The Philosopher's Den

Day: 7 (Glastonbury to Bristol)

Average Speed: ???

Distance Today: 37.8 miles (3 of which were walked)

Distance Cycled Total: 347.4 miles 

Feet climbed: 2582 today, 19,830.2 total

Difficulty level: Easy then Challenging then Moderate

Graffiti in Bristol

Philosopher #1: "Because the robots have a different mind than the…."

Philosopher #2: "How can you prove me I have no soul?"

Philosopher #1: "Uhhh... essentially what we perceive as a soul is the conglomerate of everything that happens to us before we become self aware…"

Philosopher #2: "But for example a plant, is the principle of life…"

Philosopher #1: "But we can move and plants can’t..."

Philosopher #2: "But..."

Philosopher #1: "And they don't breathe…"

Philosopher #2: "But I think of many things that..."

Philosopher #1:  "Yeah I know what what you mean. But human beings are robots. If you look at the bible…"

I’m really trying to stay focused now, but it's impossible not to eavesdrop on the inane

The Philosopher's Den at Bristol Backpackers Hostel

conversation behind me. I figured I'd just transcribe a bit instead. I have a new appreciation for stenographers. 

This is not an atypical conversation in a hostel's common area at midnight. I’m accustomed to staying in hostels. Quite enjoy it actually. But this place… I don’t belong here. As Bristol is a large city, and there are no real camping facilities, I should’ve just sprung for a halfway decent hotel room. But nope! Here I am. Twenty-one pounds lighter (a reference to the cost of the bed, not my weight), and in a confusing mess of people who have either taken up permanent residency or are considering permanent residency. The Lost Souls Club. I totally get it. I do. I’m just a little too gray around the beard to fit in. 

The eclectic personalities here are somewhat reminiscent of the patchouli-scented town of Glastonbury, which I left this morning. Last night, the streets were empty, giving the eerie appearance of a well-kept ghost town. This morning? Let’s just say I’m finally working my way through the Harry Potter series, and I now have a reference point. By 9:00 AM the streets were abuzz with people in capes, cloaks, and fishnets. Stores like The Cat & Cauldron (great pub name!) and The Goddess & The Green Man (even better!) and Man Myth & Magik (needs work!) were hawking kitsch to anyone and everyone. 

The famous Glastonbury Tor, visible on my way out of town

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, I quite like these kinds of towns. But in an observation sort of way as opposed to a wallet sort of way. 

I purchased a cup of coffee at The Winking Turtle, updated my blog in the town square, and visited the post office to send two things to my sister’s address: The latest John Grisham paperback, which has been taking up space in my luggage since the train ride, and my Camelbak, which for some reason I always think I need on these trips (I don't). She doesn’t know about this delivery. It’ll be a surprise. I didn’t even include an explanation or a postcard. Just those two things. Imagine getting that package. 

Entryway to The Bishop's Palace

Sounds like quick chores, right? 

Didn’t head out until after 12 PM. 

It didn’t matter much. I’ve been happy following the guide’s relatively short traffic-free stages, being in no particular hurry to just “get it done.” And today’s plan was a breezy 37 miles. Perfect day. Easy distance. Not a care in the world. 

Cathedral in center of town

My route took me on an intricate path 

through the remarkable city of Wells, which is billed as "England's Smallest City." It features stunning architecture (The Bishop's Palace), a beautiful cathedral, and Europe's oldest surviving residential street from the 14th century, known as Vicars' Close.

On my way out, three touring cyclists were on a corner, trying to navigate the maze of a route in the opposite direction. After pointing them the correct way, I noticed one had the same bell on his bike as I did. I mentioned mine hasn't worked since it rusted on Day #1 of my Trans-America tour on a rainy day in Virginia. He looked at it briefly, and then violently bent the striker. "Now try it," he said. 

Clang!

I rang that bell joyfully for the next quiet mile. 

Today's Elevation Profile

View from atop the Mendip Hills

The bulk of my energy today was spent climbing the Mendip Hills. Take a look at the elevation profile. See that camel's hump? It's as steep as it looks. The cyclist who fixed my bell warned me not to climb it too quickly because it was important to enjoy the views on the way up. 

Now there's some advice I can take. 

First flat of the trip.

It would've been a near perfect day had somebody not decided to place a thumbtack on the path three miles from the day's destination. I understand a stray nail, or glass, or a nasty thorn, but a thumbtack? My mood deflated as quickly as the tire's inner tube. 

I had purchased this tire in Prague on my last tour, and I have had no need to remove it since. While I've had no problem replacing tubes in the past, I could not for the life of me get this one off of the rim. After fifteen sweaty minutes, I gave up, favoring a three mile walk instead. 

Paddleboard lessons in Bristol

Worse things have happened. 

Sure I had to haul my bike up a few sets of stairs, but there wasn't much to complain about walking along Bristol Harbor and savoring the atmosphere of lively Bristol, England. I'll worry about it tomorrow. 

THIS BEER SPONSORED BY

ALEXA BALKISSOON!
(I even spelled it right)

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The philosophers behind me have gone to bed, a sure sign that this day is officially over. 

P.S. 

I don't know who this Derril character is, but I'm on the lookout for him.