Chase The Rainbow

We are moving.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Thu, 12 Sep 2019 14:11:00 +0000

Chase The Rainbow has a new home.

We have now moved everything over to a slick and fancy Wordpress platform (It's been a long time coming) and you can now find us here:

http://chasetherainbow.co.uk/

We hope you like the new look website and continue to visit for travel and adventure inspiration, honest reviews, videos, and to follow our adventures around the world.

We love having you around.

Thank you from all of us here at Chase The Rainbow 💗

Alpkit Squalline Jacket - first test/review.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Sat, 24 Aug 2019 13:06:00 +0000

Here's one I did earlier.

It was my first look at the competitively priced Squalline Jacket from Alpkit.

It's been designed as stash-in-your pocket go-to waterproof/windshell for fast paced activities like trail running and mountainbiking. I like it, it's ideal for those days were the weather can be a bit mixed but there's no need for full-fat waterproof like the Gravitas Jacket.

At £49.00 it's well worth a look.

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A day out cycling and packrafting.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Thu, 22 Aug 2019 19:42:00 +0000

Neil's latest "badly edited video" Blockbuster.

Follow him around as he cycles from home to the River Trent, then paddles around for a while, before cycling home again.
It's gripping stuff 😝
Aqua Xtreme Commando Packraft and Sonder Bikes Frontier 29er.

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The Long Way Home.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Fri, 16 Aug 2019 14:33:00 +0000

Recently I headed over to The Isle of Man to take part in the, very brutal, Manx100 mountainbike race. It had been an eleventh-hour decision to go. At the same time I made another rather rash decision - I was going to cycle home too. The Manx100 didn't quite go to plan (that's another long story: see here) so when the sun shone on the morning of my departure back to the mainland I was emboldened and was looking forward to a few days of very pleasant cycling through England’s finest green and pleasant lands.

I planned to cut across country from Morecambe to Settle on The Way of the Roses and then pick up The Pennine Bridleway (PBW) from there all the way back home to Derbyshire. It was a basic plan with some wiggle room for any potential disasters along the way - which turned out to be a fortuitous plan, as it happened, because I didn't have a map or actually know the way.

I knew that The Pennine Bridleway was fairly well signposted, particularly in The Yorkshire Dales, and I did have a map of sorts for the southern part of the route. (Not that I find maps much use these days - I'm red/green colour blind and can't really see fine details anymore even with reading glasses).

Thankfully The Way of the Roses was very well signed, and I ambled forth along quiet cycle paths, bathed in pleasant sunshine, to Lancaster and beyond. Once clear of the towns, and their lovely smooth network of former railway lines, the route followed very quiet country lanes through chocolate box villages all the way to my destination for the night.

En-route I happened across a fellow touring cyclist, who appeared to be very heavily laden compared to my minimalist set-up, and we chatted for a few moments before I continued on at more energetic pace. A break for coffee at the Hornby Tea Rooms-cum-Post Office proved to be a delightful distraction (highly recommended if you're passing through) and I lingered there awhile whilst admiring a large clock on the wall emblazoned with the phrase "Anytime is cupcake time". I found myself quietly nodding in agreement to that piece of sage wisdom.

Throughout the day I had been mildly irritated by a slight clanking noise in the general drivetrain region and had stopped a couple of times to investigate but couldn't spot anything. Eventually I discovered that my rear cassette had worked loose and would need tightening before very long at all. I Googled "Bike shops in Settle" and to my delight came up with the 3 Peaks Cycles Bike Shop & Cafe - if that's not a perfect combination then I don't know one that is. I made it in the nick of time, they were just packing away, and the mechanic whipped my bike into the workshop and had me back on the road in no time at all. I called ahead to a nearby campsite, the opulently titled Knight Stainforth Hall, and scored myself a good deal for the night - they gave me the backpackers rate of £8.50. It was a lovely place, with an excellent shower block and equally excellent restaurant, nestled perfectly in a valley on a thundering stretch of the River Ribble (I made a mental note for a possible future packrafting adventure).

My plan was to get under way quite early and put in some long miles before the stormy weather arrived later in the day. However..., as often happens, Sod's Law kicked in and the heavens opened five minutes before packing up my tent. Once the storm had subsided I gave the tent a good shake and wiped off the excess water with a cloth, then dilly-dallied around for a while until it wind-dried sufficiently to be tucked away.

I whizzed down into the valley and crawled back up the other side, just in time for another brief shower. My Gravitas rain jacket came to the rescue, for the first of many such occasions, and I soldiered on regardless. It took about 40 minutes to reach Settle (which would have been 10 minutes on the road had I known) where I called once again at the bike shop. I ordered breakfast and waited patiently for it to arrive. I then waited a bit more, and then a bit more. Forty-five minutes later a flustered member of staff sheepishly asked me if I was still waiting for a drink? At which point I politely pointed out that I was also waiting for my breakfast too. My coffee arrived promptly, followed ten minutes later by my breakfast - It was worth waiting for, the black pudding was delicious.

I was now a couple of hours behind schedule as I stepped across the bike and nervously eyed the building storm clouds in the distance. Time to get a wiggle on.

I followed the PBW "Acorn" signs out of town and up a very steep hill before turning right across the moors. The view from the top was wonderful and I pulled over at a convenient bench to admire it whilst treating myself to a few Jelly Babies. The descent to Long Preston was equally thrilling and I arrived in the village with the wind in my hair, and, sadly, no sign of any acorns. I may have missed a turn on the way down. With time ticking on and no appetite to retrace my steps I once again consulted Google Maps and searched for an alternative to get me back on track. I knew that the PBW passed through Barnoldswick and I could pick it up again there, so I followed the Sustrans Route 68 along quiet lanes before being deposited on the Leeds-Liverpool Canal a couple of miles shy of the town.

It was at this point that things started to unravel a shade. Crossing over a hump backed bridge I put a bit of extra power through the pedals and felt a very strange sensation. The front chainring had collapsed. A few choice words and phrases didn't resolve the situation, so I had to resort to more conventional tactics. Think Neil, Think. OK it's no problem, the Hope Technology factory is just down the way, I'll try my luck there, maybe they can help?

The chainring itself was a modular system from Superstar Components, thankfully the crankset and BB were both made by Hope.

I scooted, one-footed, along the canal for about two miles and then rolled through town to the factory. A lady replied over the intercom and I babbled frantically about what I was doing and about my current situation, barely pausing for breath. I think she was either dazed and confused or just felt sorry for me, either way she buzzed open the door and let me in (in the nick of time too because the mother of all thunderstorms unleashed itself at that very second) Phew.

I was greeted by a very nice man called Johnny Henstock. I followed him upstairs to the workshop with the bike and then he proceeded to sort it out. Johnny turned out to be a very nice man indeed and we chatted away about this and that for the hour or so it took to put things right.

By the time I rolled out of the factory I had a shiny new chainring, a new drive-side bearing, and tapered insert, all charged at a nominal fee. Johnny Henstock was now on my list of heroes.

I was now about three hours behind schedule and my plan to reach the village of Summit or beyond was in serious jeopardy.

Under instruction from Johnny I found the trailhead and then pointed the bike in the southerly direction. This also turned out to be a bit of an issue. An hour or so along the trail I took shelter from a storm in a small copse of trees. To while away such an idle moment I checked on Strava to see my position. Hmm. That didn't look right? I was heading north again. Apparently the PBW loops around the southern side of Barnoldswick and then turns sharply north towards Settle, so my intuitive decision to head south was the wrong way, I should've gone east. Big sigh. OK, Google Maps again. Time was definitely now against me and I decided to take up the kind offer of a bed for the night in Hebden Bridge by fellow Alpkiteer (and Olympic double Gold Medallist no less) Steve Bate. Cue further miles on Route 68. Thankfully the weather remained foul for the rest of the day and I was subjected to a deluge of constant heavy rain, woo-hoo. The route took me up and over the moors and around to Hardcastle Crags, and no matter how much it rained it was a thrilling and enjoyable ride.

My arrival in Hebden Bridge coincided nicely with the demise of my phone battery, which was handy, and with everything soaked through I struggled to get my powerbank to breathe life into it. I did manage to fire off a message to Steve telling him my location before it died completely, and a few minutes later he rolled up onto the eponymous bridge to save the day.

I then spent a thoroughly enjoyable evening in the company of Steve and Caroline, for which I am eternally grateful.

My final day was set to be a big one, much bigger than I originally planned that was for sure, and as I blissfully rolled through Hebden Bridge, following the Rochdale Canal for about ten miles to Summit, I pondered the day ahead. The early forecast was fine, and it looked like it might remain reasonable heading south so long as I kept up a decent clip. With the value of hindsight the forecast was a tad optimistic.

A short coffee stop at Hollingworth Lake set me up to tackle the high moors and I made good progress for a while. Descending towards Dowry Reservoir the clouds burst and subjected me to a session of torrential rain, completely exposed to the elements and with no sign of shelter. It was thankfully short lived, and I climbed and descended again, into Diggle, whereupon I spied an ominous looking storm brewing in the distance. I chanced upon a timely positioned pub - The Church Inn -in Uppermill and decided to assess the situation over lunch, and very nice it was too; a splendid Tuna Ciabatta and side salad washed down with a half-pint of fine ale. The storm broke just as I got settled and didn't abate for quite some time. The sky above the moors continued to look ominous and I decided that Route 68 might be the sensible option; heading over the High Peak in those conditions would have been foolhardy.

From Uppermill all the way to Whaley Bridge the route took me along mile upon mile of canal towpaths which, under normal circumstances, would make for some speedy riding. It also rained the whole time; mostly just heavy, but occasionally interspersed with prolonged periods of torrential just for good measure - it actually rained for seven hours, I even thought about jumping in the canal at one point just to dry off a little. The temperatures remained mild though, so although I was exceptionally wet I was never suffering.

At Whaley Bridge I enjoyed a takeaway coffee (the cafe was just closing on my arrival) and I took shelter under a bus stop. A young fellow admired my bike and we chatted a bit about mountainbiking before he hopped onto a bus and I hopped back onto my bike. I climbed steeply out of Whaley Bridge on Old Road and was subjected to a torrent of water the likes of which I have only previously experienced during monsoon rains in Asia. Like The Severn Bore it was flooding down the hill in a constant sheet, and the gullies either side were literally gushing. At a couple of points the road dipped slightly and each time my bottom bracket (and feet) were completely submerged as I ploughed a bow wave through the tide. (The following day Whaley Bridge made international headlines when the town was evacuated due to partial washing away of the dam at Toddbrook Reservoir). The monsoon continued all the way into Buxton where I again took brief respite, this time under the canopy of the small but spectacular Opera House. A police car drove by and I thought, given the state I was now in, that I was in danger of being arrested for vagrancy or, perhaps, bringing the Opera House into disrepute. I sloshed onward.

I passed a Premier Inn and very briefly considered giving up for the day, but I was made of sterner stuff than that, and knowing that I was now only a couple of hours from home I decided to endure; besides I couldn't actually get any wetter and I certainly wouldn't get my clothes dry for morning so I elected to save myself some money (I could always use it later to treat myself to some nice shiny bike parts, or some Jelly Babies).

I re-joined the PBW at Chelmorton - The High Peak Trail - and got my head down for twenty miles of flat riding. By the time I reached Middleton Top the rain was finally falling into submission, and by the time I'd whizzed down to the canal at Cromford little streaks of sunshine were actually streaming through the clouds and lighting up the treetops with an evening alpenglow. My final few miles were a bit wobbly, apart from a couple of cereal bars I hadn't really eaten anything since my lunch, some six hours earlier, and I weaved my way up the final little climb to home slightly delirious, with almost a hundred miles in the bag.

