Author: Brian Kinsella

There is something comforting about travelling with people, it’s the easy option, the warmth felt by friendship, a mutual appreciation of the way we tour together, it’s just a nice feeling and one that most people would opt for. This is the problem, the presence of people conflict with the life I have to now create for myself, or at least think I have to. Because people will not always be there, so I have to be self sufficient. 

On a simpler note the blog is getting neglected because I’m enjoying my time with my travel buddies, but the trade off is getting in the way of conveying my thoughts back to you in Blighty.

Continue reading “Playing catch up”

No matter how old one becomes we never stop learning.

In the last post I mentioned about splitting from the group but it was only for a few hours so they could do their thing and I could do my usual routine of wandering aimlessly. We reconvened after lunch and squeezed in a fifty minute river cruise before our visit to one of the port houses.

Continue reading “Port-oh! (and route to Salamanca)”

Watch to the end, it’s worth it!

It’s difficult to keep up, not so much with the other two bikes, but with how much we’re seeing and the places we’re staying. 

Today was another eight hours on the road, interspersed with coffee and lunch breaks. It was 250 miles for the fab four and maybe 270 for The Gooseberry.

Continue reading “Losing Track”

It’s 10pm again before I can sit down to cobble together an update, so I take the easy option of ‘a picture painting a thousand words’.

Here is the briefest of summaries of our ride from northern Spain, over the Pyrenees into France (where we will remain until 24th).

Continue reading “To put you in the picture”

We all make mistakes and not for the first time on this trip I led the group a merry dance in search of our goal. 

Previously it may have been exiting a town or just me deciding to employ an artistic twist to a route, rather than following the instructions displayed on the satnav screen and accompanying commentary being fed into my helmet. But unlike Avila, today’s rather avant-garde approach didn’t involve a brush with the local constabulary, as I ignored the name of our hotel and just bumbled around the village in my hap hazard way. Maybe it was a combination of a number of things like the heat, feeling a little worn out by another long (but enjoyable) day in the saddle, or my frustration at crawling along at escargot pace behind locals who seem to be in no urgency to do anything? Whatever the excuse we did eventually find our hotel nestled away within the beautiful little village of Moureze.

As we all dismounted the bikes Jenny pretty much summed up all our feelings with “Can we stay here a week”?

Continue reading “Saturday”

Sitting at the outside cafe in the picturesque village of Le Roque-Gageac on the Dordogne, it makes me want to draw. Like some of the many beautiful places we’ve visited on this trip, they make my mind wander to do so many other things, yes to draw, but also to paint, or to walk the hills and mountains, canoe along the rivers, cycle the cols. I’m not entirely sure why I have this overwhelming feeling of so much I would love to do, and yet so little time in which to do it? Maybe just the love for life and all there is to enjoy? Maybe my age and yes, of course the loss so suddenly of Rachel. She would say “So what did you do after I died”? It’s not my driving, or should I say riding, force, but it’s there in the back of my mind, and that remains some of her influence of who I am.

Continue reading “Blog Wars”

In an effort to get up to speed here are the photos from yesterday’s ride, a big thank you to Amy for recommending the route! 🤗

The following photographs are of Sarlat: