Thursday 25 February 2010
Hier Spricht Man Deutsch, C'est Vrai - February 25th
Strasbourg, it's my sort of town. It doesn't matter which language you speak, French or German, or even which words you decide to put in the sentence. Mix them up? That's OK. As you will see from my earlier blog, I have little control over which language comes out of my mouth so this city seems made for me. And even the French here speak slowly so I can differentiate between a word and a sentence. Yep this is my kind of town.
A Lark Followed me Today - February 24th
While I was riding across the hills from Saverne to Strasbourg a lark joined me for about 15kms. It flew high in the sky behind my left shoulder, difficult to see without falling off, but I knew he was there, I could hear him. Even when I went through a village and thought I had lost him he kept reappearng later. Maybe he liked this slow quiet body moving along the country road.
Now perhaps larks are territorial and so I was just hearing the owner of each successive patch. But to be honest, I don't really mind. If they chose to pass on the message to each other then so be it. He (or they) made me really happy for that hour or so and saw me safely off their land.
And then I came down off the hills and into the Rhine valley. What a wonderful experience. The sky was blue, the Rhine flood plain absolutely flat and the early evening sun cast long shadows across the road.
Tom had text me the addresses of two Youth Hostels in Strasbourg, the best one had a room and I decided to stay for two nights. Life is good.
Now perhaps larks are territorial and so I was just hearing the owner of each successive patch. But to be honest, I don't really mind. If they chose to pass on the message to each other then so be it. He (or they) made me really happy for that hour or so and saw me safely off their land.
And then I came down off the hills and into the Rhine valley. What a wonderful experience. The sky was blue, the Rhine flood plain absolutely flat and the early evening sun cast long shadows across the road.
Tom had text me the addresses of two Youth Hostels in Strasbourg, the best one had a room and I decided to stay for two nights. Life is good.
My Three Friends - February 24th
I never did take the opportunity to introduce you to my three best friends. They are front wheel, back wheel and chain. Without them I would not be where I am today. We are very close. Each has a different personality. Take front wheel, I somehow feel the closest to him. He tends to be a bit fickle. Never able to make up his mind he keeps turning this way and that. But he is prepared to strike out ahead of the others and he lets me know how he feels. Just the other day outside Cambrai, he kept clicking at me until I removed a sharp stone from his tyre. That was close, we look after each other me qnd front wheel.
Now chain, she keeps chattering away and has her ups and downs. She tends to be flexible and in someways is the driving force behind the whole team. She likes to be kept clean with just a bit of oil now and again. Low maintence, that's chain.
Perhaps the most neglected one is back wheel. He's stoical, the strong quiet type, bearing a heavy load without any complaint. Sometimes I think that I should pay him a bit more attention but is someways he's difficult to reach
So that's my three best friends. I hope that we will all come through this together.
Now chain, she keeps chattering away and has her ups and downs. She tends to be flexible and in someways is the driving force behind the whole team. She likes to be kept clean with just a bit of oil now and again. Low maintence, that's chain.
Perhaps the most neglected one is back wheel. He's stoical, the strong quiet type, bearing a heavy load without any complaint. Sometimes I think that I should pay him a bit more attention but is someways he's difficult to reach
So that's my three best friends. I hope that we will all come through this together.
You Should Have Been There! - February 24th
There are times when something happens that is just so wonderful that it lifts you up and makes you blissfully happy. Camping in the dank clammy woods outside Sarrebourg wasn't like that.pushing the bike back to the road through the muddy grass so that my boots became clods and the bike like a tractor didn't help. Then a lady at the cafe in Sarrebourg lifted my spirits as she made me a lovely petit dejeuner but more importantly made me feel welcome. The day was getting better.
I knew about the path that lead down from Arzviller to Saverne but I made a false start in being tricked in to taking an earlier road that forced me along a potholed muddy canal path and then back tracking when the canal and train tunnel proved impassable.
Never mind, as I found a good road that eventually took me to Arzviller and a nice man guided me to the cycle path.
There followed one of the most wonderful rides for 15km on a beautiful paved path down to Saverne. The area was a cross between France and Germany with alpine-style country houses, canal locks and children fishing. The sky was blue, the sun shone and the canal valley gave protection from the wind. And it was down hill all the way - Heaven on Earth.
If it had been Germany then, of course, just as I was thinking how nice it would be to stop to have a coffee and a piece of cake then a cafe would have appeared around the next bend. But it didn't as this was France but the benefit was that it had those lovely French canal boats. The sort that Rick Stein would cook tarteflette on while he argued with his producer.
And then I arrived in Saverne and it was over...
Just time to savour the moment with a beer in the town square as the sun shone. If ever you want to experience the 8th wonder of the world then take the bike trip down from Arzviller. I can't guarantee the weather but some things transend such even that.
The lesson for me seems to be why doesn't the UK pave one side of all canal paths? They would make wonderful cycle tracks and enable people to see parts of the country that would otherwise be closed to them. A suitable public works project for the current recession
I knew about the path that lead down from Arzviller to Saverne but I made a false start in being tricked in to taking an earlier road that forced me along a potholed muddy canal path and then back tracking when the canal and train tunnel proved impassable.