I hadn't planned for it to be quite this much of an adventure, but it was an adventure, I even saw a horse in a Zebra coat, and I'd do it all again in a flash.

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Not the Manx 100 - again.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Tue, 13 Aug 2019 19:19:00 +0000

Last year a group of us set out to take on The Manx 100 on The Isle of Man. Unfortunately our ferry crossing was cancelled and we never made it.
This year we did actually get to the island, which was at least a step further, but our progress beyond that wasn't exactly a shining success.
At the eleventh-hour, barely a week before the race, I decided to join the lads - Mitch Bryan, Paul Moore, Johnny Smith, and Pascal "Fluffy" Lally - for a go at this years edition.
The Manx 100 is probably the hardest 1-day race in the UK.
Sensibly I decided to enter the 100km version rather than the 100 miler; I wasn't suitably trained to tackle the long course. Sensible is not something that I do very often, it was very out of character.

On our arrival in Douglas, the capital, we were greeted with overcast but fair weather. The forecast for the following day was less forgiving; we put that temporarily to back of minds and faffed about with bikes and kit before heading off to meet my friends San Kapil and Roel Joling, and a couple of other racers (one of whom was tackling it on a singlespeed) for dinner at the excellent Paparazzi Pizzeria.
I ummed and arred over the menu. I really fancied pizza but had reservations about it for the following days racing. Several of the others decided on pizza so, buoyed by their decisions, I also tucked into one. It was lovely but with hindsight I should have followed my instincts and gone with something simpler to digest.

After dinner we headed up to The Grandstand (HQ for the Isle of Man TT races) to register and faff about with our drops bags and stuff. It was nice to bump into Nick and Sarah Craig and have a little, if all too brief, catch-up. Nick was racing in The British Marathon Championships 100km version and ended up placing third overall and 1st Grand Veteran (Over 50's) earning himself a jersey in the process. Considering the average age and quality of the field, Nick proved to anyone and everyone that age is no barrier to fitness - he absolutely crushed it (and many riders half his age).

Faffing.

Catching up with Nick Craig at Race Registration.

I didn't sleep particularly well, I was hot and I woke up a couple times. When I did rise in the morning I had a mild stomach ache and felt bloated. I hoped a good pre-race poo might sort the situation out but unfortunately my bowels decided to hang on to it and I barely forced out a fart.
We all met up outside the hotel and wound our way steadily uphill to The Grandstand, perhaps a ten minute cycle, which was enough to get warmed up, and convened with everyone else at the start line. The weather was looking shitty and the mood around the pit lane was that usual race mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Fluffy, Mitch, and I. Those smiles soon disappeared.

With San Kapil at the start.

We started out in a neutral group under a police escort for about a kilometre before passing through the rolling start gate to race proper. The bunch fragmented and spread out fairly quickly, with the BC (British Championships) racers forging away in a big old hurry. I took it steady knowing that it might be a long day. It was clear to me fairly quickly that things weren't right; I was lacking energy and any kind of punch.

The weather deteriorated faster than I did and the rain began to fall with ruthless impunity; and once it began it was in no mind to stop - it remained somewhere between persistent and torrential for the whole day. The trails were awash and water streamed in torrents down every available avenue, which made picking a line nearly impossible. It was a matter of persevering and ploughing on. It wasn't the most fun that I ever had.

I loved the descents, they were fast and furious, and I picked off riders on every one. The trails were purported to be really rough and technical but I didn't think so, they were excellent fun with some nice little drops and some loose rocky sections but they weren't any different to riding most other trails; if anything I was slightly underwhelmed by them because of the pre-race hype. One of the trails was actually quite disappointing, it was section over a peaty moor and just felt pointless, in that it was almost impossible to ride; I think that even under good conditions it would have been a chore. I want races to be hard and demanding but I do actually want to enjoy the trails at the same time - In our post-race analysis nobody had enjoyed that one.

Unfortunately I suffered inordinately on the climbs and all those careful riders that I'd passed on the descents slowly creaked past me on the way back up. Eating was an issue for me. I found that I couldn't stomach solid food, at one point I was struggling with a trail bar and gagged on it, then puked it back out into the hedge bottom. I survived on just four Torq Gels for 50kms. I'd also made an error with my drink mixes. I had some sachets ready portioned from a previous race for 750mls bottles and never gave it a thought when I filled up my 500mls bottles in the morning - the overdose of Lemon & Lime was like drinking neat citric acid and I couldn't stomach those either so I managed on one 500mls bottle of plain water.
The combination of stomach cramps, mild vomiting, not being able to eat, and running out of water collectively contributed to my demise.

On my final climb I had to get off and push in a couple of places and pretty much made the decision to retire at the next check point. It wasn't a massive climb, I think about 400m over 20kms, but it was enough to make me realise that I wasn't going much further (there's actually a segment of it on Strava called Shit Hill, which still makes me laugh when I think about it).
Approaching the checkpoint at Laxey after a long and really enjoyable descent I was almost tempted to continue but I made the sensible decision to pull over (Again, what's wrong with me?). I was really surprised to see Mitch and Pascal at the checkpoint, I thought they were miles ahead. It seemed that everyone was finding it tough. Pascal had also blown a spoke and his wheel was wobbling quite badly. I offered him my bike and he continued on for a short while afterward but ended up pulling the plug halfway up the next climb.
Paul and Johnny pulled out somewhere along the route.
Mitch continued on and made it to the 100km mark before missing the cut-off and was forced to retire (he was in the 100 miler) - absolutely fantastic effort from him though, as usual.
When I saw San later in the day he told me that he'd pulled out at 20kms, he's a Manx veteran, he knew what was coming, and took the pragmatic approach that there's always another year. I think we all nodded in agreement with that sentiment.
I managed about 55kms in the end and was on the favourable side of the cut-offs but it wasn't going to get any better than that.

Will I go back to try and complete the job? Of course I will. There's a ton of strenuous and challenging climbing followed by fun descents. The cut-off times are sufficient without being in any way generous, which I like; it means that you have keep pushing on. It's an excellent event.
It is well organised, extremely well marked - I didn't need to check my GPS once - and the Marshall's did a fantastic job, and especially considering that they were stood out in the pouring rain all day - Bravo to those excellent Ladies and Gentlemen.

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Packrafting - How to add extra tie downs.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Sun, 04 Aug 2019 15:36:00 +0000

Here's the latest video from the YouTube channel, where Neil goes through the process of adding additional tie-downs to his Aqua Xtreme Commando Packraft.

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Alpkit Soloist Backpacking Tent - First Look.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Fri, 19 Jul 2019 13:23:00 +0000

I've finally got my hands on one of these little fellas. The Alpkit Soloist 1-man tent.
It’s a big deal in a tiny package.
Every batch has sold out on pre-order so far (Alpkit have the knack of delivering the right product at prices that are extremely attractive to consumers). It’s a product that I’m really excited about and I’m looking forward to getting out and using it.

It's a mighty little atom that weighs only 1.2kgs and is retailing at only £125.00 inc the footprint. Take a look at the video and see for yourselves.

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A visit to Celtic Paddles.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Tue, 09 Jul 2019 19:39:00 +0000

Today I took a visit to Anglesey in Wales to visit the Celtic Paddles factory.
I had a great experience and was surprised to find that it was a pretty big operation with a lot going on.

If you're in the market for a quality paddle check them out.
My very special thanks to James Marden for arranging a generous discount.

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Aqua Xtreme Commando Packraft - Unboxing.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Fri, 05 Jul 2019 09:44:00 +0000

Finally my packraft has arrived. It's been a painful process watching it crawl through customs, and the subsequent fee to get it released. However, here it is:

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Ronde van Vegas

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Mon, 01 Jul 2019 17:32:00 +0000

A few weeks ago my mate Mitch called me about a local event called The Ronde van Vegas.

It's organised by local bike shop Velotastic and is classified as a Reliability Trial to "challenge and test your skill and stamina"

In a nutshell it was a 100km unsupported, unmarshalled adventure on the quiet roads, byways, and bridleways that surround Velotastic's home town of Chesterfield.

Entants were supplied with a GPX file of the route and details of the start/finish point at Holmesfield Village Hall.

We arranged to meet up at about 8.00am. Myself and Paul drove up and Mitch, Martin, Pascal (Fluffy), and Daz rode in on their bikes. I was riding my rigid Sonder Frontier 29er mountain bike and the others were astride a variety of gravel bikes.

It started really well; we were soon into a lovely section of singletrack in which my mountain bike proved an advantage (that didn't last long). At the bottom of the descent Daz suffered the first of his punctures. Much of the early riding was on gravel and bridleways and I had no problems keeping with the group on these sections. The road sections were a little tougher and I was hanging on for grim death at the back at times; my big fat mountainbike tyres were no match for skinny gravel rubber. At the halfway point we pulled into, a deliberately convenient (by the organisers), cafe at the former Pleasley Pit works for a cup of tea or two and a bacon roll (or two); and very nice it was too.

After lunch we spent quite a while riding along converted former railways lines and whizzed along a good pace before rejoining country lanes; at which point I got unceremoniously dropped several times. We did find the time to stop for an ice cream though, I chose Raspberry Ripple and it was delicious.

Finally we crossed Beeley Moor, enjoying the spectacular vistas of The Peak District before finding ourselves back at the village hall in a very comfortable seven hours. The sun was out for most of the day and the riding temperature was very pleasant; it was a good day. Then we ate some cake, which we all agreed rounded things off nicely.

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Buying a PFD from Peak UK

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Mon, 24 Jun 2019 18:41:00 +0000

Today I went along to Peak UK in Derbyshire to buy a PFD (Personal Floatation Device) for my packrafting adventures.
I received really good advice from Adam Gill and enjoyed a great customer experience. Peak UK will be familiar to anyone interested in paddle sports. If you're in the area (Matlock/Peak District) it's well worth calling in to browse their showroom.

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New Partner Announcement - Aqua Extreme (Kayaks/Packrafts/SUP's)

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Tue, 18 Jun 2019 19:17:00 +0000

I'm thrilled to announce that I have been accepted into the Aqua-Xtreme Brand Ambassador Program.

It's pretty amazing, and cool, that I got in, considering they had over 900 applicants.

I will be using one of their packrafts for some of my travel plans over the nexth 12 months or so; so watch this space.

I liked their pitch and it encouraged me to apply:

"Aqua Xtreme 2019 Ambassador Program is seeking committed top athletes ,adventurers and paddlers.
If you're passionate about watersports, exploring, and an adventurous storyteller with a social media following or a rebel who questions everything, we want to work with you."

I must have fitted in to the "rebel" section.

I like their ethos; I'm looking forward to the journey and becoming a member of the Aqua Xtreme family.

"Aqua Xtreme was established in 2009 and has grown over the years to become a manufacturer of folding, composite, inflatable kayaks, Packrafts, & SUP's.

Our range of innovative products are clearly different from the competition .

Aqua Xtreme has their own inhouse design, engineering and production team to create the next generation of water sports products.

Aqua Xtreme focuses on creating great designed products at affordable prices.

Our team at Aqua Xtreme are proud that all products are manufactured by Aqua Xtreme and not outsourced to China unlike many brands in the market today.

We are also have capabilities to OEM other brands in the market should customers require.

It is our belief that the initial introduction to kayaking or sup's should be a pleasurable experience, and with that thought in mind we strive to ensure our products are comfortable, safe, and feature-rich, providing paddlers with the best experience on the water possible. We are kayakers and paddlers taking great pride in manufacturing our incredible line-up of kayaks and sup boards"

Thank you to everyone who reads the blog and interacts on the social media channels; without you things like this would be impossible.

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A Paws for thought. Singlespeeding through Sri Lanka.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Mon, 17 Jun 2019 15:15:00 +0000

A Paws for thought – Singlespeeding through Sri Lanka.

