Doritos, Dilemmas & Destinations
Just the two of us.
When we first discussed a potential long trip, one thing was non-negotiable; the pedalling must start and end at our front door. The first reason was environmental; we’d both got our knickers in a twist about plane flights. As far as possible we wanted to avoid chucking more CO2 into the atmosphere, just so we could go on holiday. Nicky and I have done our fair share of air travel; we don’t need to do it anymore. It’s now the next generation’s turn; anyway, we’ve got more free time and can go by tandem. Secondly Edith hates going in the car.
He’s right there! One of our early outings together, involved driving to the start line, however my handsome extended lines are not a natural fit for their budget hatchback! To squeeze me in I was broken down into parts, then bundled like some rope bound hostage, into the dinky, red Kia Picanto. To add insult to injury they then piled all their clobber on top of me. So, no thank you, we don’t need to do that again..
Plenty of room!
Pedalling off from home might get us a bit of a send-off from family and neighbours too. Who knows, if the Oakhill Facebook Page finds out, we could even go ‘Village Viral’, perhaps crowds will cheer on the street outside our house. A brass band might play for us empty nesters, as we wave goodbye and ring Edith’s bell. Hopefully, similar celebrations could be there for us on our return.
But where should we go? Conversations started around the dinner table, or when we couldn’t agree on a new box set to watch. It was a bit like clay pigeon shooting though, one would send up an idea, the other would blast it out of the sky.
“What about cycling through Norway to see the Northern Lights?”
“Apparently if it’s not raining in Norway, you’re in a tunnel.”
“I’ve heard that the labyrinth in Chartres Cathedral is worth a visit, could we add that to a trip?”
“Don’t they charge to go into Cathedrals now?”.
“How about to the source of the Rhine and back?”
“Someone said it’s like cycling through an industrial estate.”
“How about watching the next Ted Lasso?”
“Have we got any Doritos?”
“Top shelf, back of the cupboard.”
This process went on for weeks. Our only references came from a couple of previous trips, including the infamous, “Scottish Adventure”. 18 years ago, we stuffed our van with enough bikes and kit for 2 weeks of cycle camping. This family summer holiday was from Inverness to John O’ Groats, then over to Orkney on the Pentland Firth Ferry. The six of us camped behind the sports centre in Kirkwall and spent a week fighting the incessant wind and rain. It was a family defining experience, and when we got back home, none of the kids ever wanted to go cycling again.
Nicky wasn’t put off; she is a determined lady and dreamt of more “Safe adventures.” Ones that are not exactly scaling Everest, but tick a lot of boxes: physical challenge? Yes. Logistical puzzle? Certainly. Room for minor peril? Inevitably. Doable at nearly sixty? Hopefully.
The outline planning went something like this: Nicky wanted to camp in our 2-person hiking tent …..
Nicky here. This is Chris’ book, but I think you need to hear from me too. Throughout our married life it’s been noted that at times I interrupt Chris when he is speaking, talking both loudly, and rapidly over him. This is probably the result of growing up in a family with two sisters, where all of us were vying to be heard. Anyway, it’s not a trait that I am particularly proud of, but as I’m still a work in progress, I will steam roller myself into his narrative from time to time. My thoughts will be in italics like Edith’s; however mine will be in blue.
So why camping? Put simply: Fresh air! I love all things “fresh air” to the point of having our bedroom windows open fully even on the coldest winter’s night. Years ago, Chris resorted to wearing a woolly hat in bed. I heard him muttering with a mixture of affection and exasperation “You stupid woman”. For him the air was way beyond fresh. However, after years of conditioning we both now agree that there is something about being cosy under a duvet, but with a chilly nose. When camping I will not have a duvet but instead, I will have the added benefit of snuggling down each night into my lovely sleeping bag. One of the best birthday presents I ever received from Chris, was a down sleeping bag. Once cocooned in it I feel cosy and safe - a sort of back to the womb experience at the end of each day of outdoor living.
My interruption is over for now and I’ll hand you back to my ever-patient, kind and accommodating Chris. As you will have noticed, my thoughts will be in italics like Edith’s, only blue.
So, the outline planning went something like this: Nicky, as I said, wanted to camp in our 2-person hiking tent, AKA Hotel Vaude, but if we were destined to be outside for a month or so, I was very keen that there would be plenty of sun.
Both of us felt that on this trip the challenge of cycling in multiple foreign countries (well two) would add an extra frisson of excitement.
