Rest Easy Dad….

After leaving my hosts Andy and Claire in Poole I headed to the ferry port which was only 4 kms away. I got there just in time ….i had awoken early to load up and of course….ran out of time. Anyways, got on board and the ferry left on time. I had dosed up with seasickness tablets so I was delighted not to throw up, as I’m prone to doing! It’s an odd ferry to St Malo, as you disembark in Guernsey and re-embark on a different ferry to St Malo…same company, different ferry. So I duly disembarked, got my boarding pass for the next ferry and waited where I was directed to wait, then shown back ….to the ferry I had just left! I explained my predicament to the stewardess who realised their mistake…..otherwise I’d have been heading to Jersey! As it was I eventually got on the right ferry which only took 2 hours to get to St Malo.

St Malo is an ancient walled town with wonderful french architecture and shops in a car free centre-ville. My hosts were right inside the walled part of town in a stunning block of flats on the main boulevard. We had a great evening meal and chat – a young couple running their own agricultural machinery business.

On Saturday I headed to Ploermel, a route of 113k along canal paths, tracks and disused railway lines. It was a stunning ride, but most critical of all…the new rack and panniers held tight and there was zero shimmy….i was able to get back to smashing it downhill!

One thing you learn/remember cycling in France is that there is simply no one around! Village after village was deserted! Shops only open for short times and there are few cafes, tho I did find two that I ordered ‘cafe grande’ in (ask for coffee and you get a tiny teaspoon cup!). But you need to think ahead as often there can be 30k with no food or water! There was a trick I learnt from my last trip here….if you’re out of water, find a graveyard and there’s always a tap….and so I put that to the test and sure enough….a tap! I struggled a few times with the distance today, being the longest I’ve ridden in months, but whilst it was undulating it was doable and best of all was a tail wind. I arrived at my camp hosts around 5 and had a delightful evening chatting to them…both teachers….and their three children. I was so stuffed when I got there tho, and my back/hips were really complaining! The challenge is that after a ride I need to get a warm shower, a hot drink and food, and put the tent up….by which time I’ve failed to stretch! Plus there is often nowhere to stretch, so it’s pretty challenging to manage the pain.

The next few days took on the familiar feel of a long distance tour – pack the bags, throw the leg over the bike, and ride! Each night I had a chance to stay with a Warm Shower host which was excellent- tho it takes some effort to engage after a long ride; the hosts want to chat and all I wanted to do was rest! On my second night I arrived to a house full of kids and adults enjoying their holiday time and my room was just off the lounge with no door! It was going to be a long night, but thankfully the visitors left around 7. I stayed with another couple who appeared not to eat or drink, as nothing appeared to welcome me or feed me, and the place was in a forest miles from any shops (which were probably shut anyway!) I had asked if I needed to bring food and was told ‘no need’….i guess if you don’t eat yourself having food isn’t top of your list! Eventually around 9:30 a small vegetarian dish arrived! I went to bed hungry! At another place I arrived at the agreed time but the host was working from home, so briefly said hello and went back to his work and left me in the garage for an hour and a half! I used the time to clean Bob and stretch! And another host had 13 bikes in their shed and proceeded to take the time to explain each one despite me desperately wanting a shower! But it’s all part of the ‘exchange’ in Warm Showers. I had been on the road nearly two weeks before I needed to book a room, which as you can image saves so much money over the course of a trip – my daily expenses were around 20 euro a day which isn’t too bad in Europe!

The cycling here is truly wonderful- just endless trails and tracks, small country roads and picturesque villages to amble through. The French ‘do’ cycling so well, with dedicated bike lanes and signage everywhere. Getting through Brittany is always a challenge as you’re on the pedals all day – you’re either going up or down….there are no flat roads here! And overall the weather was great- overcast or sunny , freezing in the morning but warm by midday.

