You might have noticed it’s a bit quiet in here. I spent a couple of restful days at my wonderful friend Karen’s flat in London, exploring the city from a bike commuters perspective, flowing through the chaotically organized traffic of the largest city I’ve ever cycled in. Leaving the place, cycling through never-ending suburbs, I was suddenly overcome by a profound sense of sadness: why am I doing this, leaving friends and the safeness of home behind? I have nothing but admiration for globetrotters, travelling the world for years and years in search of meaning and experience. The sadness shouldn’t last long though, and two days later there was nothing but joy left in climbing the steep ascends and flying down the breezing descends of England. The landscape also changed in accord with my mood. Yesterday was perhaps the most interesting day of the trip so far: almost no cars, very bumpy gravel trails next to a canal of homely boats, series of locks from the 1800s for the boats to climb mountains (see pictures from yesterday), and then following an old train line - now a cycle path - into Bristol, through two dark and eery train tunnels, one of them almost two miles long.

Now, looking at the calendar and realising I have a mere 8 days to get to Cork while having to climb many of Wales’ vicious mountains, the motto of the journey will probably change to “miles, not smiles”, as Alastair Humphreys put it in his book Around the World by Bike. I’m listening to the book at the moment, maybe that reflects a bit in my writing style 😄

Anyways, of I go, it’s 1pm already 😆