france
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eight
Hop off the tram next to where the shiny brightly coloured logo splattered buses are parked up. Fans milling about as mechanics fettle. Expensive carbon fibre and fancy paint jobs reflect in windscreens. Accreditation badges hang round necks, television cameras sit on shoulders, microphones clutched in hands. Lotte Kopecky chats to a television crew before…
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seven
Intersecting lines, motorway overhead, railway below. Signs point to places in a different country. Bus stops, metro stations, tram lines. Severe concrete outskirts, roundabouts and conflicting angles, stripes and chequerboards painted on tarmac, kebab shops and tattoo parlours, chain hotels and car dealerships, fast food and deserted offices. Torn edges, scruffy urban collage, new parts…
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six
A strong tide pushed the ferry sideways up the channel last night, it docks later than usual. Through passport control a few minutes after 6am. Cinema ticket booked for 6pm. Two hundred kilometres, twelve hours. Or eleven if I want to wash and lie on a hotel bed for a bit first. Up on the…
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five
The Avenue Verte sparkles and crunches. Immediately retreat to the main road where hopefully it’s just damp and not frozen but fear lingers. Straight line every slight bend, dare not touch the brakes. Pockets of even colder air, frozen slush crusted in the verges, shattered ice cubes in gutters. Tempted by a PMU bar shining…
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four
The weather changed direction this last week, coldness drifting in from the east, the forecast a couple of days ago even threatened snow flurries. At least the wind has weakened. The sea has been smashing the beach at home for weeks and last month’s ferry crossing was quite rough. Deciding to do all the Randonneur…
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three
The call and response of owls fades. The bell of a church concealed in the blackness strikes seven and the incoming day is heralded by the abrupt dawn chorus of crowing cockerels. Almost and hour later the arrival of the sun lights the sky aflame, incandescent all around with all the hues of red and…
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two
The niggling anxiety of riding in the dark a long way from home knowing daylight is hours away countered by the comfort of familiarity with the hidden landscape, an invisible hand gently placed on my shoulder, you know this place, you’ve done this enough times. Quiet recognition of a bend in the road, a slight…
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one
Land and sky are close to indistinguishable. My light wedges a cone of visibility into the darkness in front of me, the surrounding world muted. It’s not night but nor is it yet day. It will be a few hours before sunlight will breach the eastern horizon. A smattering of stars sparkle in the silence…
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Tour de France dairies 2022
Twenty one bends. Any space that a camper fits is filled, many German, French and Belgians camped out, Dutch corner banging out euro pop at 9.30am, thirty six hours before the tour hits. Beers cooling in streams. A corner festooned in Norwegian flags quiet on the way up but will be belting out AC/ DC…
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Dans la Forêt
A usual road from the port following the Arques valley to the first town inland where we turn over a small stone bridge and start up a narrow lane towards the forest. A pink hue floods the sky as the sun breaches the horizon hidden beyond the hill we’re climbing. A hare jumps from the…
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