I was sent this from a friend who is also deaf and blind, enjoy.

Kayaks, Unicycles and Rickshaws – July 15, 2008
By Andrew Shanahan – The Guardian

Why travel to work like a sardine squashed into a tin?
Andrew Shanahan meets the commuters who have ditched trains, buses and
cars for less conventional transport
 
Bill Corr, Software Engineer
Rickshaw
When my wife decided to start working again, it seemed like we’d need
to get another car to get the kids to school. We really didn’t want to
because I work at home [but do the school run] and it just seemed like
a waste, so we explored alternatives and I found this rickshaw on the
internet. I showed it to my wife and I thought she was going to say,
“Don’t be stupid!” but she said, “That looks really cool!” which
flabbergasted me. So that set the idea in motion.
 
We were very dubious about whether it would be feasible because it’s
very hilly in this part of Devon, which is why we chose a motorised
rickshaw, to give me some help pedaling a full load of about 200kg up
a 1:4 hill! It cost us about £5,000, which was pretty expensive but
they have a very high resale value. When it arrived in February it was
quite cold and rainy and I thought that might put the children off it,
but they absolutely love it, and it gets a very favourable reaction
from most people.
 
On the school run there’s quite a long hill where you have to park
your car at the bottom and walk up. I’ve lost count of the number of
times I’ve given other kids a ride up the hill and then given a load
of mums a lift back down. It’s designed for three adults but you can
get six kids in it.
 
I definitely think people should look for alternative ways of doing
their current commute. It does make me laugh that people drive a few
miles to work, drive home and then drive to the gym. Why don’t they
just cycle to work? People are stuck in the mentality that a car is
what takes you to work and back.
 
I have always lived outside of that car-loving mentality simply
because I adore cycling. The other thing we’ve found is that commuting
can be fun. If I’d only bought the rickshaw because of the
environmental benefits and the children hated it, we would have spent
a fortune to make the children miserable. Fortunately, it’s a scream,
it’s cheap to run and I can be smug about the fuel prices rising!
 
Chris Dawes, Chief flying instructor
Microlight
On an average day it takes me about 15 minutes to fly the microlight
to work. It would take me about an hour and 20 minutes if I was
driving a car to work, so it makes sense. In the summer I may start
teaching very early and not finish until late – and the last thing I
want to do is get in a car for a long journey home. Flying is quicker
and definitely more enjoyable.
 
I take off from a field outside my house – for a microlight all you
need is about 150 metres of field to get airborne. So I get to the
field, kick the tyres and get in. As I climb away I take a bearing
straight for an old stone circle. I fly at about 3,000 feet at about
80 knots and there’s even a heater in the microlight – it has all the
mod cons. I don’t listen to the radio because when I’m commuting it’s
nice just to have time for myself without interruptions. Quite often
when I’m flying along I’ll see a traffic jam tailing back on the
motorway – and I always make sure I wave.
 
The flight is beautiful. In the morning you get a lovely light
slanting across the land far below you, and in the evening when I’m
getting home late the light comes from another angle and makes
everything look different again. People are always surprised by how
close you get to the birds when you’re flying. I see a lot of kites
and buzzards on the way to work.
 
I’d definitely recommend it as a form of commuting, although it takes
a minimum of 25 hours to get a national private pilot’s licence. What
most people do to get started is buy a share in a microlight. Then you
just pay for it by the hour for the fuel they’re using. You can get
shares in a really good microlight for between £4,000 and £10,000 and
you’re away.
 
Barry Gates, Computer consultant
Unicycle
I’ve been riding a unicycle to work for four or five years. I take a
car to the station with the unicycle in the boot, then an intercity
into Paddington and then I unicycle to London Bridge. The route’s
quite nice because it takes you into Hyde Park, past Buckingham Palace
in front of the guards and into Westminster Square, across the bridge
and past the National Film Theatre and to my office on the river.
 
There are several reasons why I do it: on a practical level it takes
the same amount of time as the tube – and I’m a unicycle hockey player
in my spare time, so this is a great way of keeping fit for that.
 
