Fairly near the top of the list is a motorcycle tour, travelling the length of the country. (In case you didn't know, I am one of those old men with a ridiculously large motorcycle in the garage. 'Midlife Crisis?' At my age, I do hope so!) But not for me the boring old Land's End to John O' Groats that everybody does. I'm going from 'bottom right' on the map to 'top left.' Dungeness Point to Cape Wrath.
It occured to me that I might combine this, by means of a fairly circuitous route, with my penchant for the more unloved corners of our country; the worn out ex-industrial places, the cheap and tacky fun places. Think Bradford and Rhyll, for example.
"Now there's an idea," I thought. "Why not take a few pictures and write a few interesting (or at least odd) facts about these places. I could post them on a blog like this and invite friends and family to contribute, say, a quid to Cancer Research UK for each bulletin." I reckon I could drum up enough friends and family and enough interesting bulletins to aim for an initial target of, say, £1000. Donations will be easy to arrange via JustGiving dot com. That's all set up and ready to go. Just visit www.justgiving.com/John-Seaman to donate from card, paypal, or even SMS if you're on Vodafone. For those who prefer paper, just send them a cheque: Cancer Research UK, Angel Building, 407 St John Street, London EC1V 4AD
And this ain't just 'charidy, mate.' Giving to Cancer Research is at least part enlightened self interest! About one in three of us will have a close encounter with The Crab in our lives. Thanks to CR's work, more of us are getting detected early enough to do something about it, and the treatment is getting less sick-making into the bargain.
When? At the moment, I'm still dealing with the chemotherapy-induced nausea and the radiant glow of radiotherapy, but that will pass in a couple of months. I'm aiming for an Autumn run (but only if I feel sure I'm safe on two wheels; no point raising money for charity then costing the NHS a fortune if I fall off, after all.) I'll post a few more details as the time approaches - though not the route; that would spoil the surprise of the bulletins from the byeways.
First, how many friends and family can I muster? Drop me a line; email (jseaman@ntlworld.com) or comment on this post. No commitment now - or ever; you just say you're interested in receiving my bulletins and might, if you think they're worth it, contribute a quid a time to Cancer Research UK. (If you're an offline sort of person and somebody is reading this out to you, get them to send me your address and I'll post you a printout when I get back!)
Preparation
(This is Anorak stuff. Do feel free to ignore it.)
This ain't 'Long Way Round' or 'Long Way Down,' that's for sure. If you pick up a copy of Charley Boorman and Ewan McGreggor's books and flick to the back for a look at the list of equipment they took, then delete about everything from that list except 'motorcycle' and 'pants,' you'll be close to my list. No expeditionary-strength camping gear or pick-up trucks with enough tools to stock a small workshop, here. I haven't even taken the precaution of doing a special training on how to deal with gun-totting oafs like Charley and Ewan did.
Wheels.
I will be riding my wonderful Honda Pan-European ST1300, purchased earlier this year in place of my much loved but overworked Honda Deauville, and my now much missed Piaggio X8 400 maxi-scooter. Six years old, but apparently too much for its two previous owners, it had barely done a year's worth of miles, and it had been immaculately maintained into the bargain. Being a well-maintained Honda, I anticipate no need for significant maintenance or running repairs. Which is just as well, since I don't do spanners any more. I've had my share of roadside plug cleaning and gap setting when I rode ancient British and Iron Curtain bikes as a younger, poorer man. The bike was serviced when I bought it, but I'll have another full service done prematurely by Honda Bournemouth, explaining what I have in mind and instructing them to be as overcautious as they like in replacing bits and bobs. (They usually are, anyway, judging by my past service bills!) And if anything does fail on the road, I know a very nice man with an orange van who will come and get me.
Togs.
I bought new boots and a two-piece textile suit a couple of years ago and was delighted that it was all completely weatherproof despite being non-branded, cheapest-in-the shop stuff. Then earlier this year, on a ride in to the Southampton office in the rain, the boots suddenly took on all the water-resistant properties of a pair of flip-flops. That prompted me to move up a notch with the gear. I've now got nice, new boots; branded, but not garishly so, and guaranteed waterproof. Anticipating a similar sudden failure with the old two-piece suit, I'll leave that at home for short trips and fine days, despite the convenience of having a jacket that I could wear off the bike as well. One alternative I have is a good two-piece leather suit (purchased second hand but virutally unworn), over which I could wear my flimsy Aldi waterproof oversuit when it rains. That's a bit cumbersome, though, so I'm going for my very good one-piece fabric oversuit from Cycle Spirit, specifically purchased so I could throw it on over my work suit and go to the office in any weather. I still haven't quite mastered the 'throwing it on' bit yet, but once on it is an excellent piece of all-weather motorcycle clothing; pads, lining, pockets, vents, the lot. Upon my head will be my very expensive but worth every penny Schubert C3 helmet, complete with pinlock anti-mist visor and Cardo headset.
