I found an internet kiosk near the edge of the Nullabor. There is a keyboard and screen like normal and its all mounted in a box. Inside the box are some workings and a man all scrunched up with a screen that shows him what I’m writing. He jots it all down and when I’m finished he puts it in an envelope and runs off somewhere with it, so I hope this works.

A few days ago I sat down and worked out what I have to do to get back on the 13th of Spetember as I originally planned. This would break the record by over 3 weeks, leaving as I did on the 29th March at 1300. I will have to hit an average of 202.2 (recurring) kilometers a day, which will then give me 7 days from now til the end when I won’t be cycling (flying, resting, dilly-dallying). The hardest part is getting that .2 recurring spot on.

The man in the box gets paid by the second so I better go, but suffice to say, spirits here remain high, despite some physical problems. If past experience is anything to go by, they will fade with time.

Oh I was going to write a nice long blog about what a good day I have had in Perth. Its been so good but quite busy and tiring! I will therefore go to sleep and maybe write a bitmore about it on the phone and upload it later on. 

I would like to thank Dr Kim Hames and his staff, Patti and Bernadette at ABC Radio, David Smith at UWA, Sats and Aldo at Quantum Bikes (pictured) and most importantly Greg Gregory and everyone here who drove me around, fed me and generally helped me out.

Got to do a couple more things in the morning and then off we go - 4080 miles to Brisbane!

Well, Bangkok seems nice. I have managed to walk at least as far as the nearby Hilton everyday, eat some macaroni cheese and then walk back to where I’m staying.

I have been instructed by the medical support team not to go anywhere until I can eat the required 6000 + calories over the course of one day. At the moment I am probably on about a third of that. My brother Tom, On The Road Support Officer (does that sound good, or is it too much?), has said he will kick my posterior if I leave before I am properly recovered. I am not going anywhere.

The medical team think I might have some sort of protozoa, which sounds like it might be a Bryan Ferry side project but isn’t, so I will be dropping off a stool sample with some lucky someone soon.

I actually feel OK most of the time but can’t put away the food like I normally can (hollow legs). I feel nauseous after eating and still have pretty bad diarrhea - sorry if that is too much detail but this is cycling verite. The other problem is overall weakness and being several kilos under weight. I have mentioned this on twitter but I have actually lost about 15kg. Some of this is probably from dehydration, but a lot is muscle wastage; I have seen my legs get bigger up till about Delhi and reduce since. I had discovered a new muscle on the side of my thighs which was interesting - this has now disappeared.

A lot of people are asking me how this is effecting the record attempt. Had I not fallen ill and continued at the same pace, I was looking at breaking the record by about 2 weeks. I consider this to be near the minimum that I would want to break the record by; it would be ungentlemanly to break the record by a day or so and I hope it doesn’t come to that. With this enforced break I will be looking to possibly increase the mileage, especially on easier stretches and will try and do the 1300 miles to Singapore in 10 days, rather than the original 11. I think the hardest sections are behind me now, even though I have chosen a more mountainous route for the North American section to make up for skipping Pakistan. In my mind Australia, New Zealand, North America, the Iberian Peninsula and France are all milk and honey, where my demi-Phelps diet will be easy to come by. The language barrier will also, claro and bien sur (is that right?), disappear. To cut to the chase and answer the question, I will do everything I can to break the record by as much as possible. I have always said that the speed and endurance of my challenge directly reflects the urgency of proper funding for the research charity that I volunteer for. This is ever present in my mind; the current lapse just makes it a bit more interesting.

Unfortunately I can’t think about much of my time in India without feeling a little bit queasy. I wanted to do it as quickly as possible and I think I did a pretty good pace, even with the illness day, but it didn’t leave much time for reflection. I am now in Bangkok on my THIRD rest day (after eating something bad at Calcutta Airport) and have had a bit of time to think about everything.

I found India really overwhelming! The heat and humidity was too much for me, the constant need to drink water making me feel full and therefore reducing my calorie intake. Through illness and this calorie deficit I have lost 15kg since Istanbul. Once this current illness has properly passed I can start to rebuild, but it’ll be hard since I have to also keep cycling!

