Category: Blog

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Greetings from Vicksburg, Mississippi – around 1700 miles from the start, and only a week and 300 miles from the end of the cycling journey in New Orleans.

Much adventure since I returned from an enforced week’s break in Dublin. Worst bit was when one of the panniers took a header off my bike while I was on a mad busy dual carriageway in the rain on the way into Memphis. With the roaring traffic and huge potholes and stuff, I didn’t notice until about a mile down the road, and attempts to find it proved hopeless – even a cab ride to scour the area.

So I’m a bag down, but fortunately it by chance contained the less crucial half of the kit, so I’m still plugging away. Graceland was more modest than you might expect for the King, and standing on the spot where MLK was assassinated was bizarre.

Further back up the road, St Louis was a kip (as I’d been warned) – although the Arch is beautiful.

Southern hospitality is beginning to show itself – a guy on a Harley rode alongside me yesterday to shoot the breeze, and I’ve been getting supportive honks and waves all over the place. Didn’t get any of those in uptight Iowa. Interviewed by the Banner Democrat paper in Lake Providence, Louisiana yesterday.

Louisiana and Mississippi all the way down now, and I’ll be returning to Dublin with half as much kit, but plenty of stories.

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Back at a computer, and back in Dublin, for a week of paid employment to help fund the Mississippi trip.

Since I last posted, I’ve seen two 4th of July firework displays (one on the 5th, complete with orchestral assistance and accompanying lightning – in Burlington, Iowa), ridden my first jetski (don’t ask) and been struck with helpful jetlag which saw me up at 1 in the morning watching Tour de France highlights.

Seems peculiar to be back, but gives me a chance to reflect on the first 800 miles of cycling:

– 800 miles across the US brings you a lot fewer changes in landscape, culture and attitudes than 800 miles across Europe (obvious really, but still . . .)

– the donut effect happening in most Midwestern towns is seemingly unstoppable. All the stuff that people need (the one Walmart Supercenter, the fast food chains and franchise ‘family dining’ restaurants, the Office Depot, Jiffy Lube, Motel 6, etc) are on the edge of town near the biggest road junction, surrounded by huge carparks with no sidewalks. The walkable downtown with handsome redbricks is entirely screwed over by this move, and since people don’t ever want to walk more than 5 yards to get anywhere, and are convinced from the TV ads that the chain stuff is better than the mom and pop stuff on offer downtown, the old main street is left to rot. Not a pretty sight.

– food is cheap but oh so bland
– my informal test of the degree of civilisation in the town is the availability of an espresso machine. If I get another cup of hot brown water. . .

– people are friendly and generous to a fault

I’m clearly tired and a little grumpy right now, but it’s much less pleasant to be cycling down the Mississippi than it was across France and Italy. If I’m writing a book about it, it doesn’t have to be pleasant to do the trip of course, and nobody made me choose this route. But by the same token it’s a valid part of my experience to say that you couldn’t pay me to live in most of the places I’ve been through since Fargo.

Best overheard quote of the last few days: (to an erratic driver in other vehicle) ‘What the hell are you doing now? I read palms not minds.’

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

I’m now in Dyersville, Iowa. Famous as the farm toy capital of the world. I’m off to the Farm Toy museum this afternoon, to look at 30,000 die-cast John Deeres and the like.

It’s also where they filmed Field of Dreams, and they kept the baseball diamond in the corn fields, and people just show up with their gloves and bats and have a bit of a play. Bizarre.

Hot and toasty here – low 90s with big humidity. But yesterday in the Dyersville Family Restaurant I had a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a tuna sandwich and a slice of chocolate pie for $4 (including tax). If you’re interested, they open for breakfast at 5am.

Rode through Wexford, IA the other day. Looked surprisingly like the sunny south east – wooded hills, little church. . .

Monday, June 30, 2003

Hello from Lansing, Iowa, on a sunny day beside the river.

Seem to have found my riding legs – notching up higher speeds now (and the kind wind helps). More picturesque scenery out here – steep-sided wooded bluffs on either side of the river, and a few more towns and villages.

Temps should be in the 90s over the next few days, but no thunderstorms until the end of the week. Nearly 600 miles done, and into my fourth state.

Returning to Dublin for an enforced break next week (have to go back to work for a week or so), then picking up where I hope to leave off – in Burlington, IA.

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

Arrived here on my giant bike trip down the Mississippi- 380 miles in the first week, and a well-earned rest day today.

Quick synopsis: Fargo, ND: heard someone talking about the film Fargo. Was recommended I eat at the hospital cafeteria by the hotel reception dude, as all the other restaurants were worse.

