Shot for the Day (22 April 2014)

April 22, 2014July 31, 2015 | Zapfly

Long time since my last post.

Over the Easter weekend, I was fortunate to have some time on my hands and ventured over to Borneo (Sabah, Malaysia) to visit Kota Kinabalu and attempt to climb Mount Kinabalu. After completing the 4095m climb at 5am in the morning, I sat on a freezing summit, a whisker from the equator, to watch the early morning sunrise.

Soon after, I dropped a couple of hundred metres to the start of the highest via Ferrata route in the world, to commence a 1.2km route. Although this does not sound all that spectacular, when you are almost 4km up, believe me, there are some giddy moments, especially the first part of the route that takes you vertically off the start ledge.

Alas, I was too busy having fun on the via Ferrata to snap any photos. Here are a couple of images from other climbers on the route to give you an idea of the experience.

Day 10: Berufjordor to Hofn

July 2, 2010July 31, 2010 | gloriakidsfirst

Today we were heading for Hofn which was 130km away. It was a long days ride especially after the previous one. We clung to the coastline. We cycled around beautiful fjords. It was still miserable weather and rained the whole day again. Body temperatures plummeted. But very stunning scenery. We couldn’t see in front of you. Passed shingle banks along the cliffs above and below all the time knowing that if it slips, the road would go from beneath you. Lovely seascapes but lots of gravel so hardcore cycling.

Stopped for lunch and whipped up a warm drink which made a big difference. No drama throughout the rest of today’s ride but spectacular scenery.

Arrived at Hofn 9pm. Went to the supermarket and bought high carb food. Crossed road to campsite and we were soaked to the skin. They had one cabin left so we took it and dried out. Could hear the rain hard on the roof the whole night. Went to bed trying to remember how it felt to cycle in the sunshine.

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The cloudy road ahead

May 18, 2010May 18, 2010 | Zapfly

In the next month or so, I and two friends will be attempting to cycle around Iceland. Usually, there would be the standard helping of trepidation by friends and colleagues at the idea of cycling over a thousand miles, around a desolate and sparsely inhabited island. This year is more ambitious than I had originally intended due to the continued eruption of Eyjafjallajökull.

Indeed, the repeated action of the volcano and the broad level of information I am receiving from various sources (some more trusted than others) means that I am none the wiser as to whether we will be able to fly to Iceland and then circumnavigate it without being either blocked by the volcanic activity or halted by falling clouds of ash. Conundrums and tribulations aside, this is all adding up to be quite the adventure. Usually, if I were only concerned about my own travel, this would not be an issue as one can more easily roll with the punches when you are solo. However, with the much appreciated company on this trip, along with the variety of start points for the journey, I need to make sure that I am not going to waste anyone’s precious vacation time.

I must admit to being more than a little seduced by the adventure ahead. Each year, I like to have something new, something that sets each challenge apart from the previous ones. Last year, it was covering thousands of miles alone. This year, Eyjafjallajökull is throwing all sorts of variables in my path.

I have read various reports from other cyclist and newscasters reporting back on the eruptions as they happen. The official word was that they would be over within the next couple of weeks and that the prevailing winds would prevent any falling ash from inconveniencing us as we make our way clockwise around the island.

In addition to the complexities of Eyjafjallajökull erupting, its three previous eruptions on record have each been associated with a subsequent eruption of Katla. So far, there have been no signs of turbulence beneath Katla’s surface. However, having last erupted almost a century ago in 1918, vulcanologists say that a new blast is overdue.

“So far there have been no signs of the re-awakening of the Katla volcano but a lot of things can still happen, so we are monitoring it quite closely,” Dr Einarsson said.

Here is an image that caught my eye. My cycling companion Dave summed it up best when he said something along the lines that we needed to make sure we had all a decent breathing mask in our bags.

So, after all the procrastination, this is what it is all about: The angry gods of the underworld spewing out its ash and magma. In a strange turn of events, after thinking that Iceland would be bereft of tourists, I have been reading about how the volcanic eruption has heightened tourist figures as people come from far and wide to see the angry mountain humbling our Western way of travel and life in general.

