I may be turning into a workaholic, which is both a bit of a first and a massively scary thought. With just a one day weekend, time was a bit tight, but Saturday was mostly a cycling day.
In the afternoon I braved freezing conditions to go for a spin. Having not seen daylight for 48 hours, thanks to the rigorous regime at Cardiff School of Journalism, some serious sunshine was needed.
Unfortunately, the route was plagued with potholes, ice and lashings of mud, which clogged the bike up so badly the wheels could barely move. Not ideal conditions, but it was just good to get out.
Being a very mature 26 year old, I cannot help but be amused when cycling through the village of Treguff. It makes me chuckle every time.
- Treguff
Mmm, swiftly moving on …
I went to see A Gringo’s Journey at Cardiff’s Chapter arts centre on Saturday night. The combination of two of my favourite things – cycling and south America – made it an absolute winner.
Based on a true story, A Gringo’s Journey was about Cris Osborn’s cycling jaunt from Denver, Colorado, to Terra del Fuego at the southernmost tip of South America. Alex Harries’s passionate execution of the part of the former bus driver come adventurer, Cris, was outstanding.
Musician, Matt Salisbury, used drums and percussion to generate the sounds of the bike and open road, while Harries delivered the tale in a thick Welsh accent. The audience followed Cris’s journey across north American states into Mexico, along ramshackle roads to Lake Titicaca in Peru, across the world’s largest salt flats in Uyuni, Bolivia, and down through Chile, before finally reaching Tierra Del Fuego.
En route, he escaped several near death experiences – something which punctuates almost every worthwhile travelling experience and always the source of a good yarn. He came close to falling off the cliff edge of a mountain road, contracted hepatitis, and, most terrifyingly, lost his way and his sight in the vast salt flats.
The magic of A Gringo’s Journey was in the way it dismantled what it is like to be alone on the road. Cris said: “I was alone, but not lonely” – the sense one can never be alone because we are all made of the same stuff and part of the same thing.
“My body was fine, my mind was fine, so I just left them both to it,” he said. The meditative experience of long days on the bike is unbeatable.
In the final minutes, Cris talked about reaching his destination and talking to his bike as if it had a soul. (Which bikes do, of course.)
The lights faded and Cris ended with “A bike has two wheels and it goes.”
I was left with itchy feet and aching wanderlust. Back to the rat race, I go. Well, at least until I find that one person who wants to pay me to cycle around the world and write a book. A girl can dream, right?
crankitupcymru 