Day 8: Islington to Merstham, The Cronx

Safe from harm from last nights events we have another civilised breakfast and prepare for our ride through London. On the list today is Park Lane, Picadilly, Knightsbridge, Brompton, Barnes Common and Croydon. As we leave Maddy's brothers flat (cheers Dan) we head up Essex Road and see the Mini Mart that was ransacked. We stop and talk to the owners who are having repairs done. No one was harmed but plenty was taken. We speak to the next shop who enquires about our journey and they seem to think it's all going to happen again tonight and have already decided to close early. They seem genuinely scared as do people from the area who are chatting outside. We depart and head for the West End. Back along the Euston Road and rejoin the Edgware road where we left it yesterday. As we battle with the small lanes and big lorries we laugh at the fact that now the area is full of restaurants and people from the middle east, delicious smells wafting through the air and the hubbly bubbly water pipes giving off a sweet fragrance, we could be in Istanbul already. We survive Marble Arch and wheel our way down Park Lane. We stop half way down to take a photo of us with a piece of art. It's a giant arm with the hand cradling an old Fiat 500, slap bang in the middle of the road. We allow some other tourists to gawp in wonder at it and cycle off down Park Lane and take a left into Piccadilly. At the end of Piccadilly is Trafalgar square and the Strand where in lies a bureau de change with very favourable rates if you order online, so we stop at a Pret a Manger and lean the laptop on their window sill and order up our euros. Ten minutes later we've traversed Trafalgar Square and are just swapping our sterling for euros. At the next window a couple are doing the opposite and we remark to each other how we should have done it outside and we could have both had better rates. They have just been travelling round the world with a theatre company performing Shakespeare for the last 6 years. I mention we have a friend who is off with a theatre company travelling as well. After a quick check with Maddy it appears all three work for the same company. Hi Richie and Natanya if your reading this and also Hi Eilidh. Break some legs. And thanks for the donation. We head back towards Piccadilly heading up to Piccadilly Circus from the very bottom of Regent Street. I try my luck in a fast food place but am told all wasted/out of date food gets thrown at 6ish if I come back then they could help me out. There is a sushi bar next door and I try there too. The manager is relieving her boss who is off and is not quite sure what to say to me. But by a stroke of luck a director is in today. I tell him about the quest and he immediately offers both me and Maddy whatever we want for lunch. So big thanks to Nikolai at Itsu on Regent Street.

Duck and noodle wraps with pomegranate sauce and miso soup go down a treat after a hard night not rioting. Stuffed to gills we head off in the sunshine back down Piccadilly towards Knightsbridge, it's so nice to have the weather be kind to us and before long we've arrived on the Thames Path ,National Cycle Route 4 on the Thames via Brompton. We meander along the side of the Thames and peel off for Barnes Common. Stevens visited here to see the tricycle gathering that was happening. The common is now a nature reserve and we take the path through the woods and head on out to Croydon, scene of last nights riots and looting and I am a bit apprehensive about what lurks in the “Cronx” tonight. We will probably arrive about kicking off time so will have to be vigilant. Enjoying the sunshine we womble through Wimbledon Common and down to Croydon. We arrive in Mitcham just outside Croydon around 4pm. We stop at a petrol station to fill our water bottles and it is jam packed with cars, queuing back on to the road. Further into Croydon we realise why. Every shop has got the shutters down, it's eerie. In time we come across some locals who tell us tales of post offices being ram raided as well as shops being looted and people walking along the street carrying plasma tv's and bags full of clothes. The people we speak to are mainly pensioners and are scared and rightly so. Reeves furniture shop had been there for five generations and the gutted hulk of the building that is left hits home how dangerous things could get. A family run business at the heart of Croydon seems a strange target. Many TV crews are reporting with the buildings remains in the background. As the church bells ring five o'clock it feel like a scene from a western. Neighbours can't believe what has happened. Disenfranchised youths with no futures or just opportunists and organised crime, I'll leave that for another day. A gathering of people is happening off in the distance outside the train station and the police have cordoned the road off. We decide it's probably for the best that we leave exploring the finer points of Croydon for another day. South we travel through Purley to Coulsden and most of the shops are shuttered, some brave shop keepers stay open but already have the shutters halfway down. Car showrooms have emptied the forecourts of cars and other shops have boarded up windows just in case. When I talk to the Manager of Waitrose in Coulsden she explains that the window got broken last night but they are staying open. A cycle shop on the edge of Croydon is totally boarded up and the guys leaving the shop tell me there is nothing left in the shop. It's four units wide not a small dinky place.

Surviving the “Cronx” we aim to get south of the M25. We fall about half a mile short but our reward is a beautiful undisturbed meadow. We head for the long grass and hide the bikes in some trees. A pasta and bean and mushroom soup concoction fills our bellies and the news reports things going on in Manchester and the Midlands. We feel safe here and drift off to sleep, despite the helicopters whirring around overhead all night.

