Well, well well where does the time go? I was shocked to discover that it has been a whopping 310 days since my last post, can you believe it? It only seems like I was typing my last entry last week never mind last year! So what’s been happening? Well read on for a bombshell announcement!
December 14 – March 15
It was cold, so cold, as I experienced my first Czech winter. Snow, wind and the occasional glimmer of sunshine saw me hunker down for a few weeks as I waited, sometimes impatiently, for the winter to pass. It was relatively uneventful save for the occasional ride when the temperature managed to creep above zero. Christmas was a clutter all treat as I experienced the traditional Czech dinner of Carp fish and potato salad. It was automatically a fail on my part as I don’t like potato salad and, not being a big fish fan, I struggled with the bony carp. Nevertheless it is always good to try these things. When in Rome (well Zlin to be precise) and all that! During this period I scrapped around for the odd contract but with the oil and gas industry the way it is opportunities were very few and far between. I finished the teaching job at the end of 2014, it was cut short due to unforeseen circumstances, a shame really as I was thoroughly enjoying it, it just wasn’t meant to be at that time I guess. I did manage a winter escape. I flew to Tenerife to meet up with a mate, a fellow Chelsea fan and cyclist, and enjoyed the winter sunshine whilst taking in a few beers and knocking out some KMs in the process. Cheers for the hospitality Dazza! Whilst in Tenerife I also managed to conquer one of my other bad habits, smoking! It s still a battle and I’m not quite there yet as I do have the odd cafe creme every now and again but it’s better than the 20 a day habit I had prevously!
March 15 – August 15
Finally the spring/summer months and an opportunity in between contracts to really hit the tarmac. Drogtanian is a dream to ride, so comfortable, so racy and yet so serene. I spent may days and hours (stats below) covering various parts of the region often treading the same path up Bunc (pronounced Bunch) hill trying to hit new PBs on Strava. The summer in Czech was a dream with day after day of glorious sunshine. It was a real opportunity to maintain my fitness and meet some new friends along the way as I bumped into more and more cyclists as the weather improved. The Czech Republic is a beautiful country the only downside is the slightly, actually mental, drivers who have absolutely no regard for anyone that is not on 4 wheels or is in a smaller vehicle than theirs! I hark back to the good old days of highway 1 in Vietnam for a reasonable comparison! Along the way I’ve bumped into other cyclists, as I mentioned, but none so famous and inspiring as Jiri Jezek. He is a multiple world and Paralympic cycling champion. I met him one day and has the pleasure to ride along side him for around 40km! Boy he motors, seriously motors!
Stats for 2015 Jan – September
Rides – 129
Distance – 6615km
Time – 271hrs 13min
Climb – 42,187 metres
Leg State – Knackered!
August 15 – Present
You’re probably wondering where this bombshell announcement is. Well here it is folks….
Oskar was born on 9th September 2015. He is a healthy baby, I’m pleased to say. Obviously now my priorities have changed but not my mindset. Whilst I’m determined to provide in every way I can I am also determined to show Oskar a different world to what I experienced in my early years. I’m sure it’s every parents dream that their children will be successful and, of course, I want the same for Oskar but I also want him to appreciate that life isn’t just about money and materialistic things. As I have discovered in the last 2 years or so, there is SO much more to life than that! I’m already planning for our first cycling trip together, I’m going to order the child trailer from Surly, apparently Shirley is so strong, so powerful that she can do panniers AND pull a trailer with Oskar in at the same time……what a machine!
The Future?
Who knows really, if we knew that we would all be rich right? All I know is that I have a new focus, a new love in my life and a new purpose for continuing my journey into the unknown.
I’ll leave you with this thought, today is the 29th October and soon we will be remembering the war dead. Stop and buy a poppy, every penny counts and goes to such good causes.
Until next time folks (I promise it won’t be 310 days)
TTFN
Mark, Shirley, Drogtanian and Oskar 🚵🚴🍼(blimey, proper little family now).
P.S. Deliberately didn’t mention the football, haters gonna hate is all Im saying 😘
Well as we approach the close of 2014 I would like to reflect on the events of this year, not least because I cannot believe I have gone from drinking carlsberg towers to teaching English in the space of 12 months. It has been, without a doubt, a year of discovery. Of course the biggest discovery has been my passion for all things pedal powered. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would spend 2014 becoming acquainted with the humble bicycle. I remember meeting a Spanish chap in Malaysia who had pedalled from Spain to Singapore and I just thought he was a lunatic, little did I know that I too would end up spending long, and sometimes difficult, days in the saddle. Shirley has been the biggest part of this journey. I read a lot about touring bikes before I decided which one to buy and the Surly Long Haul Trucker was always the one that popped up. I can honestly say that buying Shirley was the best money I have ever spent.
Not only has the cycling helped me to visit some amazing places, meet some incredible people and lose some weight but it has also aided my recovery. Sitting in the saddle, alone with your thoughts, really does give your mind time to process all of those niggly little things that sit there, sometimes at the front of your mind, sometimes hidden deep inside. I know find myself no longer reaching for the self destruct button every time things get a little bit too much but reaching for the handlebars on one of my steeds. The energy used, the solidarity of the ride or the concentration required, whatever it is, it has been like a magic formula for me. The ride doesn’t need to be hard or intensive for it to be beneficial, although if I’m feeling particularly pent up I head for the hills, just as long as I’m in the saddle pedalling away I have the opportunity to allow my mind to work logically and to process things with reason and not just a knee jerk reaction.
From the Golden Triangle, the mountains of Laos and the crazy highway 1 in Vietnam to the moreerene countryside of central France, the incredible sight of the Pyrenees (I crossed them twice in 10 days, did I mention that?), the Spanish costas, the French Riviera, Gorges Du Verdon, the Italian coffee and ice cream, the camping, the sweat and tears, the heat and the thunderstorms, the people and not forgetting my riding partner VJ. It has been an immense year and one which I will never forget.
There have been times when I’ve questioned my decision to quit the fast lane but, ultimately, those times are quickly rebuffed when I remind myself just how lucky I am to be doing what I’m doing. I can follow my heart, wherever it takes me. I have learned, not just this year but in the last 18 months, that money doesn’t bring happiness and indeed I’ve never been happier and I have almost nothing in a material sense. What I do have is friends, memories and wonderful experiences. Don’t get me wrong, life still throws me the odd curveball every now and again, but I am learning how to deal with those curveballs in a more positive and constructive way.
It’s been, quite simply, the most memorable year. I am now a Great Uncle to Freddie, my relationship with my siblings goes from strength to strength and my pals have remained true and faithful and, like they promised me almost 2 years ago, they are still there for me, Chelsea are flying high at the top of the league and to top it off I’m content, I’m in a good place.
Where will 2015 take me? Well I don’t know the answer to that but I’m pretty certain it will involve a bicycle, some more sweat and tears, the odd navigational Faus Pax and some tales of high jinx, humour and testing times.
All that remains is for me, Shirley and Drogtanian to wish you all a very merry Christmas, a happy and prosperous 2015 and may you and your loved ones be blessed with happiness and good fortune.
Well it’s been a while, again, and it’s now time to catch up on recent events. But first of all I’d like to dedicate the first part to my first love……….Shirley.
Those who have followed my adventures, and those of you who have ‘dropped in’ for a quick read will no doubt be familiar with who Shirley actually is. It seems like such a long time ago since we first met back in the bike shop in Bangkok and since that day we have had a very up and down relationship, quite literally. From the wet and windy start in Czech Republic to the million bridges in Venice it has been a journey that will stay with me forever. But I have a confession to make……
Dear Shirley,
You have brought so many good things into my life and you’ve taken me to places I could only dream of 2 years ago. We have shared many special moments together and seen a place which, in my opinion, is the most beautiful place on earth. But Shirley, I became weak and when I went to London to work I did something I thought I would never do. I’m sorry Shirley but I’ve been cheating on you. I never meant it to be like this but as soon as I saw those matt black, oversized ‘squoval’ tubes and that Ultegra 6800 groupset I knew I couldn’t resist for long. I tried so hard to stay within the boundaries but ultimately, the wheels, the seat, those sexy drop bars with the Ferrari like gear shifters just became too much and I succumbed to temptation. I want you to know Shirley that there will always be a place for you in my heart and I have a surprise for you that will hopefully make this easier for you. I’m taking you on a trip to Maribor this week to watch Chelsea FC in the Champions League. It will just be me and you for a couple of days as we make our way to Slovenia. Once there you will get to meet some of my friends who have heard so much about you and I hope that we can use this time to remember all the good times we’ve had this year. I want to continue our relationship and hope you understand that this new love is not for ‘adventure’ riding. He will never climb the Pyrenees with all my gear and get to the top and ask to keep going, he can’t handle a thunderstorm or a muddy road to the campsite. I won’t be able to take him down the river path in France or through the fields in Croatia, that’s only for you Shirley. You will also need to help me to teach him the ways of the ‘family’. he needs to learn how to be patient with me when I’m having a bad day, he needs to know that sometimes faster isn’t always better and these are things you can help with. He is fragile Shirley, his ultra thin alu frame and carbon forks won’t be able to handle all those nasty driver that get a bit close and if he falls over he will become easily damaged, not like you Shirl with your super strength steel frame, long chain stays and extra braze ons for carrying extra water. Anyway Shirley, again, I’m sorry and I hope you can forgive me……..Maribor is going to be special!!