I also found the constant attention quite difficult. When I stop on a break or in the evening I am used to being able to collect my thoughts and observe things around me. There was not one break, meal or evening stop in India where I wasn’t approached by several people, which was pleasant at first but became more and more frustrating as time went on. It was made more difficult by me not knowing any of India’s languages and I am sure that a journey by bike through India at a slower pace, perhaps with a friend, would be a lot more satisfying! Come to think of it, when my brother Tom and I cycled over the Indian Himalayas, a dozen years ago now, we had a great time (excluding various illnesses and altitude sickness!).

The GTR (Grand Truck Road) is quite good for cycling and drivers are used to many different forms of transport (bikes, trikes, elephants), so it feels safe. Its also dual carriageway most of the time with a central reservation, so there is no fear of oncoming traffic wandering across. Elsewhere however, on the 24 and 56, the cycling was pretty precarious. It felt like cyclists were low down on the pecking order (indeed someone said to me that only poor people ride bicycles in India); on several occasions I found myself driven off the road by oncoming traffic deciding to overtake. The constant hornblowing is also quite unsettling, especially if like me your driving lessons included the instruction “Don’t use the horn unneccessarily, you will wear it out”. I also noticed that the horns were louder than the sirens used on Indian ambulances; this can’t be right!

If it seems like I am generally down on India, that would be about right. But, its mostly because a round peg does not fit in a square hole: I have to cycle the same distance (or at least try) whether its Spring in Germany or Summer in India. India won’t adapt to my needs so I had to try and adapt to the conditions, which I found very difficult.

Hopefully, easier roads lie ahead. I have had three days off in Bangkok, lying in bed, going to the toilet, writing emails and listening to my excellent medical support team; this is too much static time and makes the challenge ahead even greater. If I can regain my strength, then I can still break the record by a respectable margin.

This man is running for office in the current India elections. His party’s logo is a bicycle so his Young and Brilliant campaign team put stickers all over my panniers. I told them the giant flag was too much.

The stickers soon fell off in the wind and heat. I wouldn’t vote for this man; he seemed nice enough but I wasn’t convinced that he had any, you know, “life skills”.

Santos should be pleased! Since about Ukraine people (and I mean men, women haven’t really figures much yet) have been more interested in my bike than me. The belt drive is a big crowd draw. Here are some men standing around the TravelMaster, talking.

Quite often men on motorcycles will ride next to me for a bit asking questions and inviting me their home. Here are three such individuals. (I have the pilot’s card somewhere.)

Bike being packed (for free) in Tehran airport

I have been writing this blog on my phone and I’m now uploading it from Amritsar, India.

29th April.

I’m at the Turkey/Iran border. There is a bit of confusion regarding my nationality because the only word they are recognising on the passport is “Ireland” as in “Northern Ireland” as in… oh nevermind.

That was earlier. Now I am in a hotel somewhere that the Iran police have taken me to…

At around seven I passed through the town where I am now staying, thinking that I would carry on for a bit. Alweays about the mileage me. About 1km out of town a car pulled in front of me, making me stop; five yound men, taking pictures with their mobiles. I cycled off after they started jeering; nobody likes being jeered at. For the next five kilometres they followed me, alongside shouting, in front or just behind., getting increasingly confrontational. I can’t speak Farsi but I can tell when someone is getting angry! I was scared and shaking a bit, completely out of my depth; I could feel my elbows wobbling but I thought that if I carried on they would get bored. It was now properly dark. They went ahead again and I saw their breaklights go on; as I got closer I could see they had got out and were standing by the road. I should’ve stopped and turned around but I didn’t know what grade of meance they represented. Luckily I was going quick quickly and managed to swerveæ out of the way as they tried to grab me off the bike.. 

