Toulouse to Barcelona

Doorway Toulouse

Pont Neuf Toulouse

Guide books describe Toulouse as the pink city. Reddish, certainly, but hardly pink; granted, a lot rosier than France's more northern cities. Life was hot and slow it seemed. A lot of ice cream and watermelon eating along with Saturday morning shopping. Unfortunately I stayed in Toulouse a little longer than expected due to a 'tummy upset' which resulted in me catching an afternoon train to Carcassonne to join the crew and my cycling buddies. Both Sally and Katherine left us in Toulouse so we are somewhat diminished in number.

Carcassonne new city

Carcassonne sports a new city as well as the hilltop UNESCO listed site of the original city begun in the sixth century. It was a hot and crowded place to be so we walked back to the new town and enjoyed cool drinks in the principal square.

 

 

 

Riding out was pleasant enough. We travelled along the Tour de France route to Nebias, bunting in the jersey colours hanging through streets as well as newly paved roads. Apparently the locals like the Tour as the roads do get upgraded. Pleasant as I said until the climbing began. My almost two days with little to eat meant I struggled all day. Stewart nannied me into camp after dousing me with cold water from a community laundry sink. What a great idea - communal laundries that is. A sweeping view of the valley, a cool down in the pool and a good sleep partially restored me for the next day of climbing, but not enough.

In a gorge, Pyrenees

Puicerda railway station

At around the 65km mark Linda flagged down a battered old van and we gratefully shoved our bikes in the back and watched the climb progress as Monsieur and his two children and shaggy dog chattered and talked in the front. Actually, dog did no chattering at all. When he dropped us off we still had 35kms to go to camp. Just as we pondered our fate, Mick walked into us. How fortuitous. So then it was in the back of our van to Puicerda, a welcome relief and a good spot to view the cruel magnificence of the Pyrenees.

The next day was slated at 140km. I didn't even attempt it. I was told the views were stunning as the last remaining five riders hurtled up and down and along precipitous roads with no barriers. Even if I could have done the climbs, I could not have done the downhills as I would have been frozen in terror. The train trip to Vic only took an hour and a half and sure beat the exhaustion, stress and unhinged effect it had on 3 of the 5 riders who rolled into camp near 7pm. What an endurance test this so called cultural ride for fun turned out to be. I have never given up before but I was well and truly beaten by the route over the Pyrenees. Planning 140km rides in late August is close to lunacy I expect. I have lived and learnt, to say the least. And so it was for our ride to Barcelona. We climbed into Vic and caught the train and enjoyed a fantastic ride through Barcelona to our hotel from where we alighted from the train at Arc de Triomphe. Only four riders rode the whole ride. Good for them but a major disappointment for the rest of us.

 

 

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Oh la la

From Brugge we trained it to Bayeux on the Normandy coast. Bayeux as you know is home to the famous eponymous tapestry which I enjoyed immensely, even though it is really an embroidery. Thankfully the good ladies who stitched it had the sense to number the panels, making it very easy for modern audio guiding to occur. Looking at Halleys comet as depicted in 1066 reminded me of staring into the night sky in Ballarat, hoping for a glimpse, before falling into the fishpond as a flash of comet sent me stumbling forward.

I rode to Arromanche and along the D-Day coast as well. Arromanche was in full memorabilia mode and even staged a ceremony at 10am. I think it may occur most days during tourist season. One pretty fishing village, Pot de Bessins, sported a fish market and loads of fisherman mending their nets on the quay. The harbour was well protected and it was clear that the tides must be in the five metre range, judging by the high-sided harbour walls.

There was a plethora of campervans vying for road space so pretty soon we left the coast and headed inland in search of calvados. We found what we were looking for. After small and tasty samples, we settled on a couple of bottles of pommeau, an aperitif. When Maureen toppled off her (stationary) bike we were more concerned about our cargo, and it was left to a local woman to pick her up from the roadway. Fortunately the bottles remained intact as did Maureen.

Cycling through romantic stone villages with gardens tumble full of roses and summer profusion has to be a chief highlight of my life. Normandy has much to offer the visitor keen on Arcadian views and tasty food and drink. One of our best rides of the trip was from Bayeux to Caen, where we caught a train to Tours. Caen boasted a vibrant market so it was baguette and rabbit terrine for lunch as we clackety clacked along.