Please note: None of these images are mine. They have been sourced from fellow photographers on the net. If you would like me to credit your image or remove it, please email me or comment below

Friday’s ride to oblivion

July 14, 2008July 14, 2008 | Zapfly

After purchasing a few final additions for my cycle ride on Friday, I made my way to the Condor ferry terminal at St Peter Port terminal. Unfortunately, as the ferry was due to arrive at 18:20 in Weymouth, I knew I would have a fairly full on ride to make it by the time it got dark.

Things did not start well; the ferry was over an hour later departing. It had been due to rain all day Friday and to my great fortune, the weather had abated. Indeed, on the journey over to the mainland, the skies cleared and large swathes of blue were visible. This perked my spirits up as I realised that I would have about 2 hours of sunshine to cycle 50 miles. No problem on my road bike but how would the Thorn perform?

Matters became instantly more complicated when us cyclists were hemmed in by a ferry load of cars waiting to disembark. We had to wait almost 30 minutes until we were able to leave the boat. Precious time was slipping away and the evening light was already beginning to filter through the progressively more patchy sky.

I had prepared my route at Pete’s place and listed out a series of directions. Alas, I was not able to find the first marker and ended up having to follow the queuing line of traffic to exit Weymouth. Here, the cycle was in its element as I was able to jump most of the tailbacks.

It was at this juncture that the sneaking suspicion that the evening’s ride was not going to be as straightforward as I had hoped began to creep in. The landscape around Weymouth is quite spectacular and decidedly hilly. With the additional weight of the steel framed bike and the three panniers, the cruising speed was down from 25mph to a far more modest 12mph. I did some quick maths in my head and realised that I would not make it to Ottery St Mary until after dark. My original expectations were that I would arrive in Weymouth and be off the ferry by 6.30pm followed by a leisurely saunter to Ottery, arriving at around 9.30pm riding the coattails of sunshine for the day.

With the much reduced pace, my delayed arrival in Weymouth and the fact that I managed to get completely lost so early on, I estimated my time of arrival at closer to midnight. Thankfully I had some lights with me but they were small, city lights, to ensure that motorists could see me on well lit urban streets. They were really not up to the task of illuminating a jet black road as I ploughed through the night on the A35.

Another problem was that after just two hours, I had exhausted almost all of my 2litre water supply. Having originally believed that I would be cycling earlier in the day, I had concluded that I would be able to refill my water bottles at service stations en route. Regrettably, it became abundantly apparent that this would not be the case as each and every petrol station I cycled past was closed.

I had also not counted on the road being so perilous. Cars hurtled past me at 60mph, inches from my rear panniers, buffeting me with strong gusts of displaced wind in the process. With the ever dimming sky, I prayed that my pathetic lights were up to the task of forewarning these motorists of my presence.

The route I followed took in some very long hill climbs, which many cyclists are not fans of. With the additional weight and my inexperience of handing the bike, I wobbled precariously as I steadily scaled each hurdle.With all the weight hanging over the rear wheel, the front end tended to weaver frantically as I spun the pedals in 4^th gear, averaging a speed of around 5-6mph.

Finally, after more than three hours of exertion, cycling through the undulating Devonshire landscape, with no light save for the modest pool afforded by my front LED, I stopped in mid ascent, exhausted. It felt like I was climbing Mount Olympus to speak with the gods. I lay down next to the road and drained what little water I had left. It was dark. The stillness of the evening was broken only momentarily by the infrequent, speeding cars that whirled past me. I was running on empty. I had no chocolate bars or water to consume or a mobile phone to contact Bryony with, to inform her where I was. Indeed, I had no real idea at that point where I lay. Determined to make the remaining journey as fast as possible, driven by the need to quench my insatiable thirst, I pressed on after a 15 minute rest.

Finally, with an exultant whoop, I pulled in to Honiton and located a phone booth to call Bryony. After an emotional conversation (it was 12.30am I and was in fact 3 hours late), she said she would drive over to collect me. I asked a local policeman where I could acquire some water and he took me back to the Honiton police station where I drank to my heart’s desire.

It was quite an adventure; exhilarating, exhausting, educational. I realise that I am capable on my road bike, unencumbered by the weight of the panniers. However, my cycle ride across the UK was going to take more effort than I had first thought. Bizarre as it sounds, one of the reasons I was keen to undertake such a physical test was to push me well out of my comfort zone. This cycle ride informed me that I would indeed be pushed hard but that the reward afterwards would be far more than I had first thought.

Only through a great challenge can one achieve a great victory.

Google map of today’s cycle route