Pancake pancake pancake pancake pancake

Why do I find this so fascinating?

(And, is it just me, or, by the end, has the word "pancake" has been said so many times that it ceases to have concrete meaning and is just aural funniness?)

I ate so much candy.

So. That's it. I biked the length of Britain. From the North-East tip of Scotland to the South-West tip of Cornwall. Total mileage: 978 (miles) in eleven days. This was my first ever bike event/trip/attempt. Why start small when you can start gigantic?



The equipment:
-A beautiful brand new 2010 Trek 1.5 WSD
-Two water-proof panniers.
-Loads of other water-proof stuff.
-Loads of food. Especially candy (Scottish tablet!)
-A tent and sleeping bag (thanks Tori!)
-Naivety, inexperience and an awesome spork.

The ride:
-An average of 90 miles a day, broken up as 30miles (sorry, um, 48km) before breakfast, 30 before lunch and 30 or more before camp and dinner.
-So many hills. Scotland has mountains. Did you know that? It does. And Dartmoor Forrest is the most beautiful place I wish I'd never been. I thought moors were flat? Silly Canadian.
-Headwinds. We learned that most riders do this trip the 'other' way. Because of these winds. Oh. Yeah. Being pushed up a hill you're supposed to be riding down is a little disheartening. There may have been a point, somewhere in Scotland, when I actually had to yell at the wind. Stop it wind. I yelled. It didn't even listen.

The accommadation:
-The breakdown: We didn't want to have to stop riding until we really really had to (ie: the sun was down and it was danger-time), so we didn't have any pre-booked places to stay. This, actually, wasn't the best idea, always. Because, actually, there weren't lovely campsites dotted at even 10km intervals along our route. In fact, there were hardly any dotted anywhere at all. So.
-Campsites: we did find a few. Some even had running water! None of them, sadly, had firepits. No heat allowed in Britain. Ever.
-Other Places: The side of the road, a farmer's field, the front yard of a nice lady named Anne, etc.
-B&B: One night. ONE. After a day of rain and rain and wind and cold, when all our laundry, tents, sleeping bags and selves were soaked and pretty much dead, I convinced Sue that a B&B would be worth the 22pounds. Once. It was heaven. Except when we woke up and discovered all the things we'd hung up to dry hadn't. The never-ending wetness of Scotland.

The People:
-Other cyclists. Although it's pretty ambitious, this is actually a fairly popular ride. Except most people do it with support vehicles and B&Bs. But, still. You see lots of comrades up and down the roads, especially near the beginning and end. Wonderful community comraderie.
-Normal people. Are all shocked and disturbed when you tell them what you're doing. Perhaps more so when you tell them whilst washing your socks and padded shorts in a grocery store bathroom sink.

The Conclusions:
-I scraped up my knee and ankle. Got chilblains and sunburn. Have never been so cold or wet or tired. And had a really really amazing time. My favorite thing: the cycling. My least favorite thing: the not-cycling. Already planning the next one. Maybe with a few more B&Bs....

-Though not one I could continue indefinitely, it's a fascinating way of life, to wake up just before sunrise, and work towards one goal as much as physically possible until sunset. Nomadic and anciently resonant. A life based around movement and light.

Bikes forever, bikes like crazy.

Bikes! Bikes. Today I got a new bike. More about it and our upcoming 12-day, 1000mile adventure soon. But first, a bike story about Chicago:

I just got back from Chicago. And on Friday, in Chicago, I took part in Critical Mass. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds (A passing estimate I overheard was "700ish, a smaller month") of cyclists of every age, ability, costume, all rode together through three hours worth of Chicago city streets, creating the Critical Mass, as they do on the last Friday of every month. So many bikes, that we take over the road. A really pleasant and striking reversal of the usual Car-Bike situation. All the cars just have to wait for us to pass. If they don't want to, random volunteer cyclists stand in front of them until all the bikes have passed.

We even had police-bikers with us*. The law was on our side.

Also cyclists with stereos providing soundtracks, and cyclists with cookies providing welcome snacks.

The most interesting/nicest thing I noticed was that motorists were not angry or upset at us. They were smiling and waving and returning our cries of "Happy Friday!" Especially business drivers: buses, taxis, truckers. There's something about bikes and community spirit.

I've heard that most largerish cities have their own Critical Masses. Maybe yours does? Find out, and happy riding.



*This was especially handy as our route through some of the city's south side ended up taking us right past the scene of a recent homicide (some said double). Pros and cons of the big city, all in one.

The mildly uncomfortable honesty of Scottish children

Played my new favorite festival last weekend:
Belladrum Tartan Heart, way up past Inverness. Small, clean, friendly, has its very own bike race and, oh my goodness, free single malt whiskey tastings every night. Oh. My. Goodness.

All these things were great. But, perhaps the best thing of all was the conversation I had with a 6-year-old fan the day after our gig:

She: Were you the girl playing violin in that band?

Me: Yes*

She: I was pretending you were my mom!




Weird? Great? Funny.



*I left the violin/viola thing alone. Since she was six. Seven, however, is the ignorance cut-off.

Free vitamin water!

So, it's done. I played the gig, the big fat Peter G. gig last weekend. And the playing of the gig was fantastic. The actually being on stage in front of that many people was pretty darn great. Great. Wow. I want to stress that the actual performance was: Great.

But, maybe even more that than, WOW being a musician is _so much_ easier when you're important-enough-to-really-be-important-enough. Points:

-Sound! Festival sound is always a losing battle. You play them because it's fun and there are good audiences, but, always, the sound is horrible. A ten-minute-only turn-around/line-check pretty much guarantees this. But not if you're a headliner on the main stage! Oh, what care, what subtle nuance was devoted to our sound! Our amazing, wonderful sound.

-Headphones! I got to wear one-ear-only headphones. Sure, that doesn't seem like that big a deal, but usually us string players just have to deal with regular headphones balancing precariously so that one ear is on and one is off (so we can hear ourselves and hear the click or whatever). This time someone actually thought about it and invented and provided what we needed. Okay, even if they were a bit big and did slip down a little bit.

-Backstage! A guy who says, 'if we can get it, you can have it.' Like in the movies. But for real. We were a bit overwhelmed and so didn't actually ask for anything. So they brought us chocolate and wine and beer and fruit and shortbread and a cheese plate. Just in case.