We also made a trip to Paris. A highlight also. We walked our legs off and managed to complete a circuit of Eiffel Tower, arc de Triomphe, Champs Élysées, Galleries Lafayette, Pigalle, Montmatre, Sacre Coeur and Notre Dame. We piled onto our TGV to return to Tours happy and weary and enjoyed a fantastic dinner in a little Tours cafe. Even Ruby couldnt finish the THREE GIANT profiteroles stuffed with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

Not the profiteroles

Then it was on the bike again for the Loire Slogfest. Not many people would cover 240kms in two days but we did, the last in blustery strong head winds and intermittent rain. If you should do this ride, begin further east than Tours and don't ride past Angers. Scenery, chateaux and food is better further up the valley. Of course we had no time to actually visit any chateaux, just sped past and hardly even managed a photo.

Next stop is Toujours. Tout les hours, in fact.

 

 

 

 

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Into the land of lace and beer

Raining of course, but what's new, as we cycled across the unmarked border into Belgium. We were riding on a fulsome canal heading into a fierce wind and avoiding the hardy locals out for an amble, admiring the sheep, most with tails, ajisting on the steep canal banks.

A swan family

We spent a morning admiring a Dutch village name Veere. It was once an old seaport but the dike built across the sea to its west has now reduced it to a harbour for expensive yachts. The village had once been a fort, cannons standing ready to shoot down marauders, and two churches of grandeur ready to bless all troops and aristocrats. One church was bigger than St Patrick's in Melbourne. This seems to be the pattern. Small villages with huge churches. The geometry stuns me as I look upward at their soaring spires and towers.

Cat in a Veere window

We cycled across some amazing feats of engineering on our day riding to Kamperland, urged on by the screeching of gulls. Three large dikes, one of which was approx. 8 kms long, all have multi-lane roads as well as adjacent roads for bikes and scooters. My sense of vertigo prevented me from looking down into what others described as the roiling sea around the concrete pillars. The 1953 flood caused the government of the day to rethink its approach to the sea which has resulted in these expansive concrete and steel dikes. A story board assured me that no environmental damage resulted from the construction.

Belgian farms are different again. The farmhouses look more like ours, small and not part of a house-barn complex. Pairs of vases dominated the Dutch windows. Here there is not the same attention to symmetrical detail. Charolais cattle graze the ample pasture and the redolent barn smells of Germany seem to have been left behind as more and more animals are free-range as opposed to being in barns on a permanent basis.

Now to Brugge. What a storybook city this is. There are more fancy pants buildings per square centimetre than anywhere I have ever been. Horses and carts carry tourists to and fro. I was particularly taken by the Jack Russell who sits all day beside his mistress, wagging his tail and looking for all the world as if this is the best thing a dog can do all day. Last night we witnessed a two-horse one car pile up. A horse bolted, tossing its driver off and probably terrorizing its passengers, a family of four out for a nighttime gallop. All ended well enough. The cafe restored its chairs and flower boxes that were knocked over, the driver, a young woman, regained control of her horse after having been thrown out and chasing it down the cobbled street, and the family climbed back in, presumably to continue their tour.

Horse in Brugge

We have strolled the streets, sampled the chocolates and beer and enjoyed a Flemish lunch at a local cafe. Barges and boats cruise the canal that circles the old city. Cars dart in and out avoiding pedestrians and cyclists on the cobbles. I found this city hard to ride through and so have tied the Silver Fox up until we arrive in France.

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Into The Netherlands

We pedaled across the border and immediately noticed differences. Language for one. I was a bit at home in Germany but have no grasp of Dutch whatsoever. It seems that most Dutch people though have a fine grasp of English so it is proving to be very simple to obtain food and drink and most anything else, but of course, the latter two items are our main preoccupation.

Dutch farms are both similar to and yet very different in style from the German model. Bricks and mortar with tiled or thatched roofs, an expansive barn or two part of the arrangement. Flowers in abundance out the front and veggie plots boasting onions, cabbages, beans and the odd tomato plant encased in its own small plastic greenhouse. I have enjoyed peering into the picture windows of the Dutch farmhouses onto country kitchens, comfortable sitting rooms with an abundance of cushions and books in shelves. It seems this may be a country of readers judging by a couple of comments and the plethora of bookshops I have noticed so far.

The plots of land boast a conglomeration of animals all housed together; some sheep, a cow or two, goats, chooks, deer, ducks, donkeys, geese, short-legged pigs and horses. There are also a breed of cattle I have not seen before. They have rounded rumps, stocky short bodies and rather solid heads. They are a little like the Limousin, muscled and strong in appearance.