Introducing……..
Ladies and Gents now is the time to reveal just exactly has stolen my heart from Shirley. Shirley is great for many things but a speed demon she certainly is not. The new steed in my life is pure racing breed, a streamlined thoroughbred capable of going faster than I can pedal. He can take on motorised vehicles at the lights, has gears which would rival the quick shifts in a F1 car and those lines, oooohhhhh those lines! I’ve decided to name my new steed after running a Twitter comp and combining my love for cycling with my other love (I have quite a few) Chelsea FC. So after a big drum roll here he is………’DROGtanian’ the Canyon, do you like what I’ve done there??
DROGtanian the Canyon!
I decided that I wanted to take my cycling to the next level so I have invested in a road bike. It was a difficult choice which took some time, there are so many bikes available and finding one that ticks all the boxes is not easy. Eventually I settled for the Canyon Endurance AL 2015 model. The reasons for this were that I could buy direct from the supplier which cut down on costs and allowed me to get a bike with a higher spec of components. The Ultegra 6800 groupset is probably the best mechanical groupset available to semi-serious cyclists and certainly has th best reviews around. It’s also looks and feels good with it’s ‘flappy paddle’ shifters. I’m taking it out of a 70km spin later today and will report back later.
With the confession and the revelation out of the way it’s time to catch up on what else has been happening lately. Well I should start with how it has been back in London. If you read my last post you would almost certainly have felt my anxiety about returning to work in London and my uncertainty at returning to the corporate machine. Well life works in mysterious ways and I am no longer in London, nor am I working away for the corporate machine. I started my new job and threw myself into it but there was always a longing to be back on the road and a feeling that the timing just wasn’t quite right. I spent 6 weeks battling these feelings and trying to find the frame of mind that would get me through the ‘shock’ of being back in the real world however, when I was offered the opportunity to work abroad, I just couldn’t resist. Not only that but it has given me an opportunity to hook up with my old mate……..VJ.! Yes folks, that most mysterious of characters is back! It is down to VJ that I now have an opportunity to live and work overseas, more than this though, it also gives me the opportunity to carry on riding. For a few months this will be restricted to taking Drogtanian out, Shirley will be retired for the winter, but I will be able to save some cash to fund my next long haul adventure! Where that will be who knows, but for now I’m feeling relaxed and in a much better place than 8 weeks ago. I had a great time catching up with family and friends, attending a match at the Bridge and generally taking in the vibe of London again but I’m now where my heart says I should be.
Today is my birthday and I will spend it preparing my kit for the short ride to Budapest where I will RV with the boys on Wednesday before driving the minibus to Maribor (some things never change, designated driver once again) to watch the match. It’s going to be a fun week, I’m really looking forward to getting out on the road again, albeit a short ride by current standards. I am finally able to combine cycling and Chelsea, what a way to spend the week before starting a new job!
I’m dropping in to share some thoughts and feelings as my journey continues in an almost intolerable direction. This post won’t see the usual updates on my cycling escapades as, quite simply, there have been none since my trip came to an end. Those of you who have followed my adventures over the past year or so will have shared the highs and lows with me and, at this moment in time, I am at the most painful low point.
I am now back in the UK and, after catching up with family and friends, it is now time to face reality. It’s back to work on Monday. I’ve managed to secure a position in London working in the same field as I did previously. It was a tough few weeks as I hammered the ‘network’ of former colleagues and recruitment consultants to find a suitable position. After the initial feeling of euphoria which comes with having a successful interview and being offered a position I now find myself questioning whether I am actually doing the right thing. Is it the best thing for me? Is this the feeling of ‘wanderlust’ that I’ve read so much about? Notwithstanding this, I’ve also had to deal with devastating news on a personal level. I’m not going to divulge any further except to say that life can be cruel, so cruel. This has also added to my feelings of loss of direction and only further feeds the burning desire to answer those questions we all have to face at one point or another. I have constantly reminded myself over the last 15 months just how lucky I am to have been able to do the things I’ve done and now I am in a position which I am finding confusing.
When I departed last year I had answered several times the question “are you going on a journey of self discovery Mark”? with a resounding no. And that was most definitely the case and, to some extent, it still is. So did I actually discover anything? Yes I did. I discovered that people can be deceptive and deceitful, of course I refer to the incident in Malaysia where a friend and I were scammed. I also discovered that people can show the most amazing acts of kindness. I discovered that I am, in fact, not a bad bloke after all. If I were I surely wouldn’t have made and remained friends with so many people I met along the way. But the biggest discovery, by far, is the one which has shaped the direction of my journey since the turn of the year and that is my passion for cycling. Looking back on that first day in Thailand when I covered an astronomical distance of 34km, complete with hangover and and extra 15kg or so, I almost begin to shed a tear. Like so many people in life I’ve always been searching for that ‘something’ that ignites a fire and passion inside that is so strong it almost consumes you completely. It’s been a long road to that discovery and it has taken a whole manner of ‘lessons in life’ to reach the promised land.
Those who know me intricately have seen me endure the extreme lows in life, from dealing with a difficult childhood to losing friends and comrades to the war in Afghanistan and then spending many years dealing with the after effects as I tried to make sense of it all. But there have also been the highs, the birth of my nieces and nephews, the rise and rise of Chelsea FC and of course the amazing journey I have just been on. All of this refers me back to my original question, “is it the best thing for me”? At this moment in time I cannot answer that question, feelings of excitement about my new job and returning to London are, more often than not, replaced by feelings of deep sadness. I am trying to understand whether this is happening because that’s the process that people go through when they return from an extended trip or is it, in fact, caused by my realisation that I have discovered something so beautiful, so satisfying and fulfilling that I simply don’t want it to end? The thought of returning to the ‘corporate machine’ fills me with anxiety and it’s not because I am worried the job will be too much, I know I am more than capable of doing what I’ve been employed to do, it’s because I’m really questioning if it’s the best thing to do. I know that I am in a really fortunate position in being able to even secure employment but is that enough? Will I have the same enthusiasm for work as I did before I left on my travels last year? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I don’t want to work, it’s more a question of am I going to be satisfied or will I find myself staring blankly at my PC yearning for a day to come when I can throw off the shackles once more and return to do what I truly enjoy doing. Is it possible to harness that passion and channel it into something that allows me to earn a living from it? It sounds ideal doesn’t it? Earning a living from doing something that you love and I’m sure we have all, at some point, had this ‘dream’.
I have been extremely loyal to my employers over the years and always given my all. It’s often been said that if you cut me in half I’d have the ‘company colours’ running through my blood. I can’t change my personality and even though I am yet to start my new position I already feel ‘committed’ to my new employer. I have said to myself that I will do it for just long enough to allow me to take ‘Shirley’ to some new places but then I find myself saying “no I can’t do that, I can’t simply take a job with no intention of it becoming a long term commitment”. But why not? Should I feel so committed that it stops me following my dreams? Should I devote myself to a corporation that would, in bleaker times, have no hesitation in relieving itself of my services without a feeling of guilt? That’s just business right? So whilst I wrestle with these feelings and try to find some answers I will, of course, give 100% to my new employer because that’s just how I operate. How long I will ‘commit’ myself for though will remain unanswered for some time.
This has been quite a ‘deep’ post but I feel it is extremely important to get things down on paper (albeit virtual paper) I did, after all, promise to share the highs and lows when I first started this blog. Notwithstanding that it also enables me to organise my thoughts and feelings into some kind of order.
Anyway my friends I will be back to update you all on how I’m progressing and feeling in due course. For now though it’s time for me and Shirley to say TTFN.
It’s great to be able to update you all again but all is not well……read on to find out what’s happened lately!
After a couple of days having a nosey around Ljubljana it was time to clamber aboard the mean machines and hit the road again. Having enjoyed the relative calm of cycling in Slovenia compared to Italy we decided to take it easy and only travelled the 70 or so kilometres to Novi Mesto. The ride itself was a very quiet affair which saw us take the scenic route. It was nice to be able to ride without donning helmets given there was almost zero traffic and gave us time to enjoy the beautiful fresh air. It wasn’t without zero effort however as we climbed and descended numerous times. We didn’t quite reach the lofty heights that we had on previous occasions but it actually felt quite good to climb again after the relative flat of Northern Italy. The legs did burn a little but soon remembered what was required and we both found our climbing rhythm in no time. We stopped occasionally and at one point a local woman passing in her car screeched to a sudden stop next to us, jumped out, handed us half a dozen apples and sped off again into the distance. Maybe that’s what she does all day, either that or we looked like 2 ragged homeless people who hadn’t eaten for a week! We met another cyclist along the way, a local chap out for a little ride, we confirmed with him we were heading in the right direction and continued on our merry way. We arrived at our campsite shortly after 7pm and, with reception closed, we set up camp and cooked the oh so familiar pasta/tuna/chilli flakes combo. After taking a shower we went back to reception and by this time the receptionist was around. He took the usual passport copies and some cash, on that, Slovenia was supposed to see our expenses drop considerably but this didn’t happen. We were still paying in excess of €25 per night just to pitch our tent.
