3. Bangor is pronounced how?

---

"I'm a lazy, lazy man" can be heard on a radio just outside my window as I wake up in my basement floor room in Holyhead Wales. The previous night i had every intention of waking up at 7 am to get an early start on the road, but it was closer to 12. Courteously i put the blanket back on the bed nicely, although i hope they wash it, and go upstairs. I unlock my bike and feel slightly dissapointed that i don't get to say goodbye to my new friend. That's life on the road.
At this point i have a rough idea of my overall destination and a route of sorts. First step is to make it to London, which is about 300-400 kilometers as the crow flies according to my map of england which has been cut out of an old map book. A normal, level headed person would have at the very least a road map of some sort, but for some reason i think that i can navigate myself from city using the direction of the sun or who knows by what other hair brained idea. From London i plan to take the ferry from dover, to france and eventually make the bike trip to holland where i can mooch off some moderately wealthy distant relatives.
Before hitting the road I must first attend to getting some food , however i no longer feel the pangs of hunger. The only thing worse than being really hungry is not being hungry when you should be. A quick trip to the 'liddle' grocery store yields some fairly edible food and I'm ready to leave , only 4 hrs behind schedule. The road maps found around the city show that the A55 is the fastest way to menai bridge and off of Angelsey Island. The island itself is actually steeped in history as it was a significant druid location . It definetely deserves more time than i'm willing to give it.
The A55 is not exactly a bike friendly highway with very little space alongside the lanes which often has cars coming within less than a foot of your bike. Incesent honking of horns usually means people are angry and not just saying hi, but this is a lesson i will need to be taught a few times. Eventually another roadside map shows that the A5 will also get to menai bridge but it is much more rural, so after second guessing myself and doubling back, i finally put 20 or so kilometers behind me. All of the roads are several hundred years old and have stone walls that have hundreds of peoples life work into them. These roads are also unfriendly to bikers however there are far fewer cars. A few hard working hours and I arrive at a village which boasts to have the longest name in Wales, Llanfairpwllgwyng..... and so on. Seems like a good sign to take a picture of but when your travelling taking off your pack to get out your camera is a huge chore. I grab a 'spar' cola at the local 'spar' store, which i then declare it to be the greatest pop i've ever had, but it is probably just the circumstances.
Menai bridge is within sight and i arrive soon thereafter. My first spell of bad luck soon hits as I notice my front tire slowly deflating and i start swearing profusely at my luck. Its too late for any bike shops to be open so i concede defeat for the day and plan to wake up as close to a bike shop as possible. The gas station air pumps don't help my tire in desperation, but a friendly subaru wrx driver shoots flames out of his rally car's exhaust for me to take a picture. This 'moderately famous' driver cheers me up a bit, as i hope its someone famous to brag about when i get home. Pushing my bike along the path i walk the mile or so the second part of the city known as Bangor. A university city with an impressive collection of school buildings. I help myself into one of the smaller unlocked buildings with the hope of finding some free internet access as i have not contacted my family as to my condition. A few buildings all yield no results but are remarkably empty. I seem to be getting cranky and feel like a "sims' character who is low on all their need bars. I verbally list off all the things i need before i will be happy, although noone is around to hear. I find a payphone and make a collect call home and get a hold of my sister. I try to make it brief and assure her i have a place to stay for the night although i clearly do not. Saying goodbye i fight back the tears of missing the familiarity of home and knowing i've gotten in way over my head. A small pizza shop down the street gives me a small pie (pizza) for a couple quid ( pounds), and it seems to really lift my spirits. Nothing beats warm food when you've been eating dry grocery bought food for any extended period of time. A local boy then assures me i can buy bike tires at the morrisons building in the morning, although it does look a lot like a grocery store. All that remains is to find somewhere to lay my weary body for the night. The trail between bangor and menai seemed fairly safe and yet secluded, so at nightfall i stragically hide my bike under some branches and pull out my sleeping bag. This is my first night sleeping outside under the stars, so i take extra care in ensuring that i am well hidden from pedestrians. I slowly start falling asleep as a bunch of boys throw a trash can in the distance on the path. I can clearly hear one of them shout "this is awesome, i wish Phil was here". I flash a smile before closing my eyes again, if only they knew a different Phil was watching them.

---

Comments

[Stephanie]

Phil I love this... Sounds like a very crazy trip.. but you are great at retelling it! lol Can't wait for the rest!