There was other traffic on the road which might have made them hesitate. They were soon back alongside, gradually edging me off the road. The principle grabber had moved to the front passenger seat and was leaning out of the window shouting “passport! PASSPORT!”. I braked and crossed the highway where two teenagers were walking along. They had seen a bit of what was happening I guess and looked concerned. The car accelerated off up the hill; I had been saved by two 16 year olds! They atarted talking about police and I was trying to say I just wanted to find somewhere to sleep. A calm man on a motorcycle stopped, a friend of theirs. He suggested I went to the house of the taller of the two Hassans and sleep there. Sounded good to me but Hassan the taller rang another friend (they had reception, I didn’t on mine) who is in the Iranian army. Police was “polis”, army was indicated by a stand to attention and salute. Hassan the taller was actually a brilliant physical actor and also had some English words which he put to good use. His army friend turned up; his name was Abdullah and he explained that the peoiple in the “samand” (which I have since learned is a make of car) would at least attack me and take my bike, passport, everything. He actually ran his finger across his throat, but who knows? He made several very shouted phonecalls while Hassan acted out policemen catching the perp’s and machine gunning them; again, who knows? There was a little crowd of us now; me, the two Hassans, Abdullah the army boy and a couple of others. Abdullah called a taxi to take me to the police station, back in the town I had left earlier. We all stood around waiting; Abdullah smoked and Hassan the smaller, who had very thick glasses, kept getting his watch out of his pocket and holding it two inches from his eyes, squinting at it.

The taxi came and the bike was rammed in the back. I was and probably still am, somewhat rattled to say the least. The journey back to town was quick but it gave me a minute to think. Everyone I have come across today since the border has been so friendly and welcoming, spoiled by five men in a Samand. I remeber that it looked like we might have run over a lizard on the way back, but we might have missed it. The p[olice station, where uniforms were a mix and the men in green carried AK-47’s, was very secure. The chief came down from his house and flicked through my passport. Then everyone else had a go at flicking through my passport. There was a giant log book on the desk; the chief flicked through that as well, not writing anything but underlining some sentences. I felt like I just had to wait and not think about any of Kafka’s novels. The money I had given Abdullah for the taxi was still in his hands and went in his pocket after a nod from the chief. At the close of flicking and so on, a policeman and two soldiers escorted me to a hotel and I ate some food leftover from a wedding reception they had hosted earlier this evening.

I wanted to get this all down straightaway while its still fresh. Thats the meat of it, my first day in Iran.

30th April.

Its the morning now. I want to put this behind me and get on with cycling, so I won’t write anymore about it for now. I’m sitting here in this room feeling quite scared. Last night will probably tarnish my entire (projected) 12 days in Iran, but I’m sure it won’t all be like that.

I made it to Tabriz today. According to my new friend Attilla its an important industrial city.

This morning was not great, but I thought a bit more about last night as the day went on. I think that 5:10000 (number of people that have waved at me it seems) is a pretty good ratio, so I’m going to treat the incident exactly as I would if it happened at home - unlucky, unfortunate, but not the rule. Today was really lovely; quite a hard 100 miles or so but everytime I stopped someone would talk to me and buy me a drink or some food. I’m now camping in a municipal park with the blessing of the janitor (orchestrated by Attilla). Every single vendow I have tried to buy food from has given whatever it was for free. Attilla, who has excellent English (and looks exactly like the main character in The Inbetweeners by the way), told me that its a sort of tradition in Iran. Attilla and his friends were strolling around the park so I put the bike under guard with the janitor and joined them. It has been really interesting talking to Attilla about life in Iran from hyis point of view. What he thought about the government, all the things that are forbidden but done anyway (booze, mountain biking (huh?)), what Iranian people think about British people (Politically clever apparently and significantly “not thethe USA”) and lastly how relationships work or not in Iran. Attillla was really dismayed by how Iranian young men had “mimicked” western style dating, as he called it. He explained that if a community finds out that a yound woman has had sex, it is very difficult for her to marry, so they are being used.

Going to sleep now, well tired.