There’s something about the sight and sound of rushing water that captivates me; be it the soothing chatter of a brook speeding through a shallow glide or, like today, the deep base of white horses breaking on a sun-soaked beach. Last night I was lulled into a deep sleep by it, and today I stood on its edge with a wash of cool, foaming, surf tickling my feet whilst I studied, mesmerised, the infinite variety of the forming waves, no two the same, ever.

It was 36 hours since we'd rolled into Tangalle, on Sri Lanka’s southern coast, on our local singlespeed bicycles; seven days after leaving Jaffna, in the north, 804kms of cycling now behind us. My bike sat in the shade of our simple but pleasant beach-side accommodation, its tyres half submerged in the soft white sand. It was a nice place to end an adventure.

-----------------------------------------

With a budget of just £150 each we took the slow train from Colombo, the capital, to Jaffna, bought ourselves a couple of the ubiquitous singlespeed bicycles, known locally as “Standards”, for the princely sum of £63.00 each, and prepared ourselves for the long slog.

We were cycling from north to south via the most westerly and easterly points on the map - Jaffna, Mannar, Arugam Bay, and Tangalle. None of this was my idea I might add; it was all the making of my friend Phil Evans; a master of master planners if ever there was one.

For our efforts we were hoping to raise £2000 for the Helping Paws Neuter and Vaccination Program which in turn would help to enrich the lives of around 100 street dogs and cats (*I’m pleased to say we exceeded our target).

Our journey wasn’t without incident - how could it be - it wouldn’t be a journey otherwise; even our train was delayed en-route by a car colliding with it at a level crossing a few miles short of our disembarkation. Thankfully the driver appeared none the worse for the altercation, the car however didn’t fare quite so well - these lumbering old Asian trains are made of stern stuff. The type of stuff we would need to made of over the next seven days.

I loaded my bike, ad hoc fashion, with the new Alpkit Koala Exo Seatpack, a Joey Harness, and a 20l Airlok dual dry bag, and we rolled out of Jaffna with an eclectic mix of smiles, enthusiasm, and trepidation. This was no picnic, no leisurely bikepacking tour through a tropical dreamscape, we had big miles to cover and a tight deadline in which to do it.

Our reverie was soon tempered by the desolate northern landscape of scrub and desert, a pan-flat and arrow-straight road, and a relentless coastal headwind. We were about to earn our turns.

The first fifteen kilometres or so were on a raised causeway that dissected a saltwater wetland of sorts, before transitioning to the mainland and long stretches of nothingness, no settlements or services to speak of for miles at a time. The crippling heat and humidity made its presence felt from the start and would play a significant role in our suffering for the whole journey south, I only remember stopping to pee three times in seven days, and we drank copious amounts of water, tea, and pop, along the way.

The last thirty kilometres were where it got tough, no longer buoyed by the morning’s excitement, the smooth asphalt turned to concrete, with a corrugated ripple just for good measure, and I began to suffer. The heat, headwind, and unforgiving surface all playing a part. It was miserable. When finally this purgatory ceased we rolled on to a beautifully smooth asphalt causeway across to the island; the coastal headwind, of course, perpetuated our misery until the final turn of the pedals. The horribly cheap saddle on the bike had caused me problems all day, I was left to contend with a bruise on each bum cheek the size and colour of a Cox's Orange Pippin; some urgent adjustments were required.

Our oasis for the night was a little hideaway in the backstreets of Mannar called The Pearl Rest, more homestay than hotel, and at the princely sum of five dollars each ensured we came in under budget. Isabella Fuchs, a Swiss girl we met in Jaffna, just happened to be staying in the very same place, and with a little wave of her wand some trail magic appeared; a bottle each of the local Lion Beer. Cheers Isabella.

Saddling up for the spin inland to Vavuniya (pronounced Vow-nee-er) we anticipated a pleasant morning of now favourable coastal winds over the trifling 80kms - a virtual rest day. Ha.

The weather gods decreed that we would be given no such quarter and prescribed us another vicious headwind. After a mere fifteen kilometres we pulled off the road, completely knackered, propped our steel behemoths up on their kickstands, and paused for tea. Tea in Sri Lanka is delicious (the coffee culture, on the other hand, is quite diabolical). We slurped down our first cup and then promptly ordered another. Sri Lankan's like tea. They also like sugar. The tea was so sweet it made my teeth rattle, but, given our advanced levels of perspiration, we figured it may be more helpful than harmful and guzzled it anyway.

We were now far enough inland as to be untroubled by the draw of the tidal wind and we whizzed along happily, albeit in furnace like conditions, for a couple of hours through delightful arable farmland and pasture, so green that we might have been at home in Derbyshire.

It was at a fork in the road that our yin met its yang. As we gleefully swept around the bend towards Vavuniya we were hit with a double whammy, nay, triple whammy; the road surface deteriorated to unpleasant, our friend the headwind made an unwelcome return to the fold, and the furnace decided it was time to release molten steel upon us and soared to a mind-bending 38 degrees Celsius. A holy trinity of wrath was cast upon us.

To further propagate my sufferance my steed began to develop a few issues. Firstly, one of the front brake pads fell off and the nut was nowhere to be found, so I stashed it in my waist pack and continued forth. It wasn't a real problem at that point because the brakes didn't really work anyway. A short while later my left pedal started to wobble. It had worked its way loose and jammed, at an angle, in the threads. This wasn't a good omen for success. With our crappy spanner set, thankfully an impulsive purchase in Jaffna, I managed to tighten it up a bit, but it was far from ideal. Phil, highly amused by all of this, said he might ride behind me for the rest of the day just in case anything else fell off. He then promptly cycled off into the distance (along with the spanners; do you see where this is going?); it's what friends are for after all.

Phil's bike remained steadfast throughout the whole trip whilst mine gradually disintegrated - the exact same bikes bought from the same shop.

Just as Phil was out of sight my pedal fell off completely. After attempting (unsuccessfully) to pedal one-footed for a while I found myself a slither of paltry shade from the incessant sun, fished out my phone and called him a number of times before making contact.

With the spanners at hand I screwed the pedal in from the wrong side to clean out the damaged threads and then reinserted it correctly. It never once came loose again. Weird.

In Vavuniya we secured a room at The Princess Rose Hotel and managed to negotiate a reasonable discount by pleading poverty and charity. Choices were at premium in a town that is distinctly off the tourist track.

Food, it transpired, was also at a premium. Vavuniya is, unusually, a predominantly Muslim town, and this was Ramadan. Tracking down sustenance before sundown was a challenge but one that we managed to surmount with a meagre bag of spicy samosa's and fried potatoes before going out in the evening and having a massive bowl of ice cream. When cycling a long way everyday it is perfectly acceptable to have ice cream for dinner. I also bought a massive cake for breakfast.

Day three - Vavuniya to Trincomolee - proved to be one of the best days on the bike for both of us.

The temperature was pleasant, relatively, around 30c, we enjoyed a favourable tailwind for the most part, the scenery was a delight, and we were beset by zero mechanical issues. What could possibly go wrong?

Actually, not much.

The terrain was rolling all day; we did plenty of climbing but we weren't particularly troubled by it. The first eighty kilometres fairly whizzed by. We enjoyed our now customary tea stops every hour or so (about 20kms) and had nary a care in the world.

Perhaps half way in to the day we came upon a huge lake that enticed us off the road and down a short dirt track for a few moments of cooling refreshment.

I wandered ankle deep into the margins, soaked my tee shirt, and splashed the delicious cool water over my head. Phil had other ideas and fancied going a bit deeper - now at this point I should mention that a pair of likely lads where sat a couple of hundred metres away enjoying the shade of the palms, a tipple of the local firewater (Arrack - a type of coconut whisky), and, let's call it, a toot of herbal relaxation. Many Sri Lankans enjoy drinking excessively; a good friend of ours once told us, with some pride I might add, that Sri Lanka has the highest per capita percentage of alcoholics in the world, and these two fellows had clearly embraced that.

Phil waded thigh deep, perhaps ten metres, through a gap in reeds to the point where the lake started to open up, at which point we began to hear some faint catcalling from our friends up the bank. We chuckled at their drunken absurdity, until the calls became a bit louder and a bit more distinct... "CROCODILES". I don't believe that I've ever seen anyone move quite so fast, it was like watching Roadrunner rev up his legs before catapulting away from Wile. E. Coyote.

I couldn't get my breath; I clutched my stomach and howled with laughter as Phil came scurrying out of the lake quick sharp. Now I don't even know if there were any crocodiles or if those boys were pulling his tail, but it certainly got him out of the water in a big damn hurry.

The two village idiots then wandered down, chuckling, for a chat, and very kindly offered to share their refreshments with us. Now as tempting as that offer was, and it was tempting, we thought it best to decline; we did have another fifty kilometres of riding ahead of us and the searing heat of the afternoon sun to contend with.

Only in the last twenty kilometres did things unravel a shade, but only a shade mind.

At our final tea stop the sky turned a little brooding and began to spit with rain. We saddled up, cranked the bikes up to cruising speed, and just managed to keep it off our backs.

Then the sun appeared, and the temperature rocketed. In contrast to this my health plummeted exponentially. I hadn't eaten sufficiently, and this combined with the heat and the extra effort to outrun the rain gave me a bit of a wobble, I was borderline bonking. We pulled over for a few minutes to cool down and I rummaged around and found a few snacks to get me going again. Ten minutes later I was back into kilter and we rolled the final fifteen kilometres into Trinco Beach and the enchanting east coast surf. As a Surfer's paradise Trinco had plenty of food options, our accommodation, The Jungle Vistha Beach, was simple, affordable, and perfectly sufficient; it was a palm trees and hammocks kind of a place, just how I like it. A little paddle in the surf and a belly full of delicious Sri Lankan curry put the day to bed nicely.

The party was now officially over. After three days of reasonable distances we were now heading into the unknown and three days of big mileage.

Our route from Trincomolee to Pasikuda turned in to a bigger mileage day quite by accident. We headed out on to the road full of the joys of the previous days cakewalk, it just so happened that we hit the road in the wrong direction. Fortunately a friendly local turned us around after about 7.5kms and so the damage was minimal, and we hightailed it back to where we should've been.

The temperature was an unforgiving 34+ all day and we were beset with the now familiar headwinds making progress harder than it should have been.

For a while we cruised along close the coastline, crossing long bridges, and enjoying the views of beautiful lagoons and lush mangrove, before hitting some blustery weather. The wind picked up and the rain came down. To be fair it wasn't much of a storm, it lasted little more than ten minutes, and was pleasantly cool for a change.

Phil had his bad patch between 40 and 70km. Mine came a little later when the temperature rocketed after the rainstorm. From 70-100kms I completely imploded, my energy seemed to drain away and my head felt like it might explode at any second. Fortunately it was on the most desolate stretch of road imaginable with no services or shelter; not even a muddy buffalo pool to wallow in and alleviate my torment.

I backed off a little, let Phil drift slowly off into the distance, and suffered in silence.

When, at last, a village appeared, I spotted Phil waiting patiently in the shade at a small roadside restaurant and I rolled slowly to a halt. I found a tap round the back, flopped to my knees, and spent a good ten minutes with the water gurgling deliciously over my head.

A sharp intake of fluids and food pulled me back from the light, and the sheer delight of a little pot of Creamoo yoghurt (one of my favourite treats in Sri Lanka) put a little cherry on the top. I was back in the game.

Did I say "Back in the game"? Well not entirely, it was still pretty hard going; accumulated fatigue, sunburn, dehydration, exposure, etc all make life tougher than it should be. With only about 30kms left for the day and the promise of a smashing air-conditioned room and a hearty meal to come we soldiered on; only to be betrayed by Google Maps barely a kilometre or two from paradise.

