The latter menu choice led to Daniel reminiscing about gigging bullfrogs back home in Missouri when he was a boy. He also noodled catfish and Kendy mentioned some singling of eels. I only caught yabbies, a pastime for some young lads yesterday who were throwing a piece of string baited with a fly into a pond and whipping out small crustaceans which they preceded to stuff into a plastic water bottle.
Janice Simpson's bike rides - Nordic Nations 2026, Cuba 2024, France 2023, Vicmania 2020, Oh Canada 2018, Circumnavigating Germany 2016, Frankfurt to Istanbul 2014, Shanghai to Singapore 2013, Copenhagen to Barcelona 2012, St Petersburg to Venice 2010, Paris to Istanbul 2008.
Sunday, 22 September 2013
Sweating it out in Shanghai
The latter menu choice led to Daniel reminiscing about gigging bullfrogs back home in Missouri when he was a boy. He also noodled catfish and Kendy mentioned some singling of eels. I only caught yabbies, a pastime for some young lads yesterday who were throwing a piece of string baited with a fly into a pond and whipping out small crustaceans which they preceded to stuff into a plastic water bottle.
Sunday, 4 August 2013
Getting ready for the Bamboo Route - Shanghai to Singapore
I'm still thinking about what 146km and 170km mean in humidity and possibly not on asphalt surfaces. I once rode 160km in a day and had to be rescued by my son as I couldn't go any further. We did have three consecutive days on the Amber Route of about 145 each, and it was hot. I know I was mighty glad to reach camp on the last one, swearing as another hill approached when all I wanted was a shower and a cold beer. I actually got a hot beer - TDA had purchased some but left them in the sun - and a hot shower and a tummy-full of food. This recovered my good humour. I see here we have 7 days straight to begin with covering 825km - that will require much of my patience and a virgin outlook on myself, my abilities and TDA.
I have found getting fit less than an attractive option due to cold and/or wet and/or windy weather. Also I am naturally lazy I think. Give me a 17 - 25 degree day, breeze maybe, blue skies or clouds and I'm ready to go. Also give me a riding buddy to keep me honest. Getting motivated solo isn't easy when there are books to write, dogs to care for, soup to make - and eat, and so on and so forth.
Here is an outline of what we are to expect during our 90 days
(arranged as day number, date, ride day number, from, to, kms)
Sunday, 26 August 2012
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.
Friday, 17 August 2012
Oh la la
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 |
Next stop is Toujours. Tout les hours, in fact.
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Into the land of lace and beer
| A swan family |
| Cat in a Veere window |
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 |
Thursday, 2 August 2012
Into The Netherlands
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 |



