Once again I have categorically failed to write regular blog posts, despite thinking that this time would be different now that I no longer have Loco2 to keep me busy.
In amongst all the fretting about Brexit (I have listened to way too much news and commentary than is healthy!), I’ve been working on a few interesting projects that I plan to announce publicly soon.
One of the projects is a tech startup that I’m working on with some friends to try and solve my personal frustration at how hard it is to organise recreational football games each week.
Another is a nascent venture related to trains (though nothing to do with selling tickets) which I’ve been inspired by after following its progress over the last year or so. I should be joining the board as a non-executive director.
I’m helping some friends who are developing an exciting idea for a zero waste food retail venture, including thinking through how the technology and consumer behaviour change angle of this could be scaled up.
I’ve also completed an 11-week creative writing course and written about 10,000 words, ranging from short stories to the beginning/outline of a novel that I had the idea for many years ago. I hope to continue writing the novel in the coming months (and probably years) so that I don’t remain one of those people who always had an idea for a book but never actually wrote it.
Another update will follow soon when I’m in a position to go public with some of the above.
Right now we have a very surreal political situation.
The hard right of the Conservative Party (the ERG) wants to leave the largest free market area in the world and impose protectionist tariffs (in the hopelessly misguided and nostalgic belief that we can build a new British Empire from the ashes).
The hard left of the Labour Party (Corbyn loyalists) are also happy with a protectionist Brexit because it means escaping neoliberalism and safeguarding the interests of the traditional British working class (who have long been replaced by a precariatsubject to economic forces that are intrinsically global).
Brexit cannot deliver both a neoliberal economic utopia (which is what the ERG is aiming for) and a socialist utopia (what the Corbyn Brexiteers are aiming for). They are polar opposites and both parties are stuck in the past. British politics is like a fat person who’s been watching telly for the last two decades suddenly getting up and trying to do the splits.
Enter the Independent Group of 11 MPs who’ve left Labour and the Tories. They hope to avert Brexit and avoid both no deal (which would lead to economic chaos) and Theresa’s May’s deal (which doesn’t even address the economics, hence needing a backstop in case the following years of negotiation fail).
All this mind-bending complexity and paradox is quite the opposite of the simple choice offered in the referendum, and it’s no wonder that people are frustrated. The first thing the Independent Group needs to do is point this out in a non-patronising way.
This is clearly easier said than done. But the Leave campaign has now been found to have clearly breached campaigning financing rules, particularly around their use of shady Facebook advertising that manipulated people who had previously (very understandably) shown little interest in politics.
The next thing that they need to do is have the balls to admit that the neoliberal economics of the EU need to change. The British people aren’t stupid. They’ve seen how countries like Greece have been bullied when things start going tits up. And they understand that the global economic system (where the EU and the UK have basically just followed the American model for decades now) is broken, and has been for over a decade now.
Without a credible acknowledgement that there is a lot wrong with UK public services, that austerity doesn’t work, and that we can’t just keep polishing the turd produced by George Osborne after the financial crisis, the new group will fall flat on its face.
A remain and reform platform is still within the grasp of British politics, and by treating the British public with respect it should still be possible to bring the majority along with a new plan. But we need substance and detail quickly, and in a way that speaks beyond the Westminster bubble.
In November my girlfriend and I embarked on an adventure by bike down the Atlantic coast of France. We try to avoid flying for climate change reasons and we wanted to extend the outdoorsy feeling of summer for as long as possible. It was our first proper cycling trip and we had a great time!
The trip was inspired by an earlier holiday where we’d spotted an undulating path through sand dunes next to a beach near Royan. It was part of the French section of La Vélodysée, an amazing 1200km route from Roscoff in Brittany to Hendaye on the Spanish border.
Route map courtesy of the very useful velodyssey.com website
The Vélodyssée is itself part of the wider EuroVelo network that spans Europe. The French section we did is one of the most developed, with over 70% of the route entirely car-free (other routes on the network have more sections on roads).
To camp or not to camp
Before we left we deliberated a lot about whether to camp.
