DRAWING BREATH : A COASTAL PUSHBIKE JOURNEY

HASTINGS TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT : 31.5.09 - 29.6.09

2009-07-16T12:55:00.010+01:00

This cycle ride is the second journey undertaken as part of my Drawing Breath arts and health project. It follows a ride in 2007 between Whitstable and Hastings which is also recorded in this blog. A group collaborative exhibition, "Drawing Breath Recycled" about this earlier ride followed, opening at the Horsebridge Arts and Community Centre in Whitstable in October last year, and this is currently touring hospitals in the south of England.

A black and white version of the Hastings to Isle of Wight blog was posted on the first floor of the Horsebridge Centre, throughout the journey.

The blog has now been reversed online so that the whole journey can be read as a chronological narrative event. Clicking on 2009 in the left hand archive will enable you to view the entire journey blog without break.

The project was designed to be interactive but, unlike my 2007 ride, the site's Forum page has not been functioning well so apologies if you were among the people who tried to post comments there.

24 May 2009 - Preparations

2009-07-16T12:54:00.002+01:00

This time, further from home and knowing fewer people on this section of the coast I will be camping about half of the time. Last week my pop-up tent arrived from Filthy Fox Festival Gear in a fetching shade of plum, an improvement on the alternative choice: a Cath Kidson style flowery version of the same model. These tents pop up dramatically, good when you're exhausted, but warnings about the impossibility of popping them down again has necessitated a rehearsal camping overnight in the back garden of friends (thank you Moi+Cath). And courtesey of an online instruction video and lots of help, I am now proficient at re-packing it.

Yesterday I visited an outlet of the National Balloon Association to buy long skinny ones to build a large blow-up bicycle at a Breathe Easy group beach event on the Isle of Wight. They look like a pile of worms and prove impossible to blow up with one's own breath. They will require a pump which somewhat defeats the purpose of the exercise. And it extends the metaphor of breath-created balloon sculptures in the direction of supplementary oxygen.

"Airwall" Interactive audience project during exhibition Drawing Breath Recycle: Maps and Journeys (2008 at Horsebridge Gallery, Whitstable, now touring)

"Community Lungs" Conquest Hospital, end of day 9 April 2009

Recent research trials suggest that when oxygen is given to lung disease patients, it works better when mixed with helium, rather than the "room air" which is currently used. Interesting high frequency soundscapes can be anticipated on respiratory wards if this is adopted as standard practice.

28 May 2009 - The post arrives .....

2009-07-16T12:52:00.002+01:00

A good luck card from Connie has arrived in the post. I met her in 2007 at a cycling club for people with disabilitiies before setting out on my previous journey. Within 5 minutes she had asked me to stay with her when I reached Broadstairs.
Connie has survived a raft of medical problems and still manages to visit the cycling club but in former times she would think nothing of cycling 60 miles in one day. When I stayed with her we watched the Tour de France together. She is on the left here with her niece, Kim.

28 May 2009 - Countdown to Sunday

2009-07-16T12:48:00.001+01:00

Finishing the last ride at Hastings Old Town in 2007

And now about to leave for the Isle of Wight from the lifeboat station in Hastings Old Town this Sunday 31 May at 11 am .....

30/31 May 2009 - Overnight on Romney Marsh

2009-07-16T12:43:00.004+01:00

7.30 a.m.

We are staying with Jo on Romney Marsh.

I stayed with her during my 2007 ride between Whitstable and Hastings, so this seems right. She is a great host, it's very serene here surrounded by the Marsh and too nice to leave.

But needs must, and with Jo's help I weigh myself, then myself plus my load, and subtract the weight I've already been cycling with (weights totalling 22 lbs) in my panniers. My baggage is now 25 lbs, so thankfully not much more than I've already become used to. (Photo: Jo Nelson)

We head for Hastings, past the turquoise sheep near Jo's house, and past people doing Sunday things - boot fairs, joggers, roaring bikers on their way to a convention.

31 May 2009 - Day 1: Hastings to Bexhill

2009-07-16T12:39:00.007+01:00

Hastings
10.15 am

Unloading the bike from the car, the back tyre is flat and won't hold air. Disaster looms, when miraculously Tom and Laurie from my Breathe Easy group arrive to represent our Breathe Easy Canterbury group.

Tom has wine, a Breathe Easy banner, and most importantly inner tube skills. He sets about mending the tyre, while three members of Hastings Urban Bikes arrive - Melanie, Sheena and Bernie - who will be riding with me to Bexill. Brook and Valerie, friends from home, also turn up. While Tom is mending the tyre, I meet folk from Hastings Urban Bonfire Group and exchange details about our plans.

11.30 a.m.
Departure
26C, 29% humidity, wind north-easterly but changeable.

O.S. Explorer Map No. 124
Distance cycled: 5.2 miles

We cycle along the promenade, passing Hastings landmarks: the pier which is locked, lonely and unsafe, and Marine Court - flats built in the thirties to represent the luxory of the Queen Mary liner.

We pass rocks called Goat Ledge, and close to Bexhill, My Lord's Rock.

Pedalling feels harder than I expected. I'm not even carrying the weight of the tent as this is being delivered to Bexhill by Rita. With a following wind and a level surface I still don't have enough oxygen to speak. After small but quite steep section of the A259 where I have to get off and push, we arrive for a rest at the Beach Cafe and I realise the front brakes are locked onto one side of the tyre. Bernie adjusts them so after a drink we carry on around Galley Point along the top of the sea defence wall and onto the Bexhill pier, passing the Bexhill 100 Motor Club's vintage car exhibition on the way, with crowds cheering its organiser.

My companions recommend the Colonnades cafe below the de la Warr Pavilion as cheaper by far. And so it turns out to be. This part of Bexhill is alive with a delightful chaos of architectural styles, from the art deco of the Pavilion to nearby minarets influenced by the Maharajah of Cooch Behar at the turn of the last century.

Sheena departs for a Hastings Area Archeological Research Group Roman dig she is expected at, while Bernie cycles on to visit his daughter-in-law who has a beach hut further on. When he returns he speaks of his father, a fireman who never smoked yet died from emphysema, at a time when there was little awareness of the pollutant nature of smoke and ash from fires.

Above the Colonnades is the de la Warr Pavilion where we meet Rosemary and Laurie who have driven out from East Kent.

Laurie Duggan is an Australian poet whose work is grounded in his walks and other travels.

After dropping my bike and baggage with Mary, who I will stay with tomorrow night, we head back for Whitstable, listening to Edward Thomas' "Roads", and "The road not travelled" by Robert Frost on the radio.

There is a party at home in Whitstable that I don't want to miss at the new Salt Marsh restaurant (01227 272955), just opened by Tony Tarratts who also runs the "achingly rustic" cafe - a true community hub at the other end of our road.

A big thank you to the Hastings Urban Bike people - Sheena, Bernie and Melanie, the rides co-ordinator - for supporting my first day's ride. I hope we meet again.

1 June 2009 - Day 2: Back to Bexhill (Sidley)

2009-07-16T12:36:00.001+01:00

2.30 p.m.

Returned on the train to Sidley yesterday, taxi to Mary's house. Mary Hooper is an artist who, working in Arts and Healthcare based at Conquest Hospital, first encouraged me to develop this project.

Sidley, she tells me, was originally a clearing for charcoal burners, developed as a staging post for passing coaches and has now been subsumed within Eastbourne's urban expansion.

Mary's house is a visual feast, "just ideas", she says, "a sketchbook". She plays me the soundtrack of work she is doing with junior school pupils about English apples - chidren's voices harmonising rhythms of these old apple names we seldom hear any more.

7.30 p.m.

Mary drives me to a rehearsal of the Battle Choral Society established in 1903 of whom eighty-nine are fresh from a successful concert on Saturday night at the de la Warr Pavilion.

I speak to Tricia who has severe asthma, and Marjorie, who had polio at six months, and whose husband died of emphysema. They and everyone else I speak to confirms the benefit of regular singing for lung health.

Back at Mary's I photograph her youngest son Pete's tattoos, executed by his older brother Thomas who works as a tattooist in Brooklyn, NYC.

Pete is keen racing cyclist. With the sweet fitness of youth he finds it hard to understand my own limitations.

2 June 2009 - Day 3: Sidley to Norman's Bay

2009-07-16T12:35:00.005+01:00

3.15 p.m.
Temperature 23.1C, humidity 27%, sunny with light south-easterly wind.
O.S. Explorer Map No. 124
Distance cycled: 8.4 miles

Downhill ride from Mary's to reconnect with the Bexhill promenade where cycling is not allowed. But it's too pretty to leave, with flowers everywhere and glorious sun. But the prom ends with no path, with shingle and no clear route up to the road. But to the rescue Ray cycles up, takes his bike across 100 yards of shingle up a steep, slope and then miraculously comes back for mine.

He asks me about my ride and tells me he's survived throat cancer.

I miss my turning at Cooden Beach station, and cycle an unnecessary extra and very hilly mile. When I get to Norman's Bay station I narrowly miss getting hit by a horn-blaring express train as I struggle to get my bike through the narrow crossing gate and across the tracs. The Railtrack man could have helped but clearly feels he is not there to assist the public.

Norman's Bay is cut off from the world by the railway line which runs parallel to the shore. The houses look shabby and expensive. A glimpse of a Cristo sculpture, and then Ray cycling back again and telling me the campsite is just 10 minutes away.

The campsite is rather genteel, the staff friendly, and I get a sheltered pitch looking across at the marshes.

After dinner I go for a walk.

Fishermen and women tell me the strange object is a martello tower being privately renovated as a home.

I return to mine, and layers of clothes, sleeping bag and thermal blanket.

3 June 2009 - Day 4: Normans Bay to Eastbourne

2009-07-16T12:33:00.003+01:00

6.30 a.m.

A morning of pottering, re-packing and making phone calls.
Andy and Della come over with a big fluffy dog called Meda. Andy asks about my pop-up tent, which he calls a "self-erection" tent. They have a proper tent, unlike my nearest neighbours who have something the size of a house and a 4x4 which could single-handedly destroy the ozone layer. Della's parents have recently moved to Whitstable, my home town.

12.24 p.m.
Temp: 19.6C, humidity 42%, wind easterly, strong, and chilly.
Distance cycled: 8.3 miles
O.S Explorer Map No. 124/123

Not far to Pevensay Bay where I stop for a drink at the Beach Tavern newly acquired by Sonia and Steph. It was sadly neglected and Sonia tells me of her plans to turn it around, bit by bit as money allows. She invites me to return in a year's time to compare.

Cycle on through Crumbles and the new marina development, Sovereign Harbour. The architecture is faux wharf-warehouse, and there is a little Italy corner full of over-priced restaurants - Pablos, Piscari's,and Simply Italy. Further on I lose my way, marooned in a complex of new-build mascerading as old.

Further on I get help in re-loading my bike at the top of steep steps from Tony who has serious bronchitus and is out on his daily walk,then cycle along the forbidden promenade into Eastbourne and eat at the Old Bakery,

before training it to Lewes where I'm staying with Penny and Dave.

Dave's group Contraband are rehearsing. Members Ian from Seahaven Cycling Group and Glen from the National Trust help me with my route over Beachy Head and Cuckmere Haven.

4 June 2009 - Day 5: Eastbourne - Beachy Head - Birling Gap

2009-07-16T12:32:00.003+01:00

11.00 a.m.
Lewes

Despite the stress of dealing with a blocked drain, Dave helps me with blogging problems. I finally leave for Eastbourne on the train after lunch.

2.30 p.m.
Temp: 19.4C, humidity: 25%, partial cloud cover, light south westerley wind
O.S. Explorer Map No. 123
Total distance cycled: 6 miles

Leaving from Eastbourne rail station, I cycle out of town passing old folks" homes and private schools. I get help from Helen when lost and disorientated. She walks her dog up the hill with me to show me a way through to a quieter road.
This is a major push job, up and up, made worse by the brakes binding again. Push 40 paces, rest one minute, and so on. Leaving Helen I finally get to the Beachy Head pub, still pushing. but over the top its downhill all the wa – three miles of it, lovely, a screaming experience of pure joy - until i get to the Birling Gap Hotel where friends Janet and Sarah have bought me a night's stay.

I meet Rita there; before dinner there's a minor incident - I've cut myself on a tin of peas I was opening with my penknife as a stop gap snack. It may need a stitch, there's so much blood, but we do our best with what we've got. And dinner is very tasty.

After an East Enders catch-up, a climb down to the beach which is bleakly beautiful in the fading light. Up above, the sea has that sound of waves hissing and pulling on the shingle, somehow magnified by the greater distance. Further exploration of Beachy Head will wait til tomorrow.

5 June 2009 - Day 6: Exploring Eastbourne and Beachy Head

2009-07-16T12:29:00.004+01:00

8.30 a.m.

Breakfast:

We are greeted in the dining room with a over-blown sub-Russ Conway version of Lara’s theme and Victorian jugs on every surface.

Most of the morning is spent attempting to blog in the bar, with a dodgy signal holding things up.
Giving up we head for Eastbourne via Beachy Head. It’s every bit as dramatic as we’ve been told but we are unprepared for the underlying voyeurism embedded in the tourism experience. And flirtation with the edge.....

Hard to forget the people who jump; only last week a despairing couple jumped over the edge with the body of their disabled son. And yet in the nearby Countryside Centre there are jokey references to this strange vertigo pull it’s impossible to ignore.

2.00 p.m.

In Eastbourne we meet Rosa Ainley who has brought her new work to be included in the Drawing Breath Recycled exhibition which is due to open at Eastbourne District General Hospital on 10th June.

We call by the new Towner Gallery.

We see new work by Ivan Navaro "Nowhere Man" in the window: a deckchair frame made from neon lights and forming the stripes of the canvass, the names of people who have been executed by electric chair.

The disjunction between differing connotations of these two kinds of chair reminds me of a favourite work – Patina de Prey’s Memorial Dress, by Hunter Reynolds, where a a long black ballgown worn by a model of a beautiful young man is printed with long lists of people who have died from HIV/AIDS.

Dinner in the Tiger pub at East Dean is good, following a ride up to Wilmington to see the Long Man.

A tourist kind of day: ancient landscape and the fragility of humanity which flirts with death, while simultaneously defending against it.

6 June 2009 - Day 7: Birling Gap to Seaford

2009-07-16T12:26:00.002+01:00

3.20 p.m.
Temp: 18C, humidity: 31%, wind strong easterly, light cloud cover
O.S. Explorer Map No. 123
Distance cycled: 7.9 miles

After a morning blogging, a quick trip to Eastbourne to buy a tiny wind-up radio, I say a sad goodbye to the Birling Gap Hotel who have been supportive and helpful and leave for a journey I'm not confident about. But I still have the rose - "Compassion" - that Jo gave me for luck when I left the first day.

The first part of journey is uphill against strong wind to East Dean,

where I look in at a Bupa home refurbishment celebration. The Salvation Army are playing, but not being into private health care or religion I pass swiftly on along the worst road I've yet encountered. It's narrow, uphill, with queues of fumey cars and irritable drivers having to wait behind me while I pause regularly to regain my breath.

But the route through Friston Forest is peaceful and lovely. It's uphill and I have to stop a lot. I record each rest.

At a crossroads I'm very unclear which way I should go. But the gods are kind and barreling down the steep track opposite come Jeanette and Mike who set me right.

Jeanette questions me about emphysema - she's shocked when I tell her it doesn't take large numbers of cigarettes to cause the damage - and says she wants to give up smoking. She cycles a lot now as her knees have suffered after years as a runner.

The very few people I see today are all cyclists; Brandon and Katie help me with a puncture near West Dean, following which I cross the Cuckmere River, and more country tracks over National Trust land,

finally hitting the coast around 6.45 pm. It's an easy ride then to Buckle Caravan Park to pitch the tent and settle for the night. Many thanks to Glen from the National Trust who helped me work out the route.

Sunday morning: 1.30 a.m.

RAIN! I wake in trepidation to rain pounding my little tent. There's no flysheet and I don't know if it will hold up but the next morning, despite a few small puddles at the edges I'm snug and warm and dry in my sleeping bag and the sun is shining through the tent.

7 June 2009 - Day 8: Seaford - Newhaven - Brighton

2009-07-16T12:25:00.005+01:00

7.30 a.m.

It's sunny but with ominous lurking clouds. Drying and packing take a while.

Breakfast at Buckle Caravan Park is basic but adequate, though later I make phone calls and Sue tells me I should be eating more carbs. The site is drying out after heavy rain but everything looks fresh ... for the time being.

12.30 p.m.
Temp: 20.4C, humidity: 32%, wind south south west, sunny periods turning to rain.
O.S. Explorer Nos. 123/122
Distance cycled: 14.4 miles

Up on the beach the sea is ultramarine but it's time to leave. National Cycle Route 2 is a path meandering alongside the A259, eventually leading to Newhaven station and that train again.

Newhaven port is right by the station. In a fantasy moment I had packed my passport, and with such uncertain weather I was considering spending four dry hours each way on the Newhaven ferry.

Unfortunately, despite a boat waiting, there isn't one scheduled so no choice but to continue on towards Brighton,

past the jetty and on up a long, long, straight uphill road through a council estate, with radio and conversation spilling out of windows, and two young girls practising their drum majorette flag twirls. At the top I stop at a store for snacks, before continuing along the Route 2 path. Coming into Peacehaven at the junction with the A259 there is a bulding which is marked as a motel (the Brighton Motel) on the O.S. map, but has had a more recent incarnation and now derelict. So unsurprising they didn't return my calls.

Route 2 continues parallel to the coast but higher and away from the traffic, and halfway along this stretch it crosses the Greenwich Meridian. It starts to rain, becomes heavy, but the excitement of reaching the Undercliff path into Brighton makes it bearable.

The path is empty of people and very wet.

It continues past the marina development and soggy graffiti

on towards the pier where I turn left to stay with Rachel, who rents a room in a rather grand house off the Lewes Road. Too tired to cook, we go out to eat a delicious Japanese meal.

7 June 2009 - A sad day

2009-07-16T12:24:00.001+01:00

Gutted at the election of two BNP members to the European Parliament, and a feeling of total disenfranchisement from the entire party political system, I want to record an optimistic alternative.

When staying in Lewes, we discussed the Transition Town movement, a world wide network which is addressing how we will live when oil has peaked and begins to run out. Whitstable where I live is a Transition Town and Lewes has held Transition Town status for some time with some well developed economic initiatives.

This is the Lewes pound with the Queen replaced by eighteenth century English radical Thomas Paine. These notes are used in much of the town in place of conventional pound coins, and are accepted in shops and banks. When first issued they sold on e-bay for around £20 each but they are designed to be used within Lewes to encourage local trading.

8 June 2009 - Day 9: Brighton sings!

2009-07-16T12:19:00.001+01:00

1.15 p.m.

I am in Brighton until Thursday morning. I have arranged to visit Udita Everett's Singing Therapy for Health and Wellbeing for people with lung disease and breathing difficulties. Udita, a holistic voice coach, is charismatic and passionate in her belief in the benefits of singing for lung health.

Udita has given training sessions for the Sidney de Haan Research Centre for Arts and Health, where I am patient representative on the steering group of their singing and c.o.p.d. (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease) project. Udita's group is well attended and sings with gusto. I bellow out in a croaky tenor and feel re-energised by the time I leave. Several of the group ask me about Drawing Breath and request the link to read the blog.

7.30 p.m.

Rita has arrived and we drive over to Trisha and Susy's and we end the evening sharing a meal with several old friends.

9 June 2009 - Day 10: Sustrans rocks!

2009-07-16T12:17:00.002+01:00

12.45 p.m.

A mostly downhill ride to meet Chris Boocock from Sustrans. Chris's role is to negotiate and set up new cycle routes and be an advocate for cycling and walking.

It's a fortuitous meeting as, after lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant, Chris fixes the front brakes of my ailing steed.

He even cycles with me to Evans to refit a new inner tube and protect both front and back tube with SLIME - a product which adheres to the inside of the tube and helps prevent punctures - real cycling solidarity.

It's National Bike Week from this Saturday - 14th June-21st June. Brighton and Hove's bike week features the fourth World Naked Bike Ride - "Bare What You Dare". I'm considering it.

From the Brighton Argos 2006.

Brighton, despite its hills, feels cycle-friendly. There are cycle parks and stands everywhere, and cycle routes around the city. The map I picked up at Evans Cycles is very clear and helpful, though I still get lost cycling back to Hollingbury in the evening.

10 June 2009 - Day 11: Brighton & Hove Breathe Easy Group

2009-07-16T12:14:00.002+01:00

1.15 p.m.

Rita is returning home and she gives me a lift to Portslade Village where I'm giving a talk about my Drawing Breath project to members of Brighton and Hove Breathe Easy support group. I pitch up after eating a hasty fish and chips in the park opposite and get a warm welcome from the group.

It's their A.G.M. first, then the talk. There are lots of questions and they are a lovely appreciative audience.

A raffle presided over by Liza follows the talk. This group has a vibrant energy. Many exercise regularly and the group has raised money to employ qualified trainers to teach breathing exercises, and tai chi is planned for the autumn.

I get a lift back into Brighton and fall asleep after dinner in front of the TV, while Susy and Tricia watch a dvd.

11 June 2009 - Day 12: Brighton-Shoreham-Lancing

2009-07-16T12:13:00.004+01:00

11.45 a.m.

Farewell to Tricia and Susy. I've renewed one friendship, started a new one and feel sad to leave.
A long cycle ride from their house in Hollingbury into the town where a public consultation is taking place.

Options are set out on the other side, with a preference and comments book on the other side.

I cycle along Edward Street uphill past law courts, police, job centre, resting and snapping on the way,

to the new Alexandra Children's Hospital I've been told about in the grounds of the Royal Sussex County Hospital.

The hospital's design is based on the Ark; huge amounts of money have been lavished on it, while back in the centre of town an NHS dental practice lies derelict and websites proliferate instructing people who cannot afford private dental care on DIY extractions.

1.40 p.m.
Temp: 16.4c, humidity: 59%, wind westerly and very strong. Cloudy.
O.S. Explorer Map No. 122
Distance travelled: 13 miles

There's a splash of blue and yellow next to the pier. It's a Scope action during 'Time to Get Equal' week, and they are collecting pledges of support for disability issues from the public.

We exchange stories; I talk to Ron and Jamie (Scope's campaigns manager) from their London office, and Rosa from the Brighton branch. I tell them I used to do photo commissions for Scope many years ago.

But I have to go, and set out into a head-on wind, pier to pier. There isn't much left of the west pier now.

The wind turns into rain and, taking refuge in a urine-stinking shelter across from recycling bins, I feel weak and demoralized, and have to remind myself that I chose to do this; nobody forced me to, and there are worse things in the world than being stuck in a smelly shelter.
And eventually the rain passes, though the wind remains, requiring double effort to pedal.

Beyond Hove there are wharfs where I talk to a marine insurance surveyor who is checking the weight of a "beam trawler". All the fishing boats are moored up as it's too rough at sea.

I pass through the bleak industrial wasteland of Portslade by Sea; Parker Steel, Dean Dyball Construction, Hanson's Solent Aggregates Ltd., who are moving piles of stuff around with CAT diggers (RIP Rachel Corrie).

The air smells bad; heaven knows what toxic dust and chemicals are flying around in the wind.

But crossing the lock back to the mainland is gorgeous. The evening sun comes out and the world looks beautiful.

After an obnoxious man tells me I HAVE to go on via the rush-hour-busy main road, I nearly miss adventures. Of course there's another way; I cycle through quiet town streets, longer but nicer by far, and emerge opposite the footbridge over the Adur Estuary footbridge.

The tide is out.

On the far side there are moorings for houseboat conversions of motor torpedo boats and other antique vessels, many from world wars 1 and 2.

There's a footpath alongside them and I meet Mike and Marshall who are part of this varied community.

I tell them about the converted 52' WW1 naval pinnace where I lived on the Thames when I first left home.

7.30 p.m.

The campsite - Barn Caravan Park - is almost empty. I get a sheltered pitch, and a donation of the pitch fee to the British Lung Foundation from Joe who works there.
Before turning in, dinner is: one banana, ricecakes with yeast extract (courtesy of Tricia), cheese, raisons, sunflower seeds, almonds and brazel nuts. Plus half a bar of Green & Blacks dark chocolate.

12 June 2009 - Day 13: Lancing to Worthing

2009-07-16T12:11:00.002+01:00

4.15 a.m.

An enthusiastic cockeral is crowing. It carries on relentlessly but i get back to sleep. Later when eyeballed severely, it stops for a full twenty minutes.

At 7.30 I wake woozy from deep sleep and find the neighbours' horses being moved from stable to field.

After packing and drying the outside of the tent, which has to be upended like a distressed turtle and tethered to prevent its escape on the wind, the regular and by now inevitable struggle begins to pop the damn thing down.

Dennis is playing with his grandson, Rupert, nearby. He's sympathetic, which is better than ribald laughter at my previous efforts last campsite, and offers me coffee across the field. They are there with Jean, his partner, to be near their daughter who has just had a baby. Dennis was a retired RAF man and tells me about the small aircraft constantly flying past from nearby flying schools.

He asks me where I'm heading and tells me his brother has chronic bronchitus but still exercises daily.

12.00 p.m.
Temp: 21c, humidity: 45%, wind: light westerley
O.S. Explorer Maps 122/121
Distance travelled: 6.4 miles

I have to get into Worthing for the monthly Worthing Breathe Easy meeting at 2.30. It's a gentle path along the shore, under light cloud.

Towards the end of the Worthing promenade there is a municiple display which shows how far the influence of Derek Jarman's garden on Dungeness has reached. But this is very static and "arranged". It lacks the Jarman anarchic spirit.

2.30 p.m.

There is a talk and demonstration of nebulisers by sales representatives from Phillips Respironics. They have brought us chocolates.

I give my talk after tea, then chat to Val. Everyone is welcoming, and I stay overnight with Sheila, the group's chair, overnight in Finden village, north of Worthing. She is concerned about the group, as several committee members are standing down due to worsening health, and so far no-one is volunteering to replace them.

13 June 2009 - Day 14: Worthing (Finden) to Littlehampton

2009-07-16T12:10:00.002+01:00

6.00 a.m.

Blogging for three hours before breakfast at 9.00 with Sheila and her two grandchildren, Brennan and Chelsea; they are all fresh from the hot tub.

Before they all depart for a day out, Sheila shows me a route cross country on the O.S. map .

4.30 pm
No temperature or humidity recorded (battery died) but it is mostly sunny and breezy with a westerly wind.
O.S. Explorer Map No. 121
Total distance travelled: 10.9 miles

Sheila's route is dramatic, downhill around a South Downs escarpment and beautiful in the afternoon sun; then south through Patching and Angmering which are picture-postcard-pretty. I take a break for a pub meal of Sussex Smokey, a kind of smoked fish crumble, then skirt the A27 which has a cycle route alongside it.

I've been told the route runs near a protest of tree-dwellers, trying to prevent development on ancient woodland. I would love to visit, but it's late so I go on to Littlehampton campsite, arriving at 8.00 pm, and despite gruesome obscenities (exceeding by far top shelf porn mags) of young boys playing nearby, it turns out to be a peaceful evening. And the pitch fee is again donated to the BLF.

Tomorrow Izzi is travelling from London to cycle with me.

14 June 2009 - Day 15: Littlehampton to Gumber Farm, Slindon

2009-07-16T12:08:00.002+01:00

Wake early and pack up. I have perfected securing my bike by the tent so that it will not fall on the tent during the night.

Mark comes up to ask about my journey. He has travelled from London for the weekend with his partner Paiching. We chat while their daughter remains eating in their aging camper van. It's one of those brief, sweet travelling moments.

Before I leave I sign the campsite petitiion against closure - it's the only one left in the town - but this doesn't prevent me being told off for leaving an hour late.

2.00 p.m.
Temp and humidity not measured. Sunny, cloudy with light westerly wind.
O.S. Explorer Map No. 121
Distance travelled: 16.4 miles

My ride into Littlehampton is hindered by semi-hidden signage.

The town is busy with people enjoying Sunday. It reminds me I've been two weeks on the road but it doesn't feel that long.

The action is all round the pier and I spend some time people-watching before succombing to a huge roast chicken dinner at a nearby cafe. Then a quick ride up the side of the River Arun and on over the footbridge via National Cycle Route 2 .

It feels like another country on the other side and I cycle north up the Arun flood plain towards Ford Station where I've arranged to meet Izzi. Ford Open Prison is on the left, then low-flying aircraft outside the Ford works.

I'm only ten minutes late and Izzi is waiting the other side of the level crossing. We are aiming for Slindon, and the National Trust Gumber Farm bothy. Buoyed up by yummy cheesecake, our ride takes us via Old Scotland Lane, a long and muddy bridle path.

With two mistaken detours we eventually arrive at Slindon Campsite. But the bothy is at least three miles further on. My research has failed: both are within Slindon village boundaries and on National Trust land and I have confused them. A couple in a caravan tell us with great authority to turn right, that "it's not far at all". Hmmm. I'm exhausted and this is just the beginning of what turns out to be a nightmare.

We eat at the George in Eartham, then, despite advice from rather lewd and patronising locals to stick to the road, we head up Stade Street, an old Roman road, now a track on the South Down's Monarch's Way, which cuts north east and mostly uphill through Eartham Wood. At first it is eerily beautiful in the dusk; owls hoot, and silvery tree trunks gleam. But as darkness falls, we realise we are LOST.

We mess about with our wind-up torches, trying to cheer each other up, both loath to admit how unnerved we are. You can see why the Blair Witch Project works.

10.30 p.m.

The National Trust warden, Katie, phones and volunteers to come out and find us in her landrover. It takes her an hour, hooting her horn and phoning us, though the mobile signal fails, until we come across a cottage which serves as a landmark, and Katie and Lisa, her friend, arrive and with great efficiency and total lack of criticism, load up our bikes and baggage and drive us to the bothy.

It is ten to midnight when we arrive, relieved not to spend a night in the forest. It is irritating that the unpleasant men in the pub turn out to be right.

15 June 2009 - Day 16: Into Slindon

2009-07-16T12:06:00.003+01:00

The bothy is organised as a basic hostel, but as we are the sole inhabitants we have a room each. We start with a red breakfast,

Then when we are cleaning layers of mud off our bikes, Katie visits from her cottage next door. She is one of very few National Trust women wardens and sometimes has to push to be taken seriously. But she is committed and hard-working; the Trust should be proud to have her. Just this weekend, she has had a scout party booking, has not only rescued us, but also a stag party from the pub nearly three miles away.

12.30 p.m.
Total distance travelled: 6 miles

Izzi needs to leave so I cycle with her to Slindon. We find a sign removed and upside down on the ground. No wonder people get lost round here. At Slindon we take some happy snaps then Izzi carries on to Arundel where she will get the train back to London.

and I return to Gumber, cutting through to the Stade Street track, the Roman road which alluded us last night. At Five Ways crossroads I come across Ian and Miley who assure me I'm on the right track to the bothy.

It's a treacherous narrow path uphill, with protruding tree roots and nettles, but it finally reaches the bothy, and I'm triumphant and a little less burdened by Sunday night's SHAME (Should Have Already Mastered Everything).

8.05 p.m.

There are no shops for miles so I put together a meal from food people have left behind: pasta, Lloyd Grossman sauce, stale cheese and nettles foraged from the paddock nearby. It tastes wonderful and the farm dogs seem to agree as they appear from nowhere, four at one time, and wait patiently.

16 June 2009 - Day 17: Gumber Farm to Chichester

2009-07-16T12:05:00.002+01:00

10.30 a.m.
Temperature and humidity unmeasured, wind light and westerly.
O.S. Explorer Maps Nos. 121/120
Total distance travelled by bicycle: 10 miles. More by train.

Goodbye to the bothy. It's been fantastic here but I'm ready to leave.

It's hot as I start off. Some sheep who missed out on available shade are cooperating as a group and tucking their heads into the shade created by each other's bodies. They're not stupid!

Stade Street runs south west towards Chichester, and I'm an old hand on this path now. Extraordinary to think Romans travelled along it. I tuck my toga up and reach the road at the bottom in about an hour and a half.

After an uneventful, mostly downhill ride I reach Chichester, and eat lunch, courtesy of M&S on a bench in the main shopping street. I feel like an alien. Enough, I'm due tomorrow in Eastbourne for a community event at the hospital, which requires a stressful journey with the fully-loaded bike on the train.

Getting the unwieldy bike off at Eastbourne is gruesome, and even worse for an older woman in a wheelchair, as people flood on.

6.10 p.m.

The Big Sleep, where Rita has booked us two nights, is delightful - kind of retro 50s/60s in the bar, and sparse, white and functional in the bedroom - and we have a sea view from high up on the third floor.

After nights in tents I can't believe I'm somewhere so nice yet cheap, which requires more photographs just to believe it's real.

17 June 2009 - Day 18: Eastbourne District General Hospital - Balloon event

2009-07-16T12:03:00.001+01:00

It is Breathe Easy Week. Breathe Easy groups are the British Lung Foundation's support network for patients with lung disease; they exist around the country, but so far there isn't one at Eastbourne, despite requests from patients.

My own group, Breathe Easy Canterbury and District, are hoping to draw attention to this absence with this event. We have pioneered making community balloon sculptures in health settings to raise awareness of lung disease. It's a great way to begin to discuss lung health and the need for support.

Penny Jones from Arts in Healthcare at the East Sussex Hospitals Trust has worked with Hannah from the British Lung Foundation to set up this event as part of my journey and it turns out to be very successful.

Three members of BE Canterbury arrive - Joan, Carol and Tom who fixed my puncture at the start of the journey. Together with Hannah, Penny and Rita who arrived earlier this morning, we all work with patients and staff to build a set of "community lungs".

The respiratory physiotherapists visit, as do two consultants, who all spend time discussing service provision for their patients.

Penny Jones, who has done so much to maker this event happen, spends time talking to the smoking cessation officer, Jeanette (left). And during the day, we have a visit from Holly, who has stopped smoking six days ago, kicking a fifty a day habit.

Shirley and Hanley arrive; they have previously enquired about an Eastbourne Breathe Easy group. They pose with us for our group photo at the end of the event.

In showing solidarity with lung disease patients in the Eastbourne area, we members of Breathe Easy Canterbury hope we have demonstrated the urgent need for social support here too. With thanks to all the hospital's respiratory staff who visited our event, and to Penny Jones of Arts in Healthcare, based within East Sussex Hospitals Trust, for all her hard work.

Penny has also booked and installed "Drawing Breath Recycled: Maps and Journeys" - the group multi-media exhibition about breathing and my previous coastal journey - within the outpatients area of the hospital, and it is here until the end of August.

18 June 2009 - Day 19: Eastbourne - tourists in town

2009-07-16T12:02:00.002+01:00

The hotel is packed with women of all ages who have come to see the Eastbourne Tennis Tournament, which is mixed for the first year ever, having previously failed to attract sufficient sponsorship.
We have another large, carb-loaded breakfast in the hotel, untroubled by any deadlines or schedules. Then, interspersed with blogging, we wander this end of town.

After witnessing a nasty Hitchcock moment on the way back (these seagulls are truly scary) . . . . .

. . . . . and knitting duo, Yvonne and Ted, who are here for two weeks . . . . .

. . . . . we retreat to the Wishtower Restaurant which has a wonderful location on the edge of the cliff just by a Martello tower.

Cashier Lisa tells us that the council want to demolish and redevelop the site. But why? It could do with a lick of paint certainly, but it serves basic good value food and has spectacular views. But sold to a developer, it would fetch a huge price. The back of Lisa's tee-shirt says REFURBISH NOT DEMOLISH, a useful mantra for these grasping and eco-bashing times.

Before returning to the hotel, we re-visit the Towner Gallery, whose ground floor has been turned into a corporate exhibition space for the Eastbourne Tennis tournament, and a ticketing and entrance arena for the courts behind it. Sadly the tennis has replaced a wonderful exhibition where professional artists worked with school children to produce creative and challenging work.

19 June 2009 - Day 20: Chichester to Earnley ("Bugger Bogner")

2009-07-16T11:59:00.004+01:00

Goodbye to The Big Sleep, after one more carb loaded breakfast.
At Eastbourne Station, the staff are their charming selves. Funny that, staff at all the other stations have been friendly and helpful.

Im determined to have a quiet, photo-free journey, but it's impossible not to meet people. Isobel boards with an old post-bike. She used to work for the Post Office and saw the bike, neglected with piles of other ones, and claimed it.

Isobel turns out to be an illustrator, now teaching Foundation Art at City College in Brighton.

Neil and Phillip opposite me are discussing the Gills (Gillingham Football team) so we establish a Kent connection. Phillip (left) grew up in Whitstable but they now both live in Canterbury. They must be pleased their beloved club has recently been promoted.

2.00 p.m. (roughly)
Temp: 21.4c, humidity: 25%, Westerly wind.
O.S. Explorer Map 120
Distance travelled by bike: 6.4 miles (train back to Chichester from Eastbourne

My plan was to cycle to Bognor Regis. However, on my route west, Chichester to Bognor Regis is backwards in a south-east direction. This has been depressing me as the roads are fumey. So it comes to me (with apologies to the residents of Bognor) and in the apochryphal words of a dying George V, when reassured by his physician that he would again see the town, "Bugger Bognor". I don't need to do this, and instead choose National Bicycle Route 88 which follows the Chichester Ship canal south.

At the beginning of the route I meet Mark, who has delivered "my ladies" by community transport for a boat trip, and is awaiting their return. We drink coffee from the Canal Trust cafe while he waits.

The route is peaceful and pastoral, but also well-used. A selection of images follows:

Some parts of the canal are blocked, especially further on near Chichester Marina; the people at the Canal Trust cafe told me they want to restore it, bit by bit.
On the other side of the marina are very different boats, not for leisure, but for living.

I arrive at the Red House Caravan and Camping Site at 6.15 p.m. The pitch is about quarter of a mile long and I pitch Filthy Fox at the far end and enjoy a dinner of odds and sods.

20 June 2009 - Day 21: Earnley (North Foreland?) to Selsey Bill and back

2009-07-16T11:58:00.004+01:00

It rains in the night, but by morning the sun is out again.
My neighbours Jackie (Jacqui?) and Ross, offer me a cup of tea. Hot is cool, as it were, when you're travelling light; I have no cooking equipment so this is luxury.

1.45 a.m.
Temp: 18.9c, humidity: 46%, north-westerly wind, feels cold.
O.S. Explorer Map 120
Distance cycled: 17.5 miles

My mission today is to visit Selsey Bill, famous to World Service insomniacs in the U.K. through featuring in the Inland Waters Shipping Forecast. A calm cross country ride to the east smooths my mood and brings me to Sidlesham Quay at the edge of Pagham Harbour.

The tide is out. Riding out on the path through the mudflats, I have the place to myself. What appears to be shells along the tidal channels on closer inspection turn out to be small beached, bleached crabs.

Stopping off at the Visitor Centre I am confronted with my crime; twenty minutes ago someone has phoned to say that a person in a yellow vest was seen on the marsh riding a motor bike, and here I am in my yellow high-vis waistcoat. Hmmm ..... a nearby village is called Norton; perhaps this has gone to their heads. The woman volunteer at the VC seems only partly convinced when I show her my bicycle.

Besides information about the Harbour, the Centre has many other leaflets such as The Manhood Cycle Network (truly!), and Know Your Vole.

On down NCR 88, past benches comemorating lives, along a fearsome road til I am finally at the tip of Selsey Bill. I had a sneaking feeling it would be an anti-climax, and so it turns out to be. There's nothing there.

The drama comes a few minutes later, and right by that road!

A man who earlier gave me directions to the shops steps out a couple of yards in front of me, keen to indicate where the road is, and braking suddenly to avoid him I crash to the ground. At least as agitated as me, he tries to pull me up but I'm trapped beneath the bike which prevents this being possible. Another person has a go, and finally there are three of them, the third hooking his elbow under my left armpit and heaving me up.

Later in the Riviera I assess my wounds; lots of bruises - wrist, elbow and head - plus shock, but seemingly nothing broken. A statue of Lara Croft presides over the restaurant while I eat a giant roast chicken dinner to make me feel better. On the long journey home, I pass Pagham Harbour again and get back to the campsite around 7.15 p.m.

21 June 2009 - Day 22: Earnley to Bosham

2009-07-16T07:33:00.029+01:00

There's been a festival nearby during the night. Music blares out between 1.30 and 3.00 am and its beat fights with the throb in my right temple where the handlebar hit it when I crashed yesterday.

Another cup of tea from Jackie, then the ritual of popping down the tent begins; Ross and Vince have front row seats. Filthy Fox has been free for 2 days now and resists restraint so thankfully they offer their help.

12.15 p.m.
Temperature and humidity not monitored.
Wind: Westerly
O.S. Explorer Map 120
Distance cycled: 9.8 miles

Lunch on West Wittering beach. In a shingle world, fine sand like this is a crowd magnet.

The beach is endless and so are the cars which stretch for about half a mile ranked back from the dunes. Many people choose to play house near their car.

The cycle path goes north up the side of one of the many channels of Chichester Harbour. It is forbidden to cyclists but there are some on it. It is stunning.

I pass and repass a group of elderly birdwatchers, and have conversations with anonymous dog walkers.

There are narrow bits, nettles and tree roots to negotiate but apart from the cycle proof gate in a neighbourhood watch area, it's the most lovely route I've taken so far.

When eventually I reach the boatyard and the Itchenor Ferry, Mark, the ferryman, hefts my fully laden bike up onto the boat. I'm the only passenger, and the journey across the channel takes all of five minutes.