We turned off the highway and down a dirt road towards a causeway that cut right across Pasikuda Bay, a welcome little short cut. Only it didn't. The causeway was none existent. We retraced our steps and trundled into town a short while later. We bumbled around for quite some time, wobbling down myriad side streets with little idea of where we where; the 4G had conveniently disappeared. A further six kilometres down the road, and with more than a hint of relief, we flicked down the kickstands and chugged down a welcome drink in the air-conditioned reception of the fabulous Pasikuda Beach Resort.

The Pasikuda Beach Resort was trail-magic at its finest. Phil had scored us a free room and free food via our friends at LSR (Lanka Sportreisen - they do the logistics for Rumble in the Jungle). It was great to enjoy a bit of pampered luxury rather than scratting around for cheap digs and cheaper food.

Luxury breakfast.

I arose early, walked down to the beach, made friends with a couple of stray dogs, and tried to grab a few sunrise images before the light became too harsh.

We gorged on a mighty breakfast, then slowly creaked our way out into the heat of the day, and boy was it hot. We were wise to creak out slowly, it turned out to be one of the hardest days of the whole trip.

For 149kms we were brutalised by a relentless sun, not a single cloud appeared in the entire sky for the entire day. It was bonkers.

We were perhaps the only tourists in Sri Lanka wishing for clouds.

The terrain, thankfully, was kind to us. The roads were very flat, and smooth as silk, as we wound our way through beautiful stretches of mangrove and jungle. A couple of major towns made for an unpleasant interlude, with choking fumes belching from a thousand cars, each one honking its horn incessantly. We didn't bother to pause for tea until we escaped the melee.

For a while we picked up a peloton of enthusiastic kids who, from time to time, would try to goad us into racing. Much to their disappointment we were far too knackered for that particular game.

The last 25kms had us climbing quite a bit, just what you need after a bruising 125kms of purgatory, it was the final nail in the coffin of an already arduous day. Misery doesn't last forever though.

In the delightful surf town of Arugam Bay we swam in the sea, treated ourselves to pizza, and washed it down with an ice-cold beer.

We crawled into our beds early, completely spent.

I liked Arugam Bay; it had that laid-back backpacker vibe. It was the sort of town that you'd visit for a couple of days and end up staying for a week.

Alas we didn't have the luxury of a spare week and so we continued our relentless march south, like swallows on the autumn winds.

Actually that's not strictly true; we headed inland to the west then south west then south today. Initially Phil's plan was to cycle into the highlands to a town called Ella. After a little deliberation we agreed that this might be a tad foolish and decided to follow Phil's reserve route to Kuda Oya, hopefully skipping about 30 or 40 kilometres of pushing our steel pigs uphill.

The route ahead was still uncharted territory and we knew that it was probably further, but it looked like the lesser of two evils.

It was an up and down kind of a day, mostly up with the occasional short down - how does that work? For the first 45 kilometres we climbed ever so steadily, barely noticing the gradual ascent into the hills. The weather, although still ridiculously hot obviously, was less troublesome than of late; the welcome shade of dense jungle helping us out here and there. I spotted a lot more interesting and varied wildlife too; Cranes and Egrets grazed nonchalantly around rice paddies, the occasional Peacock poked its head above the vegetation, and Monkeys hollered from the tops of ancient tangled trees. I find it oddly thrilling spotting Peacocks in the wild, in the UK they are completely ornamental and are often only seen in the gardens of the great houses.

In the Lahugala National Park I was thrilled again at the potential of spotting wild elephants roaming freely, all the signs were there - broken trees, footprints, a well-used bathing hole - but it wasn't to be.

In the meantime my mudguards fell off. The front one became dislodged and rolled forward onto the tyre a couple of times, defiantly slowing my forward motion. Indeed, had it not been for the considerable weight of the bike, and the equally ridiculous wheelbase, I might well have been unceremoniously ejected over the handlebars. Small mercies and all that. I eventually took the hint and removed it. Phil tittered remorselessly at my misfortune.

Prudently I checked the security of the rear one too and found it to be in no better state, so I removed that one also and jammed them in behind my handlebar bag for safe keeping. Phil tittered some more.

I had been bemoaning the drag on the bike for a day or two and regularly squeezed my tyres to check if they were going down. I wasn't sure if it was my tired legs or soft tyres, or both, that were the problem. Unfortunately modern Schrader and Presta valves haven't yet made it to rural Sri Lanka so our regular bike pump didn't fit. A small motorbike/bicycle repair shop/shack at the side of the road came to the rescue and I swapped with the proprietor two nearly new mudguards for a blast on his compressor. With firmer tyres and a reduced payload I set sail once again with renewed vigour.

From around 45 to 110 kilometres was were the more sustained climbing took place, no pushing but certainly no tea party either. We circumnavigated around the base of a massive mountain; we had seen it coming from a long way off and at that point had no idea whether we would be going around it or over it. The road was particularly undulating and steep so it felt like we were going over it at times. At this point my bike seemingly took on a life of its own, the back end was all over the shop and it just felt like constantly hard work. An investigation during a well-timed tea break revealed the problem, one of my seat stays had a bolt missing. Bizarrely the seat stays were bolted on and I may, or may not, have caused this problem when I removed the rear mudguard. It was a bit of a situation and some out-of-the-box thinking was required. Phil had a brainwave and suggested using my remaining front brake pad to bolt it together. It was out-of-the-box alright but it worked a treat. I was, once more, back in the game. On we rolled.

In Buttala (about 90kms) we struck gold. Trail magic at its most glorious. In Sri Lanka every full moon is a public holiday and each one is celebrated with a little festival called Poya. During Poya many villages have stalls and hand out free food or drink to anyone passing by.

In Buttala it was ice cream being handed out by nurses from the local hospital. Two of my favourite things - nurses in uniform, and ice cream.

We may have lingered awhile. Three ice creams later we reluctantly took to the road for the last leg of the day. (I preferred the legs in Buttala).

Nurses and Ice Cream - Dilly dilly.

Up to this point the day had been pretty nice all told, the last stretch proved to be the toughest part of the day. With no shade to speak of we were subjected to our now customary broiling from the shimmering afternoon sun. Phil pushed slightly ahead and I had a little wobble when I thought I might be lost after passing a small junction. I spent a good ten minutes at the side of the road trying to decipher the route on Google Maps before deciding that I wasn't lost at all, and caught Phil up further down the road. We fairly whizzed into the jungle camp together at Kuda Oya. Kuda Oya is a place we are both very familiar with - it is the start point of Rumble in the Jungle - and we enjoyed, once again, the free hospitality of our friends at LSR. It was a real bonus at this point given that our funds were almost depleted.

The sun set over the distant mountains in a stunning blaze of pink and orange.

The Cicadas were in fine voice that evening and I was lulled to sleep by a beautiful cacophony of rapturous chirruping.

Seventh heaven. Finally, after a mountainous breakfast of delicious home cooked food and fresh fruit, we saddled up for the last time for our procession day into Tangalle - like The Tour de France but without the glory, spectacle, adoring crowds, or champagne.

Today, although relatively short at around 95kms, felt harder than it should have. Maybe the anticipation made the clocks go slower and the miles seem longer. The ever-present wind made its usual appearance, the climbs were plentiful albeit punchy rather than painful, resupply stops were notably absent for long periods, and my bike broke down once more. We took an alternative route on quiet back roads for quite a while before labouring on the busier highways, the roads around the impressive cricket stadium were massive but virtually deserted, save for a wandering herd of buffalo and the odd truck belching out noxious black smoke, and our final run in to Tangalle meandered along a neglected canal towpath with only a monitor lizard munching on carrion for company, and a final-final delightful ribbon of hidden singletrack lead us to the crashing waves and roaring surf of the majestic Indian Ocean.

En-route we had stopped briefly, for reasons that escape me now, chatted with curious locals, and patted a friendly dog. It was here that Phil spotted, curled up in the middle of the road, a little waif, a small brown puppy - flea ridden & mangy, and looking for all the world like it wouldn't survive for very long without help. We couldn't do much for her at the time but Phil pledged to return the next day to rescue her.

With less than forty kilometres to go my bike seemed to be in a terminal decline. The king pin holding my crank together was in a mechanical tailspin and it looked like I might be pushing home. On the day we bought the bikes Phil's king pin had fallen out, (within ten minutes of leaving the bike shop) and he had returned and had it replaced with a new one (his one and only breakdown). Fortuitously he had pocketed the rogue one for a just-in-case spare - what a stroke of genius that proved to be. Also, I just so happened to break down outside a small rural house, and the inquisitive owner proffered assistance and promptly produced a rusty old hammer and a punch, enabling me to cobble a repair with the new pin and cycle ever so thankfully to our final destination. I like people.

Notwithstanding the almost complete disintegration of my bicycle, the biggest problem throughout our journey had been the bafflingly difficult task of ordering tea. Perhaps it is in the nuances of the pronunciation, or perhaps it was our Derbyshire and Shropshire accents that compounded the issue, but we seemed to have an awful lot of trouble getting a cuppa. Every single time.

In Sinhalese tea with milk is kiri tea.

We tried rolling the R's. We tried kicking the K's and accentuating the T's. Nothing. Bafflement. Stares. Confusion.

We would repeat the words kiri tea over and over again until eventually the proprietor would exclaim "Ahh, kiri tea!" and bring us out a nice fresh pot. We never did get to bottom of the problem.

In Tangalle we met up with Phil's partner (and my friend) Corinne and stayed in a groovy little beach-side place that they knew. The very next day Phil, good to his word, hopped in a tuk-tuk with Corinne and endeavoured to track down the little puppy some sixty or so kilometres away. To cut a long story short we ended up with a new friend "Hari", and Phil and Corinne even managed to find her a loving home.

Hari <3

It was this poor little wretch, and my itchy feet, that provided the impetus for another bash at riding a long way quickly.

I decided to continue the journey, all the way back to where we began, and try and raise a bit of extra cash to help support Hari and her new owners.

One last effort; for Hari.

And so it came to pass that I rolled my bike from its resting place in that soft white sand and cruised another 247kms to Colombo Fort Railway Station.

I then gave away my bike to a kid less fortunate than me - and good riddance to the bloody thing. I will keep hold of the memories of riding the length of Sri Lanka with my friend though, if you don't mind.

West coast again.

A familiar spot to lay my head. The Harmony in Hikkaduwa.

Escaping the intense traffic on the way into Colombo.

Colombo Fort Railway Station. 1011kms later.

Shortly after this moment I gave it away.

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Consume less, live more. Plant more trees.

Marmite Malta. Hiking the coast of a country.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Sun, 16 Jun 2019 15:39:00 +0000

I breached the summit of a steep earthen track with sore feet, aching muscles, and healthy sweat on, and was immediately thrust in to a melee of tourists, touts, and taxi drivers, humming like the bees I’d been studying earlier around the abundant wild thyme.

Three days of blissful tranquility had preceded this moment - I made a dash for the nearby coffee shop and found myself a quiet corner.

A tip off about some bargain flights to Malta and a nod towards an interesting coastal walk from an acquaintance a few weeks previously had quickly snowballed into a rough plan. I tracked down the out of print guide, still available as a Kindle edition on Amazon, and a 1/50000 map of the island, and hightailed it over to this remote corner of The Union.

My walk began the moment I stepped off the bus from the airport in Valletta, the islands capital and a UNESCO World Heritage Site (The vast majority of the islands 400000 population live in the immediate and surrounding suburbs). I wandered the 7km seaboard perimeter, marvelling at the majestic Grand Harbour and imposing forts and buildings, all constructed in the ubiquitous sedimentary limestone that dominates the islands geology, and most of which have stood since the arrival of The Knights of St John in the 16th century. It is one of the great architectural wonders on earth.