We enjoyed a several hour wander round Zutphen, an old and important town dating back 1000+ years. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zutphen for more information.

Riding along the canals has been fun. Speed is possible, especially with a tail-wind. I found myself channeling Michael and Brian as I sped along into Amsterdam. There are so many bikes in this city. Another huge bike park close by to the central railway station.

We strolled through both the green and red light districts. Ruby was amused to say the least by the ladies in the windows. She thought I had made this story up. I am pleased to see they are now wearing tops and bottoms, maybe skimpy, but they cover all the bits people pay to see, different to when I was here 20 years ago with her mother who found it too much to bear. Funny idea isn't it, to put women in shop windows. They also have mobile phones to keep them occupied now, rather than as they used to, make eyes at the passing parade.

An extravagant dinner was enjoyed courtesy of Tinda, a local woman who hosted us in her apartment and put on a fulsome spread as part of Dining with the Dutch. Twelve participated and twelve came away stuffed like Christmas stockings. The food was delicious and the ambience perfect. We were pleased that yet another fearsome rainstorm occurred while we were under cover.

Liz is recovering and John is due to rejoin us in Bruge. Good news. Karen has left for home in Halifax and Linda has joined us from North Carolina. We are halfway through Coberamba.

Karen in flight

 

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It stopped raining in Prague...

A trip to Prague brought back memories of the few days Catherine and I spent there in 1993. Then it was cold and brisk, gypsies roamed around on alert for hapless tourists, and the premium entertainment was Blacklight Puppetry. Now the traders have moved in big time and the plethora of cheap and gaudy puppets, Bohemian crystal - not cheap and not always gaudy - painted enamelware and the usual claptrap of flags, fridge magnets, postcards and the like dominate the old town. It is hard to find a smoke-filled sausage shop selling dark beer peopled by locals. In fact, the only locals on display were hidden deep in the reside trial areas away from the hustle and bustle. A constant police presence ensured touts were kept at bay and Thai massage places had popped up everywhere including the little fish treatment to be had in full view of the passing parade along Wenceslas Square. Highlights for me this time were seeing it through Des and Ruby's eyes, wandering home along the river one evening and having a drink in Hotel Europa, still resplendent in its gloriously untouched secessionist or art deco, not sure which really, splendour.

Hotel Europa

From Prague we returned by train to Magdeburg via Dresden then onto our camping platz for the night before taking off westwards across Germany for four days of cycling, our first three in glorious sunshine. Perhaps even a tadge too hot for long days in the saddle over gravel, cobble, dirt, mud and paved cycle ways. Following Radweg 1 has been scenic, but hardly direct or easy at times. There have been hills and climbs aplenty as we have skirted the Hartz mountains; rivers and streams burbled by; and corn, wheat, oats and barley to keep us company in the farmlands. Many crops have suffered damage on account of the inclement weather of recent weeks and are unharvestable. The aromas of shed-kept cattle have been constant, doing battle with the enormous community silage repositories.

Camping at Hoxter

The Silver Fox

Our crew have been keeping us well fed and watered for which we are very grateful. It is lovely to arrive in camp to a cold beer and tasty snacks. Dinners are full of flavour with lots of salads and veggies. Yum. And we have dessert every evening too. Des visits bakeries and loads up on butter cakes of a solid German style, and tops them with berries sof all sorts. I fear I am gaining poundage regardless of the kilometres whizzing by under my wheels.

The trip has not been without drama. Liz fell on Saturday and is in hospital undergoing surgery. Maureen has had bad news from home. The weather has made some of us more fractious than others. To date we have covered about 1200 kms I think.

Munster is the most amazing place for bikes. I took the Silver Fox to the bike wash housed in the bike park, a huge hall housing thousands of bikes positioned close to the railway station. Apparently 40% of trips in the city are bike trips, and it shows in the amazing attitudes and infrastructure. I dream of such an approach in Melbourne, which I gather has just become the world's second bike city. When I mentioned this to a German man a few days ago he fell about laughing. He had been to Melbourne you see.

The Silver Fox gets clean

Bike park

 

It seems that we are still dogged by bad weather. Rain is ever threatening. There was a sudden and long lasting thunderstorm two nights ago which wiped the sweat from our brows and the smiles from our faces. Let's hope we might find blue skies and paved paths in Holland.

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From behind the former Iron Curtain

Some of you may be wondering what is happening to us deep in the German woods. One thing I'm sure Is that I saw a wolf cross the road - grey, large, careless gait. Problem is I saw it only a kilometer or two from our camp which is, surprisingly, situated deep in the woods. It is Beside a lake, or 'Am See' as the Germans say. We prefer to say 'In See' however, as it still has not stopped raining.Oh for a dry day.

Trabi broken down at Brandenburg To

The locals say we have thunder and lightning ahead until at least Prague. Having purchased an umbrella in Berlin I feel ready for anything on foot but the large navy blue cloak I bought at bicycle heaven is cumbersome, and sorry to say, not stylish. I want to throw it off forever, but it keeps me dryish, always good.

Pretzel bike

We are also writing to Angela Merkel as many of the radwegs seem to be more appropriate for teenage mountain bike riders rather than old age pensioners battling the wettest summer in Germany since cocky was an egg. Unfortunately we did not have the letter ready in Berlin as we passed her parliamentary offices where we could have hand delivered it. Damn.

Bears at Torgau

Berlin is as lovely and under construction as I remember. We cruised down to Kreuzberg and took in the notice 'YUPPIES AUS' before settling into a bar and ordering up on the beers. All sorts dwell there. We might have gone clubbing but opted for the tapas bar instead. Contacts have been made for Barcelona. Yum!

A gem was had by conversing with Frau in Bad Schmiedeberg who after telling me she had lost 20 kilos after the death of her husband - no, I am NOT suggesting anything - took me to meet the pastor who showed us into his church. The 'high'light was climbing the tower and viewing the village below.

Two brown bears in the former moat of the Torgau Schloss amused me. One stretched out in the few rays of sun that escaped through the rain clouds, one leg propped up on its cave. It seemed a good place to keep bears, but their significance was somewhat lost on me. Apparently there have been bears in Torgau since the 1400s. Nelson thought they may be grizzlies, but that seemed a trifle remote.

Eat your heart out in Belgram

If you wish to tune out of the metrics, do so now.

Sunday 8 July Copenhagen to Ystad: 72 kms, bright sunshine, TITS 3'55

Tuesday 10 July Ystad to Trelleborg: 53 kms, grey, head wind, spatters of rain, TITS 3'06

Wednesday 11 July Rostock to Krakow am See: 80 kms, rain and showers, TITS 4'30

Thursday 12 July Krakow am See to Waren: 58 kms, rain, rain and rain, lovely lunch of home-made tomato soup, TITS 3'53

Friday 13 July Waren to Himmelpfort: 103 kms, TITS 5'58, serious rain with extraordinary stretches of mountain bike riding trails. We needed to rescue Nelson, Gloria and Bob who took a wrong turn.

Saturday 14 July Himmelpfort to Berlin: 76.5 kms, 4'09 TITS, serious rain again so caught a train in from Orienberg.

Tuesday 17 July Berlin to Radigke: 118 kms, 6'38 TITS. It took 2 1/2 hrs to ride the 15kms out of Berlin. The rain stopped at Potsdam and the rest of the ride was in sunshine with a headwind. Lovely to see the sun and get out of the plastic. A great little camp ground with Herr getting us a crate of local beer to wash away our ride.

Wednesday 18 July Radigke to Rotta: 48kms, 2'56 TITS. Wolves nearby - I'm sure I felt one circling my tent during the night. I woke to a woodpecker searching for breakfast. Great day's riding.

Thursday 19 July Rotta to Torgau: 64kms, 3'18 TITS. NO RAIN AT ALL WHILE RIDING! Who cared about the strong winds.

Friday 20 July Torgau to Moritzburg: 90 kms, 5'11 TITS. Some time along the Elbe Radweg then a deviation onto Moritzburger Weg through small farms, towns and woods which opened out onto a large lake which held the reflection of a stunning castle.

 

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Hello mudda, hello fadda, here we are in Coberamba...

...if it ever stops raining, we will appreciate our traing...Can you believe it? Rain and 16 degrees. May as well have stayed in Melbourne.Well, maybe not. If I was in Melbourne there is no way I would ride 100+ kms in driving rain, but for the last two days, that's kind of what I have done. But I have been in exceptional company and have enjoyed wonderful campsites and splendid meals. The catering/luggage/dogs body crew have done themselves proud. We have dined like kings and drunk like fools, but hey, what is new?The last three nights have been spent beside clear sandy bottomed lakes. Alas, I have not swum in any.We have cruised through woods and farmland that would make an Aussie farmer envious. We have displayed much enthusiasm for the German Backerei, which should make Aussie cafes blush with shame. And we have found the best tapas bar conveniently located almost next to the laundry. Indeed, I am in heaven.

