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signs of life. to the ends of the earth with a doctor. stephen fabes. pursuit books paperback 396pp illus. £10.99

signs of life - stephen fabes

despite the recent finish of the tour de france and the medals awarded at the olympic games, it's worth remembering, at salient points in our obsessiveness, that, at heart, the bicycle is but a means of transport. though it has been frequently pointed out that the minute anything appears with wheels, someone will want to race, the bicycle began life as a mechanical substitute for the horse and as a mechanical alternative to pedestrianism. though its form and essential functions have remained pretty much unaltered over the last hundred years, its ability to transport humans (and occasionally, small dogs) cleanly, efficiently and inexpensively, has rarely been equalled.

it is also a vehicle which confers an almost unrivalled sense of freedom upon its rider. no matter where in the world a bike is being ridden, the rider can experience his/her surroundings in a way that remains a closed shop to those inside cars, buses or trains. arguably motorcycling comes a close second, but riders of such machines are invariably required to wear certain protective attire, and there's the not inconsiderable necessity (and expense) of refuelling en-route.

thus, books such as stephen fabes' 'signs of life' are very much the result of the bicycle's ability to form the core part of the tale, without necessarily becoming an intrinsic part of the narrative. in other words, from the outset, we are aware that dr. fabes is travelling by bicycle, despite the lack of regular mentions throughout. a catalyst, if you will. for instance, while each week's edition of the comic will offer a piece by piece description of a professional's bicycle, dr fabes begins with...

"Bike fine tuned...", followed a paragraph later, by "I wheeled my new touring bicycle towards the tape..."

though the bicycle is occasionally referred to again during the opening chapter, we know not whether 'tis lugged steel, tig welded steel, aluminium or carbon. there is no note of the brand or spec of groupset, or whether it features a double or triple chainset. and though it may seem a tad trite to mention in a cycling blog, none of those points matter one whit. after all, this is a travel book, meaning, it really isn't all about the bike.

stephen fabe's credentials for heading into the wide blue yonder in the saddle, began with he and his brother planning to ride the length of chile, "from bottom to top". despite meeting with a rider who had cycled the length of the americas, a man who offered much in the way of advice, the chile trip apparently didn't go quite according to plan.

"The journey that my brother and I eventually made from one end of Chile to the other was equal parts disaster and revelation."

having qualified as a doctor and working between guys hospital and st. thomas, the beginning of a new decade brought moments of 'what if' and a constant worry that he might wake up one day with "...a passion for quilting and jigsaws". while his self-deprecating sense of humour undoubtedly contributed to his ability to suffer the slings and arrows that any wide-ranging cycle trip is bound to impose, it features sporadically and strategically thoughout this lengthy, but highly entertaining narrative. however, fabes' ventures into the great unknown almost came to a halt before properly started.

when none too far from istanbul, "A chunk of cartilage had opted to go it alone explaining the rogue lump inside my knee." [...] "Go home. Only a surgeon can fix this." the subsequent return by flight to turkey was subsequently delayed due to the eruption of an unpronounceable icelandic volcano.

fabes travels took him, quite literally around the world, cycling down through europe and africa before flying to the southern tip of south america, then heading north to alaska and another flight to melbourne, australia. this resulted in the homeward trip, up through indonesia, and northern india, before backtracking through china, outer mongolia and eventually back to europe before reaching his southern england departure point some six years later. fabes descriptive skills are frequently put to good use throughout such an extensive time on the bike

arriving in the republic of the union of myanmar, he observes, "Down the road was Kawkareik, a small town of dust and nervous dogs. Spidery men pedalled trishaws or sat in the shade of teak, leaf-proofed huts, bare chested, dragon tattoos from shoulder blades to smalls of back. A policeman approached me, stinking of liquor and sending a red jet of betel-nut paste to the ground."

as you might expect, there were many adventures to be experienced along the way, occasionally meeting up with fellow cyclists for part of the journey. There were also the varying climates with which to contend. describing the rainfall in northern india's cherrapunjee, he relates, "On an average year, around twelve metres of rain fell here. Welsh missionaries set up base in Cherrapunjee 175 years ago, but they soon gathered up their dank clothes and mouldy bibles and retreated to Shillong. I'll repeat that: the Welsh fucked off because it was too wet."

and then there was the inescapable reality of different languages and their often inscrutable dialects. one or two of those whom he met along the way spoke both english and the local linguistics, happy to translate, as the route wound through the visited country. however, fabes observations did not let him down even in this respect. "Mongolian, by the way, sounds like someone is waterboarding a Klingon." these humorous asides and observations contribute to an addictive 396 pages of travelogue, in which the bicycle is but an important adjunct to the tale. it may not have received endless mention in dispatches, but both stephen fabes, you and me know that the trip couldn't have happened without it. i'd be inclined to agree with gavin francis, author of 'adventures in human being' who is quoted as saying "A fever dream for armchair travellers..."

tuesday 27 july 2021

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