Arriving at Bosham (pronounced Bozzom) where King Canute is reputed to have turned back the tide, the tide is indeed out. In the middle of the causeway, I photograph a yacht beached in the middle of the creek.

Its owners, Mike and Pippa, are passing; they turn out to have a b+b, Benbow, on the front. Mike's godson has Lebers Congenital Amerosis, a rare form of blindness, and last year Mike sailed his boat round the UK raising £27,500 for a fast light scanner for Moorefields Eye Hospital. There are only three of these in the world and they hugely increase research into a cure.

The guesthouse is high-end, with a gorgeous view from my room; it's the perfect place for two days recuperation. I haven't seen a paper for days and catch up on TV with the horror in Iran, and the joke that is British politics.

A retriever called Woody lives here too; at dusk he watches as the tide comes in.

22 June 2009 - Day 23: Resting in Bosham

2009-07-16T07:32:00.040+01:00

At breakfast, guests Rosemary and David tell me about the Saxon church. King Harold visited it the day before dying in the Battle of Hastings, and King Canute's daughter is reputed to be buried there.

Much of the morning is spent blogging on the Benbow p.c.

The phone rings chaotically, Pippa is trying to get out to the shops, and Woody escapes to swim in the incoming tide, sloshing happily and refusing to come out.

Cycling round the village, I visit the church then eat a stilton crumble lunch (very tasty) at the Mariner's waterside cafe.

At the Bosham Farm Shop which has now been taken over by the Co-op, you can't get an oatcake for love nor money - they've never heard of them. And there's no pharmacist for miles; my wrist is swelling up, hurting a bit more each day and needing support.

At 11.00 p.m. there are wisps of conversation floating in the breeze as I take a late night stroll.

Distance cycled with exploring and shopping: 2.8 miles

23 June 2009 - Day 24: Bosham to Emsworth

2009-07-16T07:31:00.013+01:00

Before I leave, I set out to search for Ken, the birdman of Bosham. Ken has fed birds here for forty two years and knows them all.

There's a couple of swans but they have no cygnets this year; the male is in a mean mood but no match for Ken.

Ken cycles to Chichester each day and collects free bread for them. He's eighty this year.

He tells me about his childhood growing up on a U.S. submarine chaser his family acquired after WWI. He documents all the wild life in the village, the boats, the tides, and stores his pictures on memory cards; he shows me his current batch. He also tells me he used to own five pre-war Mercedis; not a man of half measures.

Around 1.00 p.m.
Temperature and humidity not recorded.
Sunny, warm, but cloudy and colder later.
O.S Explorer Map No. 120
Distance cycled: 8.4 miles

I leave at high tide and take a coastal path towards the dreaded A259, visible in the distance. Accessing it proves harder than expected . . . . .

I have to unload the bike, and even then it's hard to heave it up. Finally up on the 259 with, for once, a good cycle track, it has begun strangely to feel like a friend. I realise how ready I am now to get to the end of this journey.

I'm even more convinced of this when I try another country track, only to be confronted by another bike proof gate.

Giving up I return to the A259 and espy a pharmacist, the first I've seen since the weekend, and I need a bandage for my wrist.

But the pharmicist won't sell me one. She says it may be broken and directs me to the nearby surgery, where receptionist Jill makes an appointment later with Nurse Bridgit who prefers not to be photographed. She checks my wrist and points me to A+E for an x-ray.

But first I cycle on to Emsworth and register for the night at the Crown Hotel. Then another drama - it's that kind of day - I lose my wallet, only, embarrassed in the extreme, to find it in a different bag. Stevie, who works the bar, has looked all around and I am deeply apologetic ... and grateful when she steers me towards A+E on the bus.

So the evening is spent at St. Richard's Hospital at Chichester.

Apart from a sniffy receptionist (dog-tired-end-of-day-syndrome?), everyone is kind and efficient. I'm triaged by Louise; she is the sister of Rob Gauntlett, a young climber who died on Mont Blanc in January this year. My situation pales into insignificance.

Louise asks me to put a link to Rob on the blog, but his website has been taken down following theft of his identity after his death. But there are others and I will find one to link to later.

After the x-ray by Tom, the radiologist, my wrist is pronounced sprained, not broken, and I get a support splint from Vicky, the A+E doctor.

The end of a pretty crazy day.

24 June 2009 : Day 25: Emsworth to Fleet (Hayling Island)

2009-07-16T07:30:00.007+01:00

After breakfast at the hotel ....

another wild life vignette just round from the marina.

Mick says there were lots of cygnets in Emsworth but the foxes swim after them and eat them. And the swans have eaten all the ducklings though I tell Mick I have just seen a surviving duck family round the corner.

Pat offers me a seat at the crowded Flintstone Tearooms. She's there with her mother Lilian who she visits every day.

Pat tells me her husband, Dave, was diagnosed with emphysema last year. It's hit his confidence and he's depressed. I tell her about the Breathe Easy network and encourage her to contact the Portsmouth group, where Dave will be able to get valuable support from others living with the disease. It makes me remember how stricken I felt, and how disabled at the time of my own diagnosis.

Back at the hotel while I'm playing about photographing my remaining food - a pair of pears - on the bedroom windowcill, the avocado makes a bid for freedom and plunges to the ground. I'm two floors up and wait in horror for a shout below.

When I leave, the avocado is splatted on the ground like dog poo. Conscience gets the better of me and I dispose of it to curious stares. One way or another my time at this hotel has not been my finest hour.

1.30 p.m.
Temperature and humidity not recorded.
Warm, some cloud, humid.
O.S. Explorer Map No. 120
Distance cycled: 6.5 miles

Off along the pavements by the A259. Everything is fine until I turn left at the A27 roundabout. Somehow I've missed the NCR 2, a traffic free route, and find myself cycling along this crazy road which is also signed as the A3M. It might as well be a motorway proper, it is simply terrifying. HGVs pass me by a hair's breadth followed by gusts of destablising wind. I shouldn't be here - I'm cycling on a motorway.

I nearly fall off into the slipstream of a huge yellow Canute Distributions pantechnichon. I have seldom been so scared, and never so grateful for the even brighter yellow high-vis waistcoat that Keith of Herberts Cycles in Whitstable donated before I left.

At Havant I head south across Langstone Bridge to Hayling Island,

and along country roads...

until country music hits me from a low building on the right. It is a club for seniors - I claim the status and am welcomed in. Pamela "The Duchess" Richmond is singing and a large circle dance is going on.

The club is run three times a week, set up privately by two domiciliary care companies. It seems to work well, well attended and with many of its clientele having dementia but still engaged in what is going on. It is much more animated than much social services provision I've seen previously, which feels a bit troubling

And Pamela's doctor is pleased that, despite her chronic asthma, her singing keeps her so healthy.

4.30 p.m.

I register at the Fleet Caravan and Camping Site. £10 a night, and my best smile sadly produces no reduction in the fee. The tent area is very quiet, with lots of old oak trees, mostly peopled by workers from a cable company who are working in the area.

One of them comes across to tell me that a family of owls in the tree I've pitched my tent under make a loud snoring sound during the night.

A convenient Chinese takeaway on the main road round the corner supplies a large dinner.

25 June 2009 - Day 26: Blogging in Havant

2009-07-16T07:29:00.010+01:00

2.30 a.m.

A hedgehog is trying to access the remains of my dinner. It's got right inside the plastic bag so, after chasing it out, I hang the bag on my bike handlebar.

The night is full of noises. The baby owls are "snoring" loudly, a funny sound which makes me smile. There are whoops, croaks and screeches, presumably from the parent owls.

The cable men go off to work. They seem to be organised in a hierarchy; men with large tents and laptops in one group, and separately much smaller tents with men who leave earlier and return later. They couldn't be quieter if they tried.

When I wake up again at 8.30 a.m. I have a duck visitor.

11.15 a.m.

Back over Langstone Bridge to blog in Havant library. It's frustrating as jpegs on one memory card won't upload onto the p.c. So for the earlier Bosham blogs it has to be words alone for now.

Afterwards during a soothing coffee down the road at Cafe Nero, Kelly puts my mobile on charge behind the counter and lets me stay after closing so it gets the maximum boost.

On the campsite a bonfire has been lit nearby but luckily the wind is carrying the smoke away from the tent, so I don't have to resort to my builder's mask.

26 June 2009 - Day 27: Another blogging day

2009-07-16T07:28:00.000+01:00

A difficult night. It rained heavily and my sleep was badly disrupted. Most of the cable company men are gone. In fact mine is the only tent left on the site. And if Filthy Fox gives me trouble, I shall leave it behind - a donation to the site - as I cross to Portsmouth tomorrow and then, the same afternoon, to the Isle of Wight.

10.30 a.m.

Setting off a bit earlier, I get more done today.

I have a visitor registration and can use the P.C.s continuously as long as there is one free.

Later in the Meridian shopping centre where the library is based, a security man demands to know why I am photographing there.

Almost half the units are empty and the place has an unhappy feel about it.

5.30 p.m.

When I get back I explore the campsite. It's full of near-identical caravans which have been personalised in different ways. They look like permanent homes but the campsite is only occupied between April and October.

27 June 2009 - Day 28: Hayling Island to the Isle of Wight

2009-07-16T07:27:00.006+01:00

The cable company workers have finished and gone. But newcomers in fearsome 4x4s arrived yesterday evening and they talk, shout and sing through the night.

10.15 a.m.

Temp: Warm, sunny, light westerly wind
O.S. Explorer Maps Nos. 120, 119 and OL29
Distance cycled: 11 miles

So, bleary and sleepless, I'm up early for the final pack. Brian helps me with Filthy Fox and I set off south for the Hayling Island to Portsmouth foot passenger ferry. The skipper, Mike, tells me about working the ferry and donates the £3 fare to the BLF.

Rita and Sue meet me on the Portsmouth side and take my baggage ahead in the car, leaving me to enjoy the Solent Way right up to the hovercraft, unburdened.

In Portsmouth, as part of the Forces Day festival, ships have been constructed out of wooden pallets.

1.45 p.m.

It's ten minutes on the ferry to the Isle of Wight, and that's it - I've made it! Although I have a ride planned for Monday, and a Breathe Easy event tomorrow whose location along the beach I check out by cycle, this is the symbolic end of the journey.

I set out on 31st May from Hastings. It feels far longer than a month. The day before I left I read an article about garden sheds.

"The route to the shed, up the meandering garden path, is important - the journey to somewhere dissipates the memory of where you've just come from..... Once you've got a shed, you carry it with you in your head - the sanctuary is always there." (Malcolm Temple interviewed by Dinah Hall, Guardian Weekend)

My profound thanks to the many friends who have supported me, donated to the BLF, and especially kept in touch throughout the trip. And Rita, I couldn't have done it without you.

28 July 2009 - Day 29: Breathe Easy Isle of Wight 10th birthday

2009-07-16T07:26:00.008+01:00

We meet up with members of the Island Breathe Easy group who have a stall next to the Appley Beach Cafe along from our flat in Ryde. They are celebrating their tenth birthday party. My plan was to make a life size bicycle out of balloons with members and public but we scale this down to decorating the stall and talking to members of the public about lung function and health.

The group has had a birthday cake made (by the local Tesco) with the Breathe Easy logo on it. Andy, Pamela (Andy's mother), Eileen and Sarah, the lead respiratory nurse from the primary care trust team display it amidst the balloons,

and Rita photographs Sarah and myself cutting it.

This might be a good point to tell you of the unusual, though seemingly pointless achievement of 13 year old Andrew Dahl who, in 2008 in the public library in Blaine, Washington, U.S.A., blew up two hundred and thirteen balloons with his nose in one hour. The balloons had to be eight inches in diameter were counted by his mother, and were measured by his father. No further comment needed.

29 June 2009 - Day 30: Cowes to Sandown via Newport

2009-07-16T07:25:00.010+01:00

12.00 a.m.
Temperature: very warm. Sunny.
O.S. Explorer Map No.
Distance cycled: 13.5 miles

The final ride of the journey. Sarah, the lead nurse from the primary care trust respiratory team, accompanies me on a coast to coast route starting from Cowes. The track is the southern end of the NCR 23 which runs all the way to Reading.

Here it runs south-east to Newport, alongside the river Medina; which we can see in glimpses to the left.

There are occasional industrial sites to the right of the track, and at the Newport end, oxygen cylinders.

We take a shortcut through the town, away from the fumes. It's been four miles so far.

The trail to Sandown is a disused railway track, running downhill to the town.

The track runs through a nature reserve. There are intermittent chainsaw carvings, some functional and some just sitting within the landscape.

We ride hell for leather along this last section; there's a welcoming party waiting at Sandown and they are hungry. The final stage through Sandown to the seafront is uphill.

Both of us are sweaty, exhausted but happy. We have done the twelve miles in two and a half hours which, for me, is amazing. Many thanks to Sarah for arranging this ride, which is the last I will do on the Island, for now at least. I will calculate my total mileage, from Hastings to here at Sandown, and post it later.

1 July 2009 - Isle of Wight: St. Mary's Hospital, Newport

2009-07-16T07:24:00.000+01:00

11.00 a.m.

I have a meeting with Guy Eades from Healing Arts based at St. Mary's Hospital in Newport to explore the possibility of booking "Drawing Breath Recycled" for next year. Sarah is also there and we have a useful discussion about the logistics of the exhibition spaces, timing and installation.

The Cone, sited outside the hospital, divides opinion from both aesthetic and financial points of view. It was commissioned six years ago and is certainly unmissable.

12.30 p.m.

Back in the centre of town, Workers' Climate Action are campaigning in St. Thomas's Square against the closure of the Vestas factory. The company has decided that making blades for its wind turbines here on the Island is insufficiently profitable and plan to move production abroad.

It's National No Smoking Day, and Carol Foley and her smoking cessation team are also working hard in nearby St. James' Square.

I used to enjoy smoking and apart from the absolute right to breathe clean air, I hold no moral position per se. But I have never come across anyone with emphysema, chronic bronchitus or lung cancer who doesn't profoundly regret having smoked, and the devastating damage it has caused.

The British Lung Foundation have made a creative partnership with Gunther von Hagens' Body Worlds exhibition in London, with a BLF stall housed near the lung exhibits. I remember my horror at the damage caused to the lungs by smoking and other pollutants when I first saw the exhibition in Berlin shortly after my emphysema diagnosis in 2001.

The BLF's Hannah Tucker told me how many people took the opportunity to leave their cigarettes in a specially provided bin on their stall. (Body Worlds publicity photograph).

2 July 2009 - Isle of Wight: Shanklin Chine

2009-07-16T07:23:00.000+01:00

We visit Shanklin Chine, the dramatic Victorian gardens and walkway built around a waterfall and gorge which cut deep into the side of the cliff. Dave Pasco from Warehams, an architectural and antique garden furniture business in Whitstable, has told me the ashes of his partner Michelle are scattered here and there is a plaque which I told Dave I would look out for. We look without success and think of Dave while we are there. We conclude that Michelle's plaque may be somewhere up on the nearby headland.

On a different note, we were reminded of Dave on Tuesday, when we visited Osborne House, home of Queen Victoria. Outside the main house was a monumental wild boar, a Victorian copy almost identifical to the famous one that sits outside Warehams in Whitstable's Oxford Street.

2 July 2009 - Isle of Wight: Botanical Gardens, Ventnor

2009-07-16T07:22:00.000+01:00

2.30 p.m.

Later the same day we visit the Botanical Gardens which are on the site of an old T.B. hospital. When it was demolished, a covenant was made that the land should belong to the people in perpetuity, and reflect plants and climates around the world.

There are Australian, African and Mediterranean sections, and pottery sculptures amidst the plants. We are dwarfed by twenty foot echiums.

The Breathe Easy group is meeting here for a walk. It's a good place for it, being laid out over slopes, with a lift back up to the top if required. We end the afternoon with tea in the cafe; as a lung disease patient, and an ex-art therapist, I am intrigued to meet Caroline Riches, an art therapist who has done valuable work with people with lung disease.

There is little in the landscape to record the siting of the hospital here. But we come across a tunnel built through the cliff to the shore. Although planned in 1875 to provide sea access for patients as a boost to their recuperation, when finally built in the 1880's, however, it was part of a new drainage and sewage disposal scheme designed to remove waste from the hospital.

We say goodbye to Pamela and Andy who have made us so welcome, and arrange for Sarah to call by on Saturday morning before we catch the ferry. At the end of a lovely day, who knew the Tesco building could look so good?

4 July 2009 - Departure to mainland

2009-07-16T07:21:00.000+01:00

11.30 p.m. on eve of departure

Filthy Fox, troubled perhaps by impending obscurity, has made a final bid for freedom.

It has burst out of its container, and expanded to full size in a split second, filling the small bedroom. We can't manage to pack it back down again, so it gets moved to the living room and I decide on a final night's camp.

Rita, an exhausted bear with sore head last night, comes good this morning and manages to contain the tent in its packing sleeve.

10.00 a.m

Sarah from the respiratory team arrives to help load the bike onto the car and say goodbye. By 12.00 we are on the ferry heading for the mainland.

The bike, the tent and me . . . . . along with Rita and Sue, we're coming home, with gratitude and thanks to all who have helped.

POSTSCRIPT

2009-07-16T07:11:00.008+01:00

The ride finished in Sandown, Isle of Wight on 29th June. Total mileage (including off route diversions, errands etc), is 188.8 miles, quite a lot more than I had anticipated.

The journey has so far raised around £700 for the British Lung Foundation at www.justgiving.com/jeanfraser.

Since finishing, the campaign by Workers' Climate Action to keep open the Vestas factory has not been successful. The closure of the factory, which made turbine blades for wind farms, has deprived the Isle of Wight, which has some of the highest unemployment in the country, of much needed jobs.

Having accumulated miles in my legs, as the cyclists say, I am settling back into life at home, fitter and healthier than when I left and trying to preserve this sense of wellbeing. And wondering: where next?

"Drawing Breath Recycled: Maps and Journeys" 2008

2009-05-03T13:56:00.021+01:00

A collaborative exhibition about breathing, based on the 2007 coastal journey between Whitstable and Hastings. Work by Rosa Ainley, Sue Ridge who shadowed part of the journey, Jean Fraser, Annie Whitehead, Betteshanger Brass Band, and Herne Bay Junior School.

(Please check 28th April blog for exhibition work by Herne Bay Junior School, and Annie Whitehead with Betteshanger Brass Band.)

JOURNEYS (2008)
SUE RIDGE

"Where are Long Nose Spit and Jury’s Gut Sluice? Journeys is a series of artworks which respond to Jean Fraser’s coastal bicycle journey. The map is seen as a narrative; the x-ray light boxes expose embodied life experiences."

Hazardous cycling without moving

DON'T HOLD YOUR BREATH (2008)
ROSA AINLEY

A two-part sound installation that takes the obsolete concrete sound mirrors of the Kent coast as a starting point for a monologue about breath, voice, communication and the experience of spasmodic dysphonia.

“Breathe in before you speak, speak on the out breath. Don’t hold your breath. Save your breath, don’t bother me. Keep your words and ideas to yourself. Hold your breath and disappear. Talk to yourself: back projection instead of not being heard. If you had anything useful to say you’d be able to say it. Either way, you can’t deliver. (But I’m talking to you). Voice is body, person projected. Hear my face, see my voice.”
Excerpt from Don’t hold your breath, part 1

FACES IN A LANDSCAPE (2008)
JEAN FRASER

With thanks to the many people who with their support make my journeys possible, including Breathe Easy Canterbury and the Eastern & Coastal Kent NHS Respiratory team.

Catching up . . . . .

2009-04-28T15:34:00.015+01:00

Since 2007's journey nearly two years have sneaked by. There have been several developments resulting from visits I made on the journey, a lot of work and no time to blog.

DRAWING BREATH SCHOOL ARTIST RESIDENCY

In early summer 2008 I returned to Herne Bay Junior School where I'd previously sheltered from a downpour and organised the cross-curricular artist residency with Year 5 pupils which I'd discussed with teacher Rosie Cullen. This health-themed project focussed on breathing, lung health and exercise and central to the work was the involvement of the children in helping to make a life-size bicycle sculpture out of driftwood collected from the North Kent coast.

First the children worked on designs for the bike sculpture,

followed by collages and creative writing, while one table each week worked on a different bit of the bike: front wheel, back wheel, handlebar and fork etc.

Gradually the bike took shape, the children's energy and enthusiasm overcoming my fear that I couldn't put it all together. They wrote imaginatively about where the bike and its wood had come from and where it could take them. Permission to show their photograph here is still pending.

"A ROAD WITH HEART"

I visited Betteshanger Brass Band on my ride and became fascinated with music made with breath. I wanted to devise a project that would celebrate Betteshanger's history as a mining band, the struggles of miners with occupational lung disease. Annie Whitehead, a trombonist and composer who works with community groups and band agreed to compose a new piece of music themed on breathing for the band, and after securing funding from PRS Foundation through the newly formed Drawing Breath Music Project, this collaboration went ahead. The new composition - "A Road with Heart" - was premiered at St. Georges Church in Deal in the launch concert of the Deal Festival.

A Road with Heart is a haunting meditation on my journey's route. It still moves me to tears and I feel honoured that this cycle ride should be the cause of such a beautiful piece of music. Later Annie, her partner Jenni, band members Rosie Cullen (a teacher from Herne Bay Junior School), Ivor Thomas and his two children (Ivor being the last miner to still play in the band) become part of a new photo-essay about the journey and the people who helped me.

"DRAWING BREATH RECYCLED: MAPS AND JOURNEYS"

The Herne Bay and Betteshanger work came together with new work from myself and invited artists Rosa Ainley and Sue Ridge in "Drawing Breath Recycled: Maps and Journeys", an Arts Council touring exhibition of artist and community collaborations relating to my journey.

Welcome to the Drawing Breath photo-blog!

2007-08-23T23:30:00.000+01:00

At the beginning of January 2006 I began researching the route of the Drawing Breath journey. The journey is central to an ongoing arts and health project which includes the aim of raising awareness about lung disease. The journey's route was along the coast between Whitstable and Hastings and I completed the five week trip on 19th August this year.

The blog has been reversed so that the start of the journey is at the top of the page. You can read about the journey chronologically from its beginning in mid-July to mid-August when it ended. To see the whole blog continuously on one page, please click on "2007" at the top of the blog archive on the left.

If you have feedback, suggestions, or thoughts about breathing or biking, please get in touch via the website's forum page, or through the email address above. Thank you!

13.7.07: Thinking about leaving

2007-08-23T23:20:00.000+01:00

When I began working on the Drawing Breath project in 2006, Whitstable beach was in chaos. Fortifications were being renewed - the beach raised, new groynes - sinister yet friendly diggers keeping the town safe from flooding.

Now, after much preparation, Whitstable beach is the start of my journey on Monday morning and to make it, I am dependent on another machine, my new prosthetic bicycle whose bright efficiency contrasts with the inconvenient cellular breakdown in my lungs.

14.7.07: How to pack

2007-08-23T23:10:00.000+01:00

Packing for the trip means taking oxygen deficiency into account.

If you have insufficient oxygen for normal activity, you need to carry as little weight as possible. I am weighing everything and making choices, packing nothing which is unnecessary for survival, no change of clothes .... just hoping they'll dry out overnight.

16.7.07: Whitstable to Herne Bay

2007-08-23T23:00:00.000+01:00

12.00 pm:
Temperature: 19c, humidity 39%, light west wind. Distance cycled: 9 miles

Horsebridge Centre, Whitstable
Breathe Easy group members and friends have come to see me off. I have brought my finger pulse oximeter which measures oxygen saturation in the blood and we all measure our own levels. 96% and over is normal and ours collectively range from 87% to 98% depending on our health and the state of our lungs. Mine is 93% but it changes from moment to moment.

Leaving via the harbour, past Brett's strange giant inhaler-shaped structure I head east for the wide promenade (forbidden to bicycles in the summer but still used by most cyclists). After the past months of planning chaos and trepidation, it feels strangely calm to be on my way.

1.30 pm:

Gentle ride towards Herne Bay pier ...

... where I call in for lunch with Rosemary and her partner John. They entertain me with stories of cycle journeys they've made in the past. Rosemary's oxygen equipment crouches by the front door in the hall - she shows me how its tubing reaches all over the house and offers me a whiff to perk me up.

Later near to the pier I begin a conversation with a woman who asks me about the yellow buoys in the sea. My first conversation with a stranger on this trip is interrupted by sudden heavy rain as she runs for cover. I didn't discover her name.

3.15 pm:
Shelter from the rain at Herne Bay Junior School with teacher Rosie Cullen. We will be working together with Year 5 on the project next year. The current plan, which could change, is to make a giant sculptural bicycle out of coastal waste materials.
Later and hungry I buy fish and mushy peas from Bhanal who works at Kings Fish Bar and eat them on a bench in the mournful damp of Memorial Park before heading inland.

6.30 pm:
Overnight with Vicky, Tom and Nancy in nearby Broomfield - peace, calm and generosity. At the end of this first day I'm exhausted and exhilerated.

17.7.07: The road to Minnis Bay

2007-08-23T22:50:00.000+01:00

3.00 pm:
Temperature 18C, south wind. Day's distance cycled: 6 1/2 miles

Computer up-loading problems, so I set off late. My blog appears to be on US time, which feels somewhat surreal and appears that I'm blogging at 4am!

Such gusts of wind at Reculver(past Herne Bay), all my concentration is focussed on not being blown off the path, so that I forget to photograph the iconic tower. Earlier in the summer I had some coaching on this stretch to Minnis Bay with Paul the cycle instructor at a weekly club for people with disabilities.

We would ride together on a kind of conjoined tricycle - 3 wheels, 2 sets of handlebars, 2 saddles - where I could gradually build up strength by taking a greater proportion of our combined weight. Sadly for its regular members the club is now closed.

Joyful ride in sunshine - I'm sustained by apples growing wild below the path and collect fennel to cook later.

Closer to Minnis Bay I meet Carol and her dogs. They are very obedient.

Carol's grandfather had emphysema but still lived into his 90s. This is cheering.

6.30 pm:
Arrive at Annie and Jenni's in Minnis Bay.

18.7.07: Frustration in Birchington

2007-08-23T22:40:00.000+01:00

Annie and Jenni are away. I have their house to myself and the morning to get stuff done. But some days just don't work out. I miss meeting my friend Connie at the Minnis by ten minutes.

I cycle uphill towards Birchington Library before realising I've forgotten my USB lead for uploading photos onto the blog. But returning with it later, the library turns out to be closed on Wednesdays. On to the bank to get cash, but it's been ramraided - two cash machines squat glumly and uselessly on pallets inside the building.

And then my pink perspex waterbottle vanishes from my bike.

For the record, this was it, pictured Monday, in Memorial Park, Herne Bay. I loved it but clearly someone else did too.

18.7.07: Minnis Bay to Margate

2007-08-23T22:10:00.000+01:00

3.45 pm:
Temp 24C, West wind, sunny. Day's mileage: 6 miles

Easy ride past chalk cliffs and inset dank adolescent hidey-holes and brick infills. If anyone knows how and when these brick parts of the cliff were built, please post on the forum. Further on a young couple on holiday from Derbyshire are on the other end of this kite ...

... and Cori who works in the West Bay Cafe sells me an icecream.

6.20 pm:

Reaching Margate, I turn off the front near the old Sea Bathing Hospital and arrive soon after at Di's house.

19.7.07: Around Margate

2007-08-23T21:50:00.000+01:00

Windmill Community Allotment rocks!

9.00 am:
Outdoor yoga class, tutored by Di who is putting me up; the yoga breathing works well to open up my lungs. The project is funded by Surestart and it's a beautiful, vibrant and well-used place with children learning about the vegetables, lots of different people digging, holding classes and hanging out. There are also several rather sinister scarecrows.

Some of the people I meet are Surestart worker Enid, beside the "salad chair", James who is preparing smoke to use with the bees he keeps here and Steve who tells me about re-mineralising the soil by inoculations of sea water several times a year and links my search for oxygen with the photosynthesis of plants.