Next day we had a now famous lazy start and after a coffee or three we set off further East to our next destination, Croatia. I was really looking forward to Croatia as we were deliberately avoiding the heavily touristy coastline and cycling across the North in an easterly direction, first stop Zagreb. The kilometres clicked by as we once again hit flat land and we were soon at our camp for the evening. The camp site was brand new, only open a week and with all the modern touches of a 5* resort. The receptionist asked if we need water and electricity hook up, ‘Shirley’ is a peach of a bicycle but those boys at Surly have yet to incorporate a 210v socket and hot/cold water connection onto the frame, maybe they will in 2056…..anyway I refrained from the usual dry humour as it would’ve been lost. We explained we didn’t need the pitches for the camper vans, just a place to pitch our tent and take a shower. We cheekily asked for discount and the girl glowed as she explained they have special rates for cyclists and that we would be given discount in the morning as we checked out. We received our discount, a whole €1.22 from the shockingly high €30 for the night, ah well it would buy us a small espresso……..to share!
We dipped into Zagreb around mid morning and we’re greeted by people on horseback dressed in traditional costumes, there were also other people mooching about similarly dressed, turns out there was some festival or other going on. We took some snaps, visited tourist info for a map and were soon speeding out of the city. It took around 25km to get back to rural Croatia but along the way we came across a cycling club shop. The owner is also an artist and was busy putting the finishing touches to his latest painting of God. This would sit alongside the other religious figures he had recently completed. Quite impressive, quite bizarre and also our first taste of Croatian hospitality. With no English we gestured for 2 large coffees and sat down to watch the artist at work. After finishing we got up and asked how much, nothing was his response, gratis, free, niente! Well thank you very much mr painter/cyclist. He then filled our bottles with ice cold water and waved us on our merry way. We were heading to Bjelovar where there is a big lake, this would be our next camping spot, or so we thought. We arrived into Bjelovar around 7pm and, after a visit to the supermarket, we set off to find the lake. Just as we left the outskirts of town our old foe, Mother Nature, returned to remind is not to get too comfortable. She proceeded to dump the lakes equivalent of water on us from a great height, all whilst we were cooking our most favourite meal, pasta/tuna……..
By the time the weather had relented enough for us to hit the road again it was dark, we stopped at a local bar to ask where the lake was and were waved down a quiet track. Just as we set off the rain came again and, like 2 sodden dogs, we darted for cover. Just then, out of seemingly nowhere, a car pulled up and out jumped a burly man, barrel chested with red cheeks to boot he was obviously a farmer. He approached and asked where we were going. We explained we were going to camp by the lake, not so, in the eyes of this chap. He said it would be soaking wet and that the rain will stay all night (maybe he’s got a direct line to Mother Nature) and there, in the rain and darkness of rural Croatia, we experienced for the second time the hospitality of the Croats. He offered us a spare room at his farmhouse, just him, his dog and his mother in law (wife was away). Without hesitation we took him up on his offer and were soon in the dry warmth of his farmhouse surrounded by 3 day old chickens, a westy dog and his mother in law. We were fed fruit and given steaming hot tea from Ukraine (!?). We were shown to the spare room, had a quick shower and crashed out for the night. Next morning we woke to fresh coffee, ham, cheese, bread and fresh milk…..I could’ve stayed a week! After our breakfast fill it was time to hit the road as we headed further East to our next stop. Today we had no real destination in mind so turned slightly north towards where we knew we could pick up the EuroVelo 6 route which would take us down the Danube river towards Serbia. Tonight we would ‘wild camp’ given there was no real campsites around and that no one seemed too interested in two cyclists plodding along other coffees are available at all good outlets) and this gave us our first opportunity to sample a triple strength espresso, not a good idea at 9.30pm. For the next 3 hours we played Ludo like men possessed, wide eyed and with shaking hands only usually seen after a night on the hard Czech ‘slivovice’. Eventually we collapsed and were woken only by the gentle patter of feet as a hedgehog came to have a sniff around, he soon left when he got close to the socks!
Leaving our field spot behind we were soon on the trail of the river and heading to the next town, Osijek. Osijek is an interesting little place with the archetypal Eastern European main square, home of the cathedral, coffee shops and restaurants. We arrived into town without much to report save for the glorious scenery along the way. Each side of us was filled with sunflowers, bright yellow and some six feet tall. It really was a joy to ride in rural Croatia! Whilst in Osijek we decided on a local meal, VJ opting for fish from the river, me for the ghoulash. The waitress returned, no ghoulash and no fish……ah well, chicken and chips it was! VJ had wisely opted for the ‘menu’ which consisted of soup, fish (except it was chicken) and pancakes. After devouring the soup and fish we waited patiently for the pancakes. Some half hour later the bill arrived, but what about the pancakes you ask! So did we. The waitress trotted off and returned with a smile, sorry but chef forgot, now he’s gone home…….no fish, no ghoulash and now no pancakes (which were still on the bill by the way). Ah well, not much could be done except removing the price of the pancakes from the bill, settling up and going for ice cream instead.
We headed out of Osijek next day towards Ilok via Vukovar where we would stage for the night before crossing into Serbia. Once again we were able to follow the river route, although not the river itself, which allowed us to make good time. Passing through Vukovar was a surreal experience. This town was flattened during the Croatian war of independence from 1990 to 1995 and it still shows the scars. The water tower, heavily damaged, has been left as a permanent reminder of the sacrifices made to allow this country to become a stand alone outside of the former Yugoslavia. We passed through at a slower pace than usual but except for the water tower I didn’t snap any pictures of the scarred buildings. I understand first hand the effects of war and I can imagine the local people are still dealing with the after effects all these years later, the last thing they want is some tourist taking trophy pictures of every bullet hole in town. On arrival at Ilok we picked up the signs for the campsite, a patch of grass I. The grounds of the hotel which sits on the Danube. We enquired about a pitch, was offered around 300acres to choose from and were informed it was free!!! Brilliant, thank you Croatia! We pitched tent, had a beer or two in the bar and crashed out to the sound of gentle flowing water. Next morning I was up bright and early to witness sunrise and also to make sure we were on the road in good time as today we would cross the border into Serbia, destination Novi Sad.
The border crossing was only a few minutes ride away and we were soon entering Serbia. A very short ride today of only 40km or so to take us to Novi Sad, second largest city in Serbia. On arrival we were, again, directed towards the city’s main square where we would scout for accommodation, only today was treat day and a hotel beckoned, well it would be ride not to given it is generally cheaper than what we’ve paid for campsites recently! Novi Sad is quite a spread out town and we soon found ourselves backtracking 4 km or so to find our hotel, no problem for us except all the road signs were in that Russian type writing, luckily google maps was on hand and we found our place for the night.
Being in the hotel allowed us to take stock of how far we’d come and how far we had left. We had just under a month to make Istanbul and, with about a weeks worth of riding left, we had plenty of time in the bank. So much so that we decided tomorrow we would head for Southern Hungary for a little mooch about there. It was only 130km to the border so we could be there in a day and with that, next morning, we set off towards Daja in the North of Serbia, from there we could cross the border and visit Szeged, apparently the jewel in the Hungarian crown. We left Novi Sad at around 1pm and expected to make the border early evening, we did, we arrived at five minutes past 7 only to find the border……………CLOSED! Yep, the border was shut until 7am next day, even our sweaty faces and stinking bodies wasn’t enough to force the border guard to let us pass go, nope he was closed and not open for business until 7 tomorrow. Brilliant! We headed off to find a pitch for the night, both more than a little pissed off, and settled down for the 12 hour wait. Next day we arrived back at the border, showed our passports and were through in no more than 15 seconds, couldn’t have done that last night mate no? Anyway, the Hungarians welcomed us back to Europe and waved us on our merry way. Just as we put the hammer down to head for Szeged it happened, out trip fell apart, well actually VJ’s bike to be more precise. From the crank up a whole manner of mechanical failings ensued, the bearings in the crankset had been ground to powder and with a Ping, ping, ping spokes started to fly from the rear wheel, with a loud twisting of metal the back wheel buckled under the strain of the panniers and before our eyes our trip was all but ended. With barely enough cash to last us to Istanbul we sat and played with the maths, looked at the cost of repairs and even a new bike but we just couldn’t get the two to meet anywhere close. Sure, we could’ve made it to Istanbul on a diet of worms and stones, we could’ve camped rough every night for the next 4 weeks and used the money to repair or replace the bike but where is the fun in that? Yes it would’ve been an ‘adventure’ but really, when you’re cycling as far as we do almost every day it really is no time to be scrimping on food, the fuel that keeps us going, and decent accommodation which enables us to sleep well enough to wake up with at least a bit of energy. A few days camping rough and eating worm stew I could handle, but a whole 4 weeks was just out of the question. Eventually we came to the inevitable conclusion that we must face reality and call time on this little adventure. VJ also declared it would be a good time to return home to look for some work to fund the next trip. And me? Well yes I could do with topping up the ££££’s. Am I upset? Damn right I am. Am I extremely pissed off? Yes that too. Am I disappointed? Yup, and all the other emotions you can imagine. HOWEVER, I can look back on this trip and see what’s been achieved. Since my first day back in Thailand on the bike I feel like I’ve finally ‘found my thing’. This trip was about confirming I enjoy cycling as much as I thought I did, it was about pushing my physical limits that little bit further, it was about getting into Europe and discovering what exactly is on our doorstep. I’ve done that, and I’ve seen some amazing places, remember the Gorges Du Verdon? I do, and without this trip I would never have known they existed. Human towers in Lleida, farmers in Croatia, the Pyrenees (twice you know) and all the other experiences that will stay with me forever. They have all contributed to my ever expanding horizons. Now I have some time to think ahead, I have a few ideas already, it just depends which one gets pulled out of the hat. All I know is this, me and ‘Shirley’ are a match made in heaven and won’t be going our separate ways for a long time.