Quark and cherry cheesecake

 

 

Ruby's chicken dinner

 

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It might be the land of the dancing queen...

Leaving Copenhagen

...but I did not hear a single bar as I rode through fields of whispering wheat onwards to Ystad. We were in Sweden before we knew it - 35 minutes on the train, one scheduled every 20 minutes, with a carriage set aside for bikes and prams. Even with our 15 bikes, there was still room for more. And I suppose we were on sealed bike paths for about a third of our 70kms. Lovely!The costs in Sweden are high so even though I would have liked to stay longer, it may have broken the bank.The highlight of course was being in Ystad, home of Kurt Walllander. It may seem strange to follow landmarks through a town that are pure fiction but that's what I did and loved it.We had a windy ride to Trelleborg but arrived in time to se the town. Highlight was the public gardens replete with chooks - and lots of Austrailian birds in cages including the ubiquitous black swan and budgie.The ferry trip overnight was smooth and if it hadn't been for Maureen's snoring, it would have been peaceful too. We awarded her 8 out of 10 for effort.

Home of Kurt

Danish countryside

 

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Is it still raining there in (Melbourne/Copenhagen)?

Ny Haven

Smorebrod

Last night we met a man who wanted to know if we had located a bodega nearby. A bodega, not only the name of a superior yet inexpensive wine - I still have a bottle I believe purchased New Years Eve 1995 - is a place where young Copenhageners hang out til the wee small hours, imbibing various beverages. We had not seen an immediate bodega, but this did not dampen his enthusiasm for passing on a little local knowledge about weather and how to predict it. 'You know how it has been sticky today,' he said. 'Well, it will rain all day tomorrow.' So far he is correct. Rain. Rain. Rain. Down it falls. The summer gardens in abundant bloom will be happy today.Copenhagen is a pretty, peaceful, quiet city of 500,000 souls. Cost of living is high. There's lots of shops and cafes as well as more bikes than I have seen in a lifetime. So far I've clocked up almost 20 km of training rides, so feeling on top of my game. We are considering renaming the tour "The Old Crocks Tour" as stories true and terrible abound regarding our collective well-being. Miss Pigott has broken ribs and whooping cough, fortunately now abated. Bob is on a recumbent due to a pinched nerve. Sally is spluttering. Garis is past spluttering. John has a bit of asthma. Maureen and I share the broken wrists. It's been too wet, windy, cold (insert other weather words) everywhere regardless of the hemisphere - and so on and so forth.Jobs day today. Equipment, van cleaning, laundromating. You know the routine. Let me leave you with a note I spied in the History Museum a couple of days ago. It was pinned to a board headed "Why I came to Copenhagen".L

History Museum note

 

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We're leaving on a jet plane

The Cootamundra wattle outside the kitchen window is threatening to explode into yellow flames but only a few sparks are visible this morning as I soak un the last of the garden and breathe in the dogs, We're off - three months of adventuring through ancient cultures awaits: the first eight countries I will be able to touch and smell form the Silver Fox's saddle, and then ninth, - Morocco - will be a more languorous exploration altogether, ensconced as I shall be in a tiny hotel in the old city, all the better to stroll the medina and ogle the snake charmers, Hope you're as ready for the ride as I am.

 

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A new adventure starts

July 1 I fly out of cold drizzly Melbourne for a brand new 'wheels on fire' adventure, this time from Copenhagen to Barcelona.

Of course I'm really going to miss work - yeah...and Des...no I'm not - he's coming too! Not as a rider but as a driver for our support van and chef de jour.

I'll miss the family...yeah, but some of them are joining me in Barcelona.

The garden? Well, it will be winter and growth is slow.

But the dogs. I WILL miss the dogs.

Joining me are tried and true spoke comrades from previous 'wheels' adventures: Stewart, Dan aka Herr Doktor Flappenschirten, Ralph, Kendy, Miss Pigott, Maureen, Sally, Nelson, John, Liz, Bob, Gloria, Karen, Linda and Garis. What a team!

This is the COBERAMBA ride - get it? COpenhagen, BERlin, AMsterdam, BArcelona.

We've got 49 days to ride through 8 countries. We'll catch a ferry and several trains, stay in hotels and pitch our tents as we go.

I am so pleased I worked out that riding a bike is the way to go. So do you want to come along for the ride?