Big Bird Bike Travels

Apart from the occasional passenger from a cruise ship, at this time of year the sight of a Brit in T shirt and shorts is quite a rarity in Cadiz, most people are dressed as if it’s winter!

Although the place is a regular port of call for the cruise ships, Cadiz is very much for the Spanish and I certainly am the odd one out, in more than dress code. 

I suppose it was only to be expected that booking a hotel in the historical centre for what seemed to be a ‘competitive’ rate was bound to come with some compromises. The five storey town house has a small roof terrace and cafe (only open 4-10pm) but my room is a little depressing and hence I may well depart a day early. It’s clean with standard facilities, but small with no natural light, a sort of very large cupboard with the ambience of a posh prison cell. I’m maybe over egging the pud a little and being a tad harsh, but suffice to say it’s not really my cup of tea.

Friday morning I tried to find some breakfast, one might think that by 9am the cafes would be open, but it seems that despite the town being on Central European Time, the people are actually operating on GMT! I managed to find a little cafe not far from the hotel where the owner took pity on this unusual looking character meandering around the narrow streets. It seemed that he opened up especially for me, although I had noticed he was about 45 minutes behind his advertised opening time but hey, this is Spain so I suppose mañana is the rule of thumb. I took the easy option and plumped for the special offer of fresh orange juice, a coffee and a toasted ham roll for €5.50, and not long after consumption yet again regretted the choice, I really need to stop eating their bread! But I managed a four mile touristy walk around the town without the need to divert to the nearest servicos, so I’ll mark that down as a result.

Just for good measure I knocked out a 5 miler in the afternoon sunshine so now have a warm head and tired legs. Tomorrow I will drive!

But for now a quick video as a thank you, as I can’t make the coffee morning in Newcastle for all those who have had the same cancer as me.

Paul and Marissa are two friends Rachel and I met on one of our early motorhome trips, they’re still doing the Europe motorhoming thing and Portugal is a favourite of theirs. We knew that we would all be in Alvor at the same time so planned to meet up on Sunday. We unexpectedly bumped into them on the Saturday and ended up sharing a couple of bottles (or more) before our planned meet up the next day, when we shared a couple of bottles (or more).

Despite the hair starting to grow back, the top of my head seems to be lagging behind a little, so for safety’s sake, and with Sarah’s words ringing in my ears, I broke out the factor 50 at the weekend. The next couple of days are due to be cloudy with a bit of rain but it’s still pleasantly warm, by comparison to home!

The car is doing a good job of replacing the motorbike, so far I have had no longing to be on two wheels.

The fact that the hotel seemed to have a large stock of umbrellas for guest use tended to indicate that it maybe rains here more than in the Borrowdale Valley!

For the last five minutes of our six hour journey we had the pleasure of not having the windscreen wipers on. Up until then the rain had varied from just heavy to coming down like stair rods…….. for 360 miles! It could’ve been worse though, we could have been on our bikes, like a few of the other hardy souls who were our fellow ferry passengers. On the plus side it did manage to reach 18c so at least the rain was warm, not that the Boxster roof allowed any to pass, a good test for it.

Our night is in Cáceres, a place Rachel and I have stayed a couple of times in the motorhome, is a regular stop off for such types, of which there were many on the ferry heading for the winter sun.

After chillin’ in the hotel for a couple of hours we decided to head to the historical centre just a couple of hundred yards away, however the weather had other ideas! We thought we’d be in lockdown in the hotel bar, there could be worse places I suppose, but after a drink and borrowed brollies from reception we ventured out into the rain. Even at 7pm it was warm rain and didn’t end up being as torrential as earlier.

Tomorrow is looking brighter 🤞🏼

Photos are taking so long to upload that you’ll have to wait for the Cáceres ones.

During the lull, between being discharged from hospital in early July and the re-commencement of chemotherapy in the middle of August, I contracted the travel bug. You may be familiar with the symptoms, a sudden urge to search the internet on websites such as Booking.com, Holiday Weather, Airbnb and Brittany Ferries to name but a few. A family Christmas in St Malo, France was a good enough reason for me to head to Spain and Portugal for the preceding month, so in an instant I’d booked my BMW motorcycle and me on the ferry from Portsmouth to Santander, it gave me a positive target to aim for.

The second batch of chemotherapy started to tire me, and the novelty of all this treatment was starting to wear a bit thin, although the side effects weren’t as severe as the first batch, they lasted much longer and I felt a bit battle weary. The upshot was that the prospect of big mileage on a motorbike was going to be a tad challenging, cue my birthday, which coincided with the end of my chemo at the end of September. Well, it had been a tough year so I ended up treating myself to a car which could make for an interesting alternative to the bike for the forthcoming Grand Tour.

