John Bosley

John is a slow tandem pilot, a fast wit, and an unapologetic enthusiast for the kind of travel that involves unnecessary routes, mishaps, and multiple snack breaks. After conquering France with his wife, Kate, and a tandem named after a mollusc, he turned his wheels toward Britain—armed with panniers, optimism, and a deep respect for expensive waterproof jackets.

When not pedalling uphill in defiance of logic, John writes about the joys of noticing things: landscapes, legends, people, and the occasional bridge or lighthouse. His blog Snails’ Trails has inspired dozens to slow down, look around, and maybe even buy a tandem (against their better judgment).

He lives in Kent, where he’s plotting the next improbable journey—possibly involving Ireland, chasing the sun, or just a tandem pub-crawl on the Isle of Wight.

In the summer of 2023, they made that dream a reality, setting out on an epic 12-week, 7,500 kilometre journey that would test their endurance, strengthen their bond, and open their eyes to the wonders of France.

Pedalling at a comfortable 'snail's pace,' John and Kate wind their way around the perimeter of France, sticking as close to the borders as possible. From the Channel to the Atlantic to the Mediterranean to the Alps, they experience France's diverse beauty and culture up close. Along the way, they battle broken spokes, torrential rains, wrong turns, and leg-burning ascents.

Through it all, the Bosleys maintain their sense of humour, curiosity and 'joie de vivre.' With self-deprecating wit and keen observations, John chronicles their highs, lows, and serendipitous encounters. Kate, visually impaired from a past accident, provides inspiration through her courage and determination.

Following the success of Snails around France—a book that proved you can circumnavigate an entire country without breaking a sweat or a marriage—John and Kate return to the saddle (and each other’s good graces) for a new adventure: Britain. A land of drizzle, dubious signage, and hills that seem to defy both physics and courtesy; in fact, they can be downright rude.

Armed with a tandem bicycle, a questionable grasp of common sense, and a deep commitment to food-based diplomacy, they set out to explore the perimeter of a nation that’s equal parts postcard and pothole. From the whistling cliffs of Cornwall to the Hagis-strewn lanes of the Highlands, every mile is a testament to the power of shared pedalling and selective memory.

This book is not just a travelogue. It’s a celebration of the scenic route, the second breakfast, and the kind of journey where progress is measured not in kilometres, but in anecdotes, and kilometres.

It’s for anyone who’s ever looked at a map and thought, We could cycle that…eventually.

So, settle in. The pace is gentle, the humour dry, and the saddle sore very real. Britain has never looked so charmingly stupid and stupendous.