Volunteer worker Marion tells me about a man she knew with a serious lung condition whose care home constantly placed him in the smoking room, and only moved him before health inspections.

2.15 pm:
Rush by taxi to Cliffsend village to give a talk about the Drawing Breath project to the Thanet Breathe Easy group. Some of the group are upset as their other speaker from the oxygen supply company has cancelled as she is sick. Unsurprisingly they are unenthusiastic about my talk right now. I feel nostalgic for my own Breathe Easy companions.

20.7.07: Royal Sea Bathing Hospital

2007-08-23T21:45:00.000+01:00

2.00 pm:
Margate Museum

On Wednesday evening I passed the old Sea Bathing Hospital on my way in to the town. I am looking for details of earlier lung disease treatment in the museum files.

The hospital opened in 1791 in order to offer poorer people the pioneering benefits of seabathing and sea air treatment for scrofula which was already available to the rich in Brighton. However its intended treatment of pulmonary TB was not to be: it was found that Margate's sea air was far too bracing for damaged lungs.

The placing in the museum of these dolls, early teaching aids from the RSBH, has been contested by some medical practitioners who see them as more appropriate to a hospital context than their current home in museum, where they are much loved.

Finally closed in 1996, the RSBH has been sold and resold to be developed into luxury flats. The front is finished but what about the rest? A workman laughs: "How long is a piece of string?" he says.

21.7.07: Pride in Margate

2007-08-23T21:40:00.000+01:00

Last night I moved a couple of miles on to stay with Jenny and Fiona in Cliftonville. At the nearby Walpole Bay Hotel a month back they were preparing for the smoking ban ....

.... and today Margate is jumping.

We all walk along the front into the town which is hosting Thanet's first ever Gay Pride which is spread out along the main road by the sea. This is Fiona's hat.

This evening she is dj-ing at a local Pride club event but I am too exhausted to go and flop in front of the telly.

22.7.07: Party at Botany Bay

2007-08-23T21:35:00.000+01:00

My friends are organising a beach party at Botany Bay to raise money for the British Lung Foundation. Fiona has made an encouraging banner!

I get cranio-sacral treatment from Val (Room2Breathe,Whitstable) who is sponsoring my journey with free sessions, and Moi Jill and Cath have cycled from Whitstable to give my bike emergency treatment.

Val helps me photograph the horizon through holes in termite-eaten chalk stones. They make me think of holes in the lungs which are a feature of emphysema. A member of the Thanet Breathe Easy group told me they are called PUTTOCKS!

These chalk cliffs attract graffitti carvers on different quests for immortality. Last year I found this unpleasant symbol high up out of reach. It calls out for some corrective sculptural readjustment.

22.7.07: Botany Bay to Broadstairs

2007-08-23T21:25:00.000+01:00

8.00 pm:
Temperature: 18c, humidity 41%, wind south west. Day's mileage: 5 miles

Set off to Broadstairs on what has been the shortest but hardest ride so far and it's the part I've been dreading. Up hill to North Foreland lighthouse, I dismount and push for 30 steps, then wait 60 seconds for oxygen to go up and pulse to come down; 30 steps, 60 seconds - 30 steps, 60 seconds - at least five cycles of this before reaching the top exhausted. It is at the lighthouse that, in Shipping Forecast terminology, I cycle out of "Gibralter Point to North Foreland" and into "North Foreland to Selsey Bill".

9.30 pm:
Arrive at Connie's - she has become worried as there's no phone reception and I'm late and got lost - and collapse in a room used by her son when he visits, but in truth owned by her cat Jess.

The room is covered with Laurel and Hardy posters and maps, including one of shipwrecks on Goodwin Sands. Connie tells me about being evacuated to Bristol during the war, and how evacuees walked past houses in a long crocodile and were picked out "like goods" by the people living there. She was twelve and still remembers the pain of being chosen last.

24.7.07: The kindness of strangers

2007-08-23T21:20:00.000+01:00

Monday:
Spent time showing Connie my website, then blogging in the local library. In the evening we watch the latest stage of the Tour de France, and Connie explains its rules and rituals, including the various jersey awards. Connie was a touring cyclist, regularly covering up to 60 miles a day.

Tuesday:
Backwards to Margate rail station, then cycle past the harbour to collect forgotten items and meet with Isle of Thanet Gazette photographer by the Lido. He admires the Leica lens on my little camera.

In the afternoon Connie and I go by taxi to visit the famous Morelli's icecream parlour. Connie hasn't been here for two years. She has a rum baba, and I have chocolate icecream.

Later when I say goodbye and depart for Ramsgate, I ask Connie why despite warnings from friends she asked me, a stranger, to stay at her home. "Because you're a cyclist, dear," she tells me.

24.7.07: Broadstairs to Ramsgate

2007-08-23T21:15:00.000+01:00

4.15 pm:
Temp: 23C, humidity 34%, south wind, distance cycled 5 miles.

Sunny uneventful ride to Ramsgate along the cliff top and down past beach games and into the town where I come across Louise having a fag break outside Mad Max, sister shop to the one in Whitstable. She doesn't want to be photographed but tells me about her mother who has an inherited form of emphysema caused by a missing enzyme, alpha1antitrypsin.

I am heading for Karen's house. Karen is the friend of a friend and she hasn't met me before either. After riding around Ramsgate Harbour I arrive at her house. Karen knows what it's like to get diagnosed with a frightening illness and we talk about the fears and the coming to terms. She has cats (there are a lots of cats on this trip), and a small beautiful garden with a fairground figurehead.

After dinner I drop my extremely expensive pulse oximeter into my cup of tea. We attempt to dry it out with a hair dryer; the screen goes berserk, appears to die, but later it seems to have made a miraculous recovery!

25.7.07: Ramsgate harbour

2007-08-23T21:10:00.000+01:00

10.00 am:
After I leave Karen's I return to the harbour, wait while John the security man lowers the drawbridge, then cross and meet Alice, a law student working over the summer for Thanet District Council as a fuel barge operative. She refuels pleasure craft in the marina and lets me go on board her floating fuel station.

At a kiosk at East Cliff, Gerry of Ramsgate First, who does regular breathing therapy to cope with after-effects of an accident, tells me the way to artist Ruth Cutler's sea garden, which is being constructed at Eastern Undercliff out of sea and beach materials and is designed to be viewed from the cliff top above. Go see!

25.7.07: Ramsgate to Sandwich (the raw and the cooked)

2007-08-23T21:05:00.000+01:00

9.30 am:
Temp: 22C, humidity 40%, south wind, distance (by signpost as register on bike is playing up) 6 1/2 miles.

Long climb up the hill out of Ramsgate, walking and resting alternately all the way up. During a couple of minutes rest at the top my rescued pulse oximeter, photographed last night after its dunking in my tea, shows my oxygen level in my blood going up from 91% saturation to 96%, and my pulse coming down from 122bpm to 88bpm. Hopefully it's accurate.

Southwards along the cliff top into a headon wind and on along National Cycle Route 15, and the Viking Coastal Trail, past Pegwell Bay. This nature reserve encompasses a disused hoverport, a surreal eery place with wild plants re-colonising the space by breaking through the concrete grid markings of the hoverport's former carpark.

Last year a man with a dog told me the area's history and the legacy of greater unemployment since the hoverport closed. Showing through the trees up on the cliff above is a reproduction viking ship in perpetual grass dry-dock by the road I am taking.

I take the bike route which goes parallel to the A256 and there is evidence here of earlier unseasonal warmth: huge, sweet blackberries and in July, how strange! Further along the main road is a plum tree heavy with plums bursting out of their skins.

On past a paper recycling plant . . .

. . . past the heavily guarded Pfizers where some of our medication is produced . . .

. . . and arrive at Sandwich at 2.15pm.

After a chocolate icecream, but leaving the cone, I am collected and driven away to a secret location hiding so far inside my jacket hood that I look like Kenny from "South Park".

26.7.07: Sandwich to Deal

2007-08-23T21:00:00.000+01:00

3.25 pm:
Temp: 22C, humidity 40%, coastal wind warning: southerly, force 6 - 8.
Day's mileage: 5 1/2 miles.

Nightmare on Cycle Route 1
National Cycle Route 1 is a small pretty road going south between the Royal Cinque Ports golfcourse and fields of cows and corn. The wind is so strong the golf balls are flying backwards. Even so, other cyclists power past me whilst, feeling miserable and alone, I struggle with the gusts. This is a real low and five miles feels like five hundred.

Cycling under the seawall on the outskirts of Deal, a powerful gust blows me off the pavement and lands me sprawling in the road with the bike on top of me, just missing a car. Shaken but mostly unhurt I reach Deal, shelter on the front from (remarkably) my first rain of the journey and wait for Nigel to get home from work at 6.00. Nigel likes to cook and later makes me a tasty fish soup. No snaps on this ride - too busy surviving - but this is the soup.

26.7.07: Betteshanger Brass Band

2007-08-23T20:55:00.000+01:00

7.00pm
I am due at Betteshanger Band's rehearsal in Mill Hill and Nigel gives me a lift. Formerly known as Betteshanger Colliery Brass Band before Margaret Thatcher closed down Betteshanger colliery along with the entire mining industry in the late 80's, the band was part of a mining tradition, where participation in brass bands and choirs helped miners combat the lung disease which was a consequence of working amidst constant coal dust.

The Betteshanger band holds the south-east brass band championship. It encourages those with as little as six months' experience of playing a brass instrument to join. My visit to the band's rehearsal last night was to take photographs, my interest the historical association of music made by breath and breathing with occupation lung disease. I had hoped to talk to Ifor Thomas, an ex-miner and tuba player but he is at the town's carnival. Ifor's children, Sue and Ian, are also in the band.

In the right hand photograph is Phil, aka Shrek. Later, baritone player Alan, broadband service manager with British Telecom, who also runs the band's website (www.betteshanger.org) emails me helpful instructions on how to delete the cookies which are slowing down my laptop at home.

28.7.07: Days in Deal

2007-08-23T20:50:00.000+01:00

Friday 2.00 pm:
After a morning of catching up blogging, I visit Victoria Hospital to see Karen from the Eastern and Coastal respiratory team. My spirometry reading is better than one taken before I left - the key test, FEV1 (forced expiratory volumn in one second) shows a slight improvement. However there is a question as to whether my weight has been entered consistently both times which would invalidate the improved result.

Most of the day is spent on Nigel's computer and in the evening we go out to get fish and chips.

Saturday 3.30 pm:
Distance cycled: 5 miles (approximation)

Passing a burnt-out car, I ride out to Fowlmead Country Park, a SEEDA-led regeneration project which has turned the Betteshanger Colliery into a nature reserve and massive area for outdoor leisure pursuits. It contains an Olympic-level cycle track on which young children are performing wheelies. The track will also host hand-cycling events.

It is bleak and beautiful, and camomile-like flowers sparkle on the dark shale of the former slagheaps, which is all that remains to honour the toil of miners below ground.

At the visitor centre, Elliot is sweeping up outside. Fowlmead has only recently opened seven days a week and Elliot, a mathematics student, is working here for the summer. He agrees to put my project cards with the other leaflets inside the centre.

29.7.07: Deal to St. Margaret's-at-Cliffe

2007-08-23T20:45:00.000+01:00

2.30 pm :
Temperature 22C, humidity 36%, wind north-easterly, sun. Distance cycled: 6 miles

After a quick dash to catch friends Dave and Lizzie doing their shopping at the nearby supermarket . . .

. . . I set out along the front, and meet A, S and N more or less at the point where Ordnance Survey Explorer Map No.150 (Canterbury & the Isle of Thanet) ends and No.138 (Dover, Hythe and Folkestone) begins.

It's good to have friends riding with me on this deserted uphill track. We descend to St. Margaret's Bay and eat our tea at the Coastguard Free House. This is an extraordinary place, with the house Noel Coward sold to Ian Fleming at one end, and a gunner's station from WW2 set into the cliff at the other.

And under it, a variety of stones scattered like a map, and rock rippling like waves.

8.30 pm:
I arrive at Andi's 60's bungalow hidden behind cycle route 1.

It's full of interesting things, sweet juxtapositions, and paintings by his girlfriend, artist Tracie Peisley.

Andi works for the Migrant Helpline in Dover and I find a copy of the Torture Survivor's Manual. It makes me think of journeys and dangers immeasurably greater than my own.

30.7.07: St. Margarets to Dover

2007-08-23T20:40:00.000+01:00

11.30 am:
Temperature 24C, Humidity 4%, light west wind. Day's mileage: 4 1/2 miles

Missing the right turn, I trudge across two fields on a footpath a mere foot wide. This farmer never wanted a right of way across his field.

As I pass South Foreland lighthouse, the track is blocked by railway sleepers and as i heft the bike over these, a monster crop sprayer in full action rears up over the brow of the hill spewing out lung-poison. Idyllic sunny ride across the clifftop, until i smash a mudguard passing through a too-small turnstile, before descending a steep path overlooking Dover port.

Researching the route last year I met Volodya who lived in a clearing in the woods alongside this path above the port, his possessions hung for safety in plastic bags from branches overhead.

This year he's gone, his woodland cave home filled up with dead branches. Volodya had come from Turkey in 1948 and said he had lived in this spot for sixteen years. We discussed photography; he spoke about "cameras without focus" - I think he had meant pinhole cameras but he was hard to understand - and he gave me a book someone had left him, Chicot the Jester by Alexander Dumas. Maybe he has been moved on, found hostel accommodation, or perhaps he's no longer alive. But I know no-one here to ask. My home until Thursday will be at the Longfield Guesthouse on the edge of the town.

30.7.07: Health issues for asylum seekers

2007-08-23T20:35:00.000+01:00

2.00 pm:
Asylum Seekers' Health Service

On my way to the guesthouse, I visit Masheeda Downing who works here; the service assesses the health of new arrivals and screens for TB.