It wasn’t long before I decided that the car would be the better option, a decision which was welcomed by my surgeon and specialist nurse.

The first week or so I will be accompanied by my mate Andy D, not to be confused with Andy M, the latter who has been closest to me throughout not just this year’s trials, but many previous ones.

Andy D is a fellow biker and we worked together when he was a young lad back in the 80’s, he moved onto much greater things within the job whilst I continued to swim around at the bottom of the fish bowl. We rekindled the friendship a few years ago and have done a couple of small UK bike trips together since. After a week of putting up with my company he will return home from Faro airport and I will go wherever the mood takes me.

The late evening of Tuesday 28th we boarded the ferry at Portsmouth and had time for a few drinks in the bar before retiring to the cabin. Through the night and following day the crossing was like a millpond, I’ve actually swam in choppier waters. We saw the obligatory pod of dolphins, albeit tiddlers by the usual standard, and generally spent the daylight hours just chewing the fat about all kinds of stuff.

I’m using the minuscule of dodgy internet connection to post this at about 8pm GMT. At 8am local time tomorrow we should arrive at Santander for the 400 mile drive to Caceres, updates to follow….

Time flies when you’re having fun.

It only seems like yesterday that I was told I had cancer, and yet here I am eleven months on, supposedly cancer free. I wouldn’t say that it’s been fun, but it’s certainly flown by, I only hope the rest of my life slows down a bit, I want to enjoy this time!

When I was initially told of my cancer I looked at the year ahead. It was like looking up towards a dark wooded fell, I couldn’t see very far ahead due to it being such a dense forest. The shadows seemed to hide all kinds of evil and uncertainty. I set foot on the climb, only looking at the ground a few feet ahead, occasionally slipping, stumbling and colliding painfully with protruding rocks. It was a long, tough climb with everything seeming to conspire against my progress. I struggled up the steep slopes, the dark gnarly branches of the tightly packed trees appearing to reach out and scratch me as I stumbled across the slippery surface. My arms and torso sore with scratches, my whole body drained from the effort of the steepness of the hill, but my mind staying positive that the next step was all I needed to do.

After slogging my way up the arduous path I was eventually greeted with a glimpse of brightness shining through the branches some distance ahead. It gave me hope that all would be well. As I cleared the last of the trees I saw the blue sky opening out ahead of me and the sun shining, all was looking good and that’s where I stand now. Clear of the darkness and peril behind me, I look back down the fell thoughtfully and feel a sense of achievement to have cleared the dark forest. The summit is now in view but I know that there are still a few hidden dangers ahead, if I tread carefully then the future looks better than I once envisaged!

P.S. At times I felt alone, but I never was, this was a team effort ☺️

After Rachel died and I searched around for some travel directions, in the sense of what and how I would do it, the ‘empty seat’ syndrome was very much in the forefront of my mind. To be on a motorbike with the empty seat behind wouldn’t be such an issue, there would be nothing to occasionally stare at and dig up the emotions which I was spending so much time trying to control. Also the physical and mental skills necessary to ride a motorbike are, in my humble opinion, greater than those required to drive a car, cue petrol heads scoffing at such a suggestion. There is no doubt that the consequences of ‘the wheel coming off’, carries much more significance when you only have two! So for me, motorcycling is much more immersive and engaging than driving four wheels and as such would occupy my mind to a greater degree.

As you know, the motorhome went. If I was going to travel again then it wouldn’t be in something so big, but I also had this vision of driving down the road with an empty seat beside me, and my emotional state at that time was such that it served as a bit of an albatross around my neck. So motorcycling it would be, and for those two years the bikes turned out to give me some amazing experiences, there’s no doubt that they were the right choices.

This year I’ve been travel starved, but now a re-emergence into the world of the open road beckons. Being at home twiddling my thumbs is not something that sits comfortably with me, travel ideas frequently pop into my brain and sometimes I get a little bit ahead of myself, but I look upon it as ‘youthful’ enthusiasm.

I booked a ferry to Spain for the end of November, with the intention of nipping down to Andalusia for a few weeks then, on my way home, calling in at St Malo to spend Christmas with the family. The plan was to go on the BMW bike, but things have moved on.

What made me decide to nip out and buy a Porsche sports car? Hardly a mid-life crisis! Well, it’s been a hard year, it was my birthday and it seemed like a good idea at the time, and if nothing else, I am a bit of an ideas person, sometimes with not very good ones. So the Spanish trip will be in the car, a biking mate may fill the empty seat for the first week after which I’ll have a few weeks solo. Emotionally I think I’m now ready for that hurdle, and I suspect it will be a hurdle.

Although the trip isn’t set in stone, as I can change the crossing at will, it certainly is my intention to go, and pending any unforeseen health issues the travel blog will resume. 

Here’s hoping.