For now folks that’s about it, I hope you’ve enjoyed following my latest adventure as much as I’ve enjoyed doing it and writing about it. A few pics below for you to look at.
Until next time folks……
TTFN X
Bit of Chuck Norris action in Slovenia…..Funny dressed people in ZagrebMan on horse in ZagrebCycling club in ZagrebHoly Artist of the Zagreb Cycling clubFarmer Srecko and ‘Alma’21st Century Croatian fire engine!These were literally everywhere.The lasting ‘memorial’ at Vukovar.Sunrise on the Danube River.
It’s been a while since my last update so what’s been happening??
Last time I wrote we had just landed in Lleida after clearing the Pyrenees. It was time for a few days out of the saddle and in a proper bed with proper food and a few, more than deserved, beers. Our hosts for the few days were Victor and Kat, friends of VJ’s but also now friends of mine. It’s a bonus of travelling, meeting new people, experiencing how other cultures work and generally having a nosey around other countries under the guidance of ‘locals’. Our time with Victor and Kat started with a traditional Catalonian evening dinner, note I use Catalonian rather than Spanish, these are incredibly proud people who are passionate about their heritage and their feelings towards those up top in Madrid. It was something which I noticed almost immediately as almost every house is draped in a Catalonian flag, some even flying the flag with the single star denoting their desire for independence. They are watching the Scottish referendum with interest and there is a general consensus that the outcome of that vote could have an influence on how the catalonians proceed with their own bid to break the shackles from central government rule. Anyway enough of the politics and back to the serious bits!
Our first experience of a Catalonian past time was when we attended practice of ‘Castellas’. That is the name given to those who partake in human castle building, yes folks, building castles using only humans! The aim is to build the highest tower, the tower only deemed complete when the last person reaches the top, swings over a leg and signals the top by raising a hand and safely descending back down again, at this point I should mention that the person at the top, some 10 metres up, is usually a child aged around 5 or 6! They are chosen based on weight and don’t be fooled into the thinking the smallest ones are chosen, not so, bone density also plays a part so a bigger child might, in fact, have lighter bone density than a smaller child making them the better choice. It sounds simple enough but believe me, after joining only the very fringes of the ‘base’ I can assure you the physical effort required by everyone is immense. As the ‘castle’ gains height so the equal and opposite application of force kicks in. You can feel the castle swaying and you must all make a collective, timely effort to push back against the sway to stop the castle collapsing. During competition the Castellas build the castle layer by layer and at the fourth layer a team of musicians start to play a tune. This has 2 purposes, firstly it signifies to the crowd and the judges that the Director (the person who coordinates the building of the castle) has deemed the base strong enough to continue to build the castle and that it is an official attempt and, secondly, it allows the people at the base of the castle to know how high the castle is. Being at the base you must never look up, it causes distraction and loss of concentration but also for safety reasons should the castle collapse. After practice was finished we bought a little souvenir from the Castellas De Lleida shop and headed to the bar and then onto the pizza shop to sample some of Lleidas finest pizza slices, I managed 5! Later during the stay we would experience a full on Castellas competition as we travelled with Victor and Kat to a nearby town to watch Lleida compete against two other towns. I’m posting a video and hopefully it uploads so you can get an idea of what Castellas actually do.
Other highlights included a visit to Montserrat, highly popular with tourists and, unfortunately, developed just for those. Only a small portion of the original monestary remains, surrounded now by a hotel, souvenir shops and a supermarket, such a shame really. Victor also took us to a lake for a cool down. The lake itself is almost inaccessible and was discovered by some of his colleagues who were working in the area, a truly peaceful spot where we were all able to take a dip including Herman, Victor and Kats Dog.
The night before departure we once again filled up on pizza, me opting for the cheeseburger deluxe, well I need the calories you know! Lleida is a great little town, relaxed and welcoming and certainly a place I would like to visit again.
Victor and Kat, our hosts in Lleida dressed in traditional Castellas clothes.One of the Human Castles.Another castle.The closing of the competition is signalled by all teams building single towers.
After Lleida it was back in the saddle for a smooth 155km ride into Barcelona. It was a fairly I eventful ride, mostly flat and downhill. We covered the first 100km in a little over 4 hours. We were making good time and stopped for coffee more than once. Unfortunately it didn’t last all the way into town. The nightmare of getting into Barcelona by bicycle was just about to begin and would continue for the next 6 hours. Yes folks, it took 6 hours to cover just 50km as we were thwarted time and time again by the ‘no cycles allowed’ symbol. It seemed that every road was out of bounds for us. Eventually a local guy stopped and helped us by writing down the names of the villages we should go through, it was a zig zag across the outskirts of town before eventually arriving in the city centre at around 10pm! Once again we would enjoy a little hospitality in Barcelona as we were hosted by Ed and Yindra, more of VJ’s friends. I’ve been to Barcelona a few times with Chelsea FC and a wry grin came across my face as we visited La Rambla and memories came flooding back from previous nights out before and after those famous Champions League nights at Camp Nou. We spent some time with Yindra as Ed was working and we went to see La Famiglia, the famous Barcelona cathedral which is still under construction. Our stay in Barcelona was a short stopover as we planned to make our way back up the coast, past the Costa Brava, and back into France. We made good progress on the flat roads and were soon in the thick of the Costa Brava, row after row of resort hotels and beaches lined with deck chairs and umbrellas. It was interesting to sit back and watch a little and another timely reminder of just how lucky I am to be a me to take a little longer away from work than those who are trying their best to get the most out of their 2 weeks away from the daily grind back home, wherever that may be. We stayed at Tossa De Mar for a night, and at €30 it was only going to be 1 night camping in Spain!
Next day we headed back to France, quite an easy day in the saddle and just a hop, skip and a pedal push back over the Pyrenees (yes that’s the Pyrenees, twice in 7 days!). We were headed for Perpignan, not for any particular reason, we just wanted to put some distance between us and the (typical) grotty border town. I’ve notice that almost every border town is a run down, tacky and somewhat eerie place. It has no sense of ‘belonging’ as people from all over the place seem to congregate there, each with their own reason and agenda no doubt. Anyway we pushed hard and made a campsite just 5km from Perpignan. It felt good to be back in familiar French camping grounds where the standards are extremely high, facilities excellent and prices still reasonable enough. We didn’t intend to visit Perpignan, instead we were heading further round the coast to Narbonne, a French holiday town on the south coast. The day started well and the first few kilometres were a breeze. Unfortunately for us though, as is often the case, our luck didn’t last. We were soon riding into a headwind, not just a gentle cooling breeze but a full on frontal assault so strong that gears not even used climbing the Pyrenees (twice 😉) were needed. For kilometre after kilometre we pedalled hard as we fought against Mother Nature once again. I’m hopeful that one day we will get a tail wind though, maybe it’s bad planning, maybe bad luck, but for some reason we always have the wind on our face.! Arriving into Narbonne we set about finding a suitable camping spot close to the sea, ah the sea, fresh air, warm water and ice cream…….just 15km out of town, over the mountain!! Another 15km, over a mountain and I to a head wind, great! With no camping in town we had no choice but to crack on. About an hour later we arrived into Narbonne Plage, found a suitable spot and settled in for a couple of days beach time. Narbonne Plage is a quiet seaside town mostly visited by locals, it was a chilled 48 hours with not much to report aside from trying to find the supermarket which, according to the signs, was only 5 minutes away, yeah it was if you own a Ferrari! Leaving Narbonne Plage behind we headed back north to Avingnon. We were planning on just 1 night there as a stop over before we turned East to visit Pont Du Gard and the Gorges Du Verdon. Little did we know that we would stumble across a festival in town, much like that in Edinburgh, and also meet some new people at our camp site. Marius and Fenneke are a mid 20’s couple (thank me later guys 😉) from The Netherlands. They were on a hiking holiday and had arrived from the mountains. We clicked immediately and on the first night 3 litres of wine and a few beers had been destroyed. Next day the Dutch were playing in the semi final of the World Cup and we agreed to meet up with the guys to watch the match together, meanwhile we filled our time having a mooch around town and taking in the atmosphere of the festival. We headed back to camp mid afternoon and Marius had turned chef for the evening. He cooked up a wonderful campsite sausage stew mix. As they were travelling by car the had a portable stove and we got to witness, enviously, just what can be achieved on said stoves. We took advantage of not having to break out the 3 minute pasta and tinned tuna and got stuck right into the delicious meal, and a few beers! We paid our dues by doing the washing up, as best we could, and we all headed off to the bar in anticipation of the semi final showcase. 2 hours later, struggling to keep our eyes open, we watched as the orange army crashed out on penalties. I claim credit for predicting penalties in the first 5 minutes! Next morning we treated Marius and Fenneke to breakfast (although they cooked the eggs) and we packed up, said our goodbyes and set off for Pont Du Gard. Marius and Fenneke were really good fun and I’m sure, as has happened with others we’ve met along the way, we will meet again at some point in the future!
