Coast to Coast

140 miles Coast to Coast (C2C) in 3 days what a mad idea! When I was pushing my bike up yet another steep hill on the 2nd day it occurred to me what was wrong with this idea. It’s the coast to cast bit. This means you start out at sea level climb up a lot and then coast(!) down to sea level again. And the climbing up a lot in this case meant the Pennines. I actually climbed to the highest point on the cycling network in Britain!

So the form is that you start your journey by dipping your back wheel in the sea (don’t ask me why I don’t know but that’s the ritual). It was great fun seeing someone fall off their back into the sea at this point! And this was the promise of more water to come, 4 hours of rain on the Friday, 2 hours on the Saturday and a good hour on the Sunday.

There was some magic scenery which I experience in a more vivid way when I was not too tired to notice it that is. The view of the lake outside Keswick, lots of beautiful Pennine Hills viewed from the bottom, middle, false summit, and top. There’s a wonderful converted railway track that runs across the moors up from Stanhope which is slightly elevated and the view is stunning.

The climb up to summit of Hartrigg was hard work and d-espiriting. At the top was a café full of about 50 cyclists and a few bikers all over 40 and 95% male. Some of them in bare feet which was curious until I noticed the open fire with about 30 pairs of wet cycling shoes drying out in front of it! A strange sporty male vibe – which I am not sure I like, it was a bit like male skiers but not so narcissistic. Everyone, everyone had whippet legs and some with very over developed calve muscles. Lots of home made cakes. After a full English I could only eat cake.

Born in the West Midland I feel that living in Manchester and the North West that I am living with a cousin tribe. This C2C trip took me farther North into Cumbria, Northumberland, Durham and Tyneside. I loved the quiet unegotistic but friendly people who lived in the farms and villages I met en route. They felt like tribal cousins once removed.

The cyclists I met en route looked out for each other. You only had to stop for a breather, or a swig of water, or a bite of a fruit bar for people to say: ‘You OK?’. 90% of the cyclists (and runners and walkers) I passed swapped greetings with me and several of them I met up with again and again, passing and being passed. It’s like being a sailor - you look out for one another as you never know when help might be needed. And one of the people I was cycling with for a while had a glancing encounter with a tree branch in the twilight and crashed with a great groan. He looked a bit twisted up and I thought maybe his leg was broken but once I untangled his bike from him he was OK if somewhat bruised. He didn’t even have to tell me to ‘Put me back on the bloody bike!’

Noticeably when I got to Newcastle people cyclists stopped replying to my ‘Hi’ but these were city people and not on a long distance bike ride. Also noticeably when I got to Newcastle the heavens opened but at least earlier on I had seen a rainbow and occasionally the sun. Indeed the seeing sun at all was so rare that I uttered a prayer of thanksgiving every time I saw it!

So I am looking forward to my next cycling adventure and still California dreaming of the East Coast of North America. Coast sounds good! My next trip will be less steep hilly and probably not on a mountain bike though I did love having suspension.

Best to all, Bill not on bike today but resting his weary body :)

Where are you?

Where are you?

Where are you my sister?
Where are you my brother?
You turn up in my dreams
And you feel like you are very near
I can talk to you
But you don’t answer
At least not in words

I hope to see you again
Some day over the rainbow
But right now it’s raining

He's far away

He’s far away

Awake early
The sun’s not up
But I am
I’m stone
And cold
And sober
Now

And the tea’s drunk
And the milk has run out
And so have you
But you’re still here
In body
If not in spirit

And he’s dead
And wont come back
And I can almost feel him
Just out of reach

God your spirit was good

Even though they were running out of medicines to try you on
And the possible transplant was still only on the horizon
God your spirit was good

With a face swollen by steroids
And hair thinned by chemotherapy
And a swollen all but useless right leg
God your spirit was good

I came away in mourning
For the healthy man I remember
And full, not of pride, nor of hope
But of the friendship we still share
And God your spirit was good.

Public Service and me

As you know it has been calling to work in the University sector since 1993. I have two recent reflections to make.

Firstly I have been battling all this last academic year to preserve a key programme in our raft of counselling courses. After 3 attempts in July, Autumn and February we finally appointed a new time limited member of staff. So at that point following the shuffle of tasks within the team I could plan to recruit a new cohort to the programme. I made the 'mistake' of telling a superior I intended to do this so that numbers could be tallied. All hell broke loose and suddenly the minor matter of me recruiting 6 part time students got snarled up into the mega HE changes in my institution. Programme recruitment on hold and promises of of aan early decision were made but deadlines passed other promises got made etc. Just before my recent holiday I got a meeting with the Head he said 'Yes' but on the basis that my course was subsumed into a bigger School wide one and out of my control. With a bit more ranting and raving from various quarters that was it. Well a battle not won, not lost and something salvaged.

What I am not telling you in the strain on me all this politicking took. But there's people for you, imperfect lovable - everyone with their own shadow and interpersonal history. But most of our hearts most of the time are in the right place!

Secondly, as some of you know my delight has been to explore therapy and spirituality and research and culture and healing. I dwell in this stuff and I teach around it and people come and research it with me and we talk about it. So wider society through taxation and student fees has supported me in all these years dwelling in these topics. I am profoundly grateful and have done my very best in all all my imperfectness to honour this calling and this contract.

And yes it all could have been even better if I had been just a bit more healed and savvy but maybe because of my failings and because of my colleagues failings, maybe some of this has been grit that produced the pearl? I dunno people including me are as we are.

And now as I look over the fence at life beyond working full-time here I am excited and scared. One question I regularly ask myself is: If I died today what would my regrets be if anything? There is little I haven't done yet apart from publishing a novel or two and a poetry book. I want more time with my children and grand children and yes to cycle from Vancouver to Santa Barbara! More time with friends, more time alone, more cafes, restaurants and bookshops to visit. The health to enjoy it. But who knows. I am at peace right now :)

Truthing

Truthing

When I leave
Inaccurate stories
Will be told
About me

And I must confess
I have enjoyed
Some of them

But no
I have never
Lived in a monastery
Spent a night in jail
Or slept with a best friend’s wife

I have
Seen the dawn rise gloriously
Over the motorway
In a hitched car
Slept in a park near Calais
Spent a cold night
Awake in a bus shelter in Ramsgate
Grafittied walls in Manchester and Notting Hill

Visited people
In hospitals for the criminally insane
Scary places but mostly not scary people

I have
Failed gloriously
And not so gloriously
With some mad schemes
Like the two headed match

And succeeded
Beyond my wildest dreams
At other things equally mad
Like weirdly academic writing and teaching

When I leave
Inaccurate stories
Will be told about me

Existing for now

Went to visit the family graves on Monday. This poem turned up:

Existing for now

Standing by your graves
In the pouring rain
Having one-sided conversations
And re-feeling the pain

Death does have a dominium
And as it gets more
I am reduced
For I am not an island

But even though the sea
Is washing me away
I have been here before
And I will come again