch.

Staying with Jogoba, my Warmshowers host in Bilbao, was great. It let me find some confidence, ask questions about Spain and start to try to grapple with the language. The use of Warmshowers is a way of removing fear. I mentioned before never feeling like I had the confidence to just knock on a door. As a person, I shy away from an open interaction with a perfect stranger.

Warmshowers gives you an instant connection with your host - ‘cycle touring’. It is also a preagreed transaction of somewhere to sleep fashioned using technology that keeps you partially hidden and anonymous in asking for help. This eases that fear of the stranger and reduces my anxiety. It puts staying and interacting with a stranger into a safe mental space.

The other way I have avoided unfamiliar interaction with complete strangers is through money.

Tom Allen has talked about this on his website.

Pockets empty, I suddenly noticed how dominated public life really is by spending and commerce and consumption. All that money flying around — it suddenly seemed like a crutch, a way of glossing life over, a means by which we could

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avoid really having to interact with each other on a personal level as we rushed around on our way to something far more important 1.

I stayed in a hostel in San Sebastian and the use of currency meant any interaction with other people was formalised within familiar boundaries and therefore felt more comfortable.

On the 25th January I wild camped in Spain for the first time. A recommendation on a place to camp from Jogoba eased my nerves - despite the fact that being in a different country should not really make much difference. Wild camping is still, in a way, hiding from strangers but instead of behind money or technology it is literally hiding. I never did knock on anyone’s door.

For some cycle touring is all about ‘getting away from it’, solitude and isolation. Having space and freedom to think, to reorganise your mind and dream of new things. That is true in so much as it is a journey by a slow means of transport so there are of course long periods of time spent with only yourself for company. However, if you choose to explore somewhere that isn’t remote or uninhabited then it also includes interaction with other people and this can also be incredibly rewarding.

At roughly the half way point of my tour into France and Spain I hit pause and spent five nights 2 in one place with the same people. My hosts took me to a 'carnival’ party. I had no idea what to expect but was really glad that it turned out to be a relaxed garden BBQ rather than a street procession or festival. It was a great opportunity to talk to lots of different people and learn about their lives, thoughts and feelings. It also highlighted two things to me.

Firstly, conversations around what I intend to do at the end of my summer tour reminded me of how privileged I am. In reality, touring for me is at a base level a hedonistic act. The Spanish people I spoke to were surprised at how easy I thought it would be to find a job when I returned home. The impression I get is that finding a job ‘post-crisis’ in Spain is hard. In the UK it is still, in my experience, easy to get a job even if it’s boring or monotonous and not a ‘career’ as such.

Career to me is a dirty word and money is a means to an end anyhow. That post tour job will serve the purpose of funding my plans for 2016.

Even if I couldn’t find a job, I wouldn’t starve. Despite being unsure of my own personal position in a class system, my parents are most definitely middle class. They are financially comfortable enough that I - in theory - always have them as a safety net for any adventurous leap I take.

So privilege allows me to travel and experience the wider world. It allows me to be ‘free’ and live my life how I wish to do so. The flip side to that coin is that I need to be aware of that and show humility. I need to make sure that when I can I give something back. I need to understand that I am privileged and so not to criticise those who are not, to think about words, thoughts and actions in a wider context.

The other thing that yesterday’s conversations highlighted was that there has been a shift in my perspective. I am a ‘distance cyclist’; I’m not fast but I can ride a really long way if I want to. This has caused my perspective of distance and effort to shift. To me riding 50 or 60 miles in a day is normality and over 300 miles in a week doesn’t seem a big total. However, I was talking to a friend of my host. He was telling me how my host Jose had written a book about his tour from Murcia to India and how incredible an achievement it was.

I had to stop and think about it. After four years of working with touring cyclists, hearing their plans or past stories, reading a number of books about cycle touring and now having ridden the length of two countries meant that journey - Murcia to India - almost seemed normal to me. It’s not - it’s a great achievement, a big adventure. The conversation continued and we rapidly agreed that

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someone’s personal perspective is important. Not in measuring the effort of others but in taking stock of your own achievements.