As I progressed south I learnt that dad had taken a drastic turn for the worse. He had become very unwell and was removed to his room, where his condition deteriorated rapidly and very unexpectedly. Whilst his dementia has been very evident his vital signs were stubbornly good, so there was nothing to suggest that he would crash so quickly. But crash he did, in spectacular fashion. He stopped eating, he couldn’t take his medication and basically disintegrated in the space of 5 days. It was distressing. On the 26th dad passed away. It was a bitter-sweet moment- relief, yes, but shock too, that it happened so quickly after the slow burn of his progressive illness. I headed back to St Malo over the coming days, doing big distances to get to a ferry to get back. They were lonely and deeply sad days on the bike. The legs turned over the Ks but my head and heart were elsewhere. It probably was lovely scenery but I couldn’t tell you as I saw nothing. I made it to a ferry sailing to Portsmouth which positioned me with a final 95k back up to dad’s home town.

On my last day of riding I went north in the pouring rain and head wind. It seemed quite fitting. The route took me through muddy trails and tracks, having to push my bike up steep bridleways. Then I got a puncture, then another, and was thoroughly miserable for an hour….but i had a chat to myself, got Bob sorted and made the final 50k push.

I’m going to be here a few weeks preparing for the funeral, then I’ll head north, then across to Ireland. Whatever happens next will have to wait. I need time to decompress, find myself a place called ‘home’ and then consider what life holds next. Whatever it might be, I’m sure it’ll involve Bob!! I have loved being back on the road. I’ve stayed with some amazing families and have absorbed the French countryside, and their acceptance of cyclists!

I’ll write again when Bob and I head north. Till then, be safe, live life to the full. Laugh. And tell people who matter, that they truly matter to you!

After a very tearful goodbye to dad on Monday I headed out towards Poole. The weather last week had really started to improve, with mild temperatures and little rain. Guess what …..Monday was pouring with rain and a shocker of a headwind! Of course it was! I delayed leaving until 1 then headed out along the Basingstoke canal towpath, which was quite protected from the worst of the wind….and the rain had stopped. I felt really sad to leave and really questioned why I was doing this! I grabbed a coffee at Frimley then crossed in to Hampshire towards Alton. The countryside was stunning with everything blossoming, but I rode with a heavy heart. Outside Alton it started to rain again, but then I was met with a challenge which has dogged these first days of riding. As I was descending towards Alton my bike developed a shimmy….a nasty vibration of the handlebars which makes riding very dangerous indeed. The only way to stop it is to stop the bike. I crawled to Alton where I was to stay with a warm showers host. They were a delightful retired couple who at 80 were still cycle touring. I tried to figure out what the problem was with the bike – with a shimmy it’s invariably the rear rack where it starts. Couldn’t find anything untoward.

On Tuesday I set out with some trepidation, which proved to be well placed, as Bob was unrideable for most of the day. I went through a set of brake pads as I needed to be on the brakes as anything over 15kph caused the front end to go mental! It was a very challenging 80k ride through the gorgeous New Forest…..but all I saw was my speedometer! I camped at a farm near Burley, a typical New Forest village, with a couple who had gone ‘off grid’, living in their log cabin. A great place to rest, but it was damn cold camping that night. I was truly exhausted from trying to keep Bob from throwing me off. I strolled in to Burley village at night and found a delightful country pub and consoled myself with a huge chunk of cake and hot chocolate!
Wednesday I was met with light showers and a very cold wind. I travelled across the moors of the New Forest with all the wild horses…again, truly beautiful but ruined by an uncontrollable bike! I limped to Poole, stopping at Christchurch and Poole town before getting to my Warm Showers bed for the night. Again, a wonderful retired couple who left me alone to try sort out the bike on Thursday. After hours of fuffing about it was clear that the top bag of my set up was what was causing the rear rack to oscillate, which magnified itself through the frame in to the handlebars and then through to the front wheel. Without the top bag Bob was solid as a rock but with it on….like a bucking bronco! But I had no choice but to have the top bag as all my clothes were in it and there was no space in the other bags! My wonderful uncle, who is a engineer/physicist and loves a challenge, worked out some mathematical equation as to where the bags needed to be positioned but I ran out of time to actually implement the findings. As it turned out, having supper with my wonderful WS hosts Alan and Claire they mentioned they had an old rack and set of old panniers ….’we could try fitting that to the bike’. So it was that the Aeroe rack system was unbolted and the old rack put on, with some angle grinding and drilling of an old greenhouse window frame to make up some stabilisers. The panniers were dusted off and everything was put in to them, with no need for a heavy top bag. Everything fitted in the tatty old panniers that had seen better days but….they held ‘stuff’ in and that’s all I need them to do!