Day 7: Apsley to London, I Predict a Riot

Back on the trail now with my able assistant for the next 10 days or so. Hilariously Maddy needs to get some clothes to London for when she returns from Paris and this has pretty much doubled her load. Not armed with front panniers like myself she has to strap a rucksack on the back covered in a bin bag. This leads to an almost permanent wheely. So out comes the wicker basket on the front and a few items are moved forward into this to create a bit of equilabrium. I too have packing issues as we can't bare to leave any food we might need for our jaunt together at home so pack about 4 kg of pasta and noodles and oats. This has to fit on the bike along with most of the harvest from our small apple tree in the garden, rather than return home to find them rotting on the floor. This leads to easily the heaviest bike I have ever ridden. Ten miles on our way and following the 1885 route we ascend Bushey Hill and this extra load is certainly testing me. However "Mountain Goat" Maddy who grew up in Wales and a had a choice of a 16% hill turning left out of the drive or a 17% hill turning right, has no troubles and zooms up the hill unable to balance at my slow speed and waits for me to catch up at occasional intervals. As we descend into Stanmore we are rewarded with a glorious view over the  North of Outer London and Wembley Stadium's arch glistens in the sunlight like a steel rainbow. We pick up the Edgware Rd and head on the stright line into central London, battling with our heavy loads in amongst the busy London traffic, only stopping for a pre made egg mayonnaise pitta before we turn off the trail and head for Islington where we will spend the night at Mountain Goat's brother's house. We pick up the keys from his office in Kings Cross and weave through the estates parellel to Pentonville Road and end up having to go to jail, we do not pass go, we do not collect £200.
The plan for the night was to meet up with some friends and family for a pizza in Islington however rumours are rife that the riots of the previous few days are spreading and the shopkeepers and restaurateurs of Islington are shutting up shop earlier. MG and I were oblivious to the high police presence as we cruised the Islington streets and were quite taken aback at such revelations. After much conflabbing, checking of twitter and general news info we decide to brave it as the pizza place seems to be risking it too. The night goes off without a hitch and the biggest pizza known to man is devoured by the hungry mob. When we return home and check the news online we hear that a food shop has been ransacked by another Hungry Mob in the street that runs parrellel to the one we were eating on. As the night goes on stories of more disturbances surface. Can I be the first to make the link before any blog readers do so. And that is the fact that I have visited Liverpool, Birmingham, Islington and will be off to Croydon and I am in fact in search of a dead cyclist and not the ring leader of organised chaos across the country during this summer of discontent.

Day 6: Home in Apsley, The Curse of Wifi.

Having a break at home for a few days was meant to be a chance to catch up with a few things and recharge the batteries, metaphorically and literally. So arriving home to find the phone line dead and having no internet access was a major pain in the backside (more on the physical later). I live among a maze of wifi spots but because it was the weekend most of the shop owners where not in and the people holding the various forts where either not authorised to a let a stranger jump on their internet or didn't know the code. So it is with great relief I can say a massive thanks to friends Su & Nat  and to Debbie at Apple Tanning for letting me use their internet and wifi. It's not until you have to go without it you realise how much it is intwined in every part of life now. But especially as my whole route for the next 2000 miles is stored up in the wibbly wobbly web.
My posterior has been resting and hopefully will be up for the fight against the now well worn leather of my Brooks Champion Flyer honey leather saddle. We shall see.

Day 5: Weedon to Apsley

05:45am. Virgin's finest Pendelino hurtles by at 125mph about 20 metres from my tent and the my slumber is well and truly over. A few beers and a late-ish bedtime make for a bleary eyed camper. A casual approach to packing is once again engaged and I've covered 10 miles by just gone 09:00. I arrive in Towcester, hungry. The last of the oats, a banana and a small croissant have not been enough so I stop at a coffee shop. No out of date food here yet, but the kind manager supplies me with a couple of rounds of jam on toast and this hits the spot. Again this kindly donor would like to remain anonymous. I take a photo to remind me. Revived, I find some extra squirt and cycle onwards towards home. Next stop in the book is Fenny Stratford, once I reach there I will know the way back as I have cycled it several times whilst researching the trip at its early inception. The A5/ Watling Street/ Old Roman Road is a pretty straight line once I hit Stony Stratford. Here I stop and have a chat to a local group of volunteers who are cleaning up the pavements/road signs and generally doing their bit for their little piece of England. They confirm I'm on the right track and before long Fenny comes rolling into view. Very little to report here I'm afraid and the longing for home sees me fly straight through. 11:30. Starving again and it begins to rain so take shelter in a bus stop and prepare the last of the rotten/vintage goats cheese with some smoked sausage and smear all this between a couple of bagels. £0 spent today or yesterday, home in sight and I've still got 4 packs of noodles and a voucher for a free meal at a fast food joint. I spent £6.10 on food in the first two days and nothing since. I have actually found a 20p coin a 5p coin and a 50 euro cent coin. Not to mention a superb orange luggage strap and a helmet. Therefore I've spent just over a fiver on food and accommodation for five days. Pretty close to target. I'll be at home for next the two days so I can eat what's in the freezer so actually works out to less than a pound a day. I'm happy with that. From Monday until August 27^th my girlfriend Maddy will be cycling with me. As this is her only holiday and her birthday and it is in fact our five year anniversary today I think it a little unfair to impose the £1 a day target on her. So normal frugality will not resume until I am on my own again. I hope you can last until then dear reader for more tales of rooting through bins, licking puddles and sleeping in the lift at the Ritz.

