A wet start in Liverpool on 21st June. The worst case
scenario. Pannier covers on. Waterproofs on. Vulnerable
items hastily rearranged in bags to avoid getting wet. The rain was
torrential, the skies dark and threatening as a succession of family and
friends arrived to see me off. I didn't have to pedal the first few
miles, I was just swept along on the river of rain running down the road.
Things did brighten up as I crossed England to take the ferry to the
continent. It's only with hindsight and 4 weeks experience of
cycling in Europe that I can now declare the cycling provision in England
to be the worst so far by a mile. There are no cycle lanes to speak
of and the attitude of the drivers pretty much spoils any chance of
enjoyment, even cycling through some lovely countryside.
Landing in Holland the contrast was so strong. The country's
transport network has been built to cater for all forms of travelers.
A fully-signposted, tarmaced and convenient network of cycle paths, lanes,
roads and canal side idylls has been created, which not only services the
needs of the cyclist (safety, peace and quiet), but also, ingeniously,
leaves the roads free to cater for the needs of the driver (speed without
obstruction). We in England could learn a thing or two....
I arrived in Amsterdam to find lots of people, (so this is where all the
Dutch are), and a festival of orange. This continued all weekend as
Holland won through to the semi-finals of Euro 2004 football.
Over dinner I met an Australian businessman, who was so taken with my
exploits that he pulled out a five euro note "for your charity".
I felt obliged to email him my website details to prove I was genuine!!
So far I've been mistaken for..... an Australian, a German (lots of
times), a boy(!) - must be the new short haircut, a Hollandaise,
Lance Armstrong, (as I was cycling the Route du Tour)....and, the best
yet, a school leaver!! (I have been a school leaver once, the
same year that Duran Duran had a chart hit with Rio...)
This last one happened in Holland, when a dapper little Dutchman was
giving me directions, showing concern in case I got kidnapped, ("In
Holland??" I queried), and then told me how lucky I was to have long
holidays after finishing my school studies. I wish......
Belgium was wet and dull, and I can remember it only for a couple of great
days in Liege, watching the start of the Tour de France, and meeting my
cycling hero, 5-times Tour winner, Lance Armstrong.
Luxembourg, on the other hand, was a real find. A hidden treasure,
as I had never given it a second thought when thinking about places for
cycling holidays. But it is great. The roads are largely
empty, the cycle lanes many, the people welcoming, and the capital city
entrancing, built as it is across a huge gorge.
I passed through France in two days, spending one night camping at a quiet
site beside a river just south east of Metz, and then crossed the River
Rhine at the border into Germany.
The 5 day trek to Munich was hard. I climbed, in bottom gear, for
11km over the Schwarzwald Alps, and descended in a violent storm - not
funny when you're carrying 30 kilos of panniers on the bike. It was
a case of concentrate and survive, or make a mistake, and slide a 1000
feet into the valley below.
I survived.
At Erding, the hotel owner helpfully told me this was the worst July for
weather in Germany for years. I didn't need telling.
"There is
a meter of snow on the Alps", she went on. "You need all
your winter clothes". Thanks. I had just cycled for 7
rainy cold days, and just about everything I was carrying was damp.
Perhaps in Austria the sun would shine......
An interlude to mention a subject close to my heart....food. Many
people asked me before I left, what would I eat. Well, hold on
there, here goes....
A typical day:
Breakfast: if it's included in the price, then it's
juice, cereal, more cereal, bread, cheese (in Holland and Germany), jam,
croissants
if available, and lots of milky coffee.
11 am or after about 20 miles. Nip into the Boulangerie/Bakerei, for
the 2 biggest sticky jammy bun cake type things that they have.
Consume surreptitiously with coffee at a suitable bar cafe.
Lunch: Maybe a sandwich or pizza slice. More coffee.
Afternoon: if the miles are many or the going a bit tough, I
dip into my stock of fruit and nuts, energy bars, chocolate.
Dinner: Salad (sometimes if I'm being good.) More
likely, pasta, or schnitzel and frites, followed by huge ice-cream.
By the way, I seem to be losing weight!!!
I reached a major first milestone for my trip, at Passau, where I crossed
the Danube on a traditional wooden ferry boat, to begin the
journey through Austria, Slovakia and Hungary to Budapest. The cycle
way along the river is famous, and is well serviced by campsites,
gastzimmer and numerous bars and cafes.
