Gimps on Bikes

Tomorrow is the 20th September; it will be 2 months since la grande arrivée in Roma and I’m only now coming around. I suppose the fact that no sooner had the FOTEC finished that another little adventure popped up. I’m presently in Cameroon but before I can even start to make sense of this place I need to put 3 great weeks in July to bed first.

So what was it all about? That’s the question I keep asking myself? How do you put 2,444km in 23 days across 5 countries into words? Not easy I can tell you. Just take a look at the shelves of Eason’s that are jammed with travelogues that document the myriad of challenges that walkers, joggers, cyclists, climbers, bikers and just plain nutters set themselves. Invariably they all succeed (rarely do you see failures into the bestsellers list) and the books cover over 200 pages of detail as to how they succeeded. I will spare you the bestseller for now but really it would be a very boring read. Day 1 – got up on the bike and cycled, ate and slept; Day 2 – cycled another bit, ate some more, slept…repeat ad nauseum. You get the picture.

Ok, so our endurance cycle might not have been all that novel (or travelogue!) in the greater scheme of things. No matter what goal you set there will always be someone who will go further, faster, higher. The thing is we never really considered the greater scheme of things. We were just gimps on bikes. We weren’t looking to serialise our trip à la Ewen McGregor and produce a DVD box set. What we did was unique – for us; it was a big deal – for us; it was something that was an extremely challenging and rewarding experience – for us.

Without sounding melodramatic it was one of the best experiences of my life…(though no matter what way you say or write it, it’s does sound kinda melodramatic). Anyway, what made it so good? Easy, the people...essentially you! The support, help and interest shown by everyone was brilliant. By everyone I mean those that cycled, that drove, that met us in Rome, that sent texts, that donated money, that printed the jerseys, that washed the jerseys, that bought us dinner, that showed us the way, that sold us bananas, that gave us a place to stay when we needed it most, that gave Mick a lift when he broke his spokes, that put Hardy to bed on the night of his birthday. A sincere thanks. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.

We’ve been left with tons of special memories. Suddenly I’m back on the road just after leaving Le Havre feeling that Rome is a very, very long way away, and now we’re searching for a hotel in Blangy, taking a taxi to Bruxelles, eating chips the evening we met Mike and Martin. There’s lunch in les Grands Vents on day 2, Debbie in action in Toul, James is tuning Mick’s wheel in Carpi, the Godfather is offering us limoncello, Abdu is smiling in San Marino, myself and Mike are getting whipped by Maria and Oisin in a game of waterpolo in Terni, Hardy’s is wearing his manbag, I’m feeling shattered in Altkirch, Rach and Diar’s are pushing their bikebags through the arrivals hall in Forli airport and there’s everyone on the steps of St. Pietro in Montorio in Roma…I could go on and you’re thinking that I probably have.

So where to from here? Inevitably there’s always another trip brewing in the background and during the winter months I’m sure that the roads around BH, Letterkenny and Kilkenny will be alive to the sound of cyclists plotting, scheming, and planning. Too early to mention anything yet though.

For the moment, I’ve my hands full here in West Africa. Have yet to get a bike but only a matter of time. I hope to hijack this blog to try, as I said before, make sense of this place so keep an eye on it from time to time.

So that’s it. The pyjamas are on, the teeth have been brushed and Hugh O’Neill, the rest of the Earls and the gimps on bikes are all finally tucked up in bed. Lights out! Goodnight!

GC