Fenny Stratford to Home via Berkhamstead (the birth place of my ruse). Full of bagels and chatting on the phone to Maddy I suddenly realise I don't know where I am. Classic Fail! Took my eye of the ball for just a sec and now I'm heading North again. I'm only 30 miles from home and I've never heard of the village I roll through. Serious looking at maps and tapping of compass takes place and arrive at a road travelled on not 30 minutes earlier. The embarrassment hurts more for being so close to home. As the huge white lion of Whipsnade zoo comes into view carved in the side of the Chiltern Hills a little wave of excitement goes through me as I think of home comforts. The zoo by the way have still not replied to my Lion Poo letter. I don't have the energy to take on the zoo on a Saturday in school holidays so that little gem of an idea will have to wait.

I seem to be really lacking energy today and the last hill before I reach the descent to Berkhamsted Castle is hard work. I shoot in to the castle and pass on my blog details to the volunteer who is in the information site. Dacorum Heritage trust who are responsible for the site seem to have been the supplier of much of the info on Stevens on wikipedia. Unfortunately the lady knows not of the man. So I fill her in. Then off to Castle Street; home of Thomas for the first 17 years. A few photos and race off home for a massive milkshake, a massive bath and a massive nap.

Day 4: Birmingham to Weedon, Transported to the Past

Awake in the hotel with a big smile on my face at yesterdays good fortune. All around me are scattered pieces of my luggage, the pots and pans under the table, the dishes in the sink, cycling shorts hang dripping from the shower rail and the bible lies open at the page that was marked when I arrived in the room. It's a rather appropriate passage but perhaps I'll leave that for another day. Interesting as it is I shall choose to admire the positives of that religion whilst standing as a spectator. And so to work, a flurry of activity is the order of the morning. Priority number one is making use of the kettle and having 2 cups of tea straight after each other. UHT milk has never tasted so good; I'm on the powdered whilst camping and it's not even close in tea. Fresh is but a distant memory now. I start to think of fresh cows milk and come out of my day dream staring at my udder crème. Priority number two is getting the clothes dry. Unfortunately they have not dried overnight and I get to work with a hair dryer and the fan. When each item has had a good seeing to I drape it over the lamp to finish off but the energy saving light bulbs don't give off much heat and just makes the room darker. The usual for breakfast and a shower rounds off using my facilities to the full. Pack up the still slightly damp stuff and everything else and admire my behind in the mirror. Lots of spots, and getting worse. I decide to apply a liberal dose of sudocreme and just apply the udder crème to my shorts. As I leave I see my angel, the Manager from yesterday. She invites me to help myself to what's left of the breakfast bar so I take a few croissants jam and butter with me for elevenses. Kelly (false name) your kindness has left a powerful imprint on me, thank you so much. I slide off into the Bull Ring, get my wifi hit, take some photos of the Bull and inform my contact at Coventry Transport Museum that I'm on my way. I don't know if he has been reading my blog or knows I'm coming but I'd thought I'd drop him a line anyway. He replies and says he will be there.

Going a good old rate between Birmingham and Coventry I spy some booty in a hedge. My £1 a day instincts are heightened now and I go to investigate the shiny treasure. It's a helmet, could be a cycling helmet but is probably for kayaking, climbing etc. I strap it on the bike as I don't have a helmet and it might come in handy to attach the helmet cam to.

My first place to visit in Coventry is the Starley Memorial. Rather than just set my phone's sat nav to guide me there I ask a few local types. Local type 1 gets me started and heading in the right direction. Local Type 2 (Stu Huffer) is a retired round the world cyclists of many years ago, he knows where the memorial is, knows about Thomas Stevens and knows people who work at the museum. Hi Stu. Local type 3 is joined by LT 4 and 5 a couple in their 70's who wouldn't look out of place on a golf course in Florida. They get me a tad closer .Local type 6 is a Police Woman...she's never heard of it. Eventually I find said memorial and it's the wrong one, a few other types tell me I'm getting close and I find a second statue but alas no, but what's that in the distance glinting in the sunshine, an estate agents sign and next to it another piece of well chiselled masonry.

It's Mr Starley at last. He founded a bicycle factory in Coventry that employed a lot of people in the area. Along with Car Manufacturing, Motorcycles and host of other industry Coventry was a thriving city then, now unfortunately industry has been decimated and very little proof remains of its glorious pass. I tell Damien I'm just leaving the memorial and to expect me soon. When I arrive he is waiting outside for me. He kindly takes care of me for the afternoon, showing me round the museum which I can't recommend highly enough. Lots of hands on stuff and the period rooms charting the history of the car, bicycle and motorbike are a brilliant way of showing you not just a collection of vintage, retro and modern transport but a great little trip down memory lane to boot.