For some cycling 5 miles is hard and should be celebrated as much as travelling around the world by bike. Only you can really assess how much effort was required to meet the goal you set yourself and so using your own perspective see what you have achieved. For me to get to this point, 5 1/2 weeks and approx 1200 miles in, wasn’t easy. There were some tough times mentally and physically, but it isn’t an ‘epic’ achievement. Based on my perspective on life it’s actually fairly normal, just a hedonistic way of enjoying the one life I have.

After leaving Murcia I cycled north eventually reaching Teruel. On this section of my ride when I was approaching the town of Almansa I had an interesting encounter with the Spanish police. As an aside, Almansa had a big sign claiming to be ‘the town of the bicycle’. For the life of me I could not see why. They were very friendly to me in the café I stopped in when they found out I was cycling though.

Before reaching the town I was quite happily cycling along under a grey overcast sky hoping it wouldn’t rain, when the Guardia Civil pulled up alongside me. Winding down their window the driver asked me (in Spanish) where my cycle helmet was. Now before setting out on this trip, I didn’t know that in Spain there is a law which says that outside of cities and towns you have to wear a cycle helmet. I hadn't taken a helmet with me, for a number of reasons which I don’t feel I need to explain as it should be my choice.

I politely informed the police officer that I was English and didn’t have one. Upon hearing this he looked grave and motioned to say that he would need to give me a ticket. Although when I left the UK I had no idea about helmet laws I had been told in Valladolid that you were supposed to have one when cycling in the country. However, I wasn’t about to let the police officer know that so I played ignorant and expressed my dismay, asking if it was illegal in a shocked manner. This seemed to diffuse the situation somewhat and the two officers in the car informed me that it was and they claimed it was in France too1.

They then pointed to their fluorescent tops and told me that I should also be wearing a hi-viz jacket when riding in the rain. I bit my tongue slightly here and didn’t argue the point that it wasn’t actually raining. Instead I excitedly told them that I had one of those! My Warmshowers host in Valladolid had insisted that he give me a hi-viz jacket and actually told me to buy a helmet in Madrid, advice which I had ignored. I’d worn the hi-viz on a handful of occasions though in bad visibility and fading light.

As we had stopped at the side of the road by this point I started to pull the hi-viz jacket out of my bag. The Guardia Civil were obviously satisfied that I was complying and without another word drove off. Clearly the hi-viz was sufficient.

Now I could of course take the view that the police were just looking out for my well being, but I have since spoken to a few people about this encounter who have suggested that the police were probably bored, as it’s very rare to get stopped for not having a helmet. In addition, although I don’t know this to be a fact, the consensus is that the fine is not an on the spot one and therefore the fact I was English was probably a good enough reason for them not to write me a ticket. I have no plan to travel with a cycle helmet in future after this incident as it is still my view that it should be personal choice.

Cycle touring in Spain can be very tiring. Not because of the physical activity but because the Spanish lifestyle doesn't sit well with the hours you tend to keep when riding and camping.

Although the Spanish are still early risers, they often stay up late and evenings are a time for socialising. The effects of burning the candle at both ends is tempered by the afternoon naps - the classic seista. However, I never managed to work out how to have a siesta whilst riding. Instead I 1

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There is no such helmet law in France I've since been told.

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had to switch between waking early and then sleeping early whilst camping, and long days when staying with people.

This is before you even start to introduce events and fiestas. The Spanish love a good party and so it's not uncommon to realise that it is twenty past three in the morning and someone has just handed you a beer. What is supposed to be a ‘rest’ day whilst touring sometimes doesn't have much sign of rest. However, this is what happens when you travel, meet local people and are open to saying ‘yes’ to the experiences they offer to share.

Before I reached it, Teruel was just a larger blob on my map and a name on a road sign.

Somewhere to tick off on my journey north. I had arranged to stay in Molina Del Campo about 30 miles north of Teruel with a Warmshowers host named Gloria. However, the weekend I arrived there Teruel was celebrating “the wedding of Isabel”. It’s an event based around a star crossed lovers’ story set in the 13th century and the fiesta brings in people from all around the city and region. On any day the city itself is beautiful in its own right, built on three hills and with architecture that is a fusion of Muslim and Christian influences. For this weekend though, it becomes a medieval town. There are street performances across the city that act out the story of the lovers. All parts are performed by local people rather than professionals. There is also a reenactment of a medieval battle, a ‘tournament’ and random displays of falconry, medieval dancing and music. As this is Spain there was also an event involving a bull on a rope running around the town square.