Unfortunately time was against me so I decided to skip section two (The Three Cities) and head straight for the quieter south-eastern coastline on a local bus. Hopping off in Kalkara I made my way around to Marsascala Bay, a further 15 or so kilometres, and found myself a cheap bed for the night.

For the next couple of days I sauntered around deserted bays and coves, passing occasionally through small towns, marvelled at the stunning cliffs, natural arches, kaleidoscopic displays of local flora. and myriad military bastions from a bygone age - a sign of Malta's strategic importance from the Romans and the Ottomans to World War II.

One evening after rambling through the 5000 year old temples of Hagar Qim I scrambled down a steep descent and bivvied late, in a less than ideal spot adjacent to a desalination plant, at Ghar Lapsi (Malta has minimal rainfall and relies mainly on these plants for its fresh water supply).

The dawn start to following morning gave me a great springboard to put in another long day, the cooler air giving me a brief and welcome respite from the searing heat that I was becoming accustomed to. The paths on this western coast were wonderful hiking territory, rugged and occasionally challenging but never brutal (unlike the relentless heat). Ancient terraces of farmland blended seamlessly with garrigue - fractured limestone with pockets of shallow soil, boulder scree, and towering cliffs; all dotted with wild displays of Cape Sorrel, Prickly Pear Cactus, Thyme, and Capers.

And then I arrived at the melee of tourists, touts, and taxi drivers.

Golden beaches like this one, in Golden Bay, are figuratively and literally gold dust for Malta’s tourism industry. Almost every half decent strip of sand on the island is jam packed.

I took a bus across the island, scored some bargain priced digs in Xemxija (pronounced Shemshiya) and based myself there for a couple of nights, for an assault on the north. Thankfully Xemxija sits at the northerly end of the heavily developed St Paul's Bay and is a quieter neighbourhood.

The public transport network stretches to every town and village and it is very easy to get around so I took full advantage of it each day, although the timetables did seem to be more of a guideline than a strict roster.

My shortest day walking coast to coast - from Golden Bay to Mellieha - gave my battered legs a chance to recover themselves; it was getting a bit embarrassing each time I stood up and my stiff muscles refused to cooperate with any fluidity. The bizarre Popeye's Village, formerly the film set of the 1980 musical starring Robin Williams and now an expensive micro theme park, was an interesting landmark, I decided that the 18 Euro entry fee and throng of visitors probably wasn't for me and elected to get a cup of coffee from a nearby cafe instead.
I had a brief moment of panic when I lost my wallet; I knew roughly when I'd last had it because I'd called in to a cafe on the beachfront at Mellieha; inbetween times I had scrambled up a big rock face to enjoy the views and take some photo's, I'd also taken a couple of snaps after descending, so I hurriedly retraced my steps with thought that I might be rescaling the buttress. Thankfully, as I rounded a corner, just a couple of hundred metres back, a local man called me over and I blurted out to him my predicament. He handed me my wallet explaining that his girlfriend had just picked it up. He refused to accept my offer of reward but graciously posed for a selfie - thank you David.

The bizarre Popeye's Village theme park.

With David, the finder of lost wallets.

The next I looped around the stunning Marfa Peninsula and all the way back down to Xemxija. Palaces, forts, dunes, woodlands, and a delicious ribbon of deserted rocky singletrack were the perfect distraction from the increasing insurgency of the tourist hoards.

Beehives, thought to date from the Roman occupation.

Remnants of WWII

The 18th century Selmun Palace

Then came the final test, 30kms of promenade all the way back to Valletta. My idea of a holiday hellscape.

I left very early in the morning to avoid the masses and arrived in St Julian's Bay in time for breakfast. A quick search online and I bagged another cheap room, in a quieter back street, for my last 2 nights. Someone had turned up the volume. The streets were packed day and night, and the hum of constant traffic was pervasive. I spent the afternoon strolling the promenade to Valletta and caught the bus back in time for tea.

I had just one more score to settle - The Three Cities.

Another bus to The Triton Fountain in Valletta followed a relatively horrible walk through the industrialised back end of the Grand Harbour, but which eventually led to the quiet streets of Senglea and Birgu, and the mesmerising Fort St Angelo with defensive walls so tall that I had to crane my neck to see the parapets.

The next thing I know I'm stood on the steps of the parish church of Kalkara and the end of a journey that had delighted me, challenged me, thrilled me, and from time to time given me a shudder. I savoured a smooth local beer in the shade of a parasol outside a small local bar and smiled to myself. I had just walked the coastline of an entire country in six and a half days.
107 miles/173kms.

The parish church at Kalkara

Beer o'clock

Malta is oft described as a Marmite destination - you’ll either love it or you’ll hate it. I can appreciate both sides of that particular coin.

The Malta Coastal Path is the jamtidote to the marmite of the overdeveloped concrete monsters that draw in the sunseekers on the eastern shoreline.

You could, quite literally, draw a line down the centre of the island - east coast excess battling the undisturbed wild west.

I experienced delicious, dynamic, wild trails of limestone bedrock, and detestable flat roads, akin to walking on hot coals through a foundry, that made my feet sore at the very sight of them.

I saw oranges and figs hanging enticingly out of reach, micro vineyards aplenty, and an old man lovingly harvesting wild capers, juxtaposed against Burger King, Wagamama’s, and overpriced ice cream vendors.

Mesolithic temples, Roman beehives and 16th century battlements against resort hotels, water parks, and cheap souvenir shops.

Deserted lanes and rush hour madness.

I was captivated by the depth of its history. It’s been a perfectly positioned micro-dot in the Mediterranean for millennia, the launch pad of invasions, a strategic diamond for many a marauding force.

The Maltese are welcoming and friendly, and its unique landscape is unlike anywhere else I have visited.

All of the coastal path routes are accessible by bus and can be done in sections on a day to day basis - so if you enjoy hiking in quiet, beautiful, remote areas by day with a bit of beach life thrown in for good measure, and the hedonism of resort life by night it might be just the place for you.

Kit List:
Osprey Stratos 34 backpack.
Snugpak Jungle sleeping bag. Alpkit Numo inflatable mat.
Alpkit Kepler Merino tees - 2x short sleeve and 1x long sleeve, 2 pairs of Alpkit Faro shorts, a pair of Alpkit Tonka zip-offs, 3x Alpkit Kepler Boxers, 2x Alpkit Velocity and 2x Momentum socks, Alpkit Woodsmoke shirt.
Small microfibre travel towel and toiletries.
Merrell Moab 2 Vent low rise hiking shoes.
Flip flops.
Sigg 1 litre aluminium bottle.
Kindle.

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Lush Shampoo Bars (Review).

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Sat, 15 Jun 2019 17:33:00 +0000

Lush Shampoo Bars

As a committed environmentalist I'm always on the lookout for products that will reduce my footprint on the planet, and as a regular traveller I'm always on the lookout for products that will make my life easier and more efficient. (I appreciate the paradox in that statement and I do my best to keep air travel to a minimum and to offset it whenever possible).
So when I stumbled upon these little beauties I did a little jig of joy.

As a company Lush have a strong and committed social and environmental stance, do not use products tested on animals, and only use natural ingredients; something that is extremely important to me as a consumer. Every single ingredient is listed clearly on the website.

Aside from all of the above their shampoo bars are ace.
They lather up really well, even with cold water, and make my hair feel nice and clean (and my conscience too), and as an added bonus I don't need to place them in a zip bag when passing through airport security.

I have thus far used the Montalbano (Lemon) and Honey I Washed My Hair (Honey) varieties, both have been excellent.
I often switch between the two because I have found that the lemon one can be a little drying if used constantly, but I have high hopes for this one to repel mosquitoes on my travels. I also have a bar of Godiva which I haven't yet used.

Initially I baulked a little at the cost - £8.00 for 55g bar - but then Lush suggest that you can get up to 100 washes per bar, and that one bar is equivalent to 750mls of regular shampoo which actually means that it's pretty reasonable. I haven't been counting but it does last a long time.

It's a big thumbs up from me and I will be continuing to use them indefintely. Brilliant product from an admirable company.

Montalbano (Lemon)

Honey I Washed My Hair (Honey)

Godiva

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A Malteaser.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Thu, 30 May 2019 21:04:00 +0000

A few days ago a friend of mine rang me to say that he'd spotted some cheap flights to Malta, and that he'd heard that they have a very nice coastal walk. So that's what we are doing on Wednesday.
Part of my plan for my year off was to have no plan at all, other than some loose ideas about places I'd like to visit and things I'd like to do. My no-plan-at-all-plan allows me to sweep up spontaneous opportunities, just like this one.

We're flying from East Midlands Airport to Luqa. Catching a bus to Valletta, and then seeing how far we can get around the island in seven days.
The Coastal Walk is an unofficial, un-signed, circumnavigation of the Maltese coast line on a variety of paths and terrain. It was pioneered by a couple of enterprising fellows and then shared on the internet for interested folk to enjoy.
We're travelling pretty light - in an Alpine Style if you like - with pretty much the bare minimum we can get away with; mostly because of our measly luggage allowance. I will, however, be packing my usual three pairs of underwear - just in case - one to wear, one to wash, and one in case I shit myself.
A couple of t-shirts, flip-flops, a pair of shorts, and some zip-off trousers make up the rest of my fine ensemble, along with a small tent and a sleeping bag because we plan to spend most nights wild camping if we can get away with it.
We don't actually have a fixed plan to necessarily complete the route; visiting stuff and enjoying the myriad culture is a far more important objective.

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Catching up?

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Fri, 22 Mar 2019 14:45:00 +0000

Is spring finally sproinging? Whilst it hasn't exactly been a long hard winter here in the UK it is still nice to pass the equinox and feel, on occasions, the increasing warmth of the spring sunshine.

I've had a fairly quiet time of it of late but I intend to put that right in the very near future.

Aside from a three week trip to Nepal for the Pokhara IV Mountainbike Race (which was mostly a much needed holiday riding my bike on dry trails), I have been working and saving hard in preparation for having a year off - I'll come to that later.

I currently have a number of work-in-progress blog posts on the back burner (as always) which I'd like to get finished and uploaded - the story of our epic singlespeed cycling journey down the length of Sri Lanka being one of them, along with my aforementioned trip to Nepal. I often find it difficult to complete the stories about my longer trips, sometimes it's hard to figure out what to include and what to leave out; and I find also that I need to be in the right frame of mind to put them over as creatively as I'd like to - call it writer's block if you will - but I need a quiet and contemplative mind to be at my best; when I return home I am usually straight back into the cut & thrust of work, and life, in general, and struggle to find those creative moments that I need (to enjoy doing it, and thereby write something that is palatable to the reader). I know what I mean, even if you're confused.

The Bluebell Wood

I am now in my third spring of owning the wood (where did all that time go?) and I am back to enjoying it as much as I did in the first few months. As regular readers may be aware I had a few problems with unwanted interlopers causing a lot of problems during the first eighteen months or so - not least the burning down of my wood store and compost toilet - and undoing much of the hard work I was putting in. I did genuinely consider selling at one point, something that should have been a constant source of joy was proving to be to an overwhelmingly stressful experience, but I reasoned that things would eventually calm down and stuck with it. Things have calmed down, and besides there's nothing in there now that can be set on fire; perhaps one day I will be able to build another loo. Instead I have been slowly putting in sections of boundary fencing in order to demarcate the wood as being private property; scrounging and recycling used timber as usual. Extensive fencing wasn't really in my plans, I had no desire to keep people out of the wood, unfortunately the bad apples have spoilt it for the good ones; the health, protection, and biodiversity of the wood is my number one priority. Going in to the future I plan to have 'open days' at certain times of the year so that local people can come and enjoy it, and I still have plans to work with local schools for field trips and nature projects. Friends, though, are always welcome.

