Robbed at knife point in Morocco.

To my right a desk with two computers sat back to back astride bundles of paper work written in a language secret to me.   This was the focal point that dominated the otherwise featureless room.  It didn't interest me. Nothing in the room did.  My eyes were fixed on the wall to the left. I can't tell you the colour of it or if posters covered the wall. Maybe it was cracked and damaged I can't say.  I was in a trance, lost in this small stuffy space, parked on a wooden seat set adrift from the desk.  This wasn't happening. This was not real.

....The end of the blade was rounded, not sharp, but rounded with a jagged tip that shone bright in the waking light of the early morning.  It was pointed directed at my neck.....

 No I was literally thousands of miles away.  I was in the bush battling the flies and the heat, I was riding along the deep sand roads in Kazakhstan, I was looking in disbelief as I had arrived at the port in Saint John's for the ferry to Nova Scotia after having completed 380km in a under 24 hours, sure that I was set to fail and return home early. I was rerunning the last 340 days through my head. Challenge after challenge replayed, the work and effort remembered.  All the challenges I had faced and overcome now stood for nothing. It was over.

....The second knife was long, very long. A machete.  Its handle was small and the tip of the rounded blade pushed against my ribs......

A voice asked me a question in a combination of languages; this brought me back into the room. He looked like them.  They all did. But of course it wasn't them.   The officer had wanted nothing more than an answer to one of the question on his form. You could see it in his eyes.  All he wanted was my information so that when it was collected I could be processed and shown the door.    

.....I was on the floor. I could hear the sound of the waves rolling unwillingly on to the dirty yellow of the beach.   I had just been sleeping. It was a strategic sleep, a tried and tested method of recovery. I had only stopped a few hours earlier and in 15 minutes I had planned to get up and ride to Tangier. It was 43 km away, I was bound for Gibraltar, British soil I was so very nearly home.......  

"What is your Job?"  Asked the officer. I explained that I had been cycling around the world for nearly a year and was close to finishing. I had cycled through 26 countries on five continents covering nearly 38,000km. I was aiming for just over 40000km. He looked at me with very little interest and disappointment with my answer. This didn't fit in the box. The Moroccan officer tried again till I gave an answer that conformed to the formalities of the report in front of him.

.......The knifes are what I noticed first. These were both held in the hands of one of the three men that I awoke to find around me. I was confused. What was going on? Why was this man pointing a knife at me? What had I done to him?....

"What did they take?" was asked next. How could I answer this? Did he mean the phone from my pocket? Yes, this man of the law, enjoyed this answer.  This fitted nicely on the form.  The pleasure he seemed to receive from the answer  was equally matched with disappointment when I detailed the small amount of money I had on me. He almost seemed not to believe me a "rich" tourist could have so little. So he asked this question a number of times.

.......One of the two not holding a knife grabbed Kristy as she lay on her side next to me. I lunged without thinking clasping the frame as fear gripped me like I have never known before. They were going to take Kirsty. I couldn't let this happening. Not now, not so close to the end. The remaining man behind me shoved me back to the floor with force and pinned me there.  I then realised what was happening.  I was being robbed. These three Moroccan men were robbing me.  I tried to sit up and say I had money only to be forced back to the ground.......

"Camera?"  the officer prompted. "Yes a camcorder ," I explained.  I had been filming the entire expedition and was going to make a documentary at the end of it. He was busy typing and ignoring me. I was now blurting out anything that I hoped would urge them to help me situation. I had lost 7 months worth of filming in a matter of moments. I needed these men at the police station to help me so badly.

.....The man without a knife lifted Kirsty and laughed as if this was a game.  He reached down gripping one of the front panniers and ripped it savagely from its position. I watched as the small bag that contained my journals, filming, and photographs went over my head to the other man and into a car. Wait, I did a double take, yes a car. These men had a car! What would people  that could afford a car want with my photos? This didn't make sense.........

 "Anything else?" the officer asked unconvincingly. It appeared to me that I had given an answer to all the items that was of interest to him. I had watched in disbelief as my camcorder, passport, photos, wallet, phone had all been stolen from me and put into the back of the car. The most important things to me were the flags I had collected from all the commonwealth nations I had visited. I was taking them home to fly. Thousands upon thousands of miles of effort were put into collecting them and they were now gone. The officer never added this to his report. They were of no value to him.  