So I left the Aereo system behind without a rearward glance as I headed for the ferry to Guernsey and onward to France. It was only a short ride to the ferry (which was just as well as I only just made it!) but there was a renewed sense of faith in Bob with little movement ….bit it’ll only be when I get on the road in earnest that I’ll know for sure 😊

‘You can’t explain what it’s like to mourn someone who is still alive until you have experienced it’ Soto

Hi everyone. Well it’s been 9 weeks since I arrived in the UK to spend time with dad as he fell further in to the grips of his dementia. It’s been both a challenging and rewarding experience being here, but I’m so grateful I have had time with him….I think I got the best of the last of him. It’s been a roller coaster ride- some days he’s so utterly lost and incapacitated that he couldn’t get out of bed….one day I sat by his bedside as he lay, foetal like, feeding him chocolates as he struggled to stay awake. Other days he’s been Ross….sarcasm, the eyes rolling, the shooting look, the frown, the laughter. But through the weeks the trajectory has been discernibly downwards. When I first arrived he was occasionally in the communal lounge, preferring to be in his room on his chair. He could shuffle with aid from chair to bed, and occasionally would forget his legs no longer worked and fall out of the chair. By the time I left he was completely immobile, with a hoist being used. His speech has deteriorated and short term memory completely erased. He needed help feeding and often had hideous chocking episodes. He could no longer be in his room on his own, so had to be wheeled to the lounge and plonked in front of a screen to fall asleep.

It is so utterly true what they say…that with dementia there is the long goodbye, that anticipatory grief, that sense of multiple experiences of loss as each week a piece of him ebbs away. It’s excruciating. My views on euthanasia and assisted dying are well known. They have certainly been amplified these past few months as there is nothing that can persuade me that this is ‘living’….it truly is gods waiting room but you get to pay extortionate fees to sit there and wait. I know dad wants to go, I know he’s ready to go….the only saving grace, if there is one, is that he has no idea about his own deteriorating mind and body. If he did he’d be utterly distressed and mortified. At least he’s saved from that trauma. But it then falls on Alison, his partner, and his kids, to suffer that trauma on his behalf.

It’s also been quite an eventful few weeks, away from the nursing home. I did get in a few days of cycling – the Surrey countryside is simply beautiful, with some stomping climbs and pictures postcard villages. But the weather….oh, the weather….cold and wet and windy! I don’t mind cycling in that usually but day after day of crap weather meant being unable to ride. I also had a nasty experience of having my bank account hacked and emptied….i won’t bore you with the details suffice to say I like so many fell victim to fraudulent transactions when these gobshites hacked in to my account. It meant all my cards had to be cancelled and new ones sent to the UK via Inge (thanks a million Inge) which meant not having any access to my own funds (that which remained!) for weeks! I’ve managed to get some of the thousands taken back from the bank but there’s a rather large hole in my account still!

I also fell victim to the crazy high pollen here -it’s spring and gee, the pollen count goes off the charts. I usually only have a mild reaction but this was full blown hay fever with hideously itchy eyes….anyone who has hay fever will sympathise….its horrible.

I’ve also met some wonderful people on my few rides a did, especially from a cycling group from Horsley who welcomed me in to their group rides and Gerry providing me a workshop to work on Bob!

During my time here I stayed with dad’s partner Alison for 4 weeks and spent 5 in a chalet type place in someone’s back garden! Renting here in Surrey is so expensive as it’s the bedroom of London so they can charge like an injured bull….and they do! Like everything here. Paying $8 for a coffee in Windsor set the bench mark! Mind you it was an excellent coffee, unlike just about every other coffee I had.