My favourite museum by a mile and its free..Go There! Chopper bikes, BMXs, Racers and Ordinarys, Boneshakers and Original Safety Bicycles and even formula 1 cars, remember the elf 6 wheeler? The two fastest cars in the world have to be seen to be imagined and juxtaposing this; Lady Di's mini metro and gangster jags and rovers. And as for the motorbike with the engine in the rear wheel...

My poor little brain couldn't take it all in, I definitely needed more time. After Damien had shouted me lunch he even took me around the little seen parts of Coventry: to the old and new cathedrals, the former is a special sight in its own right. The old cathedral just has the exterior walls standing and inside the new one has been built onto the old one. I believe it's by the same architect who designed the Roman Catholic cathedral in Liverpool. Please do correct me If I’m wrong on that one though. I really can't thank Damien and the museum enough for his time and kindness to help me on my Gonzo quest. I will be back.

Next stop Dunchurch, I waddle off out of Coventry down through many timber framed buildings of long before Stevens' time and go in search of the Methodist hall in Dunchurch. A lovely jaunt through the countryside in the sunshine finds me arriving at the unremarkable brick built hall but it's on the itinerary and another part of my journey has been realised. It's the best day of the trip so far and so as to make it home on Saturday I press on to try and make Weedon Barracks; my destination for the day. As lovely as the rolling English countryside is to the eye with its fields of golden corn and fine oak trees dotting the horizon at this time of year it takes some real effort to plough my course up and down fully loaded using muscles not yet built for this type of caper. I wheel into Weedon and find the Barracks/Armoury different people know it by different names. It now house individual commercial units and the security guard is not to keen on me going in as I'm not visiting any particular company and they have all now gone home it being 7pm. I take a few photos happy in the knowledge that at least the place is still standing and try to imagine the scale of it before it was encased in housing estates to each side.

Off I roll back down to Weedon and go in search of the canal. I've now reached the Grand Union Canal, the same one that flows through Apsley and which I spend many happy an hour enjoying.

I find a tap and fill the water bottles and find a quiet spot although the busiest I have encountered so far. My system works like this. Find a good spot in the day light then have some dinner without putting tent up. This gives me an hour or so to see what the “traffic” is like. If OK I tent up when it gets dark. As I'm enjoying my 4 day old Mediterranean vegetable medley and super noodles a couple walk by and tell me that a good pub is just a few mins down the tow path. It's friday night and apparently someone on Facebook is spreading the word that it is international beer day. I'm not sure if this is true, but a sign is a sign. I decide to pack all the luggage up and go with the bike in case I find a better spot. I'm not 2 mins down the path when I come across a couple of boaters having dinner sat outside their boat. I ask their opinion on the pub and they suggest another one, after a bit of a chat I'm offered a beer to take on my journey and rather than go to the pub I spend the evening with them, Hi Adrian and Tina thanks so much for the beers, most appreciated on a Friday night. I never drank the second one as I fell asleep and meant to bring it back in the morning and forgot. It will be cherished later in the journey I assure you. That evening I learnt that if you spy a little owl perched on a fencepost in the day then it is probably a Little Owl. I had seen one earlier and managed to creep up on it and get a photo. My owl knowledge has now swelled significantly.

I waddled back up the towpath and pitched my tent where I had dinner earlier, very close to the edge of the canal and nearly fell in a few times. I stuffed all my panniers on that side of the tent so I couldn't roll into the water in the middle of the night. I'm writing this now so I must have survived.

Day 3: Salt to Birmingham, Inspiration - Accommodation

The pitter patter of tiny raindrops knocks gently on my tent. It's about 6:45. A good nights sleep was had even though the railway line sits behind the hedge on the opposite bank of the canal. I didn't realise this when setting up. I can thoroughly recommend wax ear plugs that mould to the shape of your ears for just this sort of occasion. The canal is covered in a mist of very light rain so I get up and with the aid of a bottle of water have my best wash so far. Feeling chipper and clean I set up my mattress to the lounge position and write a bit of blog. No point rushing to get ready as it's a bit wet and the forecast was to brighten up. Breakfast as usual is oats, banana and powdered milk. Slow release carbs are just the best to keep you going. I eventually ship out about 9am without a solitary soul having walked by. I decide to carry on South down the tow path to see where it takes me. A passing boat tells me to go to the second bridge where I can join the main road. At the first bridge my curiosity gets the better of me. I meander along a farm track towards the cars and lorries not 100 metres away but hit the train track before making the road. Here a footpath goes along the side of the track. I decide to give it a go. Its overgrown with stinging nettles and one leg gets stung to bits.

