You’ve gone too far this time sir!, Dan Bent’s unconventional account of his cycle ride from England
to South India, is a book so ebullient it will leave the reader in some awe, not simply of the physical
challenges and discomfort its author set himself up to endure, but the vivacious, generous and
curious spirit that enabled him to embark upon and then sustain his remarkable journey in the first
place.
The adventures abound here, as Danny and his stolid soul-mate Shirley (aka his bicycle) pedal the
15,000 kilometres from his leafy West London classroom to Chembakolli’s Vidyadaya School, set
deep in the jungles of Tamil Nadu, in a highly personal attempt to find a way to connect the two.
Whether struggling to navigate the industrial outskirts of Calais, comprehend an Uzbek expletive,
catch a draft from the back of a Kyrgyz truck, or embrace a spiritual guru, the ginger-bearded,
blonde haired, man-child never ceases to find the most interesting way to travel, initiate a (not
always welcome) interest, or cause a stir.
But for this reader, at least, when the amusing anecdotes are over, what remains is a sense of the
confusions we privileged “travellers” feel as we encounter cultures and landscapes not our own, and
find ourselves inclined to criticise, intervene or to judge. Witness Danny’s reflections on seeking a
shop and a shower after five days’ non-stop cycling in the Uzbek desert, for instance:
The bus driver pointed to a number of crooked shacks about four hundred metres away and said
there was a shop there. As I got closer, I could see simple homes set amongst cattle sheds. Uzbek
people are nomadic by tradition … It’s a life that to me is extremely appealing – always on the move,
new faces, new pastures, a loving community you can rely on and care for. I guess I’m seeing past the
poverty, the lack of education, and the lack of hygiene.
I could not imagine a shop being here but, when I asked, they said “Yes”. They sent a boy to fetch
the key. As they opened up a barn door behind me, I could see all my favourites: Snickers, Coke, …
watermelon … I crushed the flesh with my tongue and swallowed. Every young female came to see
the stranger and to sit at a distance and watch me with interest. It felt as though they were looking
for a way out. Could I take them away from this life, could they cope with the ginger beard? They
see the Western life as perfect – stability, water and money on tap. I guess they’re seeing past the
impersonal element, the way people stagnate, become miserable and forget how lucky they are.
In his quiet, sober moments, as in those of his greatest exuberance, Dan’s eyes remain ever open to
the world around him, as do his conscience, quirks of thought, and the contents of his heart to his
most privileged group of readers. Reading his account, we travel with him, and – what’s more – we
find we want him by our side. This is the closest I think I’ve ever come to finding a friend in a book.
Madeline Clements