She says the health of asylum seekers is usually good when they arrive but deteriorates over the next few years. The men tend to smoke heavily but I imagine this health deterioration is more associated with the anxiety of displacement than with smoking. Masheeda tells me this induction service is closing down as Home Office policy for asylum seekers moves over to a more helpful and efficient case work system.

30.7.07: The guesthouse

2007-08-23T20:20:00.000+01:00

3.00 pm:
I am staying at Longfield Guest House half a mile from the centre of Dover. I meet up with Rita who has come bearing gifts from home. Ann and Jane have thoughtfully sent a "SheWee" for those awkward nature moments amidst brambles and stinging nettles. My bike is safely housed in the guesthouse garage til Wednesday.

7.30 pm:
Yet another meal from the fish shop before an episode of EastEnders and an early night.

31.7.07: Delights of Dover

2007-08-23T20:15:00.000+01:00

1.00 pm:

After a hearty b&b breakfast, and a session blogging in Dover library, we are relaxing with coffee in Market Square. A sub-Vera Lynne rendition of "White Cliffs of Dover" suddenly floods the area over a tannoy. Its crude jollity entirely fails to match Vera's embodiment of bitter-sweet longing.

Historically transient, Dover is dominated by its port, both from the cliffs above . . .

. . . and on the beach below.

It's a strange day for news; following film director Ingmar Bergman's death yesterday, news of the passing of another great - Antonioni - has arrived in my email box. Then some comfort in the Guardian; Michele Hanson, who writes of aging with an extraordinary subtle mix of humour and poignancy, reports that the "senior moments" my generation complain of, and which have had me forgetting vital items and phone calls throughout this journey, are in fact "storage failure", the product of the busy, stressful lives of all ages.

In the same paper, cryptic crossword clue 4 down reads: "Constant puffing - evidence of frantic cycling? (5,7)" .... answer: "chain smoking".

5.30 pm
Back to St Margaret's Bay for a meal at the Coastguard Freehouse.

The end of the day is peaceful and happy.

1.8.07: Last day in Dover

2007-08-23T20:10:00.000+01:00

I meet Tim who is busking outside Woolworth's in the High Street. Tim has asthma. He took up the trumpet as an adult to help his breathing. He plans to write a book about busking and I promise to email him this image when I get home.

In St. Mary's Church down the road, there is a stained glass window commemorating the lives of ferry passengers who died in the Herald of Free Enterprise disaster.

After lunch on the beach, I talk to two silver swimmers, hale and hearty in their eighties, who are there with other older friends. They are called Jean and Rita. Rita tells me about her husband, who died at 81 with emphysema, and the hard work he put in to stay well. Rita prefers not be photographed, but this is Jean (and this is my lunch) . .

Rita's husband's condition was partly caused through his inhaling oil when his boat, the Lancastrian, sank in the English Channel during World War II. At the time, the loss of two to three thousand men was considered so serious for morale that Churchill had the incident suppressed.

2.8.07: Dover to Folkestone

2007-08-23T20:05:00.000+01:00

9.05 am:
Temp 18C, humidity 41%, wind light westerly. Total mileage: 9 miles.

National Cycle Route 2 runs uphill out of Dover alongside the main dual carriage way to Folkestone, right beside the HGVs and the fumes, and there are a lot of both. To avoid this last year, I hauled my old bike along a vertiginous cliff path, but this new bike is too big and too laden.

After diverting through Aycliff village, then over a footbridge, the track comes out near this tunnel to Samphire Hoe Country Park. It looks dark and sinister but exquisite flowers and spotted red moths carpet the verges right up to its entrance. The fumes inside will make it too hard to ride through.

The track is relentlessly uphill, with that grey gravel on cycle tracks which grabs at the bike types and sucks out their energy. But despite this and the unseen drone from the carriageway, the land is beautiful and the weather good. Eventually the SheWee comes into its own, and partly concealed behind a bush, I wave merrily to an AA man who is parked in the layby beyond the cycle track.

12.20 pm:

As I'm eating an early lunch on some aesthetically rusty farm machinery, Dave and his children Tom and Vicki cycle by. They live in Capel-le-Ferne and promise to wave at me when I pass by their house later.

At Capel-le-Ferne I stop at the Cliff Top Cafe for an icecream. It's very crowded; people stare and don't smile. A little girl contemplates the drop.

4.25 pm:
Arrive at Gillian's in Folkestone, and exhausted I get an early night.

3.8.07: Friday in Folkestone

2007-08-23T20:00:00.000+01:00

A former theatrical landlady in Canterbury, Gillian's artwork has the feel of a stage set and props: in Canterbury her house was her canvass. Having only recently moved to Folkestone, this house is still a blank screen.

Gillian recycles her life: this teacup is made from her grandmother's lace tableclothes and embodies memories of tea-time with her great aunt.

Sean from the Eastern and Coastal NHS respiratory team calls in to monitor my lung function. Bizarrely, my lungs appear to taken a dive and seem to be functioning at 33% of what they should be, rather than their usual 40%

2.10 pm:
Gillian takes me out to meet Folkestone artists. We meet sculptor Mark Sunderland whose exhibition "Linked+" has just opened at the new Whole World Cafe. Mark's work plays with boundaries between technology and the body. He has incorporated prostheses and bodily functions within his sculptures and there is one which has a silver 'lung' inflating and deflating wheezily, alarmingly like one of mine.

Mark also has a folding bike with its own sculptural presense and in the context of his work I am again aware of the prosthetic quality of my bike.

3.30 pm:
We visit Ruth Parkinson in her studio. Ruth has ME, and in her teens TB and multiple attacks of pneumonia and pleurisy.

Ruth makes site specific work about memory and history and is planning a residency working with local people about their memories of the Royal Pavilion Hotel, part of which remains joined to the back of the newer iconic ship-shaped Burstin Hotel.

Ruth shows me round Folkestone Harbour, the Burstin Hotel, and the disused Folkestone Harbour rail station .....

..... and then Gillian takes me back to her house via heavily scaffolded buildings damaged in the recent earthquake.

4.8.07: Folkestone-Hythe-Newchurch

2007-08-23T19:55:00.000+01:00

2.40 pm:
Temperature 24C, humidity 41%, west wind. Mileage: 14 1/2 miles

Before setting off to Newchurch, I pay homage to the King at an amusement arcade at the bottom of Tontine Street. It will be the thirtieth anniversary of Elvis's death in a few weeks.

I stop off at the new outdoor amphitheatre at the Leas Undercliff on the way out of town. Entertainment is happening so I chat to friends for a while then take off and later curse at forgetting to photograph the excellent acapello group. Singing is healthy exercise for the lungs, hence the male voice choirs which were a feature of the mining industry.

It's hot on the sea front, there's sticky pink icecream melting on the ground. People are enjoying the sun, making their private temporary homes on the beach.

At Hythe I meet Joe and Gareth, barstaff at the Hotel Imperial behind the beach. They are queuing for icecreams, sweltering in their work clothes.

Gareth says the job is easier since the new smoking legislation as it's quieter and there's less clearing up to do. It suits Joe as he's recently given up.

At the Hythe end of the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway line, I stop for my own icecream before cycling along the Royal Military Canal, and on through flat, marsh landscape. I get directions from a man with a horse outside the Bottolph Bridge Inn, and along the interminable Lower Wall Road more directions from caravaners, Kathy and Dicky Bird. Jo phones to see where I've got to and four horses raise their heads at the sound of the ringtone.

6.50 pm:
Arrive at Newchurch on Romney Marsh. Jo's home is in the bakehouse of an old mill.

5.8.07: Newchurch-Dymchurch-New Romney

2007-08-23T19:50:00.000+01:00

1.50 pm:
Temperature 28C, humidity 41%, west wind, light becoming stronger. Mileage: 9 miles

Hurried ride through more marsh countryside to meet Sandra and Geoff who are driving out from Canterbury. They phone to say Dymchurch is so crowded there is no parking, they are exhausted by the heat and will try to meet up again later in the week.

I stop for icecream, followed by a wobbly ride along the front dodging small children. As the tide comes in people are de-camping from the beach and re-arranging themselves all over the promenade above.

Further along the front David is waiting for me. He is partner to Mollie, my respiratory nurse and I am staying with them in New Romney. I meet their dog Billie; Billie is thirteen and has the lung disease pulmonary fibrosis.

David rings bells at 11th century St. Nicholas's Church round the corner. He takes me up to the top of the church tower to see the view across the marsh.

Dungeness power station is visible on the horizon. I will be staying on the Ness tomorrow and Tuesday.

6.8.07: New Romney to Dungeness

2007-08-23T19:40:00.000+01:00

10.15 am :
Temperature 21C, Humidity 41%, light west wind. Day's mileage: 11 miles

Complete with Mollie's generous packed lunch, I set off for Dungeness leaving Billie the Tibetan terrior listening to a Radio 4 programme about Freud and the Oedipus complex. I pass fishing tackle shops and a garden centre specialising in plants which survive by the sea. On Dungeness Derek Jarman's garden looks overgrown.

11.10 am:
Arrive at Susan's house on the Ness. Susan (left) takes me to buy eggs and a marrow from a neighbour who sells produce from her two allotments.

1.45 pm :
Sue (right) and Julia have driven over from Whitstable with their bikes, and we ride against a strong wind to the RSBP sanctuary where we buy stuffed birds with mechanical songs to hang from our handlebars.

Christine, the visitor centre manager, tells me about the campaign to halt the Lydd airport expansion and the high likelihood of bird strikes in this area. I sign the petition and we leave. Passing the power station on the way back I attract the attention of Eddie, the security officer, who drives incessantly around its boundaries. He asks me if I am photographing the perimeter fence, which I deny and divert him by showing him my stuffed birds from the santuary which luckily makes him laugh.

9.00 pm:
The power station from my window in the fading light.

7.8.07: On the Ness and on the train

2007-08-23T19:35:00.000+01:00

7.45 am:
Up early, but Colin has beaten me. He drives from Maidstone up to three times a week to fish here. He tells me how the mackeral drive shoals of whitebait up onto the shingle where they are gathered - and cooked.

The coastguard's lookout has been purchased privately, "refurbished" and a barrier erected, evidence of the gentrification of Dungeness.

Walking towards the little train station, Dungeness power station looks sculptural in the morning sun.

10.10am:
I catch the Dymchurch light railway steam train back to see Jo and use her computer. It passes through miniature sidings and past miniature signal boxes, and through a narrow passage between back gardens. A small boy sitting near the front makes dramatic coughing, choking and dying gestures with much hilarity. He is on holiday at Camber Sands, hopefully in good health.

Back at Jo's house, she shows me Google Earth and zooms in from space to my house in Whitstable, and to hers here. You could monitor this whole journey from space.

I have received an email from Fred Knittle of the U.S. choir Young@Heart, whose programme has been shown several times on Channel 4. This seniors' choir sing contemporary songs. Fred retired from the choir due to health problems but still makes guest appearances and sings Coldplay's "Fix You", his oxygen bottle at his side. I am honoured and overwhelmed that he has replied to my email.

Jo drives me back to Dungeness in the evening and we eat excellent fish and chips at the Brittannia pub near where I'm staying.

8.8.07: The old lighthouse

2007-08-23T19:30:00.000+01:00

10.30 am

Before leaving the Ness I climb the old lighthouse. It has 169 steps and convenient stop-offs at floors on the way up; this is fortunate or I couldn't make it. You can see the new lighthouse from the top.

The lenses are on the second floor.

I meet Louise, Michelle and their children. Louise was an art student at Christchurch Canterbury. She is pleased that she stopped smoking well before the new legislation as she thinks an anti-authoritarian streak would prevent her from doing so now. They pose inside the lenses . . .

Before heading off the Ness I stop and buy smoked salmon at Jim's Smokery. He has constant film crews on location here. Some pay, most don't, but Jim considers it good publicity.

8.8.07: Dungeness to Winchelsea Beach

2007-08-23T19:20:00.000+01:00

12.30pm :
Temperature 24C, humidity 37%, wind south/south-westerly. Day's mileage: 16 miles

Cars screech along the Dungeness Road to Lydd, and as I stop anxious to don the fluorescent cycle jacket my daughter Megan has loaned me for the trip, a car pulls up and Colin the fisherman gets out. He has caught seven mackeral and is off home with his catch.

Further along I pass a memorial to a young woman who died driving her car off the road. The flowers have changed since I first saw this memorial last year. Somebody's daughter or mother or lover ... the grief must be terrible.

I am on Cycle Route 2 again. It winds beside the road which runs between Ministry of Defence fenced-off shore - so many places we're not allowed to go and this one looks like a film set - and on the other side, farm land.

At Camber Sands, Dave the Coastal Control Officer tells me that, despite the No Inflatables flag on the beach, inflatables are being used in the sea by quite small, often unsupervised children. "We can only try to keep them safe, we can't make them", he says. But huge and exciting inflatables are on sale everywhere around us.

Beyond Camber, there is more fenced-off M.O.D. shingle, and on the other side gravel quarries with their resulting lakes and bird life. Huge flocks of migratory geese are making a racket and trying to make a temporary home. There is a caravan park sited next to a pylon with large Grecian style statues on high plinths.

Reaching Rye exhausted, I decide to cycle on to Winchelsea Beach where I am staying with Annie and Gina so I can rest tomorrow. I have a cold sore, and yesterday a swollen ankle - my body is telling me to stop. On the road to Winchelsea Beach, tucked behind the town is Solvent Resource Management, huge, shiny and a bit scary.

The route through Rye Harbour Nature Reserve is staggering beautiful. Wartime gunners' lookout posts by artists' installations at the river mouth.

An old lifeboat building commemorates the tragedy of the sinking of the "Mary Stanford" in 1928. Volunteer lifeboatmen set out in terrible storms to rescue the crew of a ship in trouble. With no ship-to-shore radio they never knew that this crew had been rescued safely, and their bodies were later found washed up on the shore. Reminiscent of eighties anti-nuclear protests at Greenham Common, the fence round the Mary Stanford building has been decorated in the area's beachcombing aesthetic.

Gina cycles to meet me and we return to hers and Annie's house to a vegetable curry and rice. Before going to bed, neighbour Elizabeth who runs the Winchelsea Beach website arrives with relatives to watch five badgers who regularly visit the garden.