The ride to Pont Du Gard, an old 3 layer aquaduct, was an easy affair. The weather had turned in our favour and finally we had a tail wind. We flew along chewing up the kilometres and soon arrived on site. Pont Du Gard is an awesome site, it really is quite stunning and gets the mind thinking about how things like this were achieved before cranes, hydraulic lifts and proper scaffolding!
Me and Shirley at Pont Du Gard.
After Pont Du Gard we headed further east to Castellane, across the Gorges Du Verdon. Now I’m not saying I’m Carl Pilkington BUT I’m not easily impressed. Temples, big lakes, natural parks etc don’t really flick my switch, nice to visit and look at but I’m not the type to get into flora and fauna, Buddhism, scuba diving the reef and all that, however, Gorges Du Verdon is, quite simply, the most beautiful natural thing I have ever seen. It was a gruelling 5km climb to the start of the gorges, 17 to the highest point at just over 1000 metres. Approaching the mouth of the gorges you are immediately faced with steep canyons on both sides, the road narrow and winding up the mountain side whilst down below those in kayaks, canoes, yachts, dinghys and tractor wheel inner tubes (there’s always at least one eh!) were frolicking in the current of the water. Concentrating on the ride itself was tough given the amount of traffic passing through. We saw a motor bike rider who’d lost his passenger off the back being attended to by paramedics, a timely reminder that focussing on the road was more important than gawping open mouthed at each passing metre! Really I cannot express enough the beauty of this place, it’s like the European Grand Canyon and you should visit if you ever get the chance.
Shirley taking a moment in the gorges.Overhang to the left, sheer drop to the right, exciting riding!More GDV.!Gorges Du Verdon, my favourite place on the planet so far!
Leaving the gorges behind, with a definite promise to myself to return to spend more time there cycling the full 200+Km loop, it was time to head back south to the coast, this time to mingle with the rich, famous and convicted, well actually to shop in Lidl, pretend to be famous and re visit the scene of a crime committed by yours truly a couple of years ago……Cannes, Monaco and Monte Carlo were next on the hit list. The ride from Castellane was a mixed affair, starting of a bright and sunny day we climbed further to over 1200 metres. At the final pass the rain started to fall and we just made a cafe in time befor once again our old foe, Mother Nature, sent us a timely reminder that even in these parts she rules! A thunderstorm at the top of the mountain kept us in place for around 2 hours. Suddenly a break in the weather allowed us to depart, 5 minutes later we were treated to a hail, thunder and lightening treat of a ride, all downhill into a freezing headwind…….again.! Yes another wonderful downhill ride was thwarted by the blasted weather, ah well it was a time to grip tight, suck it up and allow gravity to do it’s thing. At around 500 metres above sea level, some 25km from Cannes, the weather turned again, this time to glorious sunshine (well it never rains in Cannes darling), and we cruised I to town around 6pm. We hunted round for a campsite and found a place after stopping for a bite to eat. Reception was was closed so, as seems customary in France, we found a pitch and set up for the night. Next day we packed up ahead of an early start as we wanted to make Italy same day. We set of up the coast and soon found ourselves diving off the main road to visit Nice Airport for a quick toilet break. Campsites are brilliant but communal unisex toilets don’t allow one to ‘relax’ as much as is sometimes necessary 😉. Taking full advantage of the plush WC I took time to lose a pound or two without actually exercising so much as a little finger muscle, save for the odd stomach push in encouragement 😉.! Anyway, leaving Nice airport behind we headed for Monaco. I had explained to VJ about a little incident that happened a couple of years ago whilst I was in Monaco with Chelsea. After the game, which we left at half time given we were losing 4-0, a few of the boys and myself headed to the harbour in Monte Carlo. A challenge was on offer at one estaishment, the €100 mojito challenge. All I had to do was drink 10 mojitos mixed in a big goldfish bowl, in under 7 minutes, and it wouldn’t cost me a penny! Sime yeah? Well I thought so as I scooped out the copious amounts of ice from the bowl (no time for brain freeze here) and started to gulp down the cocktail. Everything then turns to a bit of a blur, all I remember is arguing with the barman that I’d done the required and finished the drink in the time limit. Apparently not and I was rather roughly manhandled by the local pics back to my hotel for the night, cell number 3! Next morning I was woken (as I had been every hour throughout the night) and brethalysed, this time I passed but too late to get the car back to Genoa for the I by back to blighty, the hire car I was suppose to be driving by the way! The lads knew I’d be fine and took the initiative and left my passport at reception and took themselves back to Genoa for the flight home. I got a bus to Nice and caught a flight, the €100 mojito challenge had turned into €38.50 for the bed in the cell, €650.00 for a one way flight to London and a very red face when I saw the lads at the next game! A quick visit to the car park at Monte Carlo Country Club and a swing by the casino and we were soon back on the road to Italy.
Free Walshy! They did eventually, cost me a packet to get home.
The kilometres were flying by and with VJ acting like a little kid (are we in Italy yet)? We soon were. We crossed the border with a smile, a new culture, a new country and a new cycling adventure were ahead. We were immediately impressed with the change in prices, coffee had dropped from €4 to €1 in the space of 50 metres, amazing! We cycled on and headed for Sanremo, our pit stop for the night. Not knowing what to expect at the Italian campsite we booked into the second one we saw. Looking back it was a small mistake, our ‘pitch’ was a patch of concrete on the footpath along the seafront, all for the princely sum of €28! Needless to say we didn’t hang around the next day, an uncomfortable night was soon forgotten as we headed further up the coast towards Finale Ligure. The road was intermittent, sometimes quiet sometimes not. The most memorable moment of the ride was when I was on a downhill section and was almost wiped by……….an ambulance. Shirley is t the easier ride to control at 55kmh and there is a drift factor whilst cornering,it’s basic physics! The ambulance took particular displeasure at my ‘drift’ into the middle of the road and went past with literally millimetres to spare. We exchanged niceties as my Italian language came flooding back, lots of hand gestures and swearing were exchanged. I saw red, chased the ambulance, followed it to the hospital and had a rather heated debate in the car park. Moving swiftly on we made Finale Ligure and found a campsite, up a 15% gradient hill. The time spent on the bike though have really improved my leg strength and I negotiated the hill with aplomb (I did the Pyrenees twice you know 😉). Finale Ligure was a fun place, a nice little seaside town. We also met Michelle, and Irish lass who aspires to become a pro mountain bike racer, she and been in the Alps for a race and was now taking some well deserved rest. Michelle is a teacher back in Ireland and is looking for sponsorship to race full time next year, if anyone has any contacts that may be willing to support Michelle then please drop me a line so I can put them in touch with her.
After 2 days in Finale Ligure we headed to Milan where I had arranged to meet up with my old boss and friend Marcello. Marcello was the Procurement Manager at Saipem when I first started there and was my line manager. Over 4 years we worked together as I developed professionally and progressed up the chain, our relationship culminating in me taking Marcello to see his team, Lazio, at Chelsea at Stamford Bridge I the champions league shortly before he departed on his next appointment in Rome. After visiting Duomo, La Galleria and various other places we met Marcello for dinner and caught up on all the news including the new addition to his family! It was great to see my old friend and catch up on his news. After a night in Milan we headed further east across Italy towards Lake Garda, next stopping point. The ride was easy enough and only around Brescia did we start to flirt with the lower echelons of the Apls. In Brescia we stopped at a cafe where the lady owner was really interested in our trip. Using my best Italian I explained what we were doing and she was so impressed, cycling was her passion too! As I went to pay she refused any money for the 2 coffees and even sent us off with a packed back of paninis and biscuits, true hospitality and proof that humans are decent people!
The cafe owner from Brescia who really looked after us……thankyou so much!
We kicked on for Lake Garda and arrived at a campsite early evening. We were shoehorned onto a tiny patch of grass between a caravan and motorhome, another small patch for an excessive amount but at least we had some grass this time! Next day we watched sunrise over the lake, well I did anyway, and packed up before heading further east towards our next stop, Venice. Just one diversion today as we visited Verona, a nice town from what I saw, quite touristy but beautiful none the less. Again we got the kilometres under the belt as we took full advantage of the flat lands of northern Italy (in these parts at least). We arrived into Venice early evening and were once again treated to some Italian hospitality, from a Bengali running a kebab shop. After diving in on one of the pictures we were posing for I cheekily asked for a free kebab for VJ and I, he agreed and we enjoyed our second free meal in as many days. The photo we were posing for was for a Swedish born chap on holiday with his Australian wife. I think his name was bob but in the confusion I didn’t formally ask his name, apologies sir if you’re reading this, I hope you get chance the cycle again soon and thanks for the pastrami and taking care of our litter!
Cheers Rozin, I’ll be back and will pay next time!