I think there is also an element that it’s a bit quirky, which I
suppose I enjoy. The unicycle is a big 36in wheel and the saddle comes
up to your armpit, so when you’re riding it you’re very tall . Perhaps
I have delusions of grandeur that I’m taller than everyone else when
I’m riding it! It’s also quite a relaxed start to the day because I
weave in and out of pedestrians and the cars don’t give me any hassle.
 
The reaction from other commuters is really good. Occasionally people
say that you’ve made their day and wave but then other days you might
get attacked! Most people are very accepting and think it’s a bit of a
laugh – and you get dialogue with regular commuters. At the office
people are used to it now, although there’s a lot of Indian offshore
workers in the building and I think they find it very bizarre.
 
It only costs a couple of hundred quid to get a unicycle and they are
very robust. Having said that I wouldn’t say it was a particularly
safe form of transport. You need a lot of practice to get the
confidence to go on a road. On a standard 20in unicycle you could
probably get to go in a straight line in a week and get to be a
confident rider in about two or three weeks. To get up to a bigger
unicycle is probably about six months. The good thing about that
though is that it means the unicycle is pretty safe from thieves – I
think most self-respecting criminals would get laughed out of town
just trying to mount it, let alone make a quick getaway!
 
Ricardo Assis Rosa, Assistant architect
Kayak
I started kayaking to work because I’m lucky to have a garden that
backs on to the river in Bath and the office is only about 80 yards
from the river. Also I have a terrible travel bug and I feel a need to
be moving all the time – this is a way of working in an office but
keeping this part of me happy because it makes it feel like I’m on a
journey or on a holiday every day. I don’t think it’s strange,
especially if you think that 100 years ago the river would have been
one of the main access points into Bath, so it’s just revisiting that
idea that a river can be used for commercial transport.
 
At work they think it’s great, we have a very environmental focus in
the office and this is just another way of putting those beliefs into
action. I think one of the key things about being aware of green
issues is to actually spend time with nature – with trees and rain and
the river – which makes us much more aware of why we make
environmental decisions.
 
From a practical point of view there aren’t many problems. When I
kayak, I have my work clothes in a rucksack; fortunately we have a
casual office so I don’t need to crumple a suit. Then I put my phone
and wallet in a Tupperware container to keep them dry if I capsize,
and my lunch in another Tuppperware box. The worst thing is that the
swans can be very territorial, especially during the mating season,
but I take some bread and pay my toll and they’re fine.
 
It’s funny but there’s one bridge I kayak under where I always see
people stuck in their cars. You look at them and you know that some of
them don’t even know they’re on a bridge and that this beautiful river
is right under their noses. But you do see people peering down
sometimes – and we look at each other and realise that we’re both on
our way to work.

This is the latest update on Tonythetraveller!

On August 23rd I travelled to Venezuela at the top of South America for a month’s backpacking. However, due to bad sickness from probibly the intense heat and different water, i returned early, after just 9 days.

It is an amazing country; with intense weather, interesting food, insessant moskitoes and wonderful kind people.

I officially Couch Surfed for the first time and found it enjoyable and educational. A host named Darwin showed me some of Karakas with its squares and fine old buildings. He also treated me to Arripas, local food consisting of bread rolls with meat and/or cheese plus a heavy doe. They were delicious, but a little heavy on the belly!

I did some travelling, to several water holes and a beach. I eventually went in land in serch of Angel Falls, my reason for venturing to Venezuela. I got near but sickness meant it is a journey for another time. Plus the organised excursion is expensive at 300 Euroes £250 for a three day trip.

Since returning to England I have turned 30. This occurred on September 6 – I spent a pleasant day with my family, visiting Chedder Caves.

My next adventure is to France and Spain for several weeks in serch of Europes Principalities – mainly Monarco and Andorra. I aim to travel through several French coastal cities before eventually turning in land towards the Pyrenees. I aim to get up into the higher country and taste the scenery and enjoy the fresher air. Finally, I head to the North Spanish coast and the Bay of Biscay.

Gibraltar is a British territory, although it has its own currency in Gibraltar pounds and its own elected government. It basically rules itself. However, British pounds can be used and the predominent language is English. It has no cities or towns, it is just Gibraltar – The Rock!

