Month: December 2024

I always welcomed hearing the friendly female Geordie accent of my specialist nurse Claire, regardless of what she would tell me, which often turned out to be not such good news. She just has this friendly and comforting tone to her voice that can make even bad news seem palatable. We could laugh together even in circumstances which, on the face of it, we’re not matters to be taken lightly. Maybe it was black humour, which people often use to deal with difficult situations, possibly something I perfected during my 30 years as a police officer, and no doubt is in the armoury of those who are at the sharp end of the health service!

So this particular conversation went something like this:

“Hi Brian, it’s Claire, is it ok to speak”?

“Yeah sure, go ahead”

“I’m afraid the biopsies we took showed traces of cancer cells”

“I’m not surprised, I was expecting that to be the case”

That was the introduction to a longer conversation which took place during my last European venture back in May, when I was driving north through Austria en route back from Tuscany, aaah…. memories of Tuscany! 🤗

My return to England was greeted with a scan, the results of which were described as “Worse than we expected”, which led to four months of palliative chemotherapy. That took me until the end of October, but during that ‘down time’ I couldn’t help but ponder when I could embark on my next Euro trip. Despite thinking inwardly that ‘I’m not going to get ahead of myself’, midway through chemo I couldn’t help but start to plan. I’d got into my routine of the chemo cycle and could deal with that, but was prevented from European travel until this course of treatment was completed. What lies beyond for me is very uncertain, the cancer is deemed as inoperable and my oncologist foresees periods of treatment and periods of non treatment until…..well, your guess is as good as mine.

So I set to dreaming of when and where I could go once the shackles were off. During the winter months a return to Spain was the obvious choice, so I got back on my planning horse and did the necessary research resulting in a ferry from Portsmouth to Santander at midnight on Boxing Day. My final destination would be the Costa del Sol, but unsurprisingly for me, you may think, I had plenty of other ‘must sees’ across the country well before I arrived at the warmest and driest part of mainland Europe.

My biking mate Ken has agreed to meet me out there in early January, so for him, we booked a week’s return flight Newcastle to Malaga and I would time my arrival there to coincide with his, which would give me eight days of meandering down through Spain’s interior, perfect.

I’ve rented the same apartment that I stayed in at Estepona a year ago, I’m familiar with the area, not only because of that last trip there, but many years ago Rachel and I spent ten weeks in Andalucia in our motorhome. Hopefully the weather will be very favourable and  I can show Ken some of the places I know, with the car’s roof down we probably can’t avoid the (unfounded) assumptions of passers by!

I have plans for after Ken returns, which at this time are ‘subject to change’. All will be revealed in due course, but in any event I’ll be back in Blighty late January.

Watch this space…….

Back in Carlisle I had doubts, doubts whether I should go on this latest Spanish trip. It’s only been seven months since I was last abroad in the car yet it seems so much longer, maybe because during four of those months I was preoccupied with all things chemo related?

My doubts about this latest trip were instigated by the return of a nagging twinge in my midriff accompanied by other symptoms which, had I not been diagnosed with this latest cancer back in May, I would probably just put down to getting older which, in fact may actually be the case.

Nevertheless the doubts were there and a week before departure I started to ask myself whether I was doing the right thing by embarking on such a trip?

Life is easier at home, everything just where we want it, and keeping in a routine is much more doable compared to being ‘on the road’. But I’m at odds with the easy option, the comfort zone is not a place which is good for my head, it never has been. Rachel and I always preferred our travels to have a little ‘edge’ to them and I don’t think that I’ve lost that desire. But I wished for somebody in authority to give me a little assurance that all would be well, something I suppose nobody could really do. So on Christmas Eve, when I went to the chemo department for my six weekly bone density injection, I explained my predicament to the nurses, they managed to get my oncologist’s sidekick to come and see me. I basically told her what I wanted her to say and she duly obliged, thereby giving me a sort of self analytical green light that all would work out fine. Armed with this self reassurance, for self reassurance read bull$h!7, I talked myself into thinking/hoping that it will be a venture worth the risk, I’d rather have niggles travelling than sit at home contemplating my navel, or whatever one does when bored?

So Boxing Day I headed south to Portsmouth for the midnight ferry to Santander (almost sounds like a song title). My friend Gav from Guildford drove the one hour to meet me and wave me off treating his dear wife to the pleasure of a Boxing Day evening out, I’m sure she’s had much better ones! It was great to see them both and we chatted away for over an hour before we went our separate ways, Gav & Deirdrie back home and me the two minute drive to the queue for the ferry. 

How do I feel? 

The doubts are receding.

Here’s to the next four weeks 🤞🏼

Who needs the Commodore Lounge?

It wasn’t long after my introduction to solo Euro travelling back in 2021 (when I first met Gav) that I discovered the Commodore Lounge, Brittany Ferries attempt at a bit of upmarket ‘socialising’, ‘you get a better quality of tourist in the Commodore Lounge’, I hasten to add that’s my take on it rather than Brittany Ferries advertising strapline. They must have introduced this option immediately after us bikers had disembarked the ferry back in September of that year, as neither Gav nor I seemed to be aware of it at the time. I returned to the same ferry in spring 2022 (en route to my Canary Island venture) and for a mere £25 there was access to all day snacks and unlimited alcohol. I thought ‘this won’t last once they realise what the Brits are like’! In one sense I was wrong, it has lasted, but without the same terms and conditions. It’s now £80 and the alcohol isn’t as free flowing as it once was! The alcohol side of things no longer interests me as my post operative body has determined that such beverages now sit at the bottom of my desirable list. Nevertheless Gav, who is also a tea-totalling ferry-master recommended it, so I thought I would treat myself for this outward sailing only to be told that it was fully booked. Being the experienced traveller I am I was undeterred, I am well equipped with all the luxuries a Euro-hopper could wish for, I have a travel kettle! Ok, so it doesn’t really compare with all day hors d’oeuvres and canapés as well as access to a more plush lounge and prime viewing area, but what more does a Brit need than the ability to make a brew wherever and whenever he/she so wishes? 

Alone again, naturally 

The words of the curly haired 1970’s pop music icon Gilbert O’Sullivan, for those old enough to remember those ‘heady’ days, seem apt at this moment.

I’ve adjusted to solo travelling over last last few years and had come to appreciate the benefits that come with it. In no way is that to detract from what Rachel and I did, I look back at our time touring as being in perfect harmony, as most other things in our lives were. 

My biking and driving ventures since 2020 are now starting to get split between solo trips and sharing the journeys with mates. Ray, Ken, Paul and Andy D have all either biked with me or rode shotgun in the Boxster and this trip will be no different, if all goes according to plan, but for the next week it’s just down to me.

However, the empty seat syndrome is still something that impacts my life, it’s not a big deal but it is a deal, and requires a little adjustment to my mindset. I suppose the monotonous 360 miles of motorway driving on Boxing Day and killing 33 hours on a ferry is probably the time I’m more likely to think about it? I’m sure that once the wheels are rolling in sunny Spain I will be engrossed in absorbing the type of travelling I really love

So I thank you for allowing me to share my journeys with you, it’s more rewarding than talking to myself! 😆

PS. Photographs will have to wait until I hit dry land due to the speed of the on board wifi!

Cumbria to Cantabria

After spending a night, a day and a night sleeping on the car deck, Herman the German was itching to get his wheels rolling on terra firma, well if he wasn’t then his ‘pilot’ certainly was!

The quick and inexpensive way to get to Spain is how Ken and possibly Andy D will, jump on a cheap flight and be over here in the number of hours you can count on one hand, as opposed to the 50 hours it took me from driving out of CA3 to pulling onto the dry sunny roads of northern Spain. I suppose I could have done the former and hired a car when over here, but picking up a convertible sports car for a month would ramp up the cost considerably and doesn’t have the kudos of doing it the way a proper motoring explorer should, or at least I can kid myself that.

I’ve loved riding Reg my old Rocket to the North Cape and the Canary Islands, hiring a bike for such trips just isn’t on my agenda and so neither is hiring a car, Herman and I do things together 🤗. 

Before I get into today (Saturday) here are some photographs I promised you from the ferry crossing, if you want to see video then (eventually) you will need to tune in to my YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@BriKinsella

Saturday

My intention was to knock off a few fishing villages along the north coast and all went according to plan with me eventually arriving at my hotel at Mundaka six hours after disembarking, having called in at Playa de Berria, Castro Urdialles and Gaztellugatxe (good luck with pronouncing that one!)

Mundaka

I would describe Mundaka as ‘authentic’, draw your own conclusions from that, but my take is that it’s a no airs and graces kind of place but friendly and pleasant enough. My one star hotel (even one star hotels by the coast are knocking on £100 per night) surprised me. Walking in through the front door there was quite a commotion in the small bar to the right, it was just down to my timing as much as anything, arriving during the early afternoon at the peak of a lunchtime ‘sesh’. Although reception had the appearance of a small Fawlty Towers setup the surprise awaited me as I walked up the wide polished wooden staircase onto an unexpected modern landing. The bedroom has everything I need, with the exception of tea & coffee making facilities but you know me, have kettle will travel.

Not quite Plan B, just a little tweaking of my original idea to trim the driving time down, and maybe not do quite so much walking as I did on Saturday.

It’s an interesting conundrum, pressing on to tick as many boxes as possible yet trying not to ‘do my pan in’!

“Take it easy”, the words of friends and family ringing in my ears nudged me to a little compromise, so I bombed off Hondarribia by the French border but still couldn’t resist knocking off a little coastal drive through this Basque region, before turning south and heading into Aragon. So after taking the nadgery coastal road visiting Lekeitio and Getaria I took the roads less used skirting around Pamplona until I eventually arrived at the hilltop village of Sos del Rey Católico.

Since disembarking the ferry on Saturday morning I had the top down (the car’s not mine) for the entire time I was ‘up North’ basque-ing in the sunshine. But heading into Aragon it turned cooler from the 15c it had peaked at, and I ended up hitting low cloud for the last hour of my journey. I was convincing myself that I was actually destined for a hilltop village and trusted I would see the sun again. I was less than 2 miles away from my destination and still shrouded in cloud as the climb to Sos del Rey commenced. As sure as eggs is eggs there was the blue sky again and I was greeted with the village bathed in sunshine. 😎

But make no mistake, it was quite cool and by the following morning I was scraping ice off the car as the low cloud returned. It was a bit slape underfoot as I set off at 9.30 on Monday morning but again, in no time I had climbed out of the fog to the glorious sunshine at Puerto de Sos. The snow was clearly visible on the mountain range on the other side of the valley to the northeast of me but a long way from the Pyrenees.

Descending from Puerto de Sos I remained in low cloud for the rest of the day which actually served a good purpose as it prevented dust from being thrown up as I traversed the semi desert of Bardenas Reales.

I’m now in Zaragoza, having arrived at 3pm and am treating myself to a good hotel so I can get a decent rest before the next two days of 200+ miles each, which should get me to the Costa Cálida (Cartagena area). Obviously there will be sightseeing en route 🤗.