I reach the end of the track and come up against a style that will mean removing all the luggage from the bike to get over it. Fortunately a passing dog walker informs me the are three more styles before I reach the road so I decide to back up and go back to the canal and try the second bridge after all. At this point my chain gets caught on the fence and comes off. A few minutes later it's back on but I’m covered in stings and oil. Oops. Shoulda listened. I come off at the second bridge and my eyes are greeted with most incredible display of colour. A cottage has about 40 hanging baskets and pots that are overflowing with blooms filling every inch of visible space. This puts a smile on my face and I compliment the owner whilst she cleans her windows. Coventry via Birmingham is my goal for today but after only five miles the rain starts properly and I decide to take refuge under a canal bridge at Rugely. It may appear to the reader that I am trying to hide from the rain at all costs and with another 2000 miles to go this might seem like folly, but as long as there are jobs that need doing I might as well stop and do them in the dry in the slight hope that the rain might cease.

I get the stove out and the mocha pot and make myself an espresso. Then whilst drinking that I make up my lunch for the day. Out of date goats cheese, avocado and tomato bagels. I tuck into a few sausage rolls as I seem to have got a bit of a hunger on. Six sausage rolls and both the bagels later I'm well stuffed and it's only 11:30. I decided it was best to have an early lunch and the I would be fuelled up for riding in the afternoon sun that was promised. Idiot!

Ten wet miles later I borrow the McDonalds wifi (very handy for the internet beholden traveller) although I always make a point of explaining the £1 a day and can I just use the wifi and so far so good. I even manage to find that rarest of items; a seat next to a power point. This is too good an opportunity to miss, especially whilst raining. I go back out to the bike and bring the gadget bag in and get everything charging and upload my routes. I'm only making the most of it whilst I can. If I'm luckily enough to get good weather when I've crossed the channel you probably won't here from me so often. Ideally I will have spent the morning cycling my 50 miles before it gets to hot and then Pierre or Hans or Ali will be showing me around their bicycle collection, or perfumed garden whilst I try the local tipple all in the way of research you understand. Gawd I'm off with the fairies where was I. Oh yeah, so I leave McDs and soldier on in the drizzle to Birmingham. I've started to get some sores on my behind which is a bit worrying at this stage and not something I've had before. Hopefully they won't be too much of a problem. I slide into Birmingham city centre around four-ish. I'm in search of Sheepcote Street which according to my sources at Coventry Transport Museum would have been the place where the Tricycle works would have stood that Stevens visited. Probably Lloyds Brothers at Quadrant works. I ask a cabby on the rank on the very street if he knows of any buildings with any links to the afore mentioned building. He doesn't know but he puts a call out on the radio, unfortunately nobody has got any suggestions. I cycle down Sheepcote Street and the majority of the area has recently been extensively rebuilt. I stop in at an Estate Agents and ask around. Sam seems very knowledgeable and explains what a lot of the buildings where probably used for and we come to the conclusion that it was probably the big development of new flats that is the likeliest place the factory would have been. I hunt around the perimeter of the development looking for clues but no joy. I snap a few pics and it's now about 17:30. I was hoping to get to Coventry Transport Museum today but they would be closed so I start to umm and arr about what to do next. I don't quite know what made me do it but I wandered into the nearest hotel and explained what I was doing and basically asked for a free room. I pointed out my tent that I'm very happy to camp normally but central Birmingham was a bit short on places out of the way for me to bed down. The manager started to book me a room and had clearly mis-heard me talking about the £1 a day. I repeated this now very embarrassed and she gently said back “I heard you” my jaw dropped to the ground. A: Had I actually just done what I had done and B: had she actually said what she had just said. I'm writing this now lying on my bed. I washed all my clothes in the sink, and washed all of me in the bath. I still can't quite believe it.

But believe it I do and I think I know why luck is on my side. About 2 years ago t he beginning of January it was snowing. I was walking with Maddy to her job at the local school and I had taken my camera to go out in the snow and take some photos. As we stop on the bridge just before Hemel Hempstead's magic roundabout a man appears pushing a bicycle and asks if I will take a photo of him to prove where he has been. We get chatting and it turns out that he has set off on Jan 1^st from the Midlands and is cycling around Britain for the next 12 months trying to spot as many different species of birds as he can and to raise money for various charities. We go our separate ways and think nothing of it apart from how mad he was out cycling in the snow. I didn't even have a bike then. I wander off down my local canal snapping away and about two hours later I bump into the guy again only a mile from where we last met. He tells me he had got lost, gone an awful route and the snow was making it difficult for cars let alone bicycles. He tells me he intends to find a BnB in Berkhamstead and give up on today. When I heard this I offered him some dinner and a bed at mine.

He came back and warmed up, had a feed and a sleep and off he went the next day. It was still snowing so Maddy and I walked with him along the Grand Union Canal as far as Croxley Green.

This man was one of the people who has inspired me to make this trip. Gary Prescott Biking Birder I salute you, for giving me the energy to get off my arse and go and get some adventure in my life.

I emailed Gary a few days ago to tell him what I was doing and that I may need to call in the favour as I may need somewhere to stay near Birmingham. He replied from his Hotel room in Athens. I believe that is how come I happen to be sleeping in a hotel tonight. The forces that be got together had a bit of a chat and said “I'm afraid your have to have the disabled room on the ground floor. The bed is a bit low, would that be ok?” And that dear blog reader is that. Night Night.

