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…
alpe d'huez, alpine, alps, ardeche, ascent, auvergne, bicycle, bicycle tour, big ride, bike packing, bike touring, bikepacking, cantal, credit card bikepacking, cycle touring, cycling, france, fuck brexit, landscape, le tour, massif central, monts du cantal, mountains, randonneur, time trial, tour de france, vercors
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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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Diamonds Are Forever
Each signpost points to somewhere I was either a few minutes or an hour or two ago, and quite often both. A back and forth route that almost retraces and crosses itself but never quite meets. A series of incredibly familiar lanes, like a list of old friends in an address book; St Helena, Streat,…
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Little
I’m soaked and distracted and I’m not sure I exchange any pleasantries as I stick my head round the door of the pub and bluntly ask “Are you serving coffee?” “Yes,” is the answer. “Awesome,” I respond before sticking my head back out the door to tell Jim the good news. – – – “Wanna…
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James Bond and cheap Jelly Babies
The rising sun gently lifts mist from the frosted hinterlands, the angular shapes of Arundel Castle stand out against the hill curving through the clear sky. I’m on an early train to Chichester for February’s ‘Randonneur Round the Year’ attempt: Buck Barn Sutton Scotney 200. It’s a week later than planned, thanks to storms Eunice…
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Road Closed
Ah fuck it! The road is actually properly closed. Tall metal barriers span the darkened sunken lane. It’s always a risk riding past ROAD CLOSED signs but with a bike you can almost invariably get past somehow. More often than not it’s only closed to cars and pedestrians can get through, but over the years…
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Bateau | Vélo | Chemin de Fer
South France calmly rolls around the horizon… It’s good to be riding on the wrong side of the road again, a smile on my face as I spin through the streets of Dieppe for the first time in over a year. I’ve missed the sight of the illuminated red diamond tabac and green cross pharmacy…
the man from icon 