I also took the opportunity to catch up with old acquaintances here in Surrey where I lived with my dad from the age of 10. My old landlady, Mary, my first girlfriend who I hadn’t seen for 38 years, Sally, her mum Jan, and boys brigade friends Nigel and John. Nigel was kind enough to provide me with clothes and shoes to wear (as I’d look stupid in Tescos in lycra!) and a lap top too, which meant I could do some work to earn a few shillings!

Perhaps most delightful was meeting Alice and Ron, who ran the Boys Brigade I went to. When my dad took on a scrawny, chaotic and deeply troubled 10 year old boy (me!) he in desperation turned to a work colleague to ask if there was something in the area I could become engaged with. She recommended the Boys Brigade. Ron and Alice ran the Company. And they took on this deeply troubling kid and their influence turned me around! Alice remembered me (not sure that’s such a good thing after 40 years). Ron has, like dad, advanced Alzheimers and is in a care home. Each Monday the care home take Ron to a coffee morning at the same church where the BB was held, where he can spend time with Alice, so I popped in to see him. His response to ‘hi, I’m Tony Kemp….do you remember me’ was priceless ‘oh, the idiot boy?’ Yep….I resemble that remark! Such a joy to see them both and to be able thank them for all that they did for me. Both Ron and Alice back in the day worked in the learning disability space and through my Duke of Edinburgh award I did my community service at the hospital Ron worked at….the rest, as they say, is history! I can say with absolute certainty that had it not been for Ron and Alice, and of course my dad’s support, I would have ended up in prison, or certainly in a life of criminality, addiction and unrest.

So I leave Surrey with a heavy but grateful heart. I know it’s a privilege to have had this time together, as so many people don’t get that opportunity. It’s been humbling to give something back – to feed him, wipe away his dribble, read the paper to him, comfort him, hold his hand, just ‘be’ with him even when no words are spoken.

So now it’s time to restart a journey to see where the road leads. I need to stay reasonably close to the UK so I can return when the time comes, so Europe is where I’ll head first to see some of the Alps and hopefully some of Eastern Europe too. I’ll keep you all posted.

I’ll send some photos. I’ll be heading off down the canal trail around lunchtime-rain and 30mph headwind awaits, but only 50k today to get the legs moving again! Safe cycling to you and everyone. Tx

My last few days in Africa continued to provide both challenges and opportunities!

On my last blog entry I reflected on perhaps the most challenging of days, so the next morning I was quite unsure how I’d pull up. Having emptied the tank it was going to be one of two things – a bang from the start, or a full recovery…there’s rarely an in between! As it turned out it was the latter…a tough but good day on the bike. It was the first time I had witnessed Masi tribe villages all along the road but quickly realised that these were tourist attractions set up to draw in the outside world to see their inner world….but at the prices they charged I decided not to engage but admire from afar. There were countless tourist restaurants off the road charging like an injured bull for a drink, and very pushy sales pitches….being offered carpets on a touring bike seemed the height of optimism!

I stopped at an Islamic street cafe and chatted to the truck drivers who kindly bought me my breakfast. One said he was one of 20 children, the other said he was one of 16. As truck drivers they are rarely at home, lucky to be back once a month. They get paid a pittance and drive crazy hours, using khat to stay awake….what could possibly go wrong. I love these street cafe chats, as you get to see a part of a county a tourist would simply drive past on their way to an airconditioned show room of souvenirs.

In the morning I was blessed with a slight tailwind and overcast weather – it was around 30, so still warm, but so much better than the previous days. I stopped for lunch at a roadside cafe. When I went in it was even spitting with rain! When I came out about 45 minutes later it was like somehow I’d time traveled to another time and day ….it was 37, and a headwind! WTF! Those final 39k that day were a matter of ‘head down, bum up’ and just get the Ks done. The only interruption was coming across a burnt out bus….apparently in the morning this bus was loaded with passengers when the thing exploded…I learnt later no one was injured…..quite how I don’t know given the utter carnage that remained.