A quick note on Venice, don’t take a bicycle, that is all.!!! After a few hours we left for our camp for the night, tomorrow was to be our last couple of days in Italy and we were headed to Monfalcone for some last beach time. Next day we cycled at a leisurely pace and made Monfalcone in good time, we headed straight for the beach and took a dip in the sea and generally soaked up some rays. Short before 8 we started to look for a campsite but nothing happening.! It was getting dark by the time we headed north of Monfalcone and passed through a little village. Once again my language skills were in full effect as I approached a couple of chaps outside a bar and asked if there was somewhere to eat. He informed us that the village fete, which we’d passed, was serving good and cheap food. After answering his questions about our trip we headed to the vial late fete where we filled up on a mix of Italian and Slovenia food, at this point we were just 15km from the border and the rich mix of cultures was on full show at the fete. As we contemplated our next move we met up with one of the old chaps from the pub. I asked him for camping close by, none round here was the reply. Oh shit, we were looking at a night ride across the border n search of digs but no need to worry, the old chap oh offered us his garden!! We could use this to pitch our tent for the night as long as we waited for him to finish drinking with his pals, no problem for us and when in Monfalcone, do what monfalconians do, we did and carried on drinking! After a couple of scoops, a plate full of goulash, sausages, fries and chicken we were collected by our host and followed him back to his place. We sat on the porch chatting for a good couple of hours and before we knew it we were tasting his home brew! At about 40% strength it certainly gave us a jolt and, seeng the smile on our faces, he continued to pour promising it was the last one! 4 beers, 5 shots and about 15 ciggies later he gave up and said it was bed time. He waved us into the house and escorted us to a spare room in which we could crash for the night! Bonus!! Next day we woke with the worst hangovers but were greeted by freshly brewed Italian coffee and biscuits to set us on our way. I will never forget our new friend, a script writer for amateur dramatics and a comedian himself. He showed us true hospitality and friendship and waved us up the road until out of sight. We headed for Trieste and stopped by the beach for one last dip. I devoured two in screams and we set off on the comb from sea level to our next port of call, Lubljana, Slovenia. It’s an exciting time entering a new region of Europe, hopefully I can take a break from translating as VJ can use the Czech in these parts. For now folks, that’s about all. It’s been an epic few weeks and we’ve met some amazing people during this stage of the journey. I hope to report the same in the coming weeks as we speed across Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia and Bulgaria. It’s now only 1500km to Istanbul and with time to spare we can drop our daily average a little but we will keep on pedalling!
Until next time folks I’ll leave you with a picture of Sergio, our Italian host, and wish you all a good day.
Well firstly I’d like to confirm, despite several social media reports, that I am in fact alive and well…….just.! So what’s been happening? Well read on……
Base camp at St Gaudens was extended by an extra 24 hours as, soon after arrival, we learned of the Fete De La Musique which was happening in town that night. Mmmmm a few beers and a good solid rest day before heading into the mountains. That evening we wandered into town and mooched around listening to several different performances, some on the big stage, others just set up sporadically around town. We were later informed that the festival happens all across France as they celebrate the first day of summer. On that, the weather has been an absolute delight with 3 weeks continuous sunshine interrupted only occasionally by a refreshing thunderstorm.
The following morning, Sunday, I ventured into town to grab a baguette, ham and eggs for breakfast. On arrival in town I noticed the streets were closed off and a crowd was gathering. Not sure what was happening I weaved my way back to camp with the supplies and started to cook breakfast. As I surveyed the mountains from out elevated campsite I noticed a very fancy looking coach with 3 cars equally decorated and carrying road bike on the roof, it was only Team Movistar pro cycling! I stood at the fence and looked on like a kid at the zoo (in fact, I must’ve looked like something living in a zoo from behind the fence). As they disappeared into the distance I returned to the now semi boiled eggs and continued to prepare breakfast. Not 2 minutes had gone by when I noticed another colourful convoy climbing up the hill but this time I got so excited I think a little bit of wee came out, it was the arrival of TEAM SKY.!!! Now I was really hyper, I explained to VJ all about Team Sky, Wiggo, Froomey, Kosta, Wright et al and promptly abandoned the ‘kitchen’ and jumped on Shirley to head back into town to catch a glimpse of the team. Well I got more than a glimpse. I found a spot right next to the team coach and Jaguar cars and spent around an hour watching them go about their preparations. The mechanic was busy building the bikes, riders checking their GPS and sticking the team instructions to their bikes, adjusting helmets and shoes, deciding whether to wear a skin suit or traditional shorts and cycling top. It was such good fun, I watched on like a little boy watching his favourite footballer doing keepy ups and other tricks. I also had a chat with one of the team managers and he seemed rather impressed by what we were doing, he took a keen interest in Shirley and even offered her to Sky rider George Edmondson who, after emerging from the team bus, got on the wrong bike and started to protest to the mechanic that his bike wasn’t set up correctly! It was funny but I guess you probably had to be there. Anyway the riders went off to join the start of the stage, a whopping 179km in the Route De Sud race. Once they had gone the guy I had been chatting to emerged from the bus with a little souvenir, a team sky cycling hat! It’s tucked safely away in my pannier and will be a nice reminder of the trip in years to come. Shirley and I went to find a spot for a quick photo of the pros as they left town then it was back to camp for that breakfast.!
The rest of the day was spent mostly relaxing, trying to find a local coffee shop and chatting to our newly made friends, Sergio, a cyclist from Malaga who was on his way to the Atlantic and Johan and Daniel, 2 bikers who were touring the region. Sergio was a ‘chap’. He was on a road bike carrying most of his gear in a backpack (nutter) travelling around 70kms a day, his next destination was the Col Du Perysourde to the west of Luchon, our next destination. He’s Argentinian born, holds a Spanish and Italian passport and after 22 years in the UK refused the British passport based on the £60 fee, now that’s how to live.!! If you are reading this Sergio I hope you managed the Col although I have no doubts you did. Safe riding our friend and watch the hip, remember what the doctor told you 😉
Johan and Daniel were equally friendly and we chatted for a couple of hours about their journey and ours. They have spent the last 6 years visiting and touring different parts of France on their very impressive DragStar bikes. They had so much local knowledge that we have a full list of places to visit when we return to the coast of the South of France. Safe riding chaps and I hope your ‘missing’ rider is enjoying looking at the pictures you have of your latest trip 😉
Monday arrived and it was down to serious business as we started our ride into the Pyrenees. It was cloudy and raining with the occasional dry spell and after waiting for a window we set off for Luchon around 70kms away. Expecting a tough day we stopped early and fuelled up before the last 40kms. To be honest though we needn’t have worried so much. The ride to Luchon was only occasionally interrupted with a small climb. The profile from St Gaudens to Luchon raises only around 300 metres and didn’t prove too difficult. We arrived into Luchon mid afternoon and found a suitable campsite. Tomorrow we were going into the real business end as we tackled the Col Du Portillon and ride further into the mountains beyond Vielha. Whilst camping at Luchon we made more friends as we met Liz, Annie and Alan, 3 Brits who were hiking in the mountains. Again we swapped stories and we listened to their tales of travels from all over the globe. They were really inspirational people and in true British fashion they even shared their brew kit with us. I took note of the perculating camping cup they had and it’s now top of my kit list, goodbye instant 3 in 1 coffee.!! That evening we watched the first half of Brazil v Mexico before we all retired for the evening. During the night a heavy thunderstorm drowned us out but, fortunately, by the morning blue skies had returned. A large bowl of porridge and coffee meant we were set for the mornings challenge, the climb of the Col Su Portillon, a famous climb featured regularly in the Tour De France.
Following the signs for the Col out of Luchon and it was not long before we were at the bottom, approximately 1km from the campsite and we were there, hardly long enough for a warm up but the extra energy would be needed over the next hour. So this was it, the imbuing started and it wasn’t a gentle introduction. The 6.6% gradient starts at the very first metre and continues for the whole 9km stretch. I set a steady pace and was soon in my rhythm. I was reluctant to go straight to ‘granny gear’ as it would come in handy later on as fatigue set in. The first 3km was covered in around 20 minutes and the legs were feeling ok for now. A quick water stop and it was off again, the middle 3km proving tougher as tired legs tried to keep the pedals turning. The road was smooth with very little traffic, we met the odd road cyclist coming down but nothing was said, just the knowledgable ‘nod’ sent our way as they understood what we were going through. Another quick break at 6km and we pushed for the summit. I was really in the zone now and despite the sweat and burning legs I felt an immense surge of energy as we climbed the last 3km. The road snaked back and forth, teasing our minds into thinking the next turn would be the last. Eventually it was, we rounded the final corner and like a TDF climber we sprinted for the ‘finish line’. A fist pump and a big gulp of air and that was it, I had completed one of my dreams for the trip. A Spanish couple taking photos at the top gave a gentle applause and a thumbs up, not quite the international media frenzy at the TDF but quite nice none the less.
After a 10 minute breather we set off on the 8.5km downhill into Spain. The road again proving steep and winding only this time no effort was required. This time we were the ones giving the ‘nod’ to those climbing and it was our turn to enjoy the refreshing wind on our faces and sit back and enjoy the ride. No sooner had it begun it ended as we arrived in Bossost on the Spanish side of the mountains. At this point we could either camp or push on beyond the Tunel De Vielha some 40kms away. We had made good time, climbing the Col in just under an hour and cruising into Bossost in around 15 minutes. We decided to crack on. From the bottom of the Col we had climbed just over 600 metres and dropped around 500 the other side. Now it was a climb back up to the top of the Vielha tunnel at around 1626 metres. We made good time to Vielha and a quick check at the tourist office confirmed we could cycle the tunnel. We set off on the 8km ride to the entrance, looking back this seemed harder than the Col climb as we rose around 900 metres in just 8km. As we arrived at the entrance to the tunnel we knew the next 5 would be hard, a final 200 metre climb over 5km before a 200 metre downhill sprint to the exit and daylight again. We set off into the tunnel donning hi via vests and more lights than Blackpool. Luckily the southbound direction is dual lane so all the traffic was giving us a wide berth. After around 800 metres we were joined by the tunnel maintenance crew who sat behind us with lights flashing all the way through the tunnel. This afforded us some good protection from the traffic but we didn’t let up on pace. We pedalled furiously as we tried to clear the tunnel as quickly as possible. After exiting the tunnel we pulled over to thank our escorts only to look back and see them spinning 180 degrees and heading back to the other end. I doubt they will ever see this blog but for the record, thanks so much guys.!
