Ken finally returns to his home village of Fitzhead, 892 days since setting off around the World.
[With especial thanks to Ken’s Mum for capturing events in the village on camera… Danny Boyle look out…]
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Wanderer returns
February 17th, 2012Media madness
February 16th, 2012I’d joked with my escort of young riders that the pull up to the village cricket ground was my very last hill. What I’d been training for. But, in truth, there was one more gradient, a gentle slow curving gracefully along the tall boundary wall of the manor house. A barely perceptible climb now.
Beyond the bend I quickly saw first the finishing tape drawn across the road beneath my own cottage. And then, beyond it, the very sizeable crowd of family and friends, well-wishers who’d taken the trouble to come and welcome me back. Loud cheers. Glimpsing familiar faces.
A lengthy address wouldn’t have been right. Instead a few words of thanks. Simple and heartfelt. Someone pushed a glass of Champagne into my hand. A couple of quick chats with friends, then drawn to the cameras. Interviews to be given. Local TV and radio. Photographs to be taken. I felt confident, buoyed up by the sheer excitement of having made it. And the warm welcome home.
Fortuitously I’d taken the right road from Halse. Eventually passing a familiar turn to nearby Milverton. Relief. This was not the day to be adrift. Soon at the small grassy knoll. On it sat a bench placed under a fairly mature tree. I might ordinarily have been tempted to rest my steed there, but with less than a mile left I didn’t want to risk an unfortunate encounter with a thorn perhaps hidden amongst the grass.
Ten minutes to two. The appointed hour for a triumphal entry back into the village. Quick call to confirm I was in position. Agreeing I’d set off a minute or two before the hour. Better to be a few moments late than risk arriving before everyone else had finished arriving. Not that I was entirely sure who’d be there. Been very focused on simply getting myself there in unexpectedly challenging conditions.
There’d been a piece to camera for ITV South West. But I found myself most absorbed by an interview with Barry from the local community radio station. I liked his questions and felt our dialogue flowed. Slow to notice my Mum trying desperately to attract my attention. There was cake to be cut. I was quietly pleased.
I’d been unsure how much media coverage there might be. Always the risk of a last minute dead donkey diverting them away. But what had really mattered was whether I could deal with it with the same adeptness my brother had shown during a major offshore rescue some years earlier. I’d admired him immensely for that.
Uncertain roads
February 16th, 2012I’d been a bit unsure leaving Halse. It’d stopped there to join my parents for lunch in the village pub before the final few miles back home to Fitzhead. There’d been a warming coffee, and security for my trusty steed in the indoor skittle alley. Of course, I knew a way to go. Done it enough times. Problem was it’d bring me in from the wrong direction. Wanted to retrace the route I’d taken two and a half years earlier when I’d ridden out.
There was another way. A longer affair. Bringing me to a small grassy knoll at a staggered cross roads above Fitzhead. There I’d wait for the nod to ride down into the village. Fairly confident I’d taken the right road from Halse. But not entirely certain. Not for a while. My fault. Just because I might have been expected to know didn’t mean I actually did. Hoping pride wouldn’t be my downfall at the very end.
Cold snap
February 16th, 2012Ken returns to BBC Somerset’s Taunton studio, over two years since he popped in before setting off around the World…
Dropping in
February 16th, 2012"A travel moon gives your life an exciting international flavour" – today’s horoscope
I’d been a bright but utterly bitter start to the final day on the road. Sharp rather than merely crisp. Buried deep inside heavy winter gloves, the tips of my fingers had throbbed. The rear brake cable had frozen solid, forcing me to have to disconnect it. Moisture ingress from yesterday. Even the higher hub gears felt sluggish.
I’d stopped short in Bridgwater the previous night. Fading light and a busy road. It’d left me about thirteen miles or so to reach BBC Somerset’s Taunton studio the next morning, but I was confident I could manage that without too much drama. Much safer in daylight.
Winding through the still quiet streets of Taunton, I’d stumbled on my local MP. He’d come to wave me off when I’d set out from Fitzhead. But now a Minister of State, I knew he’d business to attend to out of the constituency and wouldn’t be able to welcome me back. Hopeful we’d catch up later.
9.20am. Outside the studio. I’d just over an hour before joining Emma Britton on air for her Saturday morning Somerset Live show. Intern Rob let me in. We chatted for a while. He’d cycled in as well. Then greeted with a big hug from presenter Emma before she dashed off to make a few last minute adjustments to the running order.
Getting my fully-laden trusty steed into the small studio had been tricky. But worth it. Nice to know these sort of things weren’t staged, mere artistic license. And I’d remembered to switch off my phone moments before wheeling her in. Close call.
