In the past 6 weeks, I've seen more Stans that a 1950's football team. Not that I'm complaining. I've had an out-stan-ding time. On the whole. I last left you in Tashkent, undecided on my upcoming route to China. I had 4 plausible options to reach western China. The routes all subject to complex, twisted borders, traversing some of the world's highest mountain ranges and windy, winding valleys: 1. Transit through Kazakhstan - An uninspiring route, for which I didn't have a visa and meant encountering some notoriously corrupt border guards. 2. Through the Fergana valley - A high-tension [View Full Entry]

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Camels to the left of me, Jackals to the right, Here I am, stuck in the middle of U-zbekistan. A blatant rip off the Stealers Wheels' lyrics it may be, but all three statements stand true nonetheless. Why I'm here, stuck in the middle of Uzbekistan, and how I got here, well that will be revealed soon enough. As chance would have it, there was a clown to the left of me – Guy Laliberté, the Canadian clown, space tourist and founder of Cirque du Soleil, launched into orbit from the Kazakhstan Space Centre not far from here. And there's jokers [View Full Entry]

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I have often pondered, but never resolved, what criteria grants a country the privilege of being referred to in the definite article? The Ukraine gets added to my list of The Gambia, The Sudan and The Lebanon. Anyone? (by the way, I don't count The USA or The Czech Republic, as they are simply adverbed) Before I was able to put the UK in the Ukraine, I had just the 5 border checkpoints to negotiate. 3 out, 2 in. I find something quite appealing and evocative about crossing the lesser-trodden frontiers. This one I shared with a tractor, horse and cart, [View Full Entry]

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Even before I had infiltrated Russian territory I was nearly arrested for taking a photo of a Welcome to Russia sign. This highly photogenic stone-carving was not supposedly posed for photographs. Entering Russia was the bureaucratic, process-driven, lesson in paperwork, that I had been warned to expect. In some ways I'd have been disappointed if it was too straightforward after all that hype. Firstly we had to have our documents inspected at a Border control point, which was followed by immigration, then customs, and finally a checkpoint to make sure the previous 3 gatekeepers had correctly [View Full Entry]

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I have calculated it will take me in the region of 5 million turns of the pedal to complete this little jaunt. Admittedly I cannot guarantee total accuracy, as I lost count at 736 somewhere outside Croydon. So I have had to apply a few assumptions, allowing contingency for terrain, wind, road surfaces, etc. And I'm rarely alone on the road. There is an intermittent stream of fellow cyclists passing on the opposite side of the road. We wave at each other or ting our bells in the same way VW van drivers wave at each other or flash their lights. [View Full Entry]

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Day 7, Friday 26th June, 2009. By now I was in a definite routine. I would get up early, de-camp and load my bike, and look for breakfast. I would eat as much as I possibly could, especially wherever breakfast was included in the price (in which case I may also pocket the odd sly sandwich for lunch). Packing was becoming more and more of a science, and everything had a specific space in a particular bag or place on the bike. I would try to reach my destination by early afternoon, secure some sort of accommodation for the night ahead, [View Full Entry]

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Passport - Check Bicycle - Check Helmet, Panniers, Lock, Lights - Check, Check, etc Wallet - Check That’ll do me, I reckon. For everything else I need, there’s always Mastercard. There are certain things money can buy, after all. Well, not everything - Maybe if I was going to have kids, I should've done that before spending a year perched on a 20 square inch saddle. Saying that, I still have a few contacts in Malawi that could make even that possible. The last piece of the jigsaw (or the first, if you prefer) was to decide on an official start [View Full Entry]

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For the last 8 months I have been on a sabbatical from travelling. During this time I have embarked on a number of random pursuits, such as a career and the like. But all good things must come to an end. I can no longer avoid my responsibilities in life and I am responsible for getting my pasty white ass back to Africa. [If you want to get on with the Africa part of this blog, you may want to skip the next few paragraphs] Last time I left you, I was in Uganda, after several months travelling up through Africa [View Full Entry]

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It had been almost an entire month since I had returned home from a year of frolicking. In my book that spells time for a much-needed, well-deserved holiday. I had no pre-conceptions on where I wanted to go, so I decided the next best thing would be to turn up at the airport and jump on a plane to somewhere or anywhere. Firstly, it’s quite difficult packing for an unknown destination, so I packed light and figured I would buy anything extra I might need on arrival. I logged off at work, got changed in the office and headed for Heathrow. [View Full Entry]

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I came to Rwanda with relatively little knowledge and even less expectations about the place. I knew there had been a recent genocide, I knew there were some gorillas hanging about somewhere, and I knew very little else. But now I’m a little more educated. Rwanda is obviously synonymous with the 1994 genocide. Up to 1.5 million of their people were massacred during a few months of immense bloodshed. Since that tragic scar the nation has progressed at an unbelieveable rate. They do not pretend it never happened and openly face up to the stigma. In 1998, president Kigame took charge, [View Full Entry]

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