Once through customs, I headed for the nearist buss stotp, showing a pedestrian the address of the hostel I had booked previously in Cadiz. The local showed me to the bus and asked the driver to drop me near my destination. After being deposited, I made a turning, crossed a road and after asking some more people for the hostel, ascended a steep slope and found the place in question. It was a simple affair with a tiny paved garden and basic rooms. The dorms were in the back up a couple of ramps. The hostel was run by Moroccans; young and aggressive, but friendly enough. There was a kitchen but only for staff use. I found this somewhat strange, but used it anyway. I then got directions to the centre and went exploring. I basically exited the hostel, descended the almost vertical hill, crossed a main road, walked down another small street before finding myself in a pedestrian square. This was Gibraltar’s centre. It resembled any British highstreet, mostly shops and pubs, noisy and full of loud English types. I had a lemonaid in one pub then found a chip shop and had English quizine! It was not cheap, everything is imported, hence the high prices. A pint of lemonaid was £2.50 and my fish and chips cost £5. A night in a dorm at Gibraltar’s only hostel cost £15, expensive after the hostels in Spain and Portugaul. I stayed one night. I spent my only real day on the rock sight-seeing. After collecting some money from the post-office sent by Western Union, I visited the tourist information office and discovered I could get a taxi tour around the rock. This apparently cost £48, but if you found two or three other people it was only £16 each. I went to the taxi rank and said what I wanted. One cabby suggested waiting to see if anyone else arrived. Eventually, he captured an American couple and off we went – I got the tour for free.

Our guide was an insatiable chap, but funny as well. He said he was a mixture of Italian and Maltese, but was born on the Rock. He drove us round, pointing out the different attractions, telling us about the Strait of Gibraltar and how it went to Morocco, that the rock was British and had been returned by the Spanish in exchange for the Canary Islands. We were told about how the area was discovered by arabs who crossed from Morocco and traveled as far as Granada in southern Spain. Hence, Gibraltar’s diverse culture. We visited a large mosque, but were only allowed in the entrance because it was a Friday and a day of prare. I asked about the port, which was closed to tourists because of security. The navel base is used by the British Mediterranean fleet, Gibraltar being the gateway to the Mediterranean and also the Atlantic. Our guide took us to a vantage point where we could see both the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea.

We next headed up the rock, absorbing the magnificent view. The guide informed us about the rock, its size and depth. We heard about the tunnels dug by the British Royal Engineers in 1941 in case of invasion by the germans. The tunnels went a long way under ground and are still used, it is the fastist way to reach the international airport! Our first stop on top of the rock was to visit the munkys. The munkys or ‘barbary macaques’ were everywhere. The driver was knowned to them and yelled at them. He told one named Barbara to ‘Get out my window’. I took a picture and gave the munky some peanuts. We then stopped for a photo oppourtunity and I had a munky on my head – that was a little scary! The barbary macaque was heavy. They were cheaky, ran around and tried to steel items from our persons. Our guide took my cane at one point and gave one a poke. They were very small, about two feet in hight and extremely quick and strong. The guide said he recconed they were smart because they had never crossed into Spain!next we visited a large cave and the American couple and I entered and explored. It was a huge cavern, more resembling a large amphitheatre, but without seats. There were many small, steep steps and one had to watch their footing. The natural stone architecture was magnificent.

Our final stop was at the mouth to the tunnel system. I alighted here and asked if I could go and explore some of the tunnels. The driver asked another guide and he agreed to give me a brief talk and bring me down afterwards. I thought he might allow me in one tunnel, but he refused because of safety. However, he did give me a brief outline of their history and geography, which can be found on any website about the Tunnel system of Gibraltar. There was a Six pounder machine gun outside the tunnel entrance and I got a picture with a pritty girl next to it – beauty and uglyness together! Then I boarded a large bus along with another tour group for the descent to the centrol area.