With the oversuit, I can wear a normal set of clothes underneath. I think I'll go for my Mr Green look: green moleskin trousers, green many-pocketed waistcoat with thermal lining, matching shirt with tie. (With tie? Absobloodylutely. A nice collar and tie is an essential piece of equipment for the motorcycling gentleman. It avoids the inconvenience of being mistaken for a ruffian and invariably squeezes a 'sir' out of petrol station attendants and young police officers. See also 'hat.') Under everything, long thermal underwear if it is really cold. A sweatshirt - green, of course - will be to hand in the top box for the same reason. The boots, being non-garish, are passable with this ensemble. Choosing from my collection of thirty or so hats was tricky, but for convenience and squashability, I've opted for simply the black and the green flat caps, one for wear off-bike with black oversuit and one to go with the Mr Green look.
Peacock? There are worse vices.
Luggage.
On the current plan, it'll be a bit late in the year for camping, so I am planning B&B stops only. (A couple might be with family and friends, but they don't know that yet!) It saves a lot of packing, too. Maybe on a future trip I'll do the camping thing, trying out a prototype of my Riders' Tent design; a little business plan I'm cooking up - watch this space. For now, it'll be just routine changes of clothing in my capacious panniers, sufficient for a long week away.
Other bits.
My Cardo headset will talk to my HTC smart phone, which wlll (sometimes) be mounted on a special gizmo on the handlebars, displaying satnav software, connected to a 12 volt socket in one of the 'glove compartments' on the bike. The original plan was that the smart phone, with a text editor and internet access would do all I need to keep my blog updated, but on test, it proved cumbersome in the extreme. I clearly swtiched to a smart phone too soon; should've waited another couple of years for the technology to move on. Instead, I will have a completely serviceable laptop in my topbox, purchased second hand from a nice young gentleman who works just around the corner in Wallisdown. The phone will serve as an adequate camera for blog updates, and interfaces easily with the laptop.
Everything will be backed up on paper, of course; address books, note books, pens and pencils, paper maps in various scales. If the phone or just its camera function die, I'll just get a cheap replacement at the next town I pass; it's not like I'll be on the Road of Bones in Siberia, after all.
Ready?
Like I said, I'll only be doing this when I am quite sure that I will not be a danger to myself or others. Now chemotherapy has ended, the nausea is no longer a problem. Hoorah! The radiotherapy is the thing, though. That finishes on 9 September and I can expect the damaging effects to taper off over the next ten days before I start recovering. What I will be watching for are:
Fatigue: radiation really sucks it out of you. At the moment (two weeks before end of treatment) I find I am fit for 4-6 hours at a stretch then need a real, eyes-closed sleep for at least two hours. I need to be OK for at least 8 hours, with just a couple of short breathers and a longer sit-down-and-eat-something break.
Throat: it's like a bunch of gooseberries at the moment - complete with thorns. It limits me to soft foods, which would be inconvenient on a trip like this, but is also distracting from the business of riding. I want to be able to eat a more or less normal diet; let's say a full English breakfast as a test!
Taste buds: radiation fries them. There is a small area in my mouth where I can more or less taste things, but elsewhere, things either taste of nothing, or of axle grease. Anything with sugar in leaves a particularly gag-worthy aftertaste, which would rule out nice energy-burst sweeties as well as just about every other prepared food you can think of - including the baked beans in that test-case full English! (It's astonishing how much sugar we put in everything! Conspiracy theory time: if you want to know who those shady individuals are who hoover up all the wealth and control everything from behind the scenes, don't look for City fat cats, don't hunt out the oil barons; got to a sugar beet field and follow the money trail.)
Saliva glands: also fried. My mouth is either completely dry or coated with thick, slimy, foul-tasting saliva. Sips of water every few minutes are essential. I've got myself a bladder with a tube and a bite-valve such as earnest hikers use. I can fit this in a tank bag and possibly rig the tube somehow inside my helmet so I can suck as I go. This is another potential distraction, though, so I'm really looking for recovery to the point where I only need a sip every hour or so, for which I could briefly pull over.
Test run.
I'll try a couple of days away before I set off. My planned date for depature is just after a two-day conference I plan to attend, so that might serve the purpose. I any case, I plan a 'Canadian Start' close to Dungeness. (The term refers to the old French Canadian trappers' routine of making the first stop on a long hunting trip after only a few miles to make sure everything was present and correct before they were too far away to go home and sort it out.)
