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Annapurna: Cycling a circuit in crisis
In this world, few things exist alone, unworried by and remote from the rest. When heavy rains and gusts ripped through India’s eastern seaboard and cyclone Hudhud was christened as such, the sun was shining over Nepal, hikers were pounding Himalayan trails in peak season and nobody rued the interconnections of this world. Not yet,…
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Demise of the Shadow Cyclist
There are times when it strikes me that I’ve been cycling for a very long time. In Dawson City the revelation came just after I tried, unsuccessfully, to change gear with the grip-shift. I came to an abrupt halt in the baked goods aisle, looked down at my closed hand, which had subconsciously tensed around the handle…
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The human cost of conflict, northern Afghanistan
Home is an exciting, alarming, and chilly two months away. The homecoming is set, come down if you’re free: Friday 19th February at lunch time. Warning – there may be any or all of the following: gratuitous fist pumping, tears, mute confusion, complete psychological breakdown. Or I might just ponder the amassed friends and family from…
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A land of hope and stories
Yangon retreated, streets bled slowly of traffic and people, as I pedaled north with my friend Al, a TV camera crew and a thundering headache from a cheap and pesticide-scented red wine I’d knocked back the night before, or so I thought. When Al and the camera crew peeled off a fever kicked in, chased…
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Equipment Reviews 2015
As it turns out, cycling six continents is a particularly savage way to prove the quality of gear. Things have been fraying and snapping and dissolving, and once, actually exploding. I’ve been busily tossing kit confetti-like into the world’s various dustbins. There’s not much left. Three things actually – My bicycle, a Craghoppers base t-shirt…
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Video highlights from six years biking around the world
Apologies if you’d been expecting my monthly update and got radio-silence… It was the first time I’ve missed a blog post in the last seven years. My excuse is that I’ve been embroiled in all manner of projects since coming back and the blog had to take a back seat. But I will continue to…
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How to rough camp without being murdered in your sleep
I roamed and rambled and followed my footstepsTo the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts,And all around me, a voice was sounding:This land was made for you and me. Was a high wall there that tried to stop meA sign was painted said: Private Property,But on the back side it didn’t say nothing —This land…