My lovely dad came and helped with the fencing.

The hard work is certainly paying off; I am definitely seeing signs of improvement. The muddy footpaths that were prevalent when I bought the wood have all but returned to nature and wildflowers are growing in their place.

Talking of wildflowers, I am still very much in the learning curve of identification; I have some truly wonderful flora abounding - swathes of Wood Anemone, Lesser Celandine, Wild Garlic, and English Bluebells begin to carpet the ground at this time of year followed by a kaleidoscope of others throughout the seasons - some of my favourites are Yellow Archangel. Red Campion, and the delightfully named Opposite Leaved Golden Saxifrage.

This year I found, for the first time, a small colony of Snowdrops flourishing in a quiet corner. I have also recently discovered what I think may be a mature Guelder Rose or Dog Rose, I'll identify for certain later in the year.

I have scattered some Yellow Flag Iris seeds around one particularly marshy area (kindly supplied by Mark & Claire, my Brother and Sister-in-Law) to provide cover and habitat, and to add another splash of colour. I'm looking forward to seeing how they develop in the coming years.

In a few weeks time I will begin my now annual onslaught to eradicate the invasive Himalayan Balsam that proliferates in many spots - this being the third spring I anticipate seeing some tangible results for my efforts and hopefully will have it eliminated completely in another couple of years.

If you're thinking that I might be a bit obsessed with flowers then don't get me started on fungi; I might actually be obsessed with fungi.

Bird life is also on the increase and I recently stumbled upon a Mallard nesting in a clump of Pendulous Sedge, sitting on fourteen eggs no less. I am also still very much in the learning curve of identifying birdsong (my birding friend John Lynch recently put me onto an excellent resource for that here).

Woodpecker, Wagtails, Wrens, and Mistle Thrush are often heard if not often seen. The local Buzzard population on the other hand are always in view and their distinctive mewing is a delight to hear.

In other news:

I have recently been working in London on a refurbishment project and have taken the occasional window of opportunity to get out and explore some of its green spaces on my bicycle. A thorough circumnavigation of Wimbledon Common was disappointingly lacking in any Womble sightings. I did however discover that there is a fully restored windmill there, and I found some excellent singletrack. Who would have thought it possible to find singletrack in the heart of the capital?

The expansive Richmond Park was also charming, and surprisingly natural. I sauntered past a very nonchalant herd of deer who seemed far less interested in me than I was in them.
(Considering it was created as a deer park in the seventeenth century by Charles I it shouldn't really be a surprise).
In such a densely populated area it is a surprisingly beautiful place to visit, and it's status as a Nature Reserve, Site of Special Scientific Interest, and Special Area of Conservation, cement that fact.

As a Royal Park it is also quite posh. I called in at the cafe at Roehampton Gate for a cup of tea and whilst idly perusing the menu I noted that they served such delights as Sourdough toast, Quinoa salad, and Spinach smoothies, along with some things on the menu that I didn't even know were food; the corresponding prices, as you might imagine, matched the lofty intentions of the fare. I elected to eat somewhere else.
In fact it is so posh that they even had a Park Tool work station for passing cyclists with any minor mechanical issues. (For those of you that don't know what I'm talking about Park Tool are very expensive).

And finally:

At the end of April I am beginning a sabbatical from gainful employment (in other words: I'm having a big long holiday; almost certainly a year, and possibly more if I can make my money last). I have spent the best part of three years saving judiciously and now intend to continue scrimping and scraping to make said savings last as long as possible.
My first little adventure is in Scotland, where intend to tour the North Coast 500 on my bicycle over ten days or so. I then intend, if I find it suitably captivating, to have a go at whizzing round very quickly - 40 to 48 hours will be my goal - solo and unsupported. The current record of less than 30 won't be in any danger, but that was set in a fully supported effort.

I then intend to have a few weeks at home tackling the Himalayan Balsam and doing a few jobs around the wood.

After that my plans are fairly loose. Sometimes one can have too much choice, and I am having difficulty deciding where to go next.
A bicycle tour across Europe is one such possibility, as is a Vanlife tour of Alpine resorts taking advantage of the ski lift systems and just riding my bike down hill.

I'll probably spend a few days doing just that at bike parks across the UK first to get into the swing of things.
The autumn and winter will be spent in Asia. I like sunshine and wearing flip flops, and have no great appetite for a UK winter when I can spend my time productively dossing around in warmer climes.
I might then finish my trip with a month or two in New Zealand just for good measure (and the very good trail systems around Rotorua and Queenstown).

There are a few other things I'd quite like to try too.
For years I've been meaning to learn to surf, I would also like to learn to kickflip a skateboard (my mum wouldn't let me have one when I was a kid - she said that I, not it, was too dangerous); and I'd like to spend some time practising wheelies, I can pull a wheelie but not as well as I'd like too.

I'll keep you posted 👍

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Alpkit - Woodsmoke Shirt - Review.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Wed, 20 Mar 2019 17:38:00 +0000

If you are a mountainbiker, skateboarder, snowboarder, or even a general outdoorist, you may well own a version of the ubiquitous chequered flannel shirt - it's very much a part of the look.

I recently purchased one such example from Alpkit.com

It has quickly proved to be one of my favourite things. I have been out in it, I have cycled in it, and I have, appropriately, chopped up some wood in it.

As with everything Alpkit it is made with a little bit of love and a particular attention to detail.

It's slightly stretchy, lovely and soft to wear, and has poppers instead of silly buttons - I like poppers, they save me time and are a bit cool.

I suppose for the purposes of a review I should mention some blurb. Alpkit say it's:

"The most comfortable shirt you’ve ever owned: a high-wicking, quick-drying, odour resistant, temperature-regulating shirt for an active mountain lifestyle"

And there you have it, in a nutshell.

They also say this:

"Woodsmoke is an innovation in mountain shirts. Made from ThermoTech® polyester with hollow core fibres that trap more air to give you more insulation, it has a higher warmth-to-weight ratio than normal Polyester, making it an ideal mid layer.

The brushed fabric is as comfortable as your favourite cotton shirt, but wicks moisture away from your skin and dries quickly. Along with the snap front closure for easy venting, this makes the Woodsmoke ideal for faster paced days outdoors, whether you’re hiking, biking, or climbing.

Woodsmoke’s stretchy brushed flannel fabric moves with you and feels incredibly soft on your skin. The articulated fit gives great freedom of movement across the shoulders, making it ideal for anything from riding until you fall upon camp for the night, to stretching for that elusive hold on your bouldering project. Chest pockets with secure snap closure are ideal for keeping your valuables safe.

The Woodsmoke shirt is treated with Polygiene odour control technology, so you can wear it all week in the Alpine summertime then wear it on the plane home too without ruffling any feathers.

THERMOTECH®

ThermoTech® is a polyester fibre engineered to keep you warm and comfy from when you’re slogging up that Alpine pass to when you’re making you’re way back down again. Hollow fibres trap body heat to keep you warm and wick moisture away from the skin to keep you dry and comfortable"

That's saved me having to write all that stuff.

Although I have only had mine for a few weeks I have given it considerable hammer and I'm now confident that it will be a resilient and trusted friend for a long time to come. It's tough, it's washes well, and comes in three fabulous colours - Red, blue, and green - or as Alpkit have christened them Brick, Reef, and Rocket (I have the red one, and I do look fabulous in it).

As always they do a womens specific cut, in the same colour range, in sizes 8-16. You can go out with that classic His & hers look if that's your bag (Your life - Your rules; you rebels).

It's a very, very fabulous thing indeed. So much so that I will be purchasing the other two colours in the range very soon ( I want the green one specially for when I'm down the wood pretending to be a lumberjack).

It retails at a competitive £59.00, comes with their marvellous Alpine Bond Guarantee, excellent customer service, and is lovingly made with a social conscience.
Men's
Women's

Buy one now and join the tribe 👍 Yeehaw.

(*for clarity, as you may well already know, I am an Alpkiteer - or Brand Ambassador - for Alpkitand so I receive a generous discount on their products; discount aside though, I still pay for them with my hard earned cash and would do so even if I didn't receive a discount)

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Rocket

Nemo

Look out Nepal - Here's Nellie!

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Fri, 01 Feb 2019 08:04:00 +0000

So far so good. My excellent friend Mitch Bryan dropped me off at Derby Railway Station, and with only a minor delay to the trains in Birmingham I boarded my flight to Doha seamlessly with the super efficient Qatar Airways. I scraped in on the 30kg luggage allowance with only 2.5 pouches of Aldi cat treats over the limit. The nice lady at check-in let it go, and the shop cat at Himalayan Singletrack in Thamel, Kathmandu was, later, very pleased.

The flight to Doha had barely anyone aboard and I had a row of three seats all to myself, that’s a rare luxury indeed for the frequent traveller; all I had to do was try not to fall asleep. Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh kept me royally entertained for quite a while. The inflight meal was a delicious Chicken Biryani, followed by an even more delicious blackcurrant cheesecake. I’m very happy about the improvement of inflight meals; I thought about the first one I ever had, on a Balkan Airlines flight to Bulgaria in 1984, it was so bad that on my return flight home I pretended to be asleep so that I didn’t have to eat it.

I spotted a selection of TED talks in the inflight entertainment section and thought these might be of interest. I've seen a few of these in the past and some of them were excellent, however, on this occasion the ones I picked were interminably dull and I almost fell asleep trying to suffer my way through them.

I turned instead to Mission Impossible:Fallout, which bought me back to life and I saw out the remainder of the flight fully conscious.

My transit stop in Doha was brightened by the eclectic choices of modern art and statues that adorn the terminal, which includes a bizarre teddy bear with a massive lampshade embedded in its head. I was however shaken from my reverie when I had to pay five pounds for a decent cup of coffee. This seems to be the going rate at international airports these days, much to my personal chagrin.

I call this composition " Bear with lampshade stuck in its head".

My flight on to Kathmandu was considerably more crowded and, surprisingly, the inflight breakfast was quite dreadful; I once again harkened back to those dark days of The Balkans (it wasn’t quite that bad but it wasn’t far off). I then spent the rest of the flight productively sleeping.

Even my passage through the worlds most ridiculous airport (Tribhuvan International- Kathmandu) passed without incident, my visa was processed quickly, and my big bicycle bag was sat waiting patiently in the baggage hall; weird.

The ridiculous Tribhuvan Airport. Perhaps the only one in the world that scans your hand luggage before exiting.

I stepped out of the airport fully expecting the usual maelstrom only to be greeted by relative serenity. Had I stepped through the looking glass, I wondered? It seems that the authorities had moved the parking to another area and now only allowed small numbers of taxis to wait there. A brilliant idea. Either someone is making money from this idea or Nepal is finally coming to its senses; perhaps it’s a combination of the two?

Within a few minutes I was loaded into my hotels minibus and we were weaving our way through the strangely quiet midday traffic. I was certain something was afoot, but I think it was just one of those days were everything just fits together. That’s a rare day indeed in Kathmandu.

I checked-in to the ever so nice International Guest House in Thamel, unpacked and reassembled my bike, and headed out into Thamel to reacquaint myself with old friends and Himalayan coffee.

The Sonder Bikes Signal Ti, back in its spiritual home - The Nepalese Himalaya.

I arranged to meet Jenny, Santosh, and Tyler for dinner in the evening and had yet another surprise; my favourite Thamel restaurant which closed last year due to construction work had re-opened and was now a sparkling new version of its old self. The owner recognised me and took my order without even asking, I may be a little predictable when it comes to curry and rice. If you're ever in the area The Nepali & Tibetan Kitchen is nestled in a quiet corner right across from the catchily named Shop Right Supermarket, but don't tell anyone else, it's our little secret.

