HOME • THE 1970 RIDE • THE 2002 RIDE • COLIN MARTIN

DAY 55
We had talked until the early hours of the morning consequently we were a little "woolly-headed" today. I always enjoy returning to England although the feeling of being a foreigner in the country you were born and raised in, is a dichotomy I share with many emigrants who return to the land of their birth. I spent the first 20 years of my life in England - in Australia I'm considered English and in England I'm Australian!

In the afternoon we prepared for a ride through the country lanes nearby. The last time I went for a ride with Laurence I had an accident which damaged a bike and parts of my body when a van didn't give way on a single-lane bridge. His argument was “I didn't think that I had to give way to cyclists". Fortunately, we had witnesses and his insurance company paid all costs. Marie's bike had been slightly damaged in transit from New York so she rode mine and I had to use one of Laurence’s unconventional bicycles with big wheels! We rode through a maze of country lanes, not much wider than a large car, high hedges, stone walls, small villages with thatched-roofed cottages, churches and pubs. Gentle hills to climb, freewheeling through corridors of green while our conversation drifted across fields, mingling with the chatter of birds and the drone of tractors. Talking about past experiences and planning rides in the future while time stood still in the perfect cycle touring environment. Eventually we find a small pub with low oak-beamed ceilings, horse brasses and a huge open fireplace. With cold drinks we sit in the beer garden outside. Although I love Australia this is the England I miss.

DAY 56
We managed to fix Marie's bike last night with the help of neighbours, Fred and his son, who replaced the broken parts from their collection of bikes in the garage.

We loaded our Moultons and headed towards Broadcast House in the city where I had an interview with John Peel from the BBC's Hometruths program. We had a small dispute with the security staff who requested that we leave our bikes on the busy London street instead of inside the door. I can just see the headlines - "Terrorists disguised as cycle tourists bomb BBC!"
Listen to the interview: mp3 (2.4 MB), RealAudio (2.5 MB)

After the interview we navigate through the chaos of traffic and pedestrians; London taxis, buses, men in business suits, tourists with bright shirts and huge cameras. Yesterday's farmyard smells are replaced by exhaust fumes - the contrasts of environment. Soon we arrive at Paddington Station where we push our bikes into the guard's carriage on the afternoon train to the West Country.

We watch the landscape slide by through the train window - our faces reflected in the glass, a subtle reminder that this is reality.

Although Marie and I would rather be cycling we've run out of time today and so we relax and view the towns and villages from a different perspective. By rail we are introduced to backyards, garden plots, washing lines, rusty cars, people in pyjamas, graffiti - the true personality of suburbs hidden from roads by painted front doors and window boxes. Eventually out in the countryside, I recognise small villages and roads that were part of my territory when I was a teenager. Images and experiences are extracted from the archives of my mind. A road sign or river - catalysts to a long-forgotten moment when this was my world with wild, imaginative dreams, that went way beyond its boundaries.

Later in the afternoon we are cycling through the City of Bath famous for its Roman spas. Most of the buildings constructed from Bath Stone, large blocks of off-white oolite which gives the city a distinctive character. The road climbs up through the hills as we leave the suburbs behind us and head towards Bradford on Avon, the home of Dr Alex Moulton and Moulton bicycles. The small town has been sitting in the contours of a beautiful valley since time began. Old houses cling to the hillside as traffic moves slowly through narrow streets and, in the centre, a picture postcard as a Stone bridge is reflected in the River Avon. We lean our bikes on a wall and silently watch the clear water sliding by. Were we really on the busy streets of London today?

Alex Moulton's home is a 16th century Jacobean mansion set in acres of beautiful gardens beside the River Avon. The property has been in the Moulton family for over 150 years and amongst the buildings nearby the mansion are the Alex Moulton Bicycle workshops and offices. We arrive about 5.30 pm and Alex and Shaun greet us.

Our large guest bedroom has antique furniture with memorabilia and books on tables and shelves; a variety of old paintings and drawings on the walls. The leadlight windows overlook the formal gardens with shafts of afternoon light drawing patterns on the floor.

The dining room hasn't changed much in centuries. Apart from a recent mural that surrounds the room beneath the high ceiling. It shows the Moulton family standing in front of the Hall with a panorama of the grounds on 3 walls and, behind us as we sit at the table, Moulton bicycles become part of the mural.

Alex, his brother John, Shaun, Marie and I enjoy dinner and conversation about the ride across North America and back in 1970 when the Moulton Marathon was made in the workshop here. Alex is still passionate about his bicycles and, now in his 80's, still has an abundance of energy and enthusiasm.

VISITING FAMILY AND ON TO JAPAN TO SEE THE 'MARATHON'
In the morning we explore the garden. I like the design; instead of large expanses of lawn, high hedges create a series of private areas providing the interest to move through the gardens and down through the natural vegetation with a canopy of trees beside the river. Small stone buildings hide around corners and, alongside the driveway, the AM Bicycle workshop and offices. At lunchtime my younger brother, Brian, arrives and we head off to his farm in Exmoor with the bicycles in the back of his vehicle.