On one hand we wanted a proper adventure with plenty of room for spontaneity. There are loads of campsites on the route but they are all shut by mid-October. So we looked into wild camping and discovered that whilst not strictly legal, it seems fairly widespread in France.
On the other hand, it was November! Sunset was around 5.30pm, and the night temperature quickly drops, despite usually reaching the high teens (Celsius) in the day. We knew it was unlikely we’d camp more than 50% of the time and all the gear adds a lot of weight.
So in the end we decided to bite the bullet and not camp (this meant we could carry lots of extra luxuries such as a yoga mat!).
Our bikes
We are both regular cyclists in London and our bikes are nothing special. Mine is a basic 8 year-old hybrid of the now-discontinued Revolution range from Edinburgh Bike Cooperative.
I contemplated getting a new bike for the trip. But it’s been regularly serviced, with any components replaced as necessary (is it even the same bike now?), so I concluded that as I didn’t have any fundamental concerns about the frame, it would do the job fine.
I got some extra gears rings added so it now has 24 rather than 8 gears, allowing me to get up hills when carrying a lot of weight. I already had a rear pannier rack, and added a front rack as well, meaning I could carry four bags in total (the front panniers smaller and carrying less weight than the rear so as not to cause balance issues, all Ortleib).
Some of the terrain on the Velodyssée was bumpier than we’d expected (especially the “Voie vertes” greenways). Our hybrid bikes could handle it but road bikes would have been in trouble. We both had Armadillo tires, and miraculously didn’t get a single puncture for the whole trip.
We both took four panniers in total (arguably carrying way too much considering we weren’t camping – we even managed to fit in a yoga mat!). Plus I carried an extra small bag on my handlebars for easy access.
Preparing for departure
The Vélodysée website helpfully breaks the route down into 14 sections, and we guessed that each section (average 80km) would be roughly achievable in a day (in the end it took us 3 weeks in total but the route would definitely be achievable in around 2 weeks with an average-to-good level of fitness, and without the 4-5 rest days we enjoyed).
The website also provides GPS route files that we imported into a custom Googlemap. Before we left used the map to get a feel for how far we might ride each day and to check out the major(ish) towns on the route to understand the kinds of places we might stay.
We booked our first night’s accommodation before we left so we had somewhere to aim for, and because we didn’t yet have the confidence to be spontaneous about accommodation planning. From the second day onwards we booked the next day’s accommodation the day before (either on Booking.com or Airbnb mobile apps), and sometimes on the day itself.
And we’re off
Compared to Plymouth (no offence!) we were pleasantly surprised at how lovely Roscoff was, and we started with a lovely breakfast in the sun.
Despite it being November we often ate outside in comfort
We set off by checking the map we’d loaded onto our phones, and were pleased to discover that the route was soon very well signposted, something that was to continue throughout the trip.
Signs like this were everywhere along the route in both urban and rural locations, and became our trusty guide
We’d been worried about getting cold and wet (most people go cycling in summer!) but there were only a couple of days on the whole trip when we really felt the weather. We usually wore leggings with cycling shorts over the top, with two or three layers (including a Merino wool base layer) on our top half (including down jackets and waterproofs when necessary).
How we used technology
After some trial-and-error in the first few days, this was our mapping and tracking setup:
Before we left we loaded the GPS route loaded onto a custom GoogleMap (see Preparing for Departure above)
When we set off each day we navigated to the custom map on our phone (via the “Your Places” menu item in the Googlemaps app) and zoomed in on the section we were intending to complete
GPS (i.e. seeing where you are via the blue dot on the map) still works in Airplane mode so we turned this on to massively save battery (it was occasionally necessary to reconnect and reload the route from the internet)
For tracking, we installed Komoot (an excellent app) on our iPad (which we took with us mainly to watch TV on in the evenings!)
Each morning we turned on Komoot tracking (with the iPad also in Airplane mode to save battery) and put it in a rear pannier
We then checked Komoot on the iPad each evening to see our exact completed route and distance covered/average speed etc.
Terrains and landscapes
After the initial greenways from Roscoff, much of the first section of the route takes place on the Brest-Nantes canal. This had the benefit of being entirely flat (as is pretty much the whole route), and with gorgeous autumnal colours.