I've now also managed to get out on a couple of bike rides, firstly with my mate Santosh Rai which involved a disproportionate amount of climbing and an excellently technical descent. We were rewarded for our climbing efforts with a stop at The Brothers Homestay in Panchmane and had two cups each of their very delicious ginger tea. I also met a very nice puppy there and we made friends. I hope to see him again soon.

My second ride was with Tyler and Chris and we were rewarded on this ride with a stop at The Donut Shop. Donuts should be compulsory fare on all early morning rides in my opinion. I also made friends with a street dog here too and shared with her some of my very delicious donut, I think she might remember me next time I visit. Most dogs in Nepal aren't treated very nicely, but dogs are dogs and they just want company and friendship. I like dogs.

The early morning view from The Brothers Homestay in Panchmane.

My new best friend :)

In other news I visited Karma Coffee's new outlet at The Hub in Thamel, with Jenny and Amanda, and bought a couple of bags of their outstanding high-altitude, single-source, coffee which should last me for most of this trip. I'll be calling in again at some point to snag a couple of packs to take home with me. Check them out sometime, they have a really enthusiastic and progressive outlook on social and environmental issues. This one is not a secret, you can tell all of your friends.

I couldn't decide between the dark roast or the medium, so I bought one of each.

The Dark Roast is an excellent brew to kickstart the day.

In a strange twist of fate, whilst whiling away an idle minute on my way to Nepal, I spotted a Facebook post by (the owner of Karma Coffee) Raj Gyawali. It was a meme describing the highly amusing (to me) word Coddiwomple.

Aparently "To coddiwomple" is: to travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination.

It sounded like the perfect metaphor for my life so far.

In the next couple of days I will be saddling up my bike and heading the 200 or so kilometres to Pokhara. I'll be seeing you soon :)

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2018. A shit-happens kind of a year.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Wed, 16 Jan 2019 21:40:00 +0000

2018 was a bit of a strange old year for me.
I was still firmly in the recovery stages from my shoulder operation by the time The Puffer (Strathpuffer 24 hour race) came around in late January. I was entered to race in the solo category along with a bunch of other mates with the same idea. It turned out that the trail conditions, fairly heavy with snow, were a bit too sketchy for me; I was still under strict guidelines from the Consultant Surgeon not to take any risks. So instead of racing I elected to man the pits and support the guys instead.
It was a nice way to experience the event, and I got a tremendous buzz from helping and encouraging my mates to finish, even though I would have much preferred to be racing. Hey-ho. This year I will be racing in a quad team for Alpkit. I'm really looking forward to this even though I am a bit short on fitness.

My first real disaster came a few weeks later whilst out in Nepal for the MTB-Worldwide Pokhara IV Stage Race in February. For the most part things had been going pretty well, right up to the point were I crashed my bike and hit my shoulder hard. I thought that I'd buggered it up again, it was really painful for a couple of weeks afterwards. On my return to The UK I went to see my Consultant Surgeon and had the shoulder MRI scanned again. The surgeon seemed happy with it and said that there was some swelling in the joint but nothing to worry about.

If I'm honest the surgery hasn't been as successful as I'd hoped. A few friends have had a similar operation and all came out of it showing real improvement; unfortunately for me I haven't, and it's been a bit of a blow to my morale. It's much more stable than it was pre-op and the constant pain that I endured has largely dissipated but it still locks up quite often when I'm sleeping, and it still feels very fragile when extended or rotated. Hey-ho again; I'll make the best of it.
I spent most of the year working long hours and saving hard so that I can have a sabbatical over this coming Summer and Winter. At times it has felt never-ending but now I can see light at the end of the tunnel; I'm looking forward to going on some big adventures.

My next adventure came in May and June when I headed off for my third trip to Sri Lanka.

The first part involved cycling the whole of the island with my friend Phil, going from the north coast to the south coast via the most westerly and easterly points, and all done on a local singlespeed bicycle to raise money for Helping Paws, some 804kms. I also elected to continue on back to where we began, Colombo Fort Railway Station, adding a further 250kms to the total. It was a very tough endeavour but one that I thoroughly enjoyed doing.
Unfortunately the trip ended with devastating heartbreak when our friend, Nepal National Mountainbike Champion, Narayan Gopal Maharjan was killed during stage four of The Rumble in the Jungle mountainbike race. Narayan fell into a river and, being unable to swim, was swept away with the current and drowned. The grief, particularly for those of us that knew him well, was overwhelming.

The Manx 100 was a race I had been admiring since its inception and in 2018 I had a window of opportunity to take part in it for the first time. However... you really can't make this stuff up... the only weekend it rained during that entire glorious summer was the weekend of The Manx 100. On our way to Liverpool we were notified that the afternoon ferries were cancelled due to the stormy conditions in the Irish Sea. According to Nigel, the race organiser, this was the first time that he'd ever known a ferry get cancelled in July. We diverted to The Lake District, and it subsequently pissed it down for the whole weekend.

For the first time in seven years I had decided, for a number of reasons - most of which were financial, not to go to Nepal for The Yak Attack, which meant that I didn't have anything in particular to train for and I really struggled to garner any motivation to get out and ride.

On the plus side of life I did build a new bike :) Alpkit had very kindly handed me the final prototype of their Sonder Bikes new model - The Signal Ti - to take out and thrash in Nepal (It's featured in several of the images above). See here for my build article.
I had no intention to build a new hardtail whatsoever, no intention at all... until I rode this bike. What a bike it was; the best trail hardtail I had ever ridden. I spent the next few months assembling an array of new parts in the Spring sales and as soon as the new frame was released I set about assembling it. It's a trail dream machine. (Not long after my mate Mitch reversed into another vehicle with our bikes mounted on the back of his van. Fortunately only the rear wheel was damaged and I've since had it rebuilt with a new rim - *breathes huge sigh of relief).

2019 is going to be better. I begin my sabbatical at the end of April and I have some stuff planned and some loose ideas about what to do with the rest.
In the mean time there is the matter of another Puffer to do for Alpit/Sonder Bikes along with Rich & Tom Seipp and Pete McNeil from Adventure Pedlars. I'm not very fit but I am looking forward to it.
And the week after that I'm heading out to Nepal for some winter sunshine and the second edition of Pokhara IV.
Onwards and upwards :)

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The Sonder Signal Ti - Building a Dream Machine.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Sun, 13 Jan 2019 15:30:00 +0000

The Motel du Mugling is an oasis of calm on the bustling Kathmandu-Pokhara Highway. I called in and ate an unplanned lunch with my friend Sagar, the manager. It was unplanned because I had already eaten breakfast there a few hours previously; inbetween times I had made a minor navigational error and cycled 26 or so kilometres in the wrong direction before retracing my steps to begin all over again. My initial 90km trundle to Pokhara was now to be a slightly more hectic race against daylight.

I'd arrived in Kathmandu a few days prior to this and spent my time pleasantly hanging out in the - now traffic-free - tourist hub of Thamel, catching up with old friends, drinking coffee, and riding familiar trails around the valley rim.

Familiar trails with familiar friends on an unfamiliar bike.
I'd been given a great opportunity to ride the final prototype of the new Sonder Bikes Signal Ti 29" Hardtail with the explicit purpose of capturing some high mountain images of the bike in its natural environment (see my initial review here).

I had absolute no intention of building a new hardtail this year, a new full-susser was what I really wanted, but I once I'd stepped across the Signal Ti there was no turning back - I had to have this bike in my arsenal.

So here it is:

Having been sidelined by my shoulder operation over the winter I had a lot of time on my hands. I spent much of this time online scouring the winter sales for high-end bargains, in preparation for a new bike build. I had a few parts to transfer over from my old bike and the rest were secured with some great discounts, saving me a lot of money and allowing me to build a very high spec bike.
I can't begin to tell you how good this bike is on the trails.

The amazing Signal Ti frameset.

Rockshox Pike RCT3 Boost fork - 130mm, and Rockshox Reverb 100mm Stealth Dropper.

Hope Crank fitted with a Superstar Components Edge stainless Steel Modular Chainring.

Custom built wheels from Moonglu, Maxxis Ardent 2.4 tyres (tubeless), Shimano XT 11-42 rear mech, Shimano Icetech 180/203mm rotors. Titanium rotor bolts. Mowa valve caps.

Fizik Gobi M1 carbon saddle. KMC 11spd chain. Hope BB30 and fittings.

Shimano XTR trail brakes, shifter, and rear mech.

Renthal Carbon Fatbar 780mm

ODI Ruffian grips.

NS Bikes 45mm Oil Slick Stem.

DMR Vault Lacon Signature Oil Slick pedals

Glorious.

If you're in the market for a new hardtail then take a long hard look at this bike. Sonder offer it as frame-only or in a range of builds from £1899 through to an eye-watering dream machine of their own at £4000. It really is a very special bike.

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Yak Attack - The Essentials (2018 onwards)

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Tue, 16 Oct 2018 20:44:00 +0000

As a seasoned Yak Attacker I get asked a lot of questions throughout the year; what kit? what bike? what to expect?

I wrote a piece about this in 2013 (See here), most of which is still relevant, some of it is not.

After being involved in six consecutive editions I've accumulated a fair bit of experience. I've now pretty much got my own kit dialled. This is my attempt to bring everything up to date for the benefit of anyone planning to take it on.

My current choice is the Signal Ti 29er hardtail from Sonder Bikes

Let's begin with the Big Question - What bike?

I covered this fairly extensively in 2016 and not much has changed since then - see here. So below is a brief review.

1. Buy the best bike you can afford.

2. Any bike is better than no bike.

What has changed is the much wider availability of boost spacing and 1x drivetrains.

Boost axle spacing is fabulous and has certainly had a massive impact on wheel stiffness and power transfer.

So for my money a 29" carbon or titanium bike with boost spacing and a quality wide-ranging 1x drivetrain will get you home in comfort. 120-130mm of fork travel (and shock if you go full suspension) will be more than adequate.
Chainring selection is more difficult. but 30, 32, or 34 are all fine depending on your strength and fitness. if in doubt go smaller (30t) to help with the extensive climbing and accumulated muscle fatigue.
My current choice is the Signal Ti 29er hardtail from UK brand Sonder Bikes

A lot of riders are opting for full suspension bikes these days but it really is down to personal choice.
A dropper seatpost is a nice addition but not essential. A carbon seatpost on the other hand will be much more comfortable on a hardtail.

Tyres are another very personal choice. Big volumes and strong sidewalls will be much better than XC race weight affairs.

My preference is for Maxxis Ardent EXO 2.4" running a tubeless set-up. Tubeless is a no-brainer - the trails are rough and tubes just don't cut the mustard.

Here's my tip-for-the-top:

Great Big disc rotors.

I run a 180mm rear and a 203mm front disc. The bigger discs help to keep the brakes cooler and more efficient on the extraordinarily long descents. You can trust me on that, I'm an Engineer :)

Clothing and Kit

Now that the race is held in November conditions have changed considerably from the earlier March events.

These days very little, if any, snow is encountered, and the trails are largely drier with little in the way of mud. This is definitely a good thing.

The jeep roads are now ubiquitous and so the extensive hike-a-bike sections of old are no longer there - with the exception of the ascent to the Thorong La Pass.

The strictly enforced 20kg luggage allowance is actually pretty generous so if you can't pare your kit down to that then you are carrying way too much shit anyway.

A 70-80 litre duffel will be perfect. Most of the big outdoor brands sell robust, waterproof, duffels - Alpkit, Osprey, Rab, Berghaus, Mountain Equipment, Patagonia etc - take your pick. (These days a large bag is given to each rider at race registration so this isn't a necessity, but I like to take my own and put it inside the race bag).

