Alegria or bust

Today was my third day and as such should be a day of rest, according to my schedule, but the lure of Mt st Michel proved to be unavoidable. As I set out it was just spotting with rain, but not much. I felt it could go either way and foolishly left it a little too late to get out my wet weather protection. Mi Czecki Mapi predicted a journey of 30 km which I guessed would take me 2-3 hours. I avoided the town of Avranches which is perched on quite a steep hill, but on the outskirts I noticed a Decathlon store so I popped in to get some gas for the stove and a waterproof cover for my phone which was under increasing threat from the worsening weather. I got the rain proof cover but their was no gas. I picked up some bread and pate for lunch at a local store, but I didn't make it to the mount until about 3pm. By this time I'd had quite a soaking although most of the stuff in my bags was quite ok as they are pretty impenetrable. I would say there were literally thousands of tourists...

 My father spent several years in a prison camp during the second world war and it appears to me now that one of his prevailing resolutions in life was to prevent a repeat of this catastrophic conflict. To this end he would take us all on family holidays around Europe, mostly camping, and this is how my relationship with La Belle France really began. I think in his soul he believed, as I do, that men and women the whole world over basically suffer with the same afflictions and it is through sincere and uncorrupted communication that we will achieve anything approaching harmony. I don't know where he learned his French, probably in the prison camp, but he was very adamant in trying to convince us that we had this power to communicate even though we had no knowledge of the local language. At the time it was pretty terrifying. One of my earliest memories (aged about 5 years) was in a village in rural Spain (we had driven through France to get there) and being unable to convince anyone...

 Saturday night on a campsite anywhere in Europe can always be a bit tricky and despite or maybe because of the remote location, le Rozel was no exception. A large contingent of young men arrived close by and got to work preparing a barbecue, provisioned by a white van laden with crates of beverages. They had a lot of fun and actually turned out to be accomplished singers. My fears of a drunken brawl gradually subsided as they sang me through my dreams. I was woken repeatedly by the wind however which blew like a gale in the small hours of the morning. Vincent, my new friend arrived at 9 with his camera, having read my blog, and convenienced me with some photos which I can share with you. We took to the road together and he showed me around some of the beautiful coastal villages of the area, sharing some observations and aspirations. Here's my first video post taken by Vincent while we were cycling along Before leaving me on the D650, a superb cycling route southwards, he asked me ...

 I woke up at 4:20 on Thursday morning feeling as bright as a button, in good time to make it back to the Dhamma Hall for 5am chanting and meditation. This was a great start to the day, and followed by a monastic breakfast of porridge, fruit and coffee. Some last farewells and it was time to take down the tent and set my course for Portsmouth. I'm using a satnav from Czech Republic recommended by another long distance cyclist and so far it has been pretty reliable, at least it gives me a lot more information than Google maps, and is particularly clear at highlighting dedicated cycle routes, but it let me down this morning by taking me into a bridle way that was entirely composed of soft sand that was impossible to pedal through. At least it didn't last too long and I was soon back on some excellent quiet tarmac across the south downs to the coast.  My plan was to meet up with my son Joe who wanted to join me for the last leg into Portsmouth. As luck would have it we met each o...

 Chithurst Buddhist monastery to give it it's proper name is known as Watpa (temple) citta (heart) viveka (discernment or discrimination). A place to discern the contents of ones heart. When I was planning the journey a month or so before setting out, I realised that the route from the Farmfest to the cross channel ferry at Portsmouth ran very close to the monastery, so I wrote to the guest master and asked if I could stay overnight on my way through. In his reply he explained that the guest accommodation was fully booked and he couldn't offer space for the tent as there had been some problems with persistent non Buddhist visitors in the past. But he asked if I would like to call in and take the triple refuge and the five precepts as a blessing for the journey. As a practicing Buddhist of around ten years this was something I could not refuse. This meant I would have to find myself a place to camp out as there were no Warmshowers hosts in the area. The monastery is in very secl...

 Farmfest is the most amazing festival. It's very relaxed, I don't think there were more than about 200 people on site at any one time, but during the four days of the festival there was a constant stream of musicians and artists, mostly from London, but with influences from around the globe. What I really like is that there are quite a few younger artists testing themselves out at the festival level and this is a great place to do it because there's no "artists only" enclosure and you are quite likely to be rubbing shoulders with the singer of the headline act at the food counter. So there is a huge interplay between artists and audience, and just as important, between all the different performers. I shouldn't single out any one single performance as they were all so good, but there was a moment on Sunday afternoon that practically everyone I talked to was smitten with. A band called Black Bordello played an absolutely spine expanding cover of David Bowie...

 I surely learned that I do have an awful lot of stuff, even though I live in a single room in a shared House. Getting all the stuff I need for a six month journey into four bags wasn't nearly as difficult as getting all the belongings that I was leaving behind into some state of order. Plus I had to make sure that there was no smelly laundry or forgotten food items that would invite unwelcome microbes and organisms in my absence. But eventually I was able to close the door on it all and I have to say it was a very welcome moment, one I have been dreaming of for a long, long time, and I'm happy to say I was able to do it with a sense of gratitude for the privilege of a comfortable life. Looking around the room before I left, my eyes fell on a sweetie jar that was given to me by my most recent partner in romance, the gorgeous Arunima from Wales. She had filled the jar with little pieces of paper containing proverbs, wisdom messages and love notes. It was a most beautiful gift th...