50ccPilgrim.uk

FAQ: What do you do when it rains? Answer: You get wet. I've been asked this question constantly since I started riding Rocinante everywhere. And I never mean to be rude or unkind when I reply but, honestly, I'm surprised people feel the need to ask ... I guess what folks really want to know is: how do you cope with the rain? But again, there's no rocket science to it. You wear waterproofs, you try to pick drier moments to ride when you can, and otherwise you just get wet and you deal with it. As any walker, runner, cyclist, moped or motorbike or horse rider will tell you, sometimes that's just fine. You feel closer to the elements, you enjoy the sensations, you feel a little more alive than people passing in their hermetically sealed metal boxes. And then at other times you get soaked through, miserable, cold and uncomfortable. And you envy  the cars and their drivers and passengers. I'm sure there's a life lesson in there somewhere. But whether or not you find...

My noble steed, Rocinante. With 50cc of raw power she can top 30mph on a good day, going downhill, with a favourable tailwind. She'll be my trusty companion on the slow pilgrimage - an ideal companion, since she's built for the right kind of speed. We've been together for a few years now and covered quite a lot of ground, near and far, in that time, but nothing remotely like this meandering trek. But I'm confident in her! Confident she'll take me to Assisi and back or die trying. Quite possibly the latter. As you probably know, I borrowed the name Rocinante from Don Quixote; it's the name he gave his bony nag after madness fried his brains and began to see it as a mighty warhorse. The original Rocinante was longsuffering but loyal, which seems about right.

Assisi and back on a 50cc moped. About two months on the road and around 5000km of travel. Detouring a lot, stopping everywhere, probably getting lost from time to time. Camping, bunking up in monasteries, sleeping rough under the stars. Praying. That, in short, is the plan. Sometime in the second half of June I'll be setting off on this quixotic pilgrimage. I've been granted three months of sabbatical leave by Launde Abbey, and I want to use the time to do something both restorative and stretching. At some point, riding my little moped back and forth around the Leicestershire countryside, the idea sprang into my mind: wouldn't it be great to ride right across Europe? So the sabbatical plan formed, and I'm in the final weeks of preparation. Mind you, to call it a 'plan' is a little bit misleading. I've got a bike, a destination, and a rough idea of the route I want to take. I've got no fixed timetable, no accommodation booked, no definite itinerary ...