Day 2: Thelwall to Salt, A Rude Awakening...but for Who?

An average nights sleep because I was sticky from the days ride before because I forgot to have a wash. I drift in and out of sleep as dawn breaks and decide as my camp has already been found out, I'm not going to bother scarpering too early. I pack up at a leisurely pace and encounter a few more dog walkers out exercising with the dawn chorus. Eventually I leave the comfort of the tent and attend to my abloutions using the "trowley" method. Had I got up a minute later I would of been caught mid-trowel , as it is I try to put my intruder off his guard by asking him where I am and directions to Knutsford. I'm sure he knows my game but neither of us acknowledge the deed. The trowley involves digging a hole with a trowel, depositing in said hole and filling in the hole. All non man-made waste is burned or disposed of in the next bin. Rememeber kids. LEAVE NO TRACE. Being caught mid-trowel no matter how embarassing for either party is when all said and done a natural exercise and can not be avoided. What happened next however was quite a different story.

As I am no hardened cyclist I have given myself all the help I can get to survive many hours and days in the saddle. Much of it is probaly pyschological but either way I hope it helps. One of these aids is Udder Creme. Spread this liberally on you nether regions and parts that chafe and its antiseptic healing properties keep you clean and lubed!!! So imagine lady dog walkers horror as she comes round the corner looking for Chalky and I'm in mid lube. Yet again lady luck is smiling on us both and that extra minute and Chalky being well ahead of her mean the Police do not need to be called out to a pervert on the canal.

Breakfasted up on oats and banana and powdered milk, I head off to my next point of call, I arrive in Knutsford about 11am. Perfect time for a coffee as the museum is really a coffe house with the penny farthings exhibited all over the place. Unfortunately Mr Stockdale wasn't there to meet me, I had written to him about a month ago but never received a reply. He is the owner of the bicycle collection and current member of the Anfield Bicycle Club. His grandfather John Stockdale was the founder of Liverpool Football Club and second president of the ABC and probably rode out with Stevens from Liverpool to Warrington. The owner of the coffee shop said he had been ill. Never mind a lovely place to have a coffee and chatted loads to various people when they heard why i was there. Two brothers over from Ireland with their chattels as they described thier lovely wives offered me shelter if I was in Dublin but alas Mr Stevens did not travel there in this episode. I also met two fascinating ladies Regina and Cynthia, the latter had gone down to Southern Spain on a BSA Lightning (may be wrong) with a group of five in 1950 i think it was. She informed me how when reaching villages in Spain it was not acceptable for a woman to be seen wearing trousers so just before they entered a village the girls would hop off and get changed whilst the men would hold up their macintoshes to shield their deceny. Two cups of strong coffee and many tales of velodromes and steep hills from various other people later and it's almost 1 o'clock. I pack up and head South towards Stone in Staffordshire.

It's an ok day for cycling hot enough , a bit humid but dry. A few miles later I ask directions to Holmes Chapel to be told I'm in it. The miles seem to be flying buy at the mo. Lots of road cyclists out this way. About a 50/50 response from them as they pass the other way deep in concentration leaning on their aero bars and flying along about four times the speed that I'm going. I raid the local co-op for bargain near to out of date reduced food and together with yesterdays haul have enough to easily last me home and a few more days beside. Off i go ever Southwards and try to aim for somewhere near Stoke for lunch. A few miles shy of Stoke I find a nice spot and look forward to tucking into my Cheese and bacon panini that i got from the co-op for 15p. I delve delightedly into my carrier bag of goodies only to find that it needs to be microwaved. Epic fail! No probs, learning to adapt is what it's all about I keep telling myself as I pull up at a set of traffic lights. I look to the left and a I see a big pub. In I go ready for ridicule and decree “this is probably the cheekiest thing you've heard this week, but could you heat up my Panini in your microwave?” I explain my quest and he is more than happy to oblige. He even fills up my water bottle. Many thanks to the top men of The Caldwell Arms near Stoke-on-Trent. 

I only manage to get another five miles or so up and down the steepest hills I've encountered so far and mainly in bottom gear. As I come out of Stoke I see a fast food restaurant that might have some wifi I can use for free so I stop in for a "natural break" and explain to the Manager about my quest and before I know it some food and a drink have arrived free of charge and I get to use the wifi too. I'm over whelmed at the man's generosity and leave absolutely stuffed. He asked me not to mention who it was just in case he gets inundated with similar requests. I've I should be so lucky to receive any such other offers I'll make sure to check if they want the publicity or not.  This feast gives me plenty of energy to push on to Stone, the next place mentioned in the book. The weather is lovely and although a few more slopes are encountered I roll into Stone before to long. I stop to take a photo of an Outdoor Pursuits shop and notice the pub next door. I pop in here for a water refill and take some photos of photos of Stone at about the Period Thomas would of passed through. I then track down the oldest Hotel and asked at reception if they know of him? They don't but show me a photocopy of a brochure from near that time, all very interesting and more photos are taken. Outside of the Hotel I get talking to a fellow cyclist and explain I'm camping. He points me in the direction of the old road to Birmingham and takes the time to tell me where some remote spots are for camping. When I get there they coincide with where I thought would be a good place when I looked at the map earlier in the day. I stop off at the Hollybush Pub in Salt, and get a water refill and can't help but notice they have a beer called Peleton . This is the word used for main group of cyclists in  a race. I only have 40p of my days money left and ask if I can have 40p  worth. I'm given a free taster instead. This is too much, the whistle has been whetted and my £1 a day rule will have to change to take into account bicyle/penny farthing/elephant new beers I may come across. I think you'll agree this is best for the cyclist in question not just for his sanity but also for his tastebuds. I leave the pub as the darkness starts to descend and yet again the canal is my campsite. I find a lovely spot at least 300m from any boats and snuggle down for the night in Anglers  pitch No 17.