1st May

Today was very mixed. Getting through and out of Tabriz (great place as industrial cities go) took a long time. It was partly the physical aspects (my legs, lack of sleep, not knowing the place), but mostly I just didn’t want to move this morning. And its Friday, Iran’s day off, why should I go anywhere? I moaned. This is not a record breaking attitude I know. I knew that there was nothing for it but to continue, so I did. The wind was so strong at times that a gusting sidewind actually knocked me off the bike (Iæwasæalmost stationary). At other times the headwind was so persistent that I slammed the handlebars and swore! Very loud! I don’t normally do that. I was struggling with the distance and the day was disappearing. Then! Just one turn in the road took me into a narrow valley, out of the wind, with a stream running through it that gradually became a river. Protected from the wind and going slightly downhill I was able to do do 95km in just 3 hours; this is dream-like speed for me after struggling all day.

I have stopped at a roadside cafe and the tent is pitched in the adjoining mosque or prayer room. As Attilla said, there seems to be a culture in Iran that encourages people to look after travellers. I have been accomodated, fed and watered and they won’t accept payment. The people that run this place just want to help me. It is amazing!

2nd May

Tea with my hosts and a good early start. The hospitality is not forced, it feels like kindness but also a bit like duty, as though its nothing special its just what you do.

The cycling today was brilliant. Half slightly uphill, the other half more down. I did over 200km in about 12 hours, with very little discomfort (relatively speaking). Again, everybody so friendly, often waiving the bill or giving me something to drink. I still don’t speak Farsi, but I can recognise questions and answer “Zahedan”, “London”, “just me” and “Chelsea (I don’t follow a team but it helps to say something).

I have decided to carry on to Zahedan with 3 pounds per day, even with Iranian hospitality, is not feasible. Its my colossal mistake not to have checked about visa card usage in Ran. It turns out there is none; you use the cash you came in with. So I won’t be flying from Zahedan to Tehran and onto India to avoid Pakistan, but straight from Tehran. I am disappointed in many ways; the people are so friendly, food is readily available and good and the cycling terrain and smooth surface have generally been easier here. On the other hand I still haven’t managed to shake my extreme unease since that first evening and haven’t been cycling after dark much. You can probably tell from the GPS trace that I often ride into the evening to get the mileage in, so this does hindr me somewhat. I could have money wired somehow to an agent in Tehran, use up a rest day collecting it and carry on. My feelings however, tell me to stop at Tehran and move on.

If you were thinking that I am an intrepid and brave explorer, think again! To give you an idea, I am unable to watch horror films because they give me nightmares and I get Creature From The Deep syndrome whenever I swim out of my depth in the sea (made up syndrome, very real to me). In the wrong conditions, I am also scared in the dark.

I want to do three things: break the world record, raise a lot of money for What’s Driving Parkinson’s? http://www.whatsdrivingparkinsons.net and also raise awareness of the disease and the groundbreaking work that this research charity does. Bravado in some form might come into it, but only as a by-product. Going to countries that are considered dangerous, or even scaring myself unnecessarily, are not part of the plan. Trying to cycle 120 miles a day takes up enough physical and emotional energy, without adding other stresses.

OK, I’m done. Goodnight.

ps, staying in another roadside restaurant/mosque. It would be like stopping at a Little Chef on the A303, with a small chapel attached, being fed for free and then being invited to sleep in the vestry. Happens all the time.

3rd May

Heading for the airport. Pretty busy road but not too bad. The look here at the moment, for young me at least, seems to be 50’s American/70’s cowboy. Hair, clothes, to some extent the motorcycles they all ride. I’ll try and get a picture.

The plain that Tehran is on is massive! I’m on the northern extremity at the moment, with mountains rising up abruptly to my left as I head east. Somewhere in the middlke is the Rud E Shur River, surrounded by beautifully irrigated fields. I’m sorry to be leaving Iran early, but I still think this is the best course to take. Half past four, still with some way to go.

The bike went in a taxi at 20:31, so I am now officially in transit. That was an interesting taxi ride, the driver so suspicious of me that we stopped at a police station where his brother worked so he could check my passport. However, we since bonded over mobile phones and he was really perplexed and amused by the number of photos I have of meals I have eaten.

Getting a ticket with visa turned out to be easier than expected, although only because the bike helps make friends and Edwin from Emirates Airlines told me to come back at 2 in the morning and he’d help me. He was as good as his word, booking the ticket on the Emirates computer system that is outside the no Visa card rules apparently. I am now on the 05:05 to Dubai and we are taxi-ing for take off.