Lightweight Dry Bags are useful for separating your kit, I like the siliconised Airlok bags from Alpkit.

Clothing wise, a selection of mix & match layers will serve you best. Leave the cotton at home and go for modern performance fabrics. (This is for pre and post-stage. I won't dwell on cycling kit because most people have their own particular favourites. If anyone has any specific questions then please feel free to contact me)

Merino Wool Base Layers.

Fleece Mid-Layer.

Windproof Softshell Jacket and Trousers.

Lightweight Waterproof/Breathable Jacket(or Gilet).

Warm Hat and Neck Tube.

Socks: Liners and Hikers in Merino Wool.

Warm, windproof gloves - I prefer mitts for The Pass Stage,

A Down Jacket is a must for the evenings and may also be required when summiting Thorong La. If you don't wish to buy one then these can be hired easily in Kathmandu for about $1.00 a day.

For the lower altitude stages (Under 1500m) shorts and tees will be all that you need.

Footwear: Sturdy is best. I prefer to hike the pass in proper hiking boots (Altberg Tethera) and would advise anyone else to do the same, however many people choose to wear their cycling shoes for this stage these days due to the lack of significant snow. (Trail Crampons are no longer required).

Sunglasses are a must-have and will need to have a Cat 3 rating for protection at altitude. Glacier-level Cat 4 protection is unnecessary. I like the Oakley Racing Jacket with additional lenses.

Sunscreen: A good quality, single application, Factor 30 (minimum, 50 is better), and a lip balm.

Putting all those clothing choices to good use on the Thorong La at 5416m.

First Aid Kit. Survival Bag. Whistle.

Nobody should go into the mountains without these.

A decent Headtorch and spare batteries for the evenings and early mornings in general and essential for the early part of The Pass Stage.

Sleeping bag:
Again these can be hired easily in Kathmandu.
I used to take a bulky 4 season down filled bag but these days I prefer the flexibility of an Alpkit Pipedream 200 and a Sea-to-Summit Thermolite Reactor Liner.
I can use the liner at low altitudes and mix it up as it gets colder. Most of the lodges have spare blankets too.

A few more must-haves:

Travel towel

Camera.

Chain quick links

Mech hanger

Brake pads

Inner tube

Tubeless repair kit

Small Microfibre cloth

Multitool with chain tool

Pump

Tyre levers

Chain lube - definitely not a wet lube - my preference is Squirt wax lube for all round use.

Camelbak Podium Big Chill Insulated Bottle can be an invaluable addition, particularly for The Pass when filled with hot water.

For those of you requiring connectivity you will find limited WiFi availability in the mountains, but don't be surprised if you can't post on Instagram. Local SIM cards can be picked up in Kathmandu and data is pretty cheap (as are international calls) but again coverage can be patchy.
What you can get is a half decent cup of coffee these days :)

How's this for a bit of inspiration?

Here are a few more articles I've written that you might find useful:

Thorong La

Who's afraid of the Big Bad Yak?

Yak Attack 2017

Surviving Nepal

You can follow MTB-Worldwide (Yak Attack etc) here:

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Thank you for looking, see you soon.

Please don't forget to Like, Share, and Comment, if you enjoyed it :)

Consume less, live more. Plant more trees.

Not The Manx 100.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Mon, 30 Jul 2018 21:47:00 +0000

The Manx 100 is a 100 mile single day ultra-endurance mountain bike race around the mountainous terrain of The Isle of Man.

It had been on my radar since it inception in, I think, 2012. This year was the first time that I had found a window to enter.

Mitch, Paul, Pascal (Fluffy), Alan, and I set off from Belper with great expectations - not of winning, I might add, but of an adventure and a great challenge.

Unfortunately, as we were driving up the M6 on our way to Liverpool, Mitch received a text message announcing the cancellation of the ferry crossings due to bad weather in the Irish Sea. Sod's Law dictated that during one of the hottest and driest summers on record we were heading to The Isle of Man on the only shitty weekend for months, you couldn't make it up. We sat in limbo at the dreary Knutsford Services whilst trying to figure something out. A phone call to the ferry provider - The Steam Packet Company - confirmed our worst fears, no places were available on subsequent ferries until the following day which meant we wouldn't be toeing the start line for the race. A phone call to Nigel Morris, the race organiser, didn't bring any further hope even though he bent over backwards to help us out, thank you Nigel. It also turned out that Nigel had never known of a ferry ever being cancelled in July.

We decided to carry on driving north and booked a dorm at the YHA Patterdale Hostel in The Lake District. The YHA set a really high standard and this was no exception, a beautifully appointed place situated close to the southern shore of the nine miles long Ullswater Lake, and in the shadow of the mighty Helvellyn mountain.

YHA Patterdale

The rain continued unabated for our entire stay, the lads decided to go out for a short loop on the bikes, I declined - having no desire to get piss wet through, and lazed around until pub time.

The local pub, The White Lion, was extremely busy with waterlogged walkers and we were fortunate to score a table at all. The ale was pretty good and the food average but it filled our bellies and we had a laugh at Pascal trying, unsuccessfully, to open a ketchup sachet. It seems that he has difficulty with this. We didn't get a satisfactory answer as to how he copes with condom packets; we suspect his girlfriend helps him out there.

The White Lion at Patterdale. Nice beer, average nosh.

Fluffy, under instruction from Al, attempting, and failing, to open a sachet of ketchup.

Sunday morning dawned bright and wet, the rain continued to fall steadily, and with the occasional heavier deluge just for good measure. I again opted out of riding, I don't have much taste for rain. I don't mind riding in the rain, particularly in summer, but I don't care much for it either, so I took the pleasant option of hanging out at the hostel drinking tea whilst they headed off for a ride/hike-a-bike up Helvellyn. When they returned some time later looking drenched and bedraggled I was reassured by my decision not to bother, regardless of their beaming smiles.

I think that my decision not to ride was the lesser of two evils.

I have some potentially big plans for next summer and I doubt that I'll be around in July for The Manx so I'll just have to pencil it in for 2020 instead.

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Consume less, live more. Plant more trees.

The lads enjoyed a lovely view from Helvellyn

A lovely day for a bike ride.

We spotted this sign at the edge of a grassy bank at Tebay Services. No idea?

Helping Paws 🐾Ride across Sri Lanka.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Sat, 02 Jun 2018 12:22:00 +0000

A little note to say THANK YOU to everyone who has supported our fundraising effort for the Helping Paws nueter and vaccination program. We completed our epic ride, a full post to follow, and reached our initial target of £2000!

Now for something else...

On our final leg Phil spotted a very poorly looking puppy.

The next day he returned the 60kms back in a tuk-tuk, with Corinne, and rescued her.

Her name is Hari.

She has been to vets for treatment and is slowly responding to the love and affection that she has never before had in her short life. She is wonderful.

I have decided to continue the fundraising journey.

I will be cycling another 220kms or more back to where we began - Colombo Fort Railway Station - and will use this to raise money for Hari’s ongoing support.

You can donate using the same link which you can find in the “Helping Hand for Helping Paws” blog that I wrote recently.

Please consider donating to help this poor little wretch have a better life.

You will find lots of details on the Chase the Rainbow Facebook page.

#HelpForHari

A helping hand for Helping Paws.

noreply@blogger.com (Neil) — Mon, 02 Apr 2018 18:55:00 +0000

So, here's a thing...

A few months back my friend Phil Evans came up with the hare-brained idea that it might be good to do something, well, hare-brained, to raise some money for the Helping Paws neuter and vaccination project in Tangalle, Sri Lanka.

Phil, as you may or may not know, doesn't do things by halves (he invented Yak Attack for starters).

During our extensive travels in Nepal and Sri Lanka we come across a huge number of street dogs, most of which are in very neglected states. Helping Paws Worldwide was founded on the basis of this to try and do something to help alleviate the suffering, and to educate the locals.

"So, what is this hare-brained scheme?" I hear you cry.

Well... hmm...

Phil thought it would be a good idea to cycle pretty much the whole length of Sri Lanka.

"That's not such a big deal" I hear you cry once more.

That's only part of the story...

He also thought that it would be a good idea to do it on "local" singlespeed bicycles.

If you're not familiar with Asian singlespeed bicycles allow me to enlighten you.

Asian singlespeed bicycles are the go-to choice of transportation for anyone who can't afford a motorcycle, which is most people.

They are made exclusively out of steel and are extremely heavy, have terribly inefficient rod brakes, and look like something the postman used to ride in the 1940's.

There's more...

To encourage people to donate Phil came up with another little edge.

He figured out that a reasonable budget for the whole thing would be around £500.

This includes travelling the 400kms from Colombo to Jaffna (our start point), buying said bicycle, then cycling 800kms to Tangalle on whatever was left in the pot for food and accommodation. He is allowing nine days to complete the ride.

He comes the little edge...

For every pound donated Phil knocked a pound off the budget, up to a maximum of £350. This means that we have to do the whole enchilada on a budget of £150 each (we are funding this out of our own pockets, not donations).

Think about that for a moment.

One bus ticket from Colombo to Jaffna (400kms).

The purchase of a local bicycle.

Food and accommodation for nine days/nights.

All on a budget of £150.

I have a feeling that we are going to be very hungry, fixing a lot of punctures, and sleeping in the bushes for most of the time.

Now, here comes the pitch.

Please donate to the cause using the link below.

https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/philevanshelpingpaws

Any amount no matter how small will be wonderful, if everyone who reads this donates one pound then we will be able to help enrich the lives of our furry friends. Just think what two pounds might do! :)

Also if you are a British taxpayer please click the GiftAid option and the tax man will donate a further 25% on your behalf, if that's not an incentive to give then I don't know what is.

We will be undertaking this from the 19th-28th of May 2018.

The neuter and vaccination program will take place on 23rd/24th of June 2018.

Please, please, please give a little something.

Neil and Phil won't look anything like this during the challenge.

I'm planning to try and document the whole thing on GoPro too, for your viewing pleasure.

You can follow Helping Paws here:

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You can also follow Chase The Rainbow here:

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Thank you for looking, see you soon.

Please don't forget to Like, Share, and Comment, if you enjoyed it :)

Consume less, live more. Plant more trees.

Chase The Rainbow

We are moving.

Alpkit Squalline Jacket - first test/review.

A day out cycling and packrafting.

The Long Way Home.

Not the Manx 100 - again.

Packrafting - How to add extra tie downs.

Alpkit Soloist Backpacking Tent - First Look.

A visit to Celtic Paddles.

Aqua Xtreme Commando Packraft - Unboxing.

Ronde van Vegas

Buying a PFD from Peak UK

New Partner Announcement - Aqua Extreme (Kayaks/Packrafts/SUP's)

"Aqua Xtreme 2019 Ambassador Program is seeking committed top athletes ,adventurers and paddlers.If you're passionate about watersports, exploring, and an adventurous storyteller with a social media following or a rebel who questions everything, we want to work with you."

A Paws for thought. Singlespeeding through Sri Lanka.

Marmite Malta. Hiking the coast of a country.

Lush Shampoo Bars (Review).

A Malteaser.

Catching up?

Alpkit - Woodsmoke Shirt - Review.

Look out Nepal - Here's Nellie!

2018. A shit-happens kind of a year.

The Sonder Signal Ti - Building a Dream Machine.

Yak Attack - The Essentials (2018 onwards)

Not The Manx 100.

Helping Paws 🐾Ride across Sri Lanka.

A helping hand for Helping Paws.

"Aqua Xtreme 2019 Ambassador Program is seeking committed top athletes ,adventurers and paddlers.
If you're passionate about watersports, exploring, and an adventurous storyteller with a social media following or a rebel who questions everything, we want to work with you."