With the tunnel behind us we set off downhill once again and headed for a campsite at Vilarell. At this point, high on adrenaline on what we had achieved today, Mother Nature sent us a timely reminder if exactly who is in charge in these parts. The heavens opened and for 17km we were soaked in the most driving freezing rain I’ve ever felt. The sky was almost black as the clouds dumped their loads on us and the loud roar of thunder coupled with the bright flashes of lightening sent us scurrying for cover. Like two drowned rats we limped into camp, opting for a bungalow in an attempt to get as dry and warm as possible for the night. Today was, of course, treat day and I settled on steak and chips with more than one Estrella! Eventually we retired for the night and slept in a proper bed for the first time since leaving our friends in Heilbronn.
Next morning after our fix of coffee and citron muffins we headed off in the direction of Lleida some 130kms away. The clouds were still looming but we decided we could ride through and hit the better weather further south. Given that we were at around 900metres and Lleida sits at 150 metres we were expecting and easy day in the saddle. Once again we were fooled, for the first 80km at least. The climbs kept coming and after every descent we were greeted by another energy sapping uphill burst. Not quite as extreme as the Col or the climb to the top of Vielha but hard enough when you have prepared mentally for an easy day. After searching for a supermarket or shop of any description did we decide that it was time to open Le Sac Magique and cook some rice and tuna on the roadside, much to the bemusement of many passing motorists! After scoffing down this hearty, if a bit tasteless, meal we set off again and not until we reached Puent De Montanana did the roads finally relent. The final 50km into Lleida was a gentle descent with only the occasional pedal push required to keep momentum. We arrived into Vielha early evening and it’s not without reason we are here. It’s a scheduled stop to meet a couple of friends who are hosting us for a few days, more on this in the next post.
For now folks, that’s about it, I’m off to eat tapas, paella, pizza, Mediterranean salad and whatever else is on offer (maybe an Italian a la Suarez style) as well as drink copious amounts of San Miguel for the weekend. It’s my reward to myself because I’ve done it, I’ve crossed over the Pyrenees on a bicycle, a push iron, a steel bone shaker or anything else you wish to call it. I did a famous TDF climb hauling the equivalent weight of a pro mountain specialist rider along with me. It feels great, my climb time has also halved compared to what I was clocking back in Laos but that’s gone, now I’m looking forward to another challenge, I’m not sure what that is yet, all I know is there is a little hilly section that might get a visit en route to Turkey, you may know them, they’re called The Alps 😉
Until next time folks TTFN x
Team Walshy…..‘Shirley’ watching the Pros go by, sure I heard her snigger 😉Beginning of Col Du Portillon.The approach to Col Du Portillon.Summit of Col Du Portillon, no thumbs up here 😉Leaving The Pyrenees behind…….almost!
Just a quick post to let you know what’s been happening in the last few days.
Well I see England are out of the World Cup. I suffered the indignity of watching the match v Uruguay surrounded by giggling French and Italians. Ah well, Premier League is back soon enough and I’m sure Chels will provide some more ups and downs. On the football front I can confirm VJ is not a fan, this became more evident as Iran took to the field. ‘I didn’t know Iran played football’ said VJ, I explained that most countries have a national football team to which VJ replied ‘well I suppose they have a lot of grass to practice on’. I held my head in my hands and asked VJ to stay focused on ice hockey!
So where’s Walshy? Well I’m currently sat having a cold beer in yet another picturesque French ‘Ville’. This country has not ceased to amaze me, every head turn brings a new ‘ooohhhh’ and ‘ahhh’ as I’m encapsulated by the beauty of the buildings, the landscape and the almost horizontal lifestyle. It’s been a pleasant few days which has seen VJ and I leave the Monts Du Cantal behind and enter the Midi Pyrenees region of Southern France. We were treated to a few climbs on the way out, the most notable being up to the town of Cordes Sur Ciel, a town which is literally on the highest point of the hill. From a distance it looks like nuts atop a giant ice cream cone. Only when you get closer does the amazement of how this town was built centuries ago hit you, a true feat of architecture and labour.
After a visit to the peak of Cordes Sur Ciel it was time to descend into our next staging point, Albi. VJ was in need of 2 new tyres, the Schwalbe Road Cruisers finally bowing out after around 6000km’s, not bad really. Tyres purchased and we set sail a further 30 south west where we staged for the night. The next day would see us cruise into Toulouse, a city which would provide the last opportunity to pick up any spares we may need.
The morning of departure to Toulouse and a quick kit check showed that there was no need for any shopping, this meant we could pass through Toulouse in a day, maybe we could’ve had a couple of days there but we decided it best to push on through and clear the city soonest.
The ride beyond Toulouse went on a bit longer than expected and we clocked 150km for the day. We decided a later finish and a few extra KM’s would allow us to have just a 40km ride the next day into, what I have labelled, ‘base camp’. At around 1am we pitched tent and collapsed into our sleeping bags, with a belly full of stale baguette, pate and cheese.
Early to rise the next morning we cruised at a leisurely 20KM’s per hour and arrived at base camp shortly after 11. Knowing we had a short ride we stopped for coffee, three actually, before finally arriving into St Gaudens. This town will this year host the start of a Tour De France stage and it’s clear to see why. To the north it is extremely flat, spin 180 degrees south and there they are, in all their splendour, The Pyrenees. Just a few pedal strokes away lies our home for the next few days. A natural border between France and Spain spanning from coast to coast. Many pro rider has been broken in these mountains and the thought of pedalling up and over, with 50 kilos of bike and kit, plus myself, fills me with trepidation, nerves and fear but ultimately with the greatest feeling of adventure I have ever felt before. I’m also excited, I know that in just a few days I will be able to say I climbed the Pyrenees on a bicycle, it gives me goosebumps just writing it. Along the way VJ and I will cover some of the most famous TDF climbs and I cannot begin to describe how that feels, a cyclists dream and nightmare all rolled into one perhaps.
I’ll try to keep you posted on the progress we make, failing that I will give a comprehensive post on how it went after the event.
And that’s all for now folks, wish me luck for the coming days and I’ll see you on the other side……Viva Espange!
Until next time folks TTFN.
I’ve developed a weird obsession with doorknobs and doorways. This is my fave knob!My fave doorway!Hmmmm!Climb every mountain (The Sound Of Music) for the uneducated 😉
Well it’s been almost 3 weeks since we departed Czech Republic and it seems such a long time ago already. So what’s been occurring? Well after a fine start to the trip, bathed in glorious sunshine as we headed out of Chropnye, the next 4 days were an absolute write off. We covered around 120km on day 1. Unfortunately, due to the great European storm of 2014, day 2,3,4 and 5 were spent training. When I say training, I mean travelling by train. We did manage to get a few KMs under the belt but mostly we gazed out of the train window as we tried in a desperate bid to outrun Mother Nature. We thought we had succeeded as we reached Nurnburg, Germany. We arrived at the campsite after closing hours so found a pitch and set up camp. It was still grey and wet. The tent was up in seconds and we were soon diving into our sleeping bags for a few hours kip, tomorrow would be sunny right? Nope! We woke again to light drizzle, packed away the tent (wet) and went and found shelter under the canopy of the cafe terrace whilst we cooked up some porridge. As we tucked into aforementioned breakfast we were greeted by what can only be described as an irate German Shepherd dog but in human form.! We looked on puzzled as we tried to work out whether he was moaning about the weather to us or moaning about us. Turns out he was moaning about us… ‘Privat Platz, DAS IST PRIVAT PLATZ’ or something like that. Anyway, we waved and smiled and hurried down the oats before packing up and jumping on the bikes. It didn’t end there though, as we cycled towards reception to settle our bill the irate gentleman emerged from the office, arms flailing as he almost burst a blood vessel screaming ‘MONEY MONEY’. Turns out this little Alsatian is the camp Manager! Now my temper started to fray a little. I went into the office, handed over my passport and money and thought that would be that but oh no. This little gestapoite seemed interested in every part of my personal info from name (erm it’s in the passport mate) to inside leg measurement. Well I tried to explain that I don’t actually have a registered UK address and yes maybe I was being a little sarcastic when I wrote my address as Strasse 1, Germany but hey dry your eyes mate, it’s not the end of the world. Now he turned rude and almost racist (if I were a little more sensitive) as he threw my passport back at me, gesturing to call the police, probably as he thought I was some sort of WW2 spy as he contined to spurt out profanities about the English. At this point let it be clear that I have absolutely no ill feelings towards the Germans, indeed the reason for being here was to visit some good friends who I met whilst in Malaysia last year. Certainly this guy has not tarnished my view of Germans but I thought it was worth mentioning. Anyway I digress so back to it.
