A mad week. Buying tools I’ve never heard of, spares I don’t know how to fit, a front rack welded up by a mate after the one we ordered went awol. And we now have a tandem with a cable pull disc on the front, hydraulic disc on the rear and an emergency vee brake held on with jubilee clips. And yet I feel strangely relaxed. Or is that numb?
Either way we’re ready for the off. The waters off the coast of Brighton are calm, lets hope their mood extends to the Bay of Biscay and beyond.
Time has drawn a firm line under our preparations. There’s nothing more to be done because we leave in the morning. I left my anxiety somewhere between the beach and the Lewes Road this evening, so that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about fitting in the panniers.
So tomorrow we get the train to Portsmouth and then a 24 hour crossing to Santander. From there we’ll follow the Camino del Norte until we reach Ribadesela, where we turn left to Oviedo and Leon, eventually picking up the Via de la Plata to Seville. Our final stretch in Spain will take us to Tarifa, where we’ll get the boat to Tangiers and the start of the African continent. It all seems very abstract sitting here on a bed in Brighton, but it’s all about to get very real, very soon.