Facts from my travels replaced the usual quirky questions for the show’s guests. I felt at ease. Pleased I’d the chance to recount my favourite anecdote. Trials and tribulations of partaking of kumus – fermented mare’s milk – in Kazakhstan. Adding I’d simply no idea you could even milk a horse. Emma almost choking with laughter.
The parting question had been about regrets. Had there been any? No. I’d said. Quite robustly. Although entirely correct, I’d kicked myself a little later. Far wittier response would have been along the lines of …just one… never quite managed to explain pantomime to foreigners… Never mind.
Thoughtful
February 16th, 2012I couldn’t recall being explicit about it, but, Tim explained, he’d realised from the blog just how protective of my trusty steed I was. Always careful to leave it in view, where no-one could bump into it. No exceptions. I was quietly impressed, and meant to say so. But we’d much to chat about, and less than twenty minutes before I’d need to return to the road. My travelling companion leaning patiently against the wall below the pub’s bay window.
Tim had caught up with me south of Clevedon and a few short-lived but ominous snow flurries. Dashing on ahead to find a warm cafe or pub to grab a warming coffee. I really appreciated this, both for respite from the elements, and a chance for an, albeit brief, catch-up with a great friend and stalwart supporter. Did I have time? Yes. Of course I did.
South of Thornbury, the previous night’s stop, I soon picked up a familiar cycle route around Bristol and over the Avonmouth bridge. I’d used it a few times and always got wet. Today had been no exception. A steady, penetrating drizzle. Easing for a brief period whilst I’d stopped to do a live interview with my local community radio station. Then quickly onwards towards Clevedon and tonight’s target of Taunton.
Sickening feeling
February 16th, 2012Pete was perched astride his own steed, a much sleeker affair than mine. I hoped he’d not been waiting too long. Not as bitter as the last few days, but chill nevertheless. We’d met a little south of Gloucester, just enough afternoon light remaining to reach his flat in Thornbury by sunset. Home-cooked food and a beer or two promised. And lots to chat about. Not seen him since a farewell drink on Dartmoor the night before I’d sailed for France.
It’d been a short day, no more than forty miles at the most. But I’d been very glad of this. My ribs had ached furiously and I’d resorted to stronger medication. Discovering that a cumulative dose was effective in subduing the pain, but the nausea I was experiencing was much more debilitating. Knew that I could at least ride with the former, but definitely not the latter. I’d anti-nausea drugs, but didn’t want to risk an interaction making the situation even worse.
So, confident I’d be able to cover the ground in about four hours of actual riding, I’d decided to – quite literally – sleep off the sickness. Reckoning on the last dose of strong painkiller wearing off around midday. I’d little alternative. But at least I’d been able to draw some comfort from a conversation with Bill at the bunkhouse. He’d been a nurse and reassured me that there was little that could be done for cracked or broken ribs. And if there’d been complications, I’d have known by now.
On air… penultimate day on the road
February 15th, 2012
Courtesy of friends at his local community radio station in Somerset, England – www.10radio.org – you can catch up with Ken’s live chat with presenter Anton on the penultimate day on the road. Click on the link below to download the interview.
Milking horses
February 15th, 2012Ken and his trusty two-wheeled steed drop into BBC Somerset’s Taunton studio for a final chat with presenter Emma Britton on her Saturday morning Somerset Live show. En route home to Fitzhead later the same day – just ten miles remaining. You can listen in – until Fri 17 February – courtesy of the BBC iPlayer – click here.
Ken gets a brief mention at the end of the 10 am news that opens up the show, with the interview proper starting around seventeen minutes in. Shrewd listeners may notice the programme opens with Starship’s "Nothing’s going to stop us now"… Yep.
Such was the nature of the venture, the usual randomly chosen quirky questions have been replaced by a canter through strange facts and figures from around the world. And there’s Abba’s "Knowing me knowing you" in the middle – wondering if the lyric "…breaking up is never easy…" hints towards the future for Ken and his trusty steed. But then there’s Billy Joel’s "Uptown Girl" track a little later…
Ken shares various anecdotes. Stories of visiting a bottling plant in a police car, the horrors of drinking fermented mares milk. The latter almost reducing presenter Emma to tears. The main piece ends with Ken and his trusty steed getting their own traffic report for the final journey to Fitzhead. And yes, the bike really was in the studio…
[With especial thanks to presenter Emma Britton – who, incidentally, also writes and produces her Saturday morning show – great friend and supporter over the last couple of years]
Heading for Thornbury
February 11th, 2012Lunchtime and Ken’s back on the road. Having slept off a bout of nausea. Heading for Thornbury, a little way north of Bristol. Somerset getting ever closer…
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