And so the adventure begins.
On a cool grey day at the end of February I board the train to London. Bike stowed in the luggage compartment at the front. The train is late and I worry that I will have enough time make it to Victoria station where I’m supposed to be meeting Simon and catching the next train in our journey down to Newhaven and France. It’s an inauspicious start.
Big Ben strikes 7:30 as I cycle round parliament square and up Victoria street. I relax as I have plenty of time and I feel good as the morning air passes over me.
Entering Victoria station I spot Simon and we give each other a hug. We struggle to get our bikes through the barriers. A really nice guard tells us where to put our bikes and takes our photos. It’s going to be alright.
Catching up, we are quickly back into our friendship. A friendship that started more than forty years ago when independently both our parents decided it was a good idea to send us away to an English boarding school run by monks. Simon and I are still not so sure it was such a good idea. The long and short is we both left school with at best mediocre academic grade and our parents ended up much the poorer. We survived. What we didn’t realise at the time is that it gave us the know how to be independent. It also gave us a sense of adventure. And it’s that sense of adventure that brings us together more than forty years down the road as we cycle together over the next two weeks on the road to Barcelona.
Somewhere in the excitement of catching up and the rush to make the connecting train in Lewes we manage to jump on the train going back to London. We realise our mistake just as the doors have closed. We’ve been together for less than an hour and we’ve already fucked up and were in danger of missing the boat. Another helpful guard tells us to get off at the next station and cycle back. The heavens open. As we get on our bikes a passing car washes a big puddle over me.
Soaked we limp back to Lewes, Simon struggling with his asthma. Once more we find ourselves on platform 1 of Lewes station. Making our way over to platform 3 we are much more careful with our Train selection.
Another kind guard shows us where to put our bikes and jokes with us as he checks our tickets.
We make it to the ferry relieved. We are searched. Whether that’s because it’s routine or because we appear slightly incongruous
I’m not 100% sure. We end up having a good laugh with the police and border guards.
We are first on to the ferry. A sense of excitement as we ride to the far end of the boat and leave our bikes tied up.
Four hours later we start pedalling. It’s Only a few miles to an Airbnb just outside Dieppe where we purchase some victuals. Simon decides it’s a good idea to have a snail pastie with our pesto gnocchi.
Tomorrow riding proper ramps up as we head towards Paris and the adventure continues. We still have more than 1,000 miles to go and there’s plenty more to go wrong.