Once back in the centre, I took a local bus to the boarder. Back on Spanish soil after walking through the customs tunnel gate, I crossed a road and found the bus station after some wandering. Local Spanish bus companies were on strike, so I could not get a direct bus to my destination. One bus took me to Algeciras, where I had a long wait for a bus to Terifa, my final stop that day. The entire journey from Gibraltar to Terifa took over six hours. I was deposited in terifa next to a petrol station on the outskirts of town. One old Spanish gentleman slightly drunk, helped me into town and to the hostel. We stopped briefly for coffee along the way and he introduced me to several of his friends. We eventually found the hostel after wandering several tiny streets. I thanked the man and settled in and relaxed with a hot shower.

The hostel was basic with a small bar, some comfortable chairs and little else. The dorms were up stairs. I met one couple from Wales but few other people. The receptionist was French.

I spent my two days walking the tiny town, searching for a bank to change my British pounds and locating the windiest beach in Europe. That is what Terifa is renouned fore – its windyness. Indeed, it is a wind-serfers paradice. I spent a good day walking the beach which was avoid of any people and had a relaxing strole. Though the weather was very warm and when I ran out of water, the walk became more demanding.

On returning to the hostel, I collected my pack and went in search of the ferry port to catch the boat to Morocco, to begin the last part of this crazy journey.

I found the ferry port with a little help and once there, had my first problem. I only had 27 Euros left and a single boat journey to Tanger, Morocco cost 31 Euros. Also, there was no currency exchange, it being Spain and Terifa only being a small port town. I also had no debit card, mine having been subject to credit card frord in Northern Spain a month before. My bank had repayed the money, but as yet had not granted me a new card, one was now probably sitting on my door mat with my post, but I was in Southern Europe not England. Hence, the cash by Western union. I stood at the ticket counter looking lost and pennyless and the ticket Clarke told me to give him what I had and he discarded the remainder. I thanked him and twenty minutes later boarded the large ferry to morocco, where the last part of this interesting, but strange journey began.

My next adventure took me on the highways of Portugaul, down the coast road of Southern Spain and onwards to a meeting with British soil and monkeys!

The Swede, a crazy guy Alistair had met in a hostel adjacent to the Rising Cock drove, I sat in the frunt and Alistair and the serf boards were in the back. The Swede was an interesting character; a serf bum like Alistair, young and a laugh. He had a gentle personality with a slightly wild persona! We thought he was hilarious!

The long ride to Cadiz was uneventful, I took pictures of the scenery, including a large road bridge spanning the tarmac expanse. I carried a cheap disposable camera and clicked at anything I and the boys thought interesting. I used my eye line to get a general strait angle and just press the button. I often get cloud pictures and my photography is entertaining! I find it fun. Ocasionally, with the help of friends or other travellers, I manage to get a good image. I also use sound as a direction guide. I enjoyed the journey, feeling the vehicle’s excelleration, plus the twists and turns down the open road from Portugaul to Spain. Alistair sat in the back and preceeded to nit my Beny – he liked nitting! Alistair’s plan was to nit benies for people and cell them, but he usually ended up liking the person he was nitting fore, and gave them away! I just took the piss out of him and we had a laugh. It was certainly a good talking point.

Our journey to Cadiz would have been considerably shorter if it had not been for the large national park between Seville and the southern end of Spain. Once around this inconvenience of green splender, it was an easy drive to our destination.

Once in Cadiz, after a six hour journey in the heat and dust of European highways, we found the hostel, checked in and went in search of the town’s centre. Alistair and I had a quick wander, found a fountain, several old buildings and the centre preparing for the annual carnevall. We had a drink in an street cafe and wandered back to the hostel. The backpackers was a lively affair with a good atmosphere. There was a log fire going and many people mingling about. The Swede was engrossed in conversation with several yung ladies. Someone had cooked and Alistair and I helpped ourselves. A typical hostel setting, where everyone shares and becomes friends.

The next day the three of us headed down to the beach, but finding no serf and a hot sun, we sat on the sand and relaxed before taking off on the road again. The boys agreed to drop me at the boarder with Gibraltar while they continued to Malaga to return the rental car. They were also heading to Morocco like myself, but to a different region. We had trouble finding the Gibraltar boarder as it was not really sign posted and was hidden from view by a large round-about. It took a good five hours drive from Cadiz. Once at the boarder, Alistair walked me to the custem gate and We hugged before I passed through and re-entered British soil.