While I was off cycling half-way around the world, I saw many things. Since I returned to real life in grey and gritty Yorkshire, I’ve probably begun to forget most of it. I’m glad, then, that as well as this blog, I recorded my progress in a little black diary.
I’ve just been delighting in the ups and downs of daily life on the road, which I wrote each night in my tent in the light of my head-torch, to the distant howling of wolves, my legs cramping, with miles of roads before and behind me. Now, though, I sit with a cup of tea, a full stomach, I’m clean and warm, and music is playing gently in the background.
Amongst all of the illegible, badly spelt and at times almost incoherent text, I had recorded my daily mileage, which I have just put together in a graph, showing the gradually increasing total mileage. It’s interesting to see the variations, and the points where I didn’t go anywhere for a while. The first pause, which lasted for over a week, was in Istanbul, when I spent time with my girlfriend, who flew out to see me. The second, and longer pause, was when I was forced off my bike and onto a train in Pakistan, and then a long wait for my Indian visa in Islamabad.