The autumn sun along the canal was delightful
One part to watch out for is the cycle into Nantes. We massively under-estimated the 2 hours of urban cycling that would be required at the cold, wet and dark end of our longest day’s cycling (Nantes itself was great! Especially Les Machines).
After Nantes the route goes via the Loire estuary to reach the Atlantic coast. The town of Pornic was a real treat (unlike many of the coastal towns we encountered, it was surprisingly lively in mid-November).
Lots of the coast in the middle part of the ride is dedicated to oyster bays, with lots of charming huts and a blurred line between land and sea (a few of the days were very windy when not under the protection of forest!).
It was when we got to Ile de Noirmoutier and beyond that the scenery really came alive. From long sandy beaches through to amazing forests, we felt really immersed in nature, and it often felt like late summer rather than early winter.
At times it felt like we had entire forests to ourselves
As we got further south, the occasional delightful stretch of forest turned into the expansive Landes, which it often felt we had entirely to ourselves (not the case in the height of summer when the route is very popular). We got an especially good view from the top of the Dune of Pilat, the largest sand dune in Europe.
On top of Pilat/Pyla sand dune. This view shows the Atlantic coast to the West, with the expansive forest of the Landes visible on the other side (not shown in this picture).
Eventually we entered the Basque country as the trip started to draw to a close with lots of dramatic waves coming in from the Atlantic. The final day included the biggest elevation, as we skirted around the Pyrennes on the coast at Biarittz.
A stretch of beach near Capbreton at the start of the Basque country.
The Spanish Basque country
The Velodyssée route continues further into Spain (not along the coast) but we’d decided to visit a friend near San Sebastian before taking the ferry home from Santander.
Rather than cycle along main roads in Spain (which was the only practical option when not on a EuroVelo route), we took our bikes on trains after we crossed the France/Spain border at Hendaye/Irun, and we had a lovely week in San Sebastian and the Basque countryside.
The rail network in the Spanish Basque country is called Euskotren, and confusingly the timetables are generally only available on their own website (checking on Renfe.com or elsewhere often yields scarily few results because they only show the small number of high-speed trains that pass through Basque towns).
It’s possible to take bikes on all Euskotren trains without booking in advance, and there was plenty of room (though we did find that the straps we brought with us came in very handy to stop the bikes falling over so we could sit down without constantly watching them).
Home from Santander
Santander is a lovely city (we paddled in the sea and ate outside in the sun on 2nd December!) but we wish the same could be said for the 28 hour crossing back to Portsmouth. The Bay of Bisquay is notoriously choppy, and it lived up to its reputation. Not for the faint-stomached!
All in all it was an excellent trip, full of nature and far from miserable weather-wise despite it being November. A great introduction to bike touring, and one that left us feeling free and thirsty for more. Hopefully this post has been helpful for anyone thinking of doing something similar!
In my gym there are multiple TV monitors playing subtitled programmes, and for weeks last year they were broken. They would flicker between frames and often freeze entirely.
Over time I came to think fondly of these humble screens. I imagined their refusal to function as a dignified protest against their human overlords.
Oh, the exhaustion of churning out a relentless cycle of subtitled news and sitcoms! And the sweet relief of snatching even the briefest moment of pause.
I was experiencing a strange mix of emotions. I mourned the loss of purpose and control, but savoured finally being rid of the all-consuming stress that had engulfed my life for so many years.
After a few weeks, one of the monitors in the gym settled on a single unchanging screen:
Having the freedom to do anything I want has been wonderful
An appreciative message reflective of the dignity it had afforded itself through its period of quiet defiance. But nonetheless hinting at a stoic acceptance of its ultimate fate. The next day the screens were back to normal.
I’ve also been truly appreciative of the freedom I’ve had recently. But am I resigned to the same fate as the monitors?
It would be easy to get sucked back into the relentless cycle of work that has that characterised so much of my life in the last ten years.
It would also be easy to be resigned to the futility of resisting “always on” technology.
However, unlike the TV monitors and their enslaved existence, my sister Kate and I built Loco2 with purpose and agency, and we leave in a hugely privileged position.
I have my freedom. The question is, what am I going to do with it?
