Because It Is There: A Zero Emissions Odyssey

(This is a short post as i only have 25% battery on my laptop)

“Wear Sunscreen. If i could offer you one piece of advice for the future, Sunscreen would be it!” Those words ran through my head repeatedly as i try to fall asleep, ignoring the impulse to vomit as the Bow of Jenever bounced of the waves. I’d stupidly fallen asleep earlier in the day in the Cockpit of the 43 foot yacht as we made our way across the English Channel. I had nodded off in the warmth of the sun without donning any sun block. The result was a Lobster – esque tone to my skin and a minor case of sunstroke, which, accompanied with the motion of the yacht, caused me to feel quite ill. We arrived in Cherbourg mid morning and i remained there until the next day. After a quick photo with Mark and Hugh,the gentlemen who very kindly helped me cross the channel, i helped slip the lines on Jenever. I was left standing on the pontoon watching the boat fade into the distance. I pushed the bike tentatively down the pontoon and up on to french soil. I sat for a half an hour rearranging my panniers and off i went. The first day, i covered about 50 km’s due to a couple of wrong turns. I stopped early in the small village of St-Sauveur-Le-Vicomte and found a small campsite in the shadow of a large Chateau – The perfect way to spend my first night on the road in France.

Over the next few days i found myself travelling through small remote villages and passing by huge fields of Maize and Sunflowers. I would stop at small cottages in the countryside to ask for water from old ladies watering their well maintained vegatable patches. After a few moments of gesturing (my french is a little on the weak side) the lady would disappear into the house and return moments later with my water bottles not only filled but also of cubes of ice. Ocassionally i’d find a small shop where i grab a can of Coke and for the next hour i would pedal my backside off on a sugar high.

I passed through a few of the countries cities such as Tour and Le Man but would only stay for a few of hours due to my low budget not allowing for Hostels or Campsites which are more expensive the close to large ‘touristy’ areas.

I’ve been sleeping wherever i find a space. One night i slept in a car park in a small village surrounded by campervans, i awoke to find a small dog sniffing around my kit. As i moved to stroke the mutt it grabbed my toothbrush out of the front of my handlebar bag and ran off with it. Another night i slept in a park underneath a huge elephant statue with fireworks illuminating the night sky. Most campsites in fact were farmers field. I’d sneak into the field under the cover of darkness, inflate my sleeping mat, unroll my bivvy bag and sleeping bag and fall into a deep sleep. I wake, eat a nectarine and pedal off leaving nothing behind but a patch of crumpled grass.

Getting back on the bike has been tough. The leg which was injured feels stiff and sore some days and for the first week i would i wince every time a car passed a little too close. It seems the accident made me slightly nervous in busy traffic but i seem to have got my nerve back.

I’m currently enjoying a few days off the bike in a small village on the outskirts of Clermont so will hopefully update the site once more before i head off again.

Shortly after leaving Exeter I caught my first glimpse of the Channel. I started to weave myself through small coastal fishing villages whilst enjoying, for the first time in a week or so, glorious uninterrupted sunshine.  It was as I was cycling between these quaint villages that I met Hans on his bike and he and his wife Liz very kindly put me up for the night and sent me off the next day with a packed lunch. I was headed for Torquay where I would base myself for a few days to find passage across the channel.

******

3 days in Torquay was enough for me. There were only so many times I could sit by the Marina seeing boats come and go, twiddling my thumbs waiting to hear about possible crewing positions so I decided to take off and head to Dartmoor for a few days wild camping. So I loaded the bike once more and set off.  I weaved my way along the coast for a few miles and then double backed on myself to take an ‘A’ road to Dartmoor.

This is when it all wrong. One moment I was freewheeling down the road and the next I was face down in a patch of stinging nettles. It took me a couple of seconds to realize quite what had happened but as I lifted my head and looked back up the road I saw my bike and panniers scattered across the road, blocking traffic. I started to climb to my feet when a couple of men ran over and helped to pick my equipment up. We managed to gather all my belongings quite quickly and it was then I started to feel the pain in my left leg.

“What happened?” asked one of the guys, straightening out my handlebars.

“I’m not sure, I just came of my bike. I must have hit a pothole or something”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure that car hit you” said the other man now joined by his wife.

He went onto explain that he saw a small white car hit the trailer, which I gather threw me off balance and ended in a tumble. The driver drove off and nobody was able to get a good description or a number plate, so that was that. As we were stood there the pain in my leg grew worse and as I started to hobble around trying to piece together my bike I realized that the derailleur had bent and snapped, and that the front wheel was slightly buckled and the rear wheel had several broken spokes and was severely buckled. I wasn’t able to ride the bike anyway.

Luckily the gentleman and his wife who had stopped offered to go and fetch their pickup, put my stuff in the back and drive me to a campsite. In those few minutes I had to wait for them to return with the pickup the pain in my leg was growing worse and (rather comically) I realized I was covered head to toe in nettle stings from being unfortunate enough to land in the only patch nettles for 100 yards.

After spending an evening in the campsite I took my bike to be repaired at a local bike shop that replaced all the broken bits a pieces and made sure the bike was structurally OK. This unfortunately cost me £300 which had caused a huge deficit in my funds (and makes the search for sponsors even more important).

The bent derailleur

For the next week I stayed at my grandparents friends house as I rested what I thought was just a pulled muscle or some bruising. After the swelling went down and I was still in a lot of pain I went A&E to get my leg checked out. Apparently I have strained a ligament in my knee and have been advised to rest for ‘2-3 weeks at least’ and then ease back in to gentle cycling. The nurse confirmed that gentle cycling doesn’t involve a fully laden bike.

So I made the (extremely) hard decision to come home until my leg is healed and I can resume my journey from where I stopped. This is quite a blow as I was just getting into the swing of things and was really enjoying my time on the road.

So hopefully in just a couple of weeks from now I’ll be on my bike once more and pedaling east.

A huge thank you to Carol and Owen for putting me up (and putting up with me) during that first week. Another huge thank you to the very kind couple who helped me at the side of the road.