The Place

Simon

When I first thought of cycling through Bordeaux, I had images of lovely weather (despite it being winter), wine tastings and gorgeous chateaus peppered all over the idyllic countryside. The reality however was quite different. After getting the boat across the Gironde river from Royan, we picked a lovely camping spot in an oak forest, cooked a yummy pasta dish with some Toulouse sausage and prepared for what I figured would be a relaxed tour of the famous wine region.

We woke up to decent weather but as soon as we hit the road, the rain started and didn’t stop. As we turned the corner towards Bordeaux, the wind slapped us straight in the face, slowing our speed and delaying the ETA of our much needed showers. The road was straight, without turns or hills to keep it interesting and the monotonous plain through which we passed did little to inspire me. My eyes searched up the road for obstacles, my vision partially obscured by drips from my visor, but there was nothing to keep my mind occupied, and that’s when I went into what I call “the place”.

It was the first time of this expedition that I’ve got into this train of thought, when the body goes into autopilot, pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal…. I began reciting my maths tables, reliving fond memories, singing loudly (and badly) the words to Molly Malone; despite forgeting the middle verse. For some reason I started singing some terrible Bon Jovi tune (the name of which escapes me), even though I haven’t heard it for years. By switching the mind off in this way, it helps the miles roll by much faster, very useful when cycling through dull areas.

We’ve got about 4000km of monotonous terrain in Siberia and Kazakhstan, I’d better get the practice in!

You’ll need Flash 9 to play these Flickr videos. Don’t have it? Click here.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “The Place

  1. Keep it up, guys .. great blog !!
    P.S. In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty
    I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
    As she wheeled her wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

    A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

    She was a fishmonger and sure it was no wonder
    For so were her father and mother before
    And they both wheeled their barrows through streets broad and narrow
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

    A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

    She died of a fever and no one could save her
    And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
    Now her ghost wheels her barrow through streets broad and narrow
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

    A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!
    A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
    Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

  2. Bon Soir Comme Cevat Simon et Fearghail. Usually Rackmaninoff does it for me That Tune that was featured on The Seven Year Itch with the Delightful Marilyn Monroe RIP. How does it go now ,It is a Driving Piano Dischord very Loud Hypnotic Music.

    De De De De DE De De Sorry cant do it but if you ever hear it you will get it in your Head and never forget, very handy for those Dreary Long Bike Rides. Very Harsh Driving Musak. Abientot.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s