Day 1: Liverpool to Thelwall and the start of living off £1 per day

The start of my journey has begun, not only am I trying to follow Stevens as closely as possible but I'm also going to try and live off £1 a day. Because I'm not hardcore this is only day to day living costs. Food , accommodation etc and does not include travel, bike repairs, or special interest items that happened in the book, ie having a shave at a certain barbers or trying the beer in a certain town (clever eh!) but other wise £1 a day

Day 1: All went well with the trains and indeed a space was available to me. Bike spaces are right behind the drivers door. I asked if I could sit in with him but he gave a scouse chuckle and sent me on my way. I fine dining experience was had on the train consisting of homemade goan tuna pitas and peach halves and custard eaten out of an old jam jar, classy. Fuelled up I arrive at Lime Street Station ready to start the search. First things first though and I make a quick u-turn back to the train to retreive my water bottle just before it zooms back to the London smoke. I leave the comfort of Lime Street Station and the statues of Diddy Men and it immediately starts to rain. Rather than get a soaking I hide in an alley and wait for it to pass and 15 mins later I'm off in the direction of Albert Dock.

I wrote to the Maritime Museum a while back to find out what dock a passenger ship would of landed at back in 1885 but I never received a reply so this whas my first port of call (pun intended). Sarah at the archive dept informed me that ships would of docked along side the foot of the liver building so off I went to officially mark the start of Stevens journey through England. Photo done I head off to the Anfield part of Liverpool, home of the Football club I have supported all my life. As I was born in 72 and LFC were winning a lot back then that is probably why as I hail from Hertfordshire, what a glory hunting 5 year old I was. However I have stayed loyal and still support them today. Although LFC hadn't been formed yet by John Stockdale , this happened in 1892. He was a member of the ABC, Anfield Bicycle Club and probably accompanied Stevens as he rode out of Liverpool with other members. This is a good enough reason to pay homage to the Kop and the 96 if ever I need one. The ABC met Stevens at St Marys Church Edge Lane and cycled out towards Warrington. St Marys was closed when I got there but I found an interesting plaque on the door, I'm not sure what to think of it:)

As I trundle off towards Warrington I can't help but feel the roads are perhaps newer than those in 1885. I wonder if checked my route against the wrong map?? Perhaps I should make it clear at this juncture that istorical accuracy is probably harder to acheive than I first thought. I am therefore changing my persona from Historical Traveller to Two Wheeled Gonzo Historian in respect for Hunter S. Thompson who never let the truth get in the way of a good story but in the same time never let you know which was fact and which was fiction." I was about 20 miles outside Knutsford and the bugs began to take hold"

Arriving in Warrington I head for The Museum / Library. Unfortunately the Local Studies dept is closed so I can't check my that my route is historiaclly correct. The lovely receptionists seem to think the A50 towards Knutsford is as good a route as any, so away I go.

I pass over the Manchester Shipping Canal and enjoy the sun settling on this old industrial artery of the North. Later I cross a smaller canal and decide this is the perfect place to find a pitch for the night. I find a spot with an old stone wall to have dinner on and enjoy a gourmet dinner of curry supernoodles (6 for a £1 in Pound City) and smoked sausage and out of date avacado cheap from Tesco. I Follow this wth a squashed (see cheap) New York Cheescake and I very happy. After dinner I push the bike further down the towpath to spot I had specced earlier and wait for it to get dark before pitching up my tent. I needn't of bothered. Up until now I have seen 0 people on my side of the canal and just as darkness starts to send a couple walk down the path with their dogs. We say hello and I think no more of it. Up with the tent , read a bit of Thomas Stevens Vol 2 on the kindle and to bed. Day 1 complete. The journey has finally begun.