......After removing the front panniers he promptly pulled off the rear two and tent ripping and tearing at my equipment which found its way into the back of the car. The two without the knifes followed the bags and started up the car. The armed coward got in last. I ran and started punching the window as it sped off with everything..........

The officer handed me a copy of the report and left me in a room. The investigation was over after this transaction. It was at this point I realised what this officer had first said to me "Ah you are the boy from the beach?" How did he know that? I had only just met him. How could he know I was down by the beach?

I may have lost everything but the challenge continues. I am not going to let this scum ruin everything I have worked so hard at. 

You Inspire me!

A real uphill struggle

Team Five, Team five, Team five. What is team five? It is simply the task of asking people from around the world to ride five miles/8kms with me; Thus forming a team of nationals from countries around the world. That was the idea and many countless hours of my time and effort have been poured into it. Nearly every 'rest' day has been spent on the internet contacting cycle groups and teams from whichever country I happen to be in. When really I should have been out exploring the place I had just put in a lot of effort to ride to.

Over something as basic as a five miles/8km cycle. Simple surly? When I thought of this idea way back in the early planning stages I certainly never foresaw the amount of effort that would be involved with this part of challenge. After all everywhere in the world ride bikes!  

Asking and having people join along the way has well been very, very difficult. The real infuriating part about it all is that the idea is fine. It is the implementation of it that is flawed. Countless people have said they would like to ride with me and be part of the world team only for me to be in a different town, country or even continent. All I have is word of mouth to spread what I am doing. Unfortunately I ride faster than people are talking about the challenge. Social media has seen a very slow uptake with less than a few hundred following from around the world. So this has offered very little benefits towards achieving this goal. Even though I have been successful in getting into various forms of press all across the world now; have met with the top guys at the Commonwealth Games and even met with heads of countries. This has rarely shown any rewards to the Team 5 task.
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Vikki proudly showing me her country

Don't get me wrong I have had people join in three continents now from 7 different countries all with very diverse and different cultures and faiths. Yet they have been united in the task of cycling a distance with me. Boys from Bangladesh from a hugely different economic background have achieved the same goal as riders from first world nations such as Australia. The disadvantages that some countries have compared to others have been removed. In a sense the playing field has been levelled.

I think this is the advantage of the bicycle. I don't think any other sporting activity could be used to unite people from around the world in such a unique but simple goal. The bicycle doesn't discriminate. Any age, race, faith, and gender can ride a bike.

For me, when people ride with me have been the most inspiring moments of the trip. When people with out a common language, culture or a very busy life style ride up and declare there intentions to become part of the ride around the world really motivate me.

So it is the implementation that is flowed. If you wanted to join and I missed you, well now is your chance. Having to actually be where I am to join is the problem. So here is the proposed solution to this conundrum. You can join from where ever you are and this is open to anyone from anywhere in the world. Ride your five miles/8km on the commute to work, on a training ride, in the gym, flying down the side of a mountain or just a ride in the park.  All you have to do is ensure that you have covered 5 miles/8kms in one go.

Big Challenge

From there, to make it count simple go here on the challenge website here and fill in some details to have your effort counted towards the overall goal. Each person that joins will add 5miles/8km to the distance that will be plotted onto a map following my route as shown on the tracker. So as a team you will also ride the world.

My role will be simply to be the stop watch. When the yellow line that I am drawing on the planets reaches Glasgow, this will signal the end of  the task. I will still be asking people to join me as I go. But this is essentially the last roll of the dice to achieve this task.

This is not going to be easy. So please do take part, invite your friend and family out for a ride. Tell who ever you can. Who knows what we might be able to achieve together!

So come on and inspire me and lets see what we can do together!

 

Very Hard and Long, riding the Bush

The last four weeks have undoubtedly been the hardest I have undertaken on this trip. For 28 days I have been outdoors subject to all the torments of the great outdoors of Australia. As I have quickly learnt it has a lot to offer in this department.

First off is the wind. Now of course it is always either a cross wind or headwind, never giving a helpful push from behind. At one point I did a complete 180 only for the wind to do the same. I was raging. To add insult to injury on this instance the wind was blowing that hard it blasted my mosquito mask off my head, too far for me to catch. That was my only protection against the flies.

Now why they didn’t tell me about the flies I wonder? Every waking minute that you are outside (even sometimes inside) you will have a fly on you. You have to get used to sharing your every meal with them. You even get good at telling how old the decomposing carcass that they were just dining at before deciding that landing directly on your month was a better idea. The reheated three day dead Kangaroo became a favorite. Mmmmm. When the flies finish the day shift of biting every bit of flesh they can get at the mosquito takes over the task and attack anywhere missed during the day. Quite a efficient system you must agree.