Most importantly, we wanted to go for long enough and far enough to make the journey feel more like a new way of life than a holiday; we needed to provide enough space for us to start finding answers to our questions about life beyond kids.
With these parameters in mind, this became the trip:
Our front door to Plymouth.
Catch a ferry to Roscoff in Brittany.
Cycle down through the west coast of France.
Swing around the corner into the Basque Country and Spain.
Catch the ferry in Santander back to Plymouth.
Cycle home to our front door again in The Mendip hills of Somerset, where a brass band will be playing as we arrive.
The whole route
Once the trip was decided upon, I laid low for a few months while Nicky spent our kids’ limited inheritance on maps, travel guides, Duolingo courses, and a Komoot navigation subscription. Her head remained in her laptop every evening, checking out routes, campsites, gradients, and daily mileages. I periodically checked out the top shelf to ensure we still had enough Doritos.
Weirdly, I feel the need to defend Chris. You can’t have two planning champs in one family; it’s bound to end in an argument. She is a detail person; he’s more about initial concepts. However, if a job needs doing carefully and methodically it’s Chris you want, especially if it’s a bit tedious. By way of contrast, Nicky’s favourite recipe instruction is, “Roughly chop.” Before you start feeling too sorry for him though, let’s get one thing straight, he’s been eating Doritos while she’s been researching. I’m still waiting for my pre-trip spa day."
A week or so before D-Day (That’s departure day, not get more Doritos day), small carefully curated piles of Nicky’s cycling clothes started appearing on the dining room table.
This was the signal that I had better get my, soon to be padded, bum in gear. Maintenance was now top of my agenda. Chain, spokes, brake blocks/pads, lights, inner tubes, tyres; anything that looked a little suspect or worn was replaced. I also ordered spares to take with us on the journey. Next-day delivery was highly desirable, with so little time available.
Last minute maintenance, Edith calls them Spa Days.
Our lights will be on whenever the wheels are turned, so I also purchased batteries for the rear light too. Edith’s front light is powered by a hub dynamo, which also powers an inbuilt USB charging port for phones etc.
I’m not only beautiful but hi-tech too!
Distribution of our worldly possessions needed thinking about. Bright orange rear panniers will hold all our personal clothes and Lilos - our wardrobes as we are calling them. A long grey pannier will slot between them, for the tent, chairs, and cooking stuff. A small waterproof day-bag will be bungeed on top. Big Blue, our new 28W solar panel, will be flopped over the lot, recharging the battery packs if the hoped for sun is up to it.
To help with the steering, the orange front panniers are smaller and lighter, these will contain down sleeping bags, pillows, Kindles, and gas cannisters. Somewhere we will stuff charging packs and the first aid kit.
Tools and spares live in the front handlebar pannier. We will take a Leatherman multitool, borrowed from my daughter Freya, and Nicky’s Swiss Army knife. A special spanner that came with Edith, a selection of Allen keys, tyre levers, and a tool for taking links out of a chain, will go in too. Jelly babies, more battery packs, suncream, and glasses, will go in a small bag, slung from under Nicky’s rear handlebars.
Clothes are kept to a minimum. Chris is packing a pair of cycle shorts and 2 x cycle shirts, clip-in cycle shoes, 1 pair of ankle socks, 2 x t-shirts, long sleeved linen shirt, boardshorts, zip-up thermal top, leather jeans, flip-flops, waterproof jacket, cycle helmet, and a bobble hat. That’s it. Nicky’s wardrobe will have 2 x pairs cycle shorts, 2 x cycle shirts, swimsuit, 2 x pairs of socks, knickers, t-shirt, denim shorts, summer dress, thin down jacket, cycle shoes, bobble hat, cycle helmet, and waterproof jacket.
I picture myself writing up our trip diary lying on my Lilo, propped up on my elbows. The diary is a lined, A6 hardback notebook, which I will write up with a pencil that will quickly become blunt. I think this image is coming from my childhood memories of the film ‘Scott of the Antarctic’, where the brave captain is huddled in a tent writing up his journal, wearing a balaclava and fingerless gloves while a snowstorm batters the thin canvas around him.
Unlike Captain Scott, I’m hoping to enjoy a beer as I write the diary, but with so little space in the tent I expect it will often get knocked over. I intend to write quickly so that all the facts are recorded with the least amount of effort. In retelling the story, some of that style will be maintained. If you want to get the full expedition experience, read this account after 6 hours of vigorous exercise, propped up on your elbows, on a Lilo with a slow puncture. Beer is optional but encouraged.