Plop on the doormat

I have just received my paper copy of Around The World on A Bicycle that I link to on my Home page through Amazon.
Please do not buy it. It is an awful reproduction with no pictures and so many typo's I don't know where to begin. If you have bought this edition because I recommended it let me know and I shall try to sort out a decent replacement. Just what I need on C Day:(

B Day - Still Searching

If D Day is the day I start my odyssey than today is B day. However the day before A day saw some serious hardcore testing of tents, mattresses and cyclist. If any makers of mountain/cycling/expedition equipment are reading this you should forget giving your products out for free to various so called adventure types. If you want your products fully tested I have a gang of three to five year olds who can tell you in under ten minutes if your stuff is up to the job. I can now inform Quechua that their Ultralight Pro 2 tent will be absolutely fine up a small mountain , in a banana field with clumpy ground , go below zero degrees in the middle of a British winter and survive many miles strapped on the back of bicycle. It does not however last more than five minutes when housing an impromptu disco for Rio, Beni, India and Theo. So three days before the off I had to make a journey to a Decathlon store to get some replacement tent poles. Not a problem as I could combine it with a ride to see Maddy's brother's family and also to visit Thomas Stevens' grave. A beautiful sunny day it turned out to be too, unfortunately although Wikipedia tells me that Mr S is buried in East Finchley Cemetery, I wasn't prepared for quite how many graves I would have to look through. After about half an hour of searching Maddy came to find me to let me know she had found him. On closer inspection it appeared only to be his name sake and not the  global cyclist/adventurer/theatre manager that my quest revolves around. Another half an hour was given over to searching but squid ink risotto was calling from N1 so we had to leave. I had intended to leave a small something with him whilst on my journey but this will have to wait till I hear back from the council as to where his plot is located.
R.I.P. Thomas.

From Drop Box

En-route to Maddy's brothers we passed Hops n Pops off licence on Archway. I always stop in here when I'm passing and pick up any world beers they might have that I've not tried before. After a few of these at dinner it dawned on me that I had forgotten to get the tent poles. Oh well, any one for a German sausage beer? It's not actually made from sausages but it does taste very smokey, has to be tried to be believed.
Sunday arrives and I still have a broken tent pole to replace. We decide to combine the journey to the store in Reading instead of London and take the bikes on the roof rack and then go for ride somewhere near the Thames. We find a great spot at Aston and have lunch here by the river and then cycle down the Thames Path for some supplies in Henley and then cycle back for more food and amazingly some more world beers I discover in the Henley Wine Rack of all places. I'm thoroughly enjoying a Pacifico Clara as I write this. Very nice on a hot day, much what you would expect from a 4.5% Mexican cerveza. Definitely one to serve chilled. The planned 40 mile ride has actually just tipped the scales at a feeble seven miles but swimming in the river and eating freshly cooked sausages by the Thames has taken precedent today. At least I remembered the tent poles.

The Route Through France

The France route is up in the "Route" section. If anybody knows anyone who lives along the route who would like a slightly silly cyclist to sleep on the floor/sofa or camp in their garden and generally bore them with tales of rabid dogs, irate motorists and pot holes then get them to get in contact with me at my email address. richiefinger@gmail.com
I will be visiting the following places:
Please note the dates are from the book, not when I will be there:)
I will be leaving Paris on 17th September 2011 and cycling approx 100km per day.
I'm considerate, open minded and a non smoker, I may however have a bit of a man sniff about me after cycling all day:) A shower would be much more welcome than a bed.

	Dieppe France Arrived by Boat. Monday May 11th Location 1453 18% Chapter 5
	Cleres France Location 1470 18% Chapter 5
	Rouen Cathedral France Location 1470 18% Chapter 5
	Elbeuf France La Poste Location 1497 19% Chapter
	Elbeuf Rue Poussen (poussin) Location 1497 19% Chapter
	Gaillon Location 1497 19% Chapter 5
	Vernon Location 1515 19% Chapter 5
	Mantes Location 1525 19% Chapter 5
	Nanterre France Location 1534 19% Chapter 5
	Port Maillot Location 1534 19% Chapter 5
	Arc de Triomphe Paris France Location 1534 19% Chapter 5
	Champs Elysees 23:30 Location 1570 20% Chapter 5
	Hotel De Loiret Paris France Stayed Here. Location 1543 Chapter 5 He stayed here because there was no room for bicycles at the Louvre Hotel. When I tried to make a reservation there was no room for bicycles here too:(
	Port Daumesnil Port Daumesiul
	Vincennes Location 1570 20% Chapter 5
	Fontenay Passed under a large stone Archway Location 1579 20% Chapter 5
	Provins Location 1588 20% Chapter 5
	Sezanne Hotel de France Location 1588 20% Chapter 5
	Champenoise Location 1596 20% Chapter 5
	Vitry Le Francois Location 1596 20% Chapter 5
	Bar-La-Duc Location 1615 20% Chapter 5
	Tronville Location 1624 20% Chapter 5
	Void Location 1651 20% Chapter 5
	Toul Location 1660 20% Chapter 5
	Nancy France Location 1660 20% Chapter 5
	Luneville France Location 1660 20% Chapter 5
	Blamont Location 1660 20% Chapter 5
	Sarrebourg (Sarrbourg) France Location 1685 21% Chapter 6
	Phalsbourg (Pfalzburg) Location 1686 21% Chapter 6
	Saverne Visits Barbers Location 1696 21% Chapter 6
	Marlenheim Location 1704 21% Chapter 6
	Strasbourg Railway Station Germany Arched Gateway to City? Location 1704 21% Chapter 6