Exmoor National Park in South-west England is far enough away from major cities to be relatively quiet. Since motorways have been introduced to this country the social structure of villages has changed dramatically. No longer are all the residents locally employed families who have lived in the village for generations but now professional people, commuters from the city, potters, painters, retirees have become part of the village community. Cottages and houses have been restored and even in Exmoor, 2.5 hours drive from London, people have weekend retreats.

We avoid motorways and navigate through the tangled web of roads through the picturesque village of Exford and down a steep narrow lane, a tunnel of green, holly hedges, oaks and elms until we reach Brian and Leo's Riscombe Farm at the bottom of the valley. Hens are chattering, a line of ducks dash across the road. The front door of the old stone house opens and we are greeted warmly by Leo and the children Sam 16, Tom 14, and Alice 11.

Across the laneway they own four self-contained holiday cottages, converted stone farm buildings which are rented on a weekly basis. This is wonderful country for cycle touring, horse riding (stables provided) and hiking. (www.riscombe.co.uk).

During the next few days the weather is damp but we walk through the beautiful countryside nearby. The River Exe runs behind the cottages, meandering through the valley, under stone bridges through fields and woods. My mother arrives from Highcliffe on the south coast, gives Marie and me a hug and lets us know that she's proud of our achievement.

We all celebrate with dinner at the old pub in the village, my brother-in-law, Tim, joins us. Signs on the wall remind locals about the upcoming peaceful demonstration in London on 22 September. The government is passing legislation to ban fox hunting in England. They expect 1 million protestors to participate.

During my stay I ride the Moulton across the hilly moorlands to the coast. The heathery landscape is purple speckled with off-white dots where sheep graze. Above the sea, on the horizon, is the coast of Wales - a grey wash in the distance. I cycled along these roads many years ago, up Porlock Hill (1 in 4) and down to Devon and Cornwall. I sit and gaze out to sea. Reflecting on where I've been, feeling content, and thinking about the future.

Before we leave, Leo takes us into the village to buy a couple of loaves of bread - on the horse and cart. Cars give way on the lane, smiling faces through windscreens, people wave, it's a wonderful way to travel.

Peter Knottley cycled with me on my first journey in 1970. He joined me in Villach, Austria, and we had a lot of adventures together before he returned home from Istanbul on the Orient Express. Unfortunately he has had a stroke and is spending time in a nursing home. I was hoping to visit him but time has run out - I phone Peter and he tells me he has ordered a green NS Moulton. I hope he recovers soon so that he can experience the joy of cycling once more.

We leave London and fly to Hong Kong where Marie spends a day before returning home and I spend 3 hours before flying to Nagoya in Japan.

JAPAN
I am greeted warmly by 3 men holding up a sign saying "Welcome Colin Martin to Nagoya, Alex Moulton Cycling Club." They are wearing printed T-shirts "Welcome Colin Martin, Nagoya 2002" and a picture of my old Moulton Marathon. It is overwhelming.

Mr Aoki is a successful interior designer and owner of about 60 Moulton bicycles, Sammy is manager of the bicycle shop Velo Works, and Sugahara is a keen triathlete and Moulton Cyclist.

I am taken to a hotel where I will have a day to myself tomorrow and I'm given an itinerary for Friday and Saturday. Sleep eluded me during the night - my body clock still set to Greenwich Mean-Time.

I walked into the city centre in the morning – 37ºC - escaping the heat in the Design Museum where one of the displays was the evolution of the chair. I spent some time sitting in various chairs, comparing their comfort, until I found a 1970's bean bag which was so comfortable that I almost found my lost sleep. On to the art gallery with a selection of traditional and modern works. The old paintings are complex and intricate and, in contrast, recent work is understated with a wonderful sense of design and balance. I found an old bookstore/coffee shop and drank tea while reading a couple short stories. I enjoy just sitting and watching people go by. The streets are very tidy and pedestrians rarely jaywalk, everyone has a mobile phone - even children, but they are not holding them to their ear instead it's text messages, emails and internet. Everything is high-tech here - GPS and TVs in cars, MTV music on large outdoor screens - even in my hotel room I have an electronic toilet!

The next day I am picked up at the hotel by the bike shop owner, Yasu Goto, Mr Aoki, Sammy and Sugahara and we head off to the Yagami's bike museum. It is one of the largest private collections of bicycles in the world from Hobby Horses to racing bikes plus accessories - lights, saddles, caps etc. They even have a Moulton Mk3. I could have spent most of the day there but I particularly enjoyed examining a shaft drive bicycle (1903) an old Pedersen and European touring bikes from the 50's and 60's.

It's lunchtime and we're heading down a road towards Mr Aoki's house. Conventional buildings line each side of the street and then his house appears - glass walls and polished metal, giant boxes held at four points by huge brackets - like a meccano set - inside, polished wooden floors, ebony cupboards, stainless steel cables, metal pipes and state-of-the-art electronic appliances. Mrs Aoki greets me warmly with a smile and a handshake, I bow in the traditional Japanese manner. In the corner of the lounge, on a stand, is the Moulton Marathon. Everybody is awaiting my reaction as I walk over to examine the bicycle with a smile on my face. It's exactly as I remember; the colour, handlebars, saddle, double bottle holder, crank set ...... absolutely amazing! Suddenly the clock was turned back 32 years and, as I held the handlebars, I was 20 years old again! Images that became blurred over the years were now clearer. It is like meeting an old friend you haven't seen for a long time. Two journalists and a photographer arrive from Tokyo. They are covering my story for bicycle magazines and, over a beautiful lunch, we discuss the original journey and the ride I've just completed. Mrs Aoki opens a couple of bottles of champagne and we all relax. Our dialogue has already established it's own rules and rhythm and, when words get tangled, Yasu Goto, who speaks excellent English, is happy to translate. When the invisible barriers of language and culture are dropped we are essentially very similar, laughing at the same jokes and sharing conversation about our experiences.

After lunch we head off to Velo Works, Yasu Gotto's bike store. Mrs Aoki, her son aged 14 and daughter 9 wave goodbye from the driveway and, as I look back and wave, images fast forward to the day when I can hug my children again. They have been following my journey closely, it has even become a bit of a school project and, next week, I'll be taking my bicycle to the classrooms where I can tell my story and answer questions.

When we arrive at the large bicycle store I'm greeted by members of the Moulton Bicycle Club wearing 'Welcome Colin Martin' t-shirts. I feel uncomfortable with the celebrity label in Japan - it's enjoyable promoting cycling and Moulton Bicycles but I don't deserve their accolades. I'm just an ordinary man who has turned some of his dreams into reality. The bicycle store has an area devoted to Moultons and accessories - AM Speed Pylons, AM Stainless, AM 18, Jubilee, AMGT and the Speed S.

Half an hour later we are cycling through the streets of Nagoya. Twelve Moulton bicycles, a long line of small wheels snaking through the laneways, bike paths, over bridges, beside rivers. People stop and watch with a smile, motorists give way as we cross roads. The photographer appears and takes shots of the group as we ride by, Mr Aoki beside me. We disappear over a hill and into the suburbs under an azure sky in the hot Japanese summer.

In the evening we have a banquet in a pseudo Belgian town square. Inside, air-conditioned, with 3 dimensional building fronts and facias surrounding us it seemed a somewhat bizarre but a very enjoyable venue for our 'get-together'. I sat opposite Jiro Tominari from Dynavector Systems in Tokyo, he's the importer of Moulton bicycles in Japan. He also imports old British motorcycles - BSAs, Triumphs, Velocettes and the like. "Most of them come from the USA, not England".

The following morning Mr Aoki and his daughter, Mr Goto, Sammy and Sugahara arrive as I'm checking out of the hotel. We bundle my bike and the bags into the back of a Torago van and drive to the Toyota Motor Museum. Hundreds of vehicles from the first cars in the 1890s through to the latest electric vehicles. I particularly enjoyed the old European cars - Bugattis, Alpha Romeos and Delage; they have a character that is lost in the modern car.

It's lunch time and we're back at the bike shop. I study the Marathon with Mr Aoki and, on the bottom bracket is stamped 71-2 which would mean it was a Marathon I owned in Australia over 30 years ago. It is very likely the bicycle that was sent to me after the original Marathon was stolen in 1971. I built a yacht with the intention of sailing around the world and sold the bike in 1975 when I was short of funds.

I had a wonderful time in Japan, thanks to the hospitality of Mr Aoki, Mr Goto and all the Moulton cyclists.

At 8 am the following morning, after flying all night via Taiwan and Hong Kong, I'm hugging my family and friends at Cairns airport. I feel like I've been away for a year, so many experiences and 8 kilos lighter!
We drive out of town towards our home in Trinity Beach through the green cane fields with a back drop of hills, one white cockatoo answering the blue. Marie looks at me with a smile "well done darling". I look back and reply "thanks for being part of the adventure". After some silence Lauren leans forward and asks "when's your next adventure?"

I would like to thank all the people who have emailed and helped me throughout my journey. I'm still trying to catch up with correspondence as I would like to reply to everyone personally.

I intend to keep this website as an ongoing project with regular updates on the statistics and performance of the bicycle and equipment used during the coast to coast ride. I am in the process of writing a book about my bicycle adventures.

Colin Martin
28 August 2002

Image Gallery