9.8.07: The lost day

2007-08-23T19:10:00.000+01:00

Nothing but exhaustion today. Annie and Gina are tactful and kind and carry on with their day.

10.8.07: Rye Harbour and the Mary Stanford Disaster

2007-08-23T19:05:00.000+01:00

11.50am :
Temperature 24C, humidity 34%, wind south easterly, day's mileage, 5 miles.

Cycling back to meet Miriam Bowley who works at the Rye Harbour Nature Reserve, I see Maureen and Roger reading the Daily Express on the shingle near the Mary Stanford building. They live in Beckenham and have been coming here for years. Maureen's mother has a lung condition - she's not sure what it's called - and Maureen worries they over-protect her by not encouraging her to walk and by taking her everywhere by car.

Heading inland past the river mouth, I pass this fisherman's hut - a house drawn by a small child.

At Lime Kiln Cottage, the HQ of the nature reserve, Mirian tells me about her job, and the animal science degree and wild life biology and conservation masters she studied. She is passionate about the environment and wants people to get out of doors for a "breath of fresh air" so they can learn about it. As we discuss organic versus non-organic farming methods, Miriam's four month old dog Truffle chews enthusiastically on a plastic plucked chicken.

Having previously worked on a National Trust farm, Miriam knew a farrier who contracted lung disease caused partly by smoke and hoof dust from his work.

Miriam tells me it was children from St. Thomas' School in Winchelsea who made the beautiful commemorative artwork on the fence around the Mary Stanford building. After I leave Lime Kiln Cottage I visit the massive memorial in Rye Harbour church. Several members from the same families were lost in the disaster.

Following this I head back to the harbour and the William the Conqueror pub where there is a yearly memorial for the lifeboatmen. Outside the pub Alex is riding up and down on his bike while his family are having a drink in the sun. He likes the stuffed bird on my handlebars and squeezes it to make it sing.

10.8.07: Quick visit to Rye

2007-08-23T19:00:00.000+01:00

2.30 pm :
Gina and Annie take me by car into Rye which is full of tourists. We meet Tony who opened a men's vintage store on the main street just two weeks ago. The tiny shop is packed.

At the Apothecary Coffee House, Jane Fraser, a Rye tour guide, gives me details of the Fraser clan and claims me as a relative.

We pass a window notice advertising a meeting to discuss how Rye should be administered. Rye currently comes under Rother District Council, based in Bexhill, and all decisions are taken there.

Later I photograph Annie. Gina refuses but allows her cat Rufus to represent her.

Annie has multiple schlerosis. We discuss the complexities of living with progressive disease, the reality/denial dynamic which we both experience and the psychological management strategies we employ. Annie collects aesthetic walking sticks. They are waiting in the wings . . . She tells me about a Buddhist meditation called the Mindfulness of Breathing.

In the evening the badgers are back. There are six of them just ten yards away and we sit on the doorstep, watching silently. The badgers have poor sight; they are not naturally nocturnal and only became so as a result of our persecution.

11.8.07: On the big train

2007-08-23T18:50:00.000+01:00

9.20 am:
Gina drives me to Rye train station and I catch the packed 9.53 am to Ashford, changing there for Margate. Since I've become used to the miniature Dymchurch Light Railway this train seems made for giants. Arriving at Ashford I hit mainstream culture in the platform lift . . . .

A couple get in. They are bemused but declare it better than graffiti.

11.8.07: Open day at the Windmill Allotment project

2007-08-23T18:45:00.000+01:00

Rita meets me at Margate and we escape to the Windmill project just in time to photograph the arrival of the Whitstable Samba Pelo Mar band.

The band is great and everyone enjoys their performance. Although a member of the band, my decision to be away on this trip means I have been unable to take part in their first year's gigs.

Jules works here and is in the band (below left). Linnea is on the right.

Jules later shows me a Caribbean vegetable, growing on the allotments . . . .

. . . . and Diane, whose yoga class I attended here near the beginning of my journey, shows me another pose.

13.8.07: Winchelsea Beach to Hastings

2007-08-23T18:40:00.000+01:00

11.00 am:
Temperature 22C, humidity 41%, wind westerly, sun and dark cloud. Day's distance: 10 miles

Reunited with my prosthetic bicycle which has been stored safely in Gina and Annie's garage, I set out into a head-on wind on the track by the shore. Anxious about the three mile hill ahead, I had not expected this flat part to be so hard. The rain starts - the first on the journey - while I'm watching sheep being moved from field to field by energetic border collies.

I fashion couture rainwear out of a Kent County Council recyling bag and model it on the beach. I have become a re-cyclist.

Cycle Route 2 rejoins the road. After a few hard but mostly manageable gradients beyond Pett Level, where the old sits side by side with the new . . . .

. . . . I reach a ominous sign: Battery Hill. This is the big one - everyone has warned me about it. Pushing the bike (no longer a prothesis but an encumbrance) it takes twenty rests of one to two minutes each, with a mere sixty to eighty paces in between them to reach the top. There are two longer stops, one by the road with fierce cars rushing past over pretty shadow patterns, while I make pathetic calls to friends on my mobile . . . .

. . . . but at the second stop-off for lunch, the view is breathtaking. As so often, my tiny camera cannot do justice to what the eye perceives.

A mile or so beyond Hastings Country Park, Cycle Route 2 turns off the road into a small lane.

It is downhill the rest of the way and euphoric after the previous struggle.

4.00 pm:
Suddenly it's Hastings Old Town. I've arrived.
Feeling the tourist's need for evidence, I photograph myself in front of Hastings icons; fishing boats and the tall black fishermen's huts.

A family is watching and asks if I want my photo taken. Two young women ask me to take their photo and I oblige on condition that I can take theirs. They live in Hastings and are on a day out together. In the daze of reaching my goal, I forget to ask anyone their names.

On the shore I grab more proof. There are black flags made out of bin bags on all the fishing boats and it looks funereal. A well-known member of the fishing community has in fact just died, but the two men I speak to who are working on their boat tell me the black bag flags are used because they show up well out at sea.

I suddenly become tearful, overwhelmed at having managed to reach the end of my journey. After a visit for tea (and bike storage) at Kate's house in the Old Town, Maggie collects me and take me to her home for the night. Maggie works at Arts in Healthcare, based at Conquest Hospital where there will exhibitions of this project next year. The view from her house is wonderful, the meal, made by Maggie's partner Trevor, even better.

On Sunday Hastings Urban Bikes will be riding with me into Hastings. Another tiring ride but a symbolic and exciting end to the journey.

14.8.07: Hastings

2007-08-23T18:35:00.000+01:00

9.00 am:
At breakfast Trevor who is a saxophinist, Maggie and I discuss breathing. Trevor uses circular breathing when he plays, and he shows me how he breathes, stressing the importance of relaxing the upper chest while breathing diaphragmatically. He has noticed that his lungs feel a little tighter than they used to now he's older.

This Mexican fish lives in the bathroom. To help combat the panic which can occur when my oxygen levels have dropped too low - as in yesterday's push up the hill to Hastings - I often imagine a lavatory cistern flushing, emptying and then refilling. It helps me remember that my oxygen levels will similarly rise again when I stop and rest - not an elegant metaphor, but it seems to work.

3.00 pm:
After fish and chips from the Dolphin chippie near the front, I depart for home and a few days rest before the final ride with Hastings Urban Bikes on Sunday.

15.8.07: Waiting for Sunday (I)

2007-08-23T18:20:00.000+01:00

12.00 pm :
Back in Whitstable

Disorientated by my time away, I have turned up a week early for my Breathe Easy meeting at the Whitstable and Tankerton Hospital, looking forward to seeing everyone. No-one is there, and the respiratory team are out on calls. The emptiness is palpable and so is my disappointment.

4.30 pm:
Walk across Whitstable to see cranial-sacral therapist Val for a treatment session. This works wonders for my stiff neck. There's a mackeral sky on the way back.

Calling in at the Horsebridge Art and Community Centre, Whitstable's recently awoken giant, Captain Sam has been stored under the stairs. Sam is part of a long tradition of Kent giants which originated in France. He was commissioned from public art group Strange Cargo in Folkestone who work with local communities in envisaging together, and then constructing their giant.

Captain Sam is seldom seen indoors; he must be nearly two stories high. Today he is less than half his height. His legs have been surgically removed and are elsewhere. No-one seems to know where.

The mackeral sky is still there and I go home to consult Alan Watts' 1968 Instant Weather Forecasting, a classic text which uses the author's cloud photographs to analyse the weather. It has been reprinted twenty-one times.

16.8.07: Waiting for Sunday (II)

2007-08-23T18:15:00.000+01:00

1.00 pm:
Day trip to Folkestone

Folkestone is sunny. Driving down into the town I get a different view of the Grand Burstin Hotel which I visited before.

At the harbour I talk to Michael, an ex-fisherman who runs the wet fish shop on the quay. All except one fishing boat bring him their catch.

I have heard that fishermen here are unhappy with the plans to develop a marina in the harbour but Michael is adamant that they are in fact pleased about the development, and sure of their place in the future plans.

Michael feels that plans to remove the iconic arches will tidy things up. I know from speaking to other people that many see the arches as integral to Folkestone's identity and will be saddened at their loss.

Near the historic Bail neighbourhood this pig takes my fancy. There are two of them on what seems to be a residential building. I imagine it was once a butcher's shop.

In another part of town, scaffolding around this damaged chapel is evidence of the Almighty's inability to prevent the recent earthquake.

17.8.07: Waiting for Sunday (III)

2007-08-23T18:10:00.000+01:00

9.00 am:
Whitstable

Early visit to my G.P. who makes a generous donation to the British Lung Foundation.

On the way back along the beach, there is some new graffitti in the shelter at the tennis courts. The wooden floor has been trashed . . . .

. . . . and after a month away, my old dog Rocky is looking stiff-legged and older still.

A book arrives in the post from Gina and Annie. The synopsis describes The Third Policeman as "the story of a tender, brief, unrequited love affair between a man and his bicycle".

18.8.07: Day of rest

2007-08-23T18:05:00.000+01:00

Energy saving day before tomorrow's ride.

19.8.07: Hastings - the finale

2007-08-23T18:00:00.000+01:00

11.05 am:
Temperature 23C, humidity 53%, wind light south-westerly, overcast. Distance: 12 miles

Ride with Hastings Urban Bikes
Waiting at Rye Harbour at the end of the road, HUB cyclists appear in the distance. As they get nearer, we can see there are quite a few. How amazing that they have turned out on this dull day when heavy rain is forecast. They include members of Age Concern HUB, a senior cycling group who come under the HUB umbrella and are here under their ride theme "Breath of Life".

We set off towards the river mouth and along Rye Harbour Nature Reserve track - National Cycle route 2. About three miles along we stop at Winchesea Beach Cafe. The cakes are flamboyant but we all manage to resist.

One of the Age Concern cyclists tells me his balance is affected by a recent minor stroke. He has just fallen off, but luckily onto the grassy side of the track. Neil tells me he lives with "farmers' lung". But they still cycle, these people. They are truly intrepid.

It begins to rain and we don our waterproofs. The seniors turn round at this point; their ride will be a circular eight miles and I have been honoured by their presence.

The remaining HUB cyclists, Nick, Michael, Michael, and Gavin are sticking with me. The climb up the hill goes much as my Monday ride, except that it is pouring and we are all soaked. I suggest the others go ahead and I join them at Fairlight Lodge Hotel, our stop-off point at the top. They are concerned but I assure them I will be better on my own, as anxiety and self-consciousness at my slow walking pace is likely to make my breathing even worse. And Rita is standing by with the car in case of problems.

After lunch and another photo, both Michaels go their separate ways home, and Nick and I start the heady, euphoric descent into Hastings. Before Nick heads for home on the west side of the town, we take a celebratory photo.

The ride, however soggy and exhausting, has been the perfect end to this Drawing Breath project. I hope I can ride with HUB again. Down on the front, delaying the ending of my journey, I'm drawn to the fun fair. When I photographed it in May it was asleep. It is now going at full blast though with few takers, probably due to the rain.

For some reason it makes me remember the terror of my COPD diagnosis in 2000. And how, despite its severity and undoubted bad days, things haven't turned out so bad after all.

19.8.07: Later on ...

2007-08-23T17:00:00.000+01:00

It has been an up and down journey to say the least. I have appreciated all the messages on the forum, debates around illness and chronic conditions, plus messages of encouragement including weekly tarot readings by Madame Zena Philia who suggested I draw the final card myself on my return.

Madame Zena emphasises story telling rather than the more conventional fairground notion of pre-destination, and her readings have often pinpointed with uncanny accuracy my state of mind on the journey.

20.8.07: The day after

2007-08-23T16:15:00.000+01:00

11.45 am:
Conquest Hospital, St. Leonards

I am meeting respiratory physiologist Judy Russell for lung function tests. I notice Hastings Urban Bikes posters in the waiting room; HUB is part-funded by the local primary care trust. And when Judy arrives, she has a nasty graze on her chin following a fall from her bike earlier this morning.

My lung function tests are back to 40% of what is predicted for my age and height. This is a relief as my previous test at Folkestone registered a mere 33%. And at the end of the journey my daily medication has been reduced by half.

Earlier in the year I photographed Judy's clinical space and the smoking aliens she keeps there. The aliens are still there. They make me laugh but there's no getting away from it: smoking is the main cause of emphysema and chronic bronchitis. What is not so well known is that susceptibility to lung disease varies hugely. There's no proven way of telling who will succumb. Funds for research are vital; despite being one of the major killers, lung disease receives a disproportionately low amount of research funding.

The HUB posters make the point that exercise is essential for retaining mobility. Without exercising, health deteriorates quickly.

Pulmonary rehabilitation teaches COPD patients ways of exercising in order to maximize health. It should be available on the NHS throughout the UK. Instead it is only provided on a patchy and ad hoc basis. So it often has to be up to us, the patients, to do the best we can to keep moving, with the advice of our GPs, consultants and respiratory nurses.