People have been asking me about my routine and also about food. Here is the lowdown from my end.

I didn’t really have a routine at the start and some days it still feels like I am catching myself up. If the terrain was the same every day, then I could have a very strict routine, but it isn’t so there’s a lot of adapting that goes on. Mark Beaumont has set such a high bar that I have to maintain the pace, or I’ll drop behind. In the early days I was riding until midnight some nights and getting going again at 6. This is not sustainable in the long run, but I will have to carry on doing it intermittently; it’ll be easier in the summer.

On an average day, this is what I do. Actually, this isn’t average, I’m just thinking of an amalgamation of days that is probably better than average. Wake up at five or a bit earlier. Lie in bed for a least two snoozes on my alarm (twenty minutes), thinking about the day ahead with some dread and a little excitement. I also look at pictures of friends and my girlfriend during this time to buoy myself up a bit. I also listen to music to help me relax and to limber up my imagination for the day ahead. The brain is the most important organ in this undertaking. I then get up and either pack a few things back into panniers if I have been staying indoors somewhere, or quickly decamp if I have been in the tent. These two things take about the same amount of time. While I am doing this I will eat any food that I have left from the day before; soggy bread, honey, biscuits, strange dry cakes, bananas, an orange. I have never really been a breakfast person, but that has changed. I don’t stretch. I point the bike in the general direction and cycle for about 30 minutes, quite slowly because I am still half asleep. I will then stretch and listen to more music. Then I finally get going properly and will start thinking about miles and second breakfast. If I have enough food or can buy some, I will eat this after about another hour of cycling

I try and keep up a good pace. This depends very much on terrain; if its really steep I’m happy with 8km/h; bit less arduous and its 11km/h; 16km/h is a good speed for a slight incline; if its flat I’ll want to be around the 18-20km/h, depending on wind. If its downhill I will go as fast as I can without burning out. I managed an average of 30km/h for 3 hours the other day on a consistent slight downhill. My top free wheeling speed so far has been 54km/h.

I will try not to stop too much. At the moment I have to stop to get to water and food with any real ease, and this has probably meant I am stopping too much. If I am having a hard morning I might stop too much for “self-pity” breaks and will have to remind myself that the only way back is forward, if you get my meaning. If I see somewhere to get food and it feels like I haven’t got enough for the next x hours/days (depending on towns etc ahead) I will stop and get it, regardless of how fast I am going. I did do some training where I didn’t eat beforehand to help me deal with this problem of  potential low sugar levels, but I’m not sure if it worked. I am acutely aware of when I am starting to bottom out. I feel it in my arms and hands, as though they are fuel tanks and starting to get empty; they feel hollow.

Music usage depends on the day and the road. If its really busy with traffic I won’t listen to anything at all. If the road is empty or I need some rhythm to keep moving I will play music all day. Sometimes I just shuffle the playlist, at other times I will listen to entire albums and use that as a period of cycling when I won’t stop.

If there is a place to have a proper meal around lunchtime I’ll sit down to eat. This is often not the case however; with such a long way to go I have to be prepared just to eat whatever I can get.

The afternoon can be the best time to cycle if its not too hot. If it is hot, however, it is very difficult and I might just plod on in the heat, speeding up later. When the sun is lower in the sky, from around 5 at the moment, the “golden hours” begin. These will last until sunset. I call them that because of the light but also because they have been consistently the best hours for mileage. Its got a lot to do with the cooling down, but even if its been raining all day I’ll do better. Its probably my body and I realising that the day is going and we still have work to do. Excuse the mind/body distinction but it has become very real for me in the last month or so!

I will continue to eat and drink whatever I can get during the afternoon. I am quite conscious of what I need food-wise; if its hot I’ll increase fluid and maybe get something salty like crisps or salted nuts (almonds are a favourite). At the end of the golden hours I will try and stop for a proper meal if its available. If I can carry on after this meal I will do so, especially if there’s more miles to do. Somedays I have been totally exhausted and will start to give myself heavy hints about stopping after the meal; eyelids drooping, legs feeling like bollards, that sort of thing. Other days I will happily carry on for a couple of hours, especially if I feel happy with the safety of the road and the possibility of a camp spot. If I am lucky I will be in bed at 9 or 10. I like to be near the road so tha I can hear its droning song.