As we cycled away from UnfriendlycampingNurnburg.com we decided to contact said friends and see if arriving 24 hours earlier than planned would present a problem. It didn’t and we were soon on our way to meet up with Mark and Marina in mystery location number 1 (clues to follow). I met Mark (whose surname translates to beer wagon…..brilliant) and Marina whilst in Penang last year and we have stayed I touch with an invitation to visit them anytime always on offer. It was now time to accept the invite and we boarded yet another train and headed further west in another desperate attempt to fool Mother Nature. Within a few shirt hours we were enjoying the first of many beers in the town centre, Mark slightly tippled as he had been working the bar at his local table tennis club competition since 9am! We ventured back to their apartment where he drying out process could begin as we shared a few more beers and caught up on each other’s lives since we said our farewells last year. Friday night and we were treated to some excellent food, all home cooked by Marina and Mark and we met Tim and Julien before venturing out to the local night spot. After a few beers and shits at home it was time for a boogie, a couple more beers and a ‘fichen’ shot to finish off the night, it was almost 4am when we left and headed back for a good nights kip. Saturday we were again treated to a wonderful breakfast spread before we headed into town for a mooch about and a game or crazy golf. After ice cream and a later it was time to meet Tim and Julien again and shoot some golf. It was 18 holes of fiercely contested sport with the eventual winner Mark ‘2 shots’ Bierwagen. Well done Mark but I did drop a few shots on purpose, I didn’t want to upset the host 😉.
Saturday night was a calm affair as we shared yet another excellent meal and conversation before calling it a night after Mark and I watched Carl Froch knock George Groves into next Christmas, well done the cobra.!
After breakfast on Sunday we packed the last of our things, loaded the bikes and with a packed lunch, some washing up liquid and cooking oil donated by our hosts it was time to head off. Oh hang on, did I mention we also met Marks parents? I don’t think I did and that also reminds me 😉 that we were also treated to a viewing of a very young David Hasselhoff impersonator! Yes folks, there was Mark, many moons ago, live on national TV lip synching in a ‘stars in your eyes’ style to The Hoff! Mark did mention he was only beaten by a group doing a rendition on Cotton Eyed Joe, he went on to explain they only won because they mentioned they were raising money for charity but Mark isn’t bitter or scarred at all, are you mate?😉
The weather had turned somewhat in our favour and with renewed enthusiasm we hit the road and headed west again. We were heading towards the Rhein and into France. A scheduled stop in Karlsrhue to visit more friends was cancelled as said friends wouldn’t be in town for a few more days. A final night in Germany and we were up bright and early the next morning heading for the border. We had originally planned to head further south in Germany but a change of direction and an easier route to the border beckoned. We crossed the border over the Rhein and set off south down the well marked Eurovelo cycle path. It was easy cycling and we covered some 90kms in only a few hours, our legs feeling fresh and slowly coming back to life after a short lay off.
The next few days were spent following the vineyard cycle route through the Alsace region of Eastern France. It was a beautifully peaceful time as we meandered through countless acres of carefully planted grape vines. Our ride was only occasionally interrupted by the odd passing vehicle. We also passed through many quaint and picturesque French villages where it seems almost every resident is a wine producer. It wasn’t until a few days in that I realised the ‘caves’ that were advertised everywhere were not in fact caves but wine sellers cellars each offering the opportunity to drop in and taste last years production. I’m not a wine loved so I passed up the offers, probably for the best as I’d still be in the first village now.!
We have continued to head in a south westerly direction and this has enabled us to cross the glorious Cote D’or. Once again we have been spoilt silly for gorgeous villages, rolling vineyards and even better weather. We have also found the camping to be excellent, for as little as €6 per night we are treated to all the facilities of a ‘resort’ whilst able to wake up to the sound of wildlife and the light breeze through the trees. ‘Wild’ camping hasn’t been necessary except on one occasion where we were a little ‘misplaced’ in our directions but thankfully the local football pitch provided ample comfort albeit without the shower and fresh baguette the next morning.
Some of the places we have passed through include Belfort, Besancon, Dole and countless villages. One of my favourite places so far is mystery spot number 2. Here we enjoyed a 2 day break after two consecutive 160km rides. The city has a certain charm, calm yet bustling, old yet modern. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was so special about it but maybe that’s it?
leaving the Cote D’or behind we have spent the last week heading further south west and into the volcanic region, yes people, France has volcanos.! I didn’t know until I saw a sign that said, funnily enough, ‘Region Du Volcanos’. It’s been an exceptionally tough week with the legs and lungs reminded of what it’s like to pedal uphill in a serious form since way back in Laos. The climbs have been rewarded with some of the most amazingly smooth descents and the views have been absolutely breathtaking. An incident of note xam south of Murol. After munching through 17km of uphill toil before breakfast we came across a Cycling Club from Lyon who were in the hills for training. As I gave the customary bonjour I received flailing arms and a mad French cyclist shouting ‘Monsieur Monsieur sil vous plait’. Curious, I stopped and politely explained in my best GCSE French that I don’t actually speak much French. ‘Le tool, le tool for le chain, you ave it’? He asked. Ah yes sir, we most certainly do! One of his riding companions appeared over the horizon pushing his 6kg carbon fibre bike, chain in hand and they promptly started to repair the broken chain, well almost. After about an hour I decided to intervene as it was now starting to get a little more than comical and costing us time. Within 5 minutes the chain was repaired and a quick test ride ensured he could at least hobble home. With half of France thanking us we set off and were rewarded for our good deed with a continuous downhill ride for about an hour, over 40km in the bag without turning the pedals once. Now that’s why the climbs are worth the effort! During the descent we also set a new top speed, 62.8kmph, not bad for pedal power!
It’s now 15th June and the World Cup is in full swing, I did manage to watch England lose to Italy, not a bad performance in my opinion but I think the QF’s would be our limit. My tip for dark horses are Belgium. I think they could do really well given the players they have.
We continue to head south and have swapped the wine region for the ‘Fromage’ trail, yes there is a tourist trail dedicated to cheese! It’s still hard work as we make our way out if the ‘Monts Du Cantal’ but it’s not without reason we have chosen this area to pass by. Our destination in around 350km further south is a monster undertaking as we prepare to tackle The Pyrenees and pass into Spain. When I set this trip I wanted to better what I had done in Laos, the highest climb there was just over 2000mtrs, The Pyrenees promises more and in a strange way I’m rather excited to pit my wits agains these monster mountains, all on a bike weighing almost 50kg fully loaded. Not only that but we will also tackle some of the most famous climbs featured in the Tour De France. It promises to be painful but exhilarating and I’m certain I’ll need to draw on all the experience I gained on my previous trip to be able to succeed. By the way, we are a lot more prepared this time and looking back I often wonder how the hell we were able to cycle across SE Asia with only a 750cl water bottle each, on this trip we are consuming around 10litres each per day as the heat reaches up to 35 degrees.
Anyway my friends I’ll leave it there for now, next time I’m going to do a quick kit review for your perusal just in case I have managed to inspire any of you…..😉
So ‘Where’s Walshy’?……
Mystery Place Number 1 –
1. This town was once famous for it’s giant penis shaped tree (now removed, tourist figures down 98% for 2013/14)
2. It’s 18 hole ‘crazy golf’ course has, funnily enough, 18 holes and the current record belongs to ‘2 shot’ Mark with a round of 50.
3. It has the best ice cream shop in Europe, Fact!!
4. Mark and Marina live here (I know that a dead giveaway but I suspect you need a little help)
Mystery Place Number 2 –
1. This place is mustard (and that’s all you’re getting).!
A few pics below from the trip so far, until next time folks
TTFN
Lest We Forget.Bit of crazy golf action!Stunt riding with ‘Shirley’Breakfast ‘Dans Le Parc’‘Eau de top up’How many Frenchmen does it take to fix a chain? None, I ended up doing it!Not a bad place for a pit stop!Poppies in the vineyards.A view from the Mont Du Cantal area.
Well after a short break I’m finally back on the road again. In these next series of entries I’m going to be playing a new game, it was a totally thought up idea by yours truly and it’s called ‘Where’s Walshy’! I will be dropping hints as to my current location and the first person to guess correctly will win a prize. It could be anything from a postcard to an all expenses paid trip to join me for a few days, to win the top prize you must pay £500 to enter (bank account details will be sent to the lucky winner) 😉
So what’s been happening? Well I’ve left Asia behind, it was a wonderful trip and I’ve come away with many many memories. I decided after the cycling trip that I was ready for some new scenery and a further cycling challenge.
After purchasing my shiny new ‘Surly Long Haul Trucker’ in Bangkok it was time to head back to familiar ground. A quick flight back to the UK with a 36 hour pit stop and I was on the move again, destination Prague. Why Prague? Well it was time to hook up with a familiar face who has also caught the cycling bug……….VJ.! Yes, the most mysterious of characters is back and joining me for a new, longer and more challenging ride. This time we are going extreme, a full 8000km ride which will see us take in around 13 countries as we make our way across Germany, France, Portugal, Spain and many other places. Our final destination? Istanbul towards the end of August to meet up with David, my youngest brother. We will be camping along the way to save cash for more important things like energy bars, isotonic juices, good wholesome food but most of all cigarettes and alcohol (it’s not cheap here you know)!
Anyway my friends, family and readers that’s all for now, it’s great to be back and I hope you enjoy following our exploits across this wonderful continent. Watch out for the first competition hint over the next few days.!
until next time……..
TTFN 🙂
‘Shirley’ the Surly fully loaded and ready to go.!
NomadicBlue 