I met a group of American cyclists from California, who said they will
donate to my charity if I give them a plug. So here goes: "It
was great meeting you, Club Lafayette. Happy cycling:"
I write from Linz, which is a city right on the Danube. Further updates
will follow soon.
Carrying on along the Danube Cycleway, complete with a cold from rainy
Germany, I reached Vienna, and camped on the edge of the city. I had the
essential coffee and apple strudel at a pavement cafe near the cathedral,
and did some sightseeing on a day off the bike, before moving on. The
cycling was so easy along the river, I'm not sure I had to use my gears or
brakes for a week - they're not needed on the flat paths! I had a
3-country day. Waking up in Austria, a morning in Slovakia, and into Hungary
by the afternoon. Passsing through the Slovak capital, Bratislava, with no
local currency and no map, I was lucky to come across Tomas, a cycle-touring
Pole, who had both. We did a whistle-stop tour of the lovely old city
together.
Hungary posed its own problems. The language was unrecognisable to me,
being neither Latin nor Germanic in origin. When I came across a campsite
toilet block with no pictures or symbols, but only the Hungarian words for
"Male/Female", I had to hop around outside waiting for someone else to
either go in or come out, to identify which one was the ladies'....
Hungary, like the Danube, was flat. I cycled right across the Great
Hungarian Plain, mile after mile of long straight roads and fields as far
as the eye could see. In between four nights spent in small towns, I
stayed in Budapest as the guest of the FCO co-ordinator for the Merseyside
Police/Hungarian Police liaison programme. I had a tour of the impressive
capital.
A heat wave accompanied me across Hungary but changed rapidly when I
crossed into Romania. Torrential downpours of rain led to a dangerous
day's cycling on a busy main road; warnings of a landslip on my intended
route through the mountains; and a careful rethink of my plans. Some sound
advice from a local saw me take a train south to Craiova, from where I
could resume my route. I had to essentially bribe the train guard to take
my bike, but once I had handed over the 200,000 Lei (don't panic, it's
about 2.70p), he forgot about the bike, and became more concerned that I
should telephone his daughter, so she could practice her English and "make
a better way for her life."
I was so put out by Romania, that I had been 24 hours in the country
before I realised that they were 1 hour ahead of Central European Time. It
was only at the station that I wondered why all the clocks were showing
the "wrong" time....
Bulgaria was beautiful. fantastic scenery, mostly good roads and
obliging friendly people. And ridiculously inexpensive. I had change from
a tenner for an en-suite hotel room with balcony and satellite TV. And in
case anyone thinks I was being short-changed, that included breakfast!
My bike has slept in a few strange places. A bar, garage, cold-storage
cellar, The British Embassy (!) in Budapest, and an exposed hotel lobby.
On this last one in Vidin in Bulgaria, I was worried, as it was visible
from the street. The hotel owner suggested that 2 Lev (70p) might be an
appropriate tip from "the security of the bike". I was only too happy to
oblige. When I returned from my evening meal in town, my bike was
surrounded by red tape and white signs, bearing stern-looking Bulgarian
words, to the effect of, I am sure, "Touch this bike at your peril"!
Needless to say, it was still there, safe and well, in the morning.
In Greece, I definitely slowed down. You can't help yourself. Around
every corner is another quiet beach, another friendly taverna, another
blue sea harbour, another entrancing panorama. Three days on a beach
beneath the towering Mount Olympus was followed by a wake-up call when I
looked at the map. I was still five cycling days from Athens. A sojourn at
leisurely pace down the island of Evia has brought my to the outskirts of
the capital on the eve of the Olympic Games, and a completion of stage one
of my trip.
Some facts and figures about the Europe stage of my trip. In 53 days
on the road, through 12 countries, I have pedalled 2521 miles and taken 228
hours to do so. I have stayed in 15 campsites, 16 hostels, 12 hotels, 7 B&B
Zimmer, 3 ferries/friends. When I leave Piraeus for Turkey next week, it
will be my 7th ferry crossing; 1 across the Channel, 4 at various stages
across the Danube including the Romanian/Bulgarian border, and 1 to a Greek
island. Just one problem with the bike. My chain snapped in Passau.
Raising my eyes to heaven in frustration, as it is a TOTAL nuisance to fix
on the road, I saw a sign in German, saying "Bicycle Service - 50 meters."
That's how the trip has gone so far.... |
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