Sorry if thats not very specific for a description of a routine, but that is the way it works for me. I have started to call it the “attenuation of failure”, where I try to adapt to the day’s difficulties to lessen their impact on my goal. I will not cycle 120 miles every day for 150 days. I might occasionally do more, often I will fall short, but its quite a good target to fall short of.

To answer the food questions more specifically:

• I have never used energy bars or energy gels. I am not against them and would welcome any sponsor who wanted me to try out their product. I didn’t train with them for the specific reason that I was pretty sure that you can’t get them in Ukrainian petrol station (you can’t).
• How do I keep going? I’m not entirely sure. I know that most of it comes from mental motivation. If you are doing 80 miles a day, be pleased with yourself. That’s the sort of distance I’d be doing if I wasn’t trying to raise a massive sum of money and break a world record! If you want to go further, you are capable of it (I am not a trained athlete and I’m assuming you arn’t either).

I think thats it.

5th May

Had a good rest day in Amritsar. Did all my washing, cleaned out the panniers, aired the sleeping bag (much needed), reworked the route (waiting to hear from Guinness) and spent 5 hours emailing and computer stuff. Ate 4 large meals.

This is no travel guide but I can recommend the Grand Hotel in Amritsar. Just look at the staff, so happy.

6th May

First cycling day after the transit and rest day. My support team suggested a modest 90 miles to ease me back in and I happily accepted. I am on Highway 1, or the Great Trunk Road (GTR). Like most colonial powers (I’m thinking of the Romans) the British were big on road building. It makes it easier to transport gin and tonic around. The GTR has been resurfaced a few times since, but it’s essentially the same road. Most of today’s surface seems to be new, the fresh blacktop quite prominent amongst the myriad smells of the Punjab.

I had started to sweat just putting the panniers on the bike this morning but once I got going it wasn’t too bad, for a while at least. It got real hot.

There seems to be no restrictions on who can use the GTR; loads if bicycles, tricycles carrying all manner of things, motorbikes, cattle, elephants, plus your usual highway traffic of cars, trucks, buses and the army. It gets busy. All these people need refreshing, so there are lots of juice stands and dhamas (cafes?) along the way, which is good for me. There are tricycle mounted, petrol powered mangles that press the juice out of sugarcane; my personal favourite, so sweet for a little hummingbird like me.

I got to my target at around five, found a very unfriendly Internet place, sent some emails and went to bed.

7th May

I set myself a big target today, Panipat in Haryana province. To be honest, I’m writing this on the 10th and I’m not sure I can remember much. I think this was the day I saw two elephants on the road. There was also a river, running in a very wide artificial channel, that was such a strong cobalt blue that I had to stop and watch it go by for ten minutes.

The only other time I’ve been in India was in 1997, with my brother Tom. We were in Ladakh and cycled over seven of the Himalayan ranges and then through the foothills to Shimla. It was quite a different experience to what I’m going through now. The terrain now is essentially flat; a couple of hundred miles to the north of here and you can be cycling uphill for 8 hours. I am just going for mileage here; we had a bit more time to absorb everything.

8th 9th May

Ate something wrong on afternoon of 8th, spent 9th in bed and bathroom.

10th May

Set myself another big target of 212 km but actually managed it. Particularly pleased because I still can’t stomach much food and had to find the energy in house, and the wind was not favourable. I’ll probably pay tomorrow, but let’s see what comes. Election day is is only 2 days away so the roads are busy with campaigners; in towns the streets are full of excited people attending functions and rallies.

11th May

Still couldn’t really stomach food during the day, too nauseous and diarrhea all morning. Sorry if you’re eating. Managed 175km to Lucknow, but so painfully slow.

I’m going to tin this diary style for now. I’ll upload some pics instead and write a longer blog later about what I’ve learned in the last couple of days.