A Geriatric Dad on a World Tour in a Fight against Dementia/Alzheimer

When I was 12, with my Grandfathers help, I built a canoe out of roofing laths. Covered it in an old bedsheet, and painted it with red lead paint (left over from the Second World War) to waterproof it and, with a broom handle and two tin plates screwed to each end, decided to set sail from Barmston Drain, in Hull, which ran close to our house.

Determined to follow the path that our Geography teacher had identified on a little page in my exercise book as the British Isles from her big rubber map roller that she used to teach us about the world, Asia, the UK etc, all of which fitted separately onto one blank page of my exercise book.  

And, strangely to me, all were the same size. I had no perception of time nor distance in 1956, for the farthest I had been was 14 miles out to the East Coast to Withernsea, in the back of my dad's Ford 8! So my imagination worked overtime and I decided it wouldn't take long to paddle down to the River Hull then turn right to head out to The River Humber (one of the most notorious rivers in British Isles) then turn left and head to the North Sea and then turn right and swiftly whiz around the British Isles, as per the little map in my book! 

Grandad said "where are you off to, Mister John? and i said "a tour around the world,, Sir." "Good Luck with that Mister, make sure you are back for tea" 

And off I sailed on my world journey, oblivious to the dangers. Around lunchtime I had already survived a gang of East Hull boys attacking my canoe with air pistols, trying to sink me. They were thwarted, thankfully, by a rather large fishing trawler heading towards me from the Humber. The boys ran, the fishermen screamed at me to 'go home' in a foreign language, but I knew some of the words! So I hid in a large concrete culvert (a flood relief system apparently), ate my egg sandwiches, paddled back up the River Hull until I reached Barmston Drain, then about a mile along I abandoned my canoe, and went home to mum. Mum smiled at me, and said nowt! It was a really good day mum. "Ah, I knew it would be!" she said. Grinning.

When I was 16, I cycled with my school pal from Hull to Margate, in Kent. A journey of 248 miles, all in one day. In those days (1960), there were no motorways, but the A1 had a cycle lane on each side of the road all the way to London and then out East to Margate (on Watling Street). Starting at 6 o'clock in the morning from Hull until we arrived at 12 o'clock at night in Margate. We were wet, tired and hungry, but we did it! Another good day.

The return journey 2 weeks later wasn’t the same. We cycled 80 miles to Kings Cross Station and got the train ‘up North!

I am not fit enough to do that today, but I have already cycled around the British Isles (albeit virtually, on my 'home gym' exercise bike), logging up over 8000 kilometres in 2 years, averaging 80 kms a week, all done  during COVID and beyond. 

Now, I am fully committed to cycling ‘virtually’ on a tour around the world. About 40,000 kilometres in total. 4,000 kms a year and 80 kms a week, it’s a doddle, I hope.

A large part of my blog will be chronicling the journey and part will be about staying healthy, maintaining fitness at my “geriatric” age and mindfulness. 

My daily journey is made up of 10 minutes canoeing, 20 mins on the treadmill and 30 or more cycling on my fixed bike.  I record every minute which equates to kilometres and total it up for each week. having photographed evidence of the results for each discipline (all date stamped).

The blog is a shared between you and me. Sharing experiences and ideas as we go, for the benefit of us all, so two-way communication is welcome. I am fully committed to either die trying or achieving it! At my tender age, that's the reality of life. And please help me fighting dementia/alzheimers by joining this special club.