The hotel that night was bearable though there seemed to be more wildlife inside than out. The place was somewhat a’buzzing with creepy crawlies of all sizes and shapes. I tried my best to debug and prevent more coming in but alas that was a futile exercise. I spent the evening watching an African Cup footie match with some off duty police officers (who told me about the bus!).

After another sleepless, sweaty, bug riddled night I got going on the final leg to Mombasa. Incredibly, as I was pulling out of the hotel a truck tooted me….it was Dominic from the other day, my roadside rescuer. He pulled over, we gave each other a big hug and shared some stories before saying our goodbyes. He was on his way to Southern Sudan with another load.

Soon the savanna disappeared and urban squalor replaced it. The route took me through shanty towns and what I think was the refuse dump region of the city. It was a mass of impoverished humanity scrapping an existence from the rubbish trucks which spewed out their garbage in to their waiting hands. Suddenly the road disintegrated and there was a gridlock of trucks wrestling to find any bit of remaining tarmac. Amidst this dust storm I patiently pedalled my way through. It took about 45 minutes before a road re-emerged. From there it was downhill to Mombasa. I was quickly back in to the pushing and shoving for position…it’s amazing how quickly you adjust, and whilst it was typical chaos it didn’t faze me one bit. I eventually found my rented unit and was so relieved to see it had an air conditioning unit! Oh joy.

The final few days were spent cycling around Mombasa, along the beaches where Kenya meets the Indian Ocean, and sorting out a bike box for my flight to London.

On my final day of this part of my journey, Kenya had one final ‘gift’. I started the day by cycling the 15k to the bike shop to collect the box, which I then disassembled Bob in to, before getting a tuk tuk to the airport. When I say airport, I mean ‘shed’. No airconditioned airport here! I got fleeced as I always do to get Bob on the flight but money talks here so I knew it was a matter of what the ‘price’ was then halving it….im not good at bartering but I’m getting better. However, just after check in I started to feel that horrible pre-sickness feeling ….those tell tell aches and pains. The flight to Nairobi was short and uneventful. I had to change terminals….no transit option here, you leave one, walk to another and redo ALL the security checks….5 in total! By this time I was feeling bloody awful. Fever, headache, and stomach pain. Nairobi airport also doesn’t do aircon tho it was discernibly cooler so it wasn’t too bad. I had an 8 hour lay over so I found a place to crash. Luckily the flight was on schedule to London leaving at 01:45. By the time we were airborne so were most of my insides! By a quirk of luck a) I was right next to the loos and b) I was able to lie across three seats. It was a wretched flight but it would have been so much more so had it not been for a) and b) above! By some miracle both Bob and I arrived at the same time AND at the same airport….London on a wet cold winters morning.

Whatever it was that caused the fever and stomach problems stayed around for another two days but after fasting it to death, life has started to return to normal! Whatever that is. I came here to be with my father and I got to do that today in earnest. It’s a distressing, humbling experience to see your father in such an incapacitated condition, and also a privilege to be able to care for him at this time when he has lost the ability to do most things for himself. I knew immediately it was the right decision to be here with him, no question.

Thanks to all who leave comments on the blog – they are all read. And all deeply appreciated.

Ironing sans electricity. This guy irons all day to earn a few Shilling to feed his family.

The ochre sand is so similar to the outback!

Monkeys, giraffes, zebra and a maximum security prison!

To say the last few days have been interesting is something of an understatement!  So as I was saying in my last post, the hellhole of a hotel I ended up in two night ago turned out to be absolutely what I anticipated- a night of feck all sleep with the room doing a fantastic impression of a sauna. And to top it all, the ‘breakfast’ was a greasy overcooked chapati and instant coffee. I couldn’t wait to get out of there! I popped in to a shop I had been in yesterday and struck up a conversation, and bought food for the road and chatted for a while.
The road to my next stop, on the very edge of the Tsavo National Park was going to be the bees knees-pool, food, quiet. I couldn’t wait to get there.