The first Kangaroo I seen was alive with a spring in it’s step. But to be fair that was a rarity. Far more are to be found lying at the side of the road. The headwind always warns you of your approach as it wafted the vile smell of the decaying body directly at you until you beat the wind. The rank mass of bones and flesh is super heated each day by the desert hot temperatures. Cooking and cooling each day. The heat does the same to me. Riding in temperatures above 40c I find particularly hard (every other day nearly!). When hauling a bike the weighs in at up to 70kg not making the task any easier. When the headwind super charges the 40c heat onto my fly covered face dragging the water loaded heavy bike, well that’s me in heaven. What more could I ask for?

Now as you know I ride at night. A lot of this trip has been covered during darkness. This usually isn’t a problem. But I’m in Australia so this has got to be tough too. The temperatures cool, the wind sometime drops and its easier to out ride the mosquitos. The roads empty from five cars a hour to maybe one. I am alone in a wilderness never near civilization. So passing snakes at night isn’t fun, this has happened a lot. I always wonder what happens if I got bit?

A quick swerve is my best defense. But I need to see them to do this. If I did go over one I would just apply the jump on the saddle and kick the legs up tactic. This has worked effectively in other countries. The key component for the success of this move is the saddle. On one particular night ride I was positioned in the middle of the road when the world was lit up by the stadium power flood lights of an approaching road train. To my surprise directly in from of me was a monster snake taking up a lane. If the trucks lights hadn’t alerted me to it I would be been right over it.

Not a problem just jump on the saddle right? Problem being at this point I didn’t have a saddle. The bolt that attached the clamp had sheared off the previous day. The near 10mm thick bolt torn completely in half. I had nothing to repair it with. I tried everything, even tent pegs. It wasn’t a great time for the duct tape to run out either. So just imagine if that truck hadn’t alerted me of the snake. I would have jumped back onto the where I would expect to find the saddle but only find a sharp seat pole. No doubt this would result in a rather girly scream, then a crash before being eaten by the snake.


The 200 miles (320km) without a saddle was some challenge. All my weight was on my wrists. My right wrist had been hurt the night I hit a cow. I know who hits a cow? Well I do? Right over the top of a dead lump on the road. My front panniers came flying off and mercilessly missed the masses of cow guts. They were staying behind if they had ended mixed up in it. I never came off Kirsty instead I landed very hard on my wrist. It still hasn’t got full mobility. As for the saddle situation, this was solved by a man from Motherwell. What are the chances? No one in Aus could help but a man a few miles from my home sorted it in a few minutes.

The last twist in the saddle tale does show that Australia has a sense of irony. Only some 50 miles after getting the saddle sorted I came across this rest point. Just look at its name!

And enjoy a rest i did.

The rest points became the ideal spots for camping. They had some shade which believe me is necessary. If you have never woken up in a pool of your own sweat you can’t say you have had a warm night. The shade helps this also and there a fewer beasties. After the night that a spider enter the tent leaving my outside it bollock naked I decided that the outback was not the safest spot to camp. I wasn’t sure how many more beating the tent would take as I tried to kill the new occupant. Anyone know anything about Spiders would this have hurt?

It was with some relief that I made it to Darwin. Completing a 2500 mile (4000km) journey across Australia. For 28 days I wore the same t-shirt, same shorts and same socks. My change of clothes being naked. Maybe not the most appropriate for riding in. You know I might of got sun burnt. I was looking forward to a shower and maybe a good meal drinking cans of cold beans had become the staple. But I arrived to late. I couldn’t get a bed. My options were limited. Putting the tent up wouldn’t be safe so the old faithful, the park bench was the winner.

I even managed to pick the park where all the other homeless were staying. My sense for a good bench clearly is improving. I placed Kirsty directly next to me and passed out immediately. During the night I was woken by an semi naked aboriginal man trying to take Kirsty. Not the best wake up call. I grabbed hold of Kirsty. He started asking me if I had a knife before waving his in my face. What I should of course of said was “that’s not a knife, Now Thats a knife!” – What a missed opportunity. Instead he ranted some more and charged off into the night.

The ride from Perth to Darwin in Australia has been a mental challenge for all the senses. It’s been Great!

oh and if you know anyone that can join me for 8km in OZ contact me on this number: +61 459347915 (Australia)

or even just say hello!