Local people group together and have tents themed around medieval trades or families. Each tent has a fire pit, food cooking and wine and beer flowing. The tents are the focus for these local people for the weekend but also act as a spectacle for the tourists. The Spanish love a good party and so it’s a throng of sights, smells and sounds. Just as I was thinking I had a handle on this country though, it always threw something random at me. Being in a Simpsons themed bar during a medieval festival was definitely one of the oddest moments.

After watching a ‘folk’ rock band that had a huge tent dancing and singing, we ended up in the oldest bar in Teruel dancing to Spanish hits of the 60’s and 70’s. No one cared how they looked and everyone was just having a good time. The music could only be described as random - even more so when suddenly a batch of English Ska songs were played and everyone skanked around the dance floor.

So I didn't sleep much in Teruel but somehow still avoided a hangover. As I was travelling ‘with’ a bike but had no set rules, I accepted the offer of a lift to Zaragoza. I remember looking forward to heading north east and retreating back into my tent for a rest.

But sometimes in life, things go badly wrong.

Monday 23rd February started well. My Warmshowers host in Zaragoza, Pedro, took me to speak to the class he teaches. It’s a vocational course based around cycle tourism and running commercial cycle tours. The students who were in their late teens and early twenties were great and all seemed fairly interested in what I am doing, I then set off east from Zaragoza. I was originally going to follow the Ebro river but the GR99 path was flooded, so I doubled back and joined the main road. The main road was busy with lots of trucks but the hard shoulder -which I tended to ride on in Spain - was wide. Before I knew it, with a very strong tailwind, I had passed the 50 mile mark and was flying. After lunch, I just kept going and the first real climb of the day at 80 miles didn’t lower my spirits. Finally I ticked off my first century for the trip and the year pretty much exactly as I rolled into Lerida. A quick visit to the supermarket and it was back out of town to find somewhere to camp before the light was gone for the day.

This was where it all went wrong. I had put the tent up but, as it had been packed away wet, I was letting it dry before unpacking my sleeping bag - so I concentrated on getting some food cooked

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and refuelling. A split second of stupidity, perhaps through tiredness, perhaps just not thinking, and suddenly ‘wumph’ - my leg was on fire and so was the tent! I was still wearing my knee warmers and the right one was alight and burning. I panicked and unsuccessfully tried to beat out the flames with my hands. Then my brain started to work again and I grabbed the damp tea towel and put out the flames on my leg and the tent.

Removing what remained of my knee warmer, I surveyed the damage. My tent was wrecked with a large hole through inner and outer. My leg also looked in a pretty bad way and my hands were shaking. I didn’t know whether I felt the damage to the tent or the damage to me were the worst things about the situation or which was going to cost me the most in the long run. Not really knowing what to do, I calmed down and finished cooking and eating.

Having taken stock, I decided it was probably best not to ignore the throbbing in my leg and how visibly bad the burn looked. I didn’t think I could just sleep it off. So I packed everything back away and cycled back to Lerida to visit the A&E at the hospital. The staff were great and even with my limited Spanish it was actually a fairly smooth experience. As I had an E111 card it didn’t cost anything and the nurses gave me food and insisted I put some cream on my sunburnt face.

The leg though... That was a bit more than sunburn. When the doctor looks very concerned you know you’ve been sensible in going to see them. Apparently I had second degree burns. The hospital cleaned, applied an antibiotic cream and dressed the wounds.

The long term problem was that they needed to be cleaned and dressed everyday for the next three weeks to try to avoid infection. Essentially I couldn't continue riding unless I went to an A&E or a walk in centre everyday - which just wasn’t practical. The first week is supposed to be the most important, so I got a train back to Zaragoza and stayed with Pedro, visiting a walk in centre everyday and trying to work out what to do. I ended up staying in Zaragoza for ten days - I'm eternally in Pedro’s debt and can’t thank him enough. After a week, it was clear that my leg was not going to heal quickly and cycling onwards was not the sensible thing to do. Realising this, I took the bus to Santander and a ferry back to the UK. I reasoned it was better to end my trip two weeks early rather than try to press on and risk possible infection and jeopardise future plans. So mistake made. Lesson learnt and costs incurred.

