This is the first opportunity for me to do a blog. seriously!

So here I am in a stupidly expensive hotel in Bristol that has an IMAC computer in every room. I'm just gonna get on with details of what's happened so far. First couple of days were spent with Barry (the paraplegic guy also doing LEJOG) and his family and supporting team. This was great, we had food thrown at us morning, noon and night via their support vehicle which was following our trip. Life was good back then...
....since we decided to part and set off on what we thought would be us leaving them far behind and steaming away up the country, we've found out that the idea behind the tortoise and the hare rings true.

First night camping we found a field that seemed perfect. We went down to a secluded spot and pitched up - great. Went off to find water, carrying every reseptacle we could possibly hold. On our return, we saw a pair of shiny dots lurking sinisterly a few inches above the ground by our tents. It was a fox, who bolted as soon as we got near. I had a terrible feeling it wouldn't be the last we saw of him, and it wasn't. That night, while Chris (my companion on the ride) slept sound as a baby, for he is used to these kind of trips, I lay awake waiting for his return....now I know a fox is no danger to a human what so ever, but having a wild creature sniffing about just a few inches from where your head is, was enough to make me lie stiff as a plank frozen with fear, imagining that it might not be a fox after all but a wolf/wild boar/bear/tiger....the dark really does play tricks on the mind.

So had no sleep that night except for a few moments of dozey shut eye. The sun rose and I took a picture, but didn't really feel the joy you would expect on seeing such a lovely sight. It was more like it was mocking me, "How did you enjoy your first night in Cornwall monsuir?..." to which in my mind i replied, "Piss off you sarcy french git". Don't ask me why french, it just seemed appropriate.

The following days brought me many problems. I had a tent that leaked and woke up with all my gear soaked. This resulted in me throwing a proper hissy fit, kicking around anything that was near me, except Chris. Chris is huge, he's about 6ft 5 and to look at him you would be put in mind of the Riders of Rohan in the LOTR films, with his long blond ponytail reaching half way down his back, his finely chiseled facial features and his supremely muscular frame. There's no way i'd ever kick Chris.

I then had a fair bit of bike trouble and my recurring knee injury flared up quite badly. This was a huge concern considering it was so early in the tour. I'd just about gotten over the emotional turn of the tent disaster when the spoke snapped on my wheel and it buckled beyond repair. Where we ever going to leave Barnstaple? I said to Chris we're not doing anymore today, we need a B&B and a launderette and we can start again tomorrow. So Chris set off the find these and as luck would have it, he was chatting up two blonds outside the house of a man that turned out to be the best thing that could possibly happen to us at that time. The man's name is Simon, he saw Chris with his loaded up bike and, being a cycle tourist himself, came out to enquire what he was doing. Chris told him about what had happened and about his friend sitting, weeping in the park and Simon sent him to pick me up. We went to his house to be given beans on toast & tea, had our clothes washed and then accompanied him to football training and stayed the night in his gym. The next day he took us to fix my bike, get some lunch and generally gee us up with his infectious enthusiasm. I'll love Simon for as long as I live. If in my life time, the technology is developed for a man to bear children, I will return to Barnstaple and beg him to father mine.

The following two days I felt so much more positive, largely down to Simon and my knee strap. It's not all been a bed of roses though, since the wildlife in the south west of England really does seem to have a problem with me. The night after leaving Simon's, amongst all the other sniffling, scratching noises of the various creatures snooping around our camp, two owls decided that the best place for them to hold a very loud conversation was the tree above my tent. After ten minutes of trying to ignore the deafening squawking, I'd had enough. I stormed out of the tent in just my pants, on what was a very windy, wet night and shone the torch in their faces shouting, " F*CK OFF YOU OWL BASTAAAAAARDS!!!". One left promptly, but the other seemed to know he was safe upon his perch from this curious man in his pants and just sat staring at me with all the attitude of a surly teenager who knows he can't be touched.   


Yesterday was Saturday and Chris and I set off at the crack of dawn to reach Bristol where we would meet Kim and Shaun (my girlfriend and best mate), for a peaceful night's sleep in a hotel and a day of rest today. It's amazing how much energy and determination the thought of seeing your loved ones can conjour up. I actually caught up and overtook two cyclists on race bikes out on a training session, despite me carrying at least forty kilos of baggage. But towards the end of the ride to Bristol, I did crash, not literally - physically and metally as the picture shows, and had to sleep by the side of the road.

Simon pointing us in the right direction

So to summarize, the hills down here are like nothing I'd ever imagined tackling on a bike. Some have just been impossible for me to ride up, I just don't have enough weight to push the pedals down. But as the week has gone on, and as Simon promised me, I have been steadily noticing the strength increasing in my legs. After Bristol it's apparently pretty flat all the way up to Lancashire, and by that time I should be strong enough to tackle the Lake District when we finally hit it. If you want to follow Chris on Twitter for regular updates (as I've hardly ever got internet connection), his name is chrisinbritain. I'll try to make another post soon and until then, thanks so much for reading and if you can, just keep spreading the word.