Mosquitoes: lots of them, to go with Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes.

Source of the Mississippi: stood in the stream with a stupid grin on my face.

Storms: was camping in Little Falls, MN, when a huge thunderstorm parked itself above my tent. Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightning. 6 inches of rain in 6 hours. Town’s movie theatre roof collapsed, roads flooded. My tent miraculously dry inside. Tornadoes last night, but I was tucked up in a hotel.

Food: bland bland bland. Quantity not quality. ‘Could I have some taste with that please?’

Cars: didn’t see a European car for a week, until I reached the big city.

People: Very friendly, but big like Vikings.

That’s if from me – until the next public library with Internet access.

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

The guy cutting my hair yesterday said an unlikely thing:

“You know there’s something strange in the world when the most successful rapper is white, the most successful golfer is black, the French think Americans are arrogant, and the Germans don’t want to go to war.”

Pat I know, but maybe there’s something to it.

Thursday, May 22, 2003

I know, I know, I’ve not been blogging. My bad, as they say over here. I’m back in Santa Fe, with many things sorted out, and more questions raised.

The trip is set – the Mississippi. From top to bottom, Lake Itasca, Minnesota to New Orleans. 2000 hot miles on a bike. With an enforced break to go to Dublin to deliver some training. I’m looking forward to doing it, and most of the things are set – have a daily route sorted out, almost all the kit I need, all that. And I’ve got the bike, and it’s a lovely thing. Still waiting on my kick-ass custom wheels from Joe Young though.

I’m underprepared as far as background reading goes, but I’m not leaving until Jun 17th, so I can try and work on that. As well as doing some day job work for the Dublin dudes.

Monday, April 14, 2003

Another day, another possible journey. Right now I don’t know if I’m coming or going with the big trip over the summer. West Coast plan lacks a hook, so I’ve come up with another route that I like, but which won’t get publicised here until I hear what the publishers have to say about it.

On which point, I’m in what’s known as ‘contract negotiations’ in the sporting world. I’ve agreed to sign for the first book, but now we’re discussing personal terms, and it won’t be of either the football (50K a week and all the bad suits I can wear) or pop star (fifteen cases of Stella, white fluffy towels and 100 Big Macs backstage after every gig) variety.

Given the modest nature of the advance and the small size of the market in Ireland, wrangles over royalty percentages don’t really amount to much, but I find myself bizarrely inspired by the BBC show, ‘Wrong Car, Right Car’. Punter gets sent into car dealer with a hidden earpiece attached to our own friendly dealer. At crucial points in the negotiations, our punter is told what to say: ‘Go on, tell him 15.5 is as high as you’ll go, and you want tax, mud flaps and a full tank of petrol with that.’ Today they were in Porsche dealers trying to shave points off a 100,000 quid deal, and getting a lighter and handbag thrown in ‘for the wife’. And you know what? They got it, too. There’s a lot to be said for moral victories.

Saturday, April 05, 2003

Back in Dublin, sitting on the sofa watching Football Focus; it’s Grand National day, the Boat Race tomorrow, Arsenal going for the double Double, Brazillian Grand Prix, too.

Sport grounds you, tells you where you are: the chat in the pub, the stories on the newspaper back pages. Having been away for three months, it’s great to get my fill of it all, and in the process it recalls all the previous Grand National weekends I can remember.

Hard working week, as soon as I got back, so it’s great to reach the weekend intact. A bit of work on the book, and a lot of doing nothing. Come on you gooners!

Thursday, March 27, 2003

That’s that. Ordered the bike, from the ever-helpful Airborne guys. A Carpe Diem with Ultegra up front, XT at the back, an Co-motion Americano chunky funky front fork, and a Chris King headset, for the indestrutability. Got some Mavic Open Pro hoops with Dura-Ace hubs as the wheels, and will use those for unloaded spinning. Will probably order some chunkier loaded touring wheels when I’m back here in May.

About which: after nearly three months here in Santa Fe, I’m back home to Dublin on Sunday. So much has happened since I arrived: I’ve got engaged, got a book contract, got to know the town, got to go snowboarding, cross-country ski-ing, ice-skating. Went to LA, Carlsbad, Cloudcroft and other unlikely NM spots. It’s been great, and seems like I’m going back to Dublin much changed, and greatly for the better.

Current plans on my return: rent-paying work, publisher’s meeting, book editing, wedding planning, Temple Bar Italia eating, trip planning and good TV watching.

Just hope the flights are empty-ish on the way home, with people staying at home and watching the war.