Sunday 19th July 2009 Day 1

ODO 205 - 293 98km

Many pleasant surprises on my first real day of cycling: Fantastic paths; good signs. A Brass band; Somewhere over the rainbow. Rain. A lovely canal side campsite. Further than I was expecting. Quiet roads. Hunger. Thirst. Sore arse!

A very uneventful start to the day but personally it was positively early. After a breakfast of porridge with banana and sultanas made with water - a staple I was expecting to live off for the following six weeks, I repacked bits of my bike. The aim was to make it easier to get into the rear bags without having to take anything off the rear rack.

Rolling out of Barnet about half nine I was feeling good. Excited, tired, sore, my brain in a fuzz but all in all not too bad all things considering. I worked my way across north London and found the cycle path sign posted right where I was expecting it. And off I was. Without a map or direction, experience or training, a buddy or a good frame of mind. But wow! What a pleasant surprise Sustran's national cycle route number six was.

Well signed paths of all medium. Through woods and down back roads, inclines and declines, corners and straights, beside rivers, you name it. The variety was there and I hadn't really left London. Traffic free sections were lovely and the parts which were on the roads were well thought out and carefully planned.

The beginning was tough. Time past slowly, the distance on the odometer was not turning and the weight. Oh the weight. I was heavy. Already I was calculating and weighing up the benefit / returns of each and every item.My thoughts started to focus on how I could reduce the overall weight; a far cry from my thinking a few weeks earlier. I appreciate I am my own worst enemy as much of the weight was to be found in the form of excessive amounts of food and water. Boys scouts taught me to always be prepared.

Then as I got going the kilometres started to roll by. Thoughts become a blur. Challenges were approached, overcome and forgotten. In time a regular rhythm is achieved which includes eating more regularly than you care to think about and before you know it you're caught in a torrential downpour. Huddled; soaking and cold in a bus shelter or wrapped in a poncho beneath the shelter of some trees offering minimal protection from the wind.

But those moments pass and whilst they may be long and arduous at the time in the context of a day that feels like a week they become mere moments in time. Soon long in the past and forgotten about.

Dunstable's royal welcome included an open air brass band concert. Some great tunes bellowed out across the sleepy town provided a much needed rest towards the end of the day. Of course for at least half of that concert seating arrangements involved the poncho as a barrier to the rain and wind. My next stop was to be my camp for the night. When the whole world is your camp ground where do you pitch your tent?

Deciding when and where to stop when you are free to do so anywhere you please proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Perhaps there is a better place just around the corner? Is it quiet enough, secluded enough? Am I on private land? What happens here in the morning? And so the kilometres rolled on by late into the evening. As the sun came out to brighten what had until then been a pretty grey day the path turned onto a canal. There on the waters edge a distance from any built up area presented a lovely picnic spot which became my first campsite.

I used the table to prepare yet another high carbohydrate meal. The concept of three square meals a day having been replaced very quickly with more like five including substantial snacks every hour. This suited me just fine as I love to eat and I try to stay in shape. However, it was hitting my bank reasonably hard as food can be expensive. Albeit it was my only expense but one can never be too thrifty.

I made camp and went about the process of yet some more rearranging. I wasn't happy with the load on my bike. The weight was uneven and it was all quite simply too heavy. The bags were not particularly easy to access. Panniers bounced around on rough roads, even when secured with bungees and the paint on the front rack was already showing signs of wear. With little to do once the sun retreats and having exerted more energy than normal sleeping quickly became desirable and into my bed I climbed.

Only to be woken with a start by the sound of footsteps followed by something landing on my stomach. Was the tent down? Had someone just stepped on me? Panic and fear set in and my mind raced as to what I should do. Opening my eyes I wasn't sure what to expect. But No! Absolutely nothing was out of order. The tent still stood and by tent I really refer to a tarp stretched between a tree and the picnic table with a mosquito net hung below. My over active imagination has possibly brought together reality with dream land. I scanned for movements, listened for voices or footsteps but all was still and quiet. When my heart rate went back down I returned to sleep. I slept well, comfortable; soundly. I slept late into the morning.