Actually, I'm English

Rediscovering My Homeland on Foot and by Motorbike

De: Nick Adams

Narrado por: Nick Adams

Forty years is a long time to be away. Travelling on foot and by motorbike, Nick Adams discovers that while many things have changed, the things he loved - the hills, the pubs, the back roads and yes, even the weather - are undiminished.

Join Nick as he hikes the length of Wales, hitting all the high spots. Then follow him up the spine of England on the Pennine Way, through brutal February weather. On his third trip, circumstances conspire against him. The original plan was to walk from Chepstow all the way to the Lake District. It didn’t quite work out that way. Lastly, follow Nick across the North York Moors at night, then on across the country to the Cumbria coast.

As if the snow, rain, and endless miles weren’t enough while hiking, jump on the back of the motorbike and ride from Scotland to Devon via Norfolk, dodging hypothermia, then through the Lakes, the Pennines, and Wales.

Nick’s idea of a good time seems to involve bad weather, difficult terrain, stealth camping, and innumerable pubs. This is one man’s view of a country he loves, told in a simple, engaging style.

Come along for the ride.

©2016 Nicholas R. Adams (P)2020 Nicholas R. Adams

Can You Ever Really Go Home?

One of Nick Adams’ great talents—on full display here—is his ability to observe the world in motion. Whether he’s travelling on foot or by motorbike, his awareness moves like a lighthouse beam, slowly sweeping the horizon in every direction. Landscapes, weather, people, small social rituals—nothing escapes notice. He absorbs it all, renders it in calm, elegant prose—then, without warning, pivots and hits you with something blunt, dry, and unmistakably English.

One moment, he’s unpacking the solitude of the countryside; the next, he’s reminding you that England is also a place where stepping off a trail for a discreet hedge-side pee may require tipping your hat to the woman suddenly walking her dog behind you. It’s crowded—until it isn’t—and then suddenly it is again.

The same understated ingenuity runs through his travel itself. Adams bivvies where he must, often with little more than a cleverly adapted raincoat serving as a tent, slung against a rock wall while a herd of bewildered sheep looks on—proof that comfort has less to do with gear than with resourcefulness. Motorcycles are very much part of the story—plenty here for two-wheeled readers—but, as always with Adams, the machine is secondary to the noticing.

What emerges isn’t a neat arc or a grand statement, but a series of quiet reckonings—each one turning the same question over from a different angle: can you ever really go home?