Cycle touring through lockdown insomnia:

It was June the 23rd and I was starting to experience something not too dissimilar from what others have embraced surviving lockdown - I was growing tired of being nested in this comfort bubble and found myself lying in bed, not completely disatisfied with the trivial matters of my daily routine but instead somewhat discouraged from putting much effort into shaping the day into anything meaningful or memorable. Yes the dog would go for a long walk or a few internship hours would be chipped off but these past few weeks of adopting such self disciplined practices had flown by like lightspeed, like a time blender pulverising every day into one refined moment. That's when it dawned upon me that I needed something to anticipate, something that would magnetize excitement throughout my mind and muscles before everything felt numb, a journey to look towards instead of being bogged down in a slog of daily comforts. It was after visiting my Grandad who had suggested going to the Penzance train station then cycling from Penzance to Sennen Cove which conceived the brainchild for my next endeavour.

I set out to cycle from Totnes to Sennen Cove with very marginal training, equipment and cycling expertise. I had never really road cycled before (at least not endurance) and the bike I had aquired was not fancy by any stretch but was rugged enough to endure some brutality. After 2 days since conception, I assembled a route on RidewithGPS (a must have for you budding cyclists), gathered some handy equipment from a friend, mummified a power pack to my bike and lastly fitted the rack and paniers before finally setting off under the cover of dawn. After sinking a big bowl of oats at 4am, I set off into an abyss - drizzle shrowding my vision, darkness still looming - though to my suprise I soon discovered that this was a pleasant time to ride and the worry of getting cold had quickly departed.

The first leg of my journey shot out to Ivybridge and then Plymouth. This was respectively testing, though from what I had gathered, all the routes pertaining to the national cycle network had been fun and less mentally exausting. By 10am, the Tor Point Ferry was within easy reach and the riding had felt pretty smooth. After crossing countries into Cornwall, things had started to feel grindy. The Cornish hills were monstrous beasts - bendy and dangerous with limited appreciation towards cyclists. After a short ascend up to the village of Anthony, I was happy to see a cheerful bulbous roadside takeaway man, who after swilling a small hot chocolate for me had advised not to take the coastal route but instead take an A road out towards Polbathic. This presumably had shaven off some time but these A roads to my dismay were not easiest to cycle. On one particular hill, my muscles groaned and I pulled into a layby feeling an ounce overwhelmed at the sheer immensity of distance road cycling before finally consulting an old farmers wife as to wether the road would get any safer or flatter for me to continue. She kindly informed me that I had a bit more to gain but encouraged me to stick with it. It was that one conversation that lifted my mind away from "get to Looe and grab the first train back" to "lets give this my best shot".

The day from then on started to pickup pace and before sundown I had covered 92miles, crossed two ferries and still had ample light to spare. After bunking down for a nights glamping in some exotic forest undergrowth, my sleeping bag and bivi soon lured me into a deep coma. Rising later the next day I packed up shop, eat a huge mango and rode the remaining 40 miles passing a myriad of decordant stone villages, verdent farms and country estates. Cornwall has a lot of preserved character which made it all the more enjoyable to explore in addition to its emphasis on buying roadside produce, (my kind of drive-by). There was one hiccup involving my wallet having rested on my bike rack for a few miles, half the coins having fell out (though to my relief left somewhat unscoured) and another incident whereby my route had guided me through a field of sticking nettles layed up to my arm pits (primed for disaster) or onto a private mining track with me proceeding to lift the ladent bike over barbed wire with little success though for the most part everything went smoothly and I managed to take my time and enjoy the journey, meet the locals; all whilst devouring everything Cornish.

One point of mention along my journey was when I ventured out with a young lad who was slightly lost and wishing to find a way back to his girlfriends place, this diverted me completely off track though it was interesting to hear his story of homelessness during COVID; unable to see the people he held dearly. Corona no doubt has magnified the extreme fragility of Cornwalls tourism dependent economy, whereby I wonder how many others were left in a deadzone with nothing at all. It's easy to get lost in the mindset of how many miles to cover, how much elevation to gain but as long as you can keep the cogs turning with some humility to get off and walk through the nasty's, then you'll most likely enjoy it. The stimulation of taking in new sights and learning from others along the way was magnitudes higher than matching certain speeds or impounding personal bests - a mentality I knew would have indefinitely made this all the more testing and leaving me to feel incompatable after an ill attempt.

My bike eventually trundled all the way to Penzance and after feeling the salt air brush over from St Michaels Mount followed by a quick jet refueling from a lidl's apple turnover, the last leg was a wondrous flat stretch of connected cycle routes across picturesque open countryside before freeriding the peddle loose into Sennen Cove. To all those fed up and frustrated by the plans shredded this summer, I hope this provides some insight as to finding your lockdown remedy - get out there and prepare a home adventure, no matter how big or small, hans solo or with the presence of others. I can guarentee you'll feel more uplifted and accomplished nearing the end of that important journey. Grab yourself that pasty and a view or spot of haggis by the loch with the full understanding that you'd 100% earnt it!