Welcome to life.

Looking to the Future, Reflecting on the Past Back in the UK I’m starting to climb the walls. My leg is healing well but it’s taking time and I can’t ride or run whilst it heals. Spending pretty much all day sat on the sofa with my leg elevated isn’t my idea of fun. To combat my feelings of itchy feet and take my mind off my itchy leg I’ve been looking to the future. The next chapter of my journey begins in April 2015 when I head back to Leeds for a few weeks to visit friends and tie up some loose ends.

Then at the end of April I head across to Clitheroe for the first Cycle Touring Festival1. This is a new event that has been set up by a group of cycle tourists to help people share ideas on planning and undertaking cycle tours across the globe. I’m really excited about the event which has now sold out. I’m especially excited about the opportunity to be involved as a panel member for the technical discussions on cycle touring equipment. I’m also looking forward to meeting other touring cyclists, although I often find these sort of events challenging on a personal level. I can quite happily deal with meeting one or two new people at a time but I know I struggle in situations that mean interacting with a group of new people all at once. Time to work on being social and outgoing. I have these character traits - I just struggle to use them.

After the touring festival I head back to Leeds for a couple of nights and then it’s off to Hull to 1

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http://www.cycletouringfestival.co.uk/

catch the ferry across the North sea to the Netherlands. I have twelve weeks in which to tour before having to come back to the UK for my cousin’s wedding at the beginning of August. In a way I quite like the fact that multiple weddings this year give me time limits to my trips abroad, but it’s also slightly frustrating as it increases the costs in terms of ferries. From the Netherlands, I intend to head north east through Germany, Denmark and Sweden. Depending on the speed I travel I’ll either end up doing an out and back route or if I find myself covering ground quickly, a loop around the Baltic sea.

Something that has struck me is that when I’m sat in one place and with access to a computer, I find it hard not to spend money. So far I’ve managed to limit this to a new larger tarp and some gaiters which will hopefully make wet bivying and wet riding more comfortable. I’ve offset the costs of those new items though by selling my old tarp, some spare bike parts and a chunk of the record collection I’ve amassed over the last 20 years. However, almost unconsciously I still find myself ‘window shopping’ for new bikes despite not having the money, storage space or even time to ride them. It’s hard to break years of programming that encourages you to spend and buy despite knowing I don’t need any of these things.

Whilst travelling through France and Spain time and space to think made me realise that I could write a different history for my reasons for cycle touring. I was definitely stressed and depressed but modern society was only part of the issue. The other side of that coin was yet another end to a non-platonic relationship, which gives good cause for introspection, change and flight.

It was interesting to hear in Bilbao the worries and complaints from two women regarding men of the Basque region. Their main gripe: inconsistency. A part of me felt their pain and could relate to the apparent sudden overnight change of heart that has seemingly characterised the end of many of my relationships. But I also know that the apportioning of blame is not helpful or healthy.

People change, circumstances change, and what can appear inconsistent and irrational often has perfectly rational reasoning behind it. I know there are positives to my company butI also know I am hard to live with. I can be forthright and uncompromising in my views. I believe in politics that to some are difficult and I often have a nihilistic personal philosophy which comes out in my actions.

I also know that, although I enjoy the platonic friendship that I get from many people, there isn’t anything quite like ‘love’. That almost indescribable feeling which is entirely biology and hormones, and yet presents itself as nothing of the sort. I have come to the conclusion however that ultimately all non-platonic relationships are finite over any time-scale.

My heart is open to the world - be that for an hour or a lifetime, the time period no longer matters.

The same approach could be applied to my adventure; maybe my current journey is not about finding a solution to my problem with modern society. Maybe there is no answer and identifying that society is a problem has enabled me to live out my solution without requiring a ‘long term’ plan or goal. Maybe this all is finite. In any case, right now, the words of that Billy Bragg song resonate through my head: I don’t want to change the world, I’m not looking for a new England, I’m just looking for another girl. * Thanks to Phil for being my editor for this zine and helping to put it together. More fanzines and books from independent authors are available at bwread.blogspot.co.uk This is #

of 60 copies.

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