Aye in the catelogue ye go for men Going up a long yellow-green curve of Altiplano I see him, Chase instinct triggered A well-used toilet brush torpedoes towards me. Bandits at three o´clock! Chest steady, legs thump through dust, Chaotic fronds of mangy brown hair Focussed on pursuit. Still a hundred yards away yet closing in earnest. Flanked by two others, he is the emperor of this humble patch of dirt and grass The immediate geography conspires against me, I cannot simply smile smugly and freewheel gleefully away Instead I must climb and confront him at the pass. What k [View Full Entry]

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Frequently Asked Questions People often ask me, ¨Where are you from?¨ ¨Inglaterra? England? David Beckham, Aaah your prime minister, Mister Tony Blair...¨ Perhaps somewhat prematurely, The political conversation usually ends there. People often ask me, ¨Isn´t your journey really tough?¨ But the slow, sweaty, squeeze With my fellow commuter ants Was harder than cycling the Americas With just two pairs of pants. People often ask me, ¨How much does your bike cost?¨ As their bike probably cost less than my spokes, Evasively I answer that it was a present from my folks. People [View Full Entry]

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"Fifty years ago in Sucre, Bolivia there lived a very beautiful young lady called Lydia. She had wonderfully large eyes with curly, dangerous eyelashes rather like octopus tentacles. Her legs were also very lovely, almost two metres long whilst her lips were as soft, sensual and moist as raw sausages. In addition to her great beauty she was also very intelligent, she spoke five languages and was the best chess player in all of Bolivia. Every man in Sucre wanted to marry her. However she was also very proud. When she first looked at a man his heart would melt but [View Full Entry]

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"His cheeks were red, roughned by the wind, which for ten long hours had massaged his cheeks. Drops of water trickled from his hair. He had emerged from the night like a sewer-worker coming up out of his manhole, with his heavy boots, his leather jacket, and his forehead-plastered hair, blinking like an owl." (Southern Mail by Antone de Saint-Exupery) Felt a bit like this yesterday when Alain and I arrived in the Bolivian town of Uyuni after three weeks of cycling through the wilderness on the borders of Argentina, Chile and Bolivia. It was a brilliant experience, which included, volcano [View Full Entry]

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"Thus there was nobody, however sad, cross, sour or melancholy he might be-no, not even if he were another Heraclitus the Weeper-who was not filled with fresh joy, and whose spleen did not yield to laughter when he saw this noble fleet of ships with their devices. There was no one who did not exclaim that the travellers were all worthy boozers, and who did not feel prophetically certain that the journey out, and also the journey home, would be performed in health and happiness." (Book 4 Chapter 1 Gargantua and Panatagruel, Francois Rabelais). There are now 8 cycle tourists staying [View Full Entry]

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"Do you understand any of that? Pantagruel asked the company; and Epistemon replied: I think that it is the language of the Antipodes. The devil himself couldn´t get his teeth into it. Then said Pantagruel: My friend, I don´t know whether the walls can understand you. But not one of us can make out a syllable." (Book 2, Chapter 9, Gargantua and Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais) The above quote is inspired by the fact that I have now been listening to the Teach Yourself Latin American Spanish CD on my iPOd for about four months. This has been useful to an [View Full Entry]

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"He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his situation. Here he sate on the banks of an unknown lake, under the guidance of a wild native, whose language was unknown to him, on a visit to the den of some renowned outlaw, a second Robin Hood, perhaps or Adam o'Gordon, and that at deep midnight, through scenes of difficulty and toil separated from his attendant, left by his guide-What a variety of incidents for the exercise of a romantic imagination, and all enhanced by the solemn feeling of uncertainty, at least if not of danger!" [View Full Entry]

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"I´m going over to that brook with this meat pie, where I plan to eat enough for three days, because I´ve heard my master , Don Quixote, say that the squire of a knight errant has to eat whenever he can, and as much as he can, because they might go into the woods so deep they can´t find their way out again for six days, and if the man isn´t full, or his saddlebags aren´t well-provisioned, he might stay there, as often happens, until his flesh wrinkles and dries like a mummy´s." (Sancho Panza, Don Quixote First Part Chapter L) [View Full Entry]

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After leaving El Calafate I spent three very enjoyable days cycling around Lago Argentino and Lago Viedma whilst listening to the White Stripes to get ot El Chalten. A pleasing combination of beautiful lakes, jagged ice capped mountains and funky rock. At the end of the first day I turned off the road and asked to camp in Estancia Irene. I was greeted by the extremely hospitable Juan Carlos. He not only offered me a room for the night but also gave me an extremely generous helping of cordero (chunks of lamb), with his own home made bread and a potato [View Full Entry]

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"Then they climbed back on their mounts and hurried to reach a village before dark, but the sun set, long with the hope of acheiving their desire, when they were near the huts of some goatherds, and so they decided to spend the night there; as much as it grieved Sancho not to be in a town, it pleased his master to sleep outdoors, for it seemed to him that each time this occured it was another act of certification that helped to prove his claim to knighthood." (Don Quixote First part, Chapter X) The above quote seems to sum up [View Full Entry]

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