The road was its usual challenge of glass and blown tyre shards which inevitably ended in punctures. I stopped off the road to repair one and met up with a small family group with a tiny shop selling sweets – not too sure who to, as you couldn’t see it from the road. Anyways, they were delightful and helped fix the puncture.

Further on down the road I started to see loads of monkeys in their tribes, meandering by the side of the road and occasionally jumping out in to it! Some guy came by on a motorbike, a real Rasta type, and chatted to me about the monkeys. He then proceeded to show me how to ensure they don’t jump up on the bike, by riding ahead and shouting and flaying his legs. I tried and it worked, tho one little bugger got on the pannier ….Mr Rasta then proceeded to kick it, losing control of his bike and careering off the road…only to rejoin laughing his head off!!

I arrived to a Tsavo Inn and it was everything I had hoped….sheer heaven. I dived in the pool, read, relaxed and fixed punctures! And then, as if some force above said ‘ok buddy, that’s way too much relaxing…’ the power went off. And didn’t come back on again. So my lovely ceiling fan was obsolete! Another night of crazy temperatures followed and feck all sleep! But gee they made up for it in the morning with the breakfast….muesli, toast, fruit, plunger coffee, eggs, bacon and sausages!!

As it turns out that breakfast was a life saver! I knew I had a long ride today, over 100, so I set off early to get some Ks in the bag before the heat struck. I made excellent progress. The road to Mombassa is one of the few that goes directly through a national park….to actually get in to the park there are designated entry points where serious money is exchanged. I can’t take Bob in to the Park but there was little need – the wildlife was everywhere!

Anyways, as I get to where I thought they’d be food and water….there wasn’t! In fact, there are NO shops the entire length of the road through the Park. As it started to dawn on me that this wasn’t looking good, things went for bad to worse! I met my first other cycle tourist coming the other way. Turns out to be a German /Turk….long sleeved shirt, shorts, sandals, an old mountain bike which had seen better days, a piece of wood strapped to the back upon which he had lashed a rucksack! Crazy….but he was as cool as they come! I enquired about food and water….‘yep, about 30k further on’! I’d already done 50 and was clean out of water and stupidly had no food as I mistakenly thought there would be shops along the route. I think my head took a nose dive, followed by my heart, closely followed by my stomach! Feck, oh feck! I rode on, seeing the road disappear on the horizon with nothing but savanna. I was getting in to all sorts of bother when I spotted a National Park ranger who gave me some water (it’s now 36 degrees) and told me to go to the maximum security prison just a K down the road, they’ll have some food! So I gingerly approached the security guard, who was nursing a humongous machine gun, and asked if they had any food. ‘Welcome my friend. Yes, give me your passport and you can go to the small shop on the prison campus’. And so it was that I cycled in to a Kenyan maximum security prison and bought me some coke and biscuits! Then got another puncture!! So here I was, inside a maximum security prison mending my puncture with prison guards helping! It occurred to me afterwards that I could have had a shed load of explosives on the bike….no one checked! Where else would you have such an experience!

So, returning to the road, it wasn’t too long before all the red lights came on- I was increasingly thirsty, hungry and really in trouble….with no shops in sight! Around the 90k mark I must have looked like a drunk cyclist as a lorry stopped and asked if I was ok, which I wasn’t! These two guys then proceeded to strap Bob to the container they were hauling and bundled me on board! Gee I was sooooo happy and relieved. I was in trouble and I knew it. My lack of foresight re the shops was a rookie error, and it cost me dearly. I was dropped some 4 k from the room I had booked….by the time we got there, which was only a few minutes, we had struck up such a heart warming conversation – Kenyans are deeply religious, but in a non evangelical way, and they explained how my being there when they happened to be passing was gods will. Well, being a born again atheist I’m not sure about that, but in that moment, what they said made complete sense to me! After parting I found my room which had both a fan and electricity! Quite a combination!