Never mind, as I found a good road that eventually took me to Arzviller and a nice man guided me to the cycle path.
There followed one of the most wonderful rides for 15km on a beautiful paved path down to Saverne. The area was a cross between France and Germany with alpine-style country houses, canal locks and children fishing. The sky was blue, the sun shone and the canal valley gave protection from the wind. And it was down hill all the way - Heaven on Earth.
If it had been Germany then, of course, just as I was thinking how nice it would be to stop to have a coffee and a piece of cake then a cafe would have appeared around the next bend. But it didn't as this was France but the benefit was that it had those lovely French canal boats. The sort that Rick Stein would cook tarteflette on while he argued with his producer.
And then I arrived in Saverne and it was over...
Just time to savour the moment with a beer in the town square as the sun shone. If ever you want to experience the 8th wonder of the world then take the bike trip down from Arzviller. I can't guarantee the weather but some things transend such even that.
The lesson for me seems to be why doesn't the UK pave one side of all canal paths? They would make wonderful cycle tracks and enable people to see parts of the country that would otherwise be closed to them. A suitable public works project for the current recession
Short of Head Room - February 22nd
My goodness this land has been fought over a lot. I've seen British, Canadian, French and German cemeteries from the first and second world wars, towns that were liberated by the American army in the First World War and monuments to German soldiers from the Franco-German War of 1876. Such a lot of crosses and such young men, some from so far away.
Metz is a town that lives up to its name. For some reason I always remember it from my school boy days as fortress Metz and it has that feeling of embattlement with connifer covered hills on all sides and dark stone, monuental buildings. It feels like a frontier town designed to protect the softer, gentler countryside of France behind. But I do it an injustice for I had a lovely time there thanks in no small part to the kind hospitality of Bernard and Chantal. Bernard is an ENT. That's a lovely word. It reminds me of the Lord of the Rings and the trees that could walk. Wise, kind gentle beings. Now Bernard is a doctor specialising in Ear, Nose and Throat at the Metz hospital but he has something of the ENT about him. Chantal meanwhile specialises in keeping her children and grandchildren happy and on track. It's more than a full time job. Funny to see that things don't change when you go to another country.
They were very patient as I tried to speak French to them but German and Spanish kept coming out. I have this theory that my head only has enough room for one foreign language and if German happens to be paramount in my mind at that particular time then that's what comes out. It's as though my brain says 'now speak foreign' so it does. They were very patient;
Metz is a town that lives up to its name. For some reason I always remember it from my school boy days as fortress Metz and it has that feeling of embattlement with connifer covered hills on all sides and dark stone, monuental buildings. It feels like a frontier town designed to protect the softer, gentler countryside of France behind. But I do it an injustice for I had a lovely time there thanks in no small part to the kind hospitality of Bernard and Chantal. Bernard is an ENT. That's a lovely word. It reminds me of the Lord of the Rings and the trees that could walk. Wise, kind gentle beings. Now Bernard is a doctor specialising in Ear, Nose and Throat at the Metz hospital but he has something of the ENT about him. Chantal meanwhile specialises in keeping her children and grandchildren happy and on track. It's more than a full time job. Funny to see that things don't change when you go to another country.
They were very patient as I tried to speak French to them but German and Spanish kept coming out. I have this theory that my head only has enough room for one foreign language and if German happens to be paramount in my mind at that particular time then that's what comes out. It's as though my brain says 'now speak foreign' so it does. They were very patient;
Tuesday 23 February 2010
Which Way is Up? - February 21st
Today I cycled down the Meuse until lunch time when I looked at the river at Dun sur Meuse (see photo) and realised it was flowing the other way. Cycling up the Meuse sounds harder but the new stoical me took it all in my stride. Dylan was my constant companion in all this but maybe not for much longer as the exension lead on the Dansette seems to be running out. Stopped at first a German and then a French WW1 cemetery, then rolled into Verdun. Too wimpy to camp so it was another hotel.
Breakthrough - February 20th
Today was breakthrough day. Gone is Weak Wimp of the West to be replaced by 'Saddle Man' - he who laughs at hills and sniggers at snow, but is still a bit afraid of headwinds. And this new attitude will be reflected in the blog. So forget about where I ate my last croissant, now you get pithy insights on the meaning of life, from where it counts - in the saddle. And Sally, forget sending the extra padding for my shorts, I can take the pain.
That's because today I covered 80 miles up and down hills without once getting off to push. All the way from Cambrai to Charleville Mezieres. And let me tell you, that's a lot of pedalling.
That's because today I covered 80 miles up and down hills without once getting off to push. All the way from Cambrai to Charleville Mezieres. And let me tell you, that's a lot of pedalling.
Snow in Cambrai - it didn´t lay, just going for the sympathy vote
Take it Easy - February 19th
A gentle day of just 40 miles to Cambrai. This left me the afternoon to sort out electrical stuff, like phones and cameras, plus look for an internet connection. I did the latter but nothing seemed to find its way to the blog. So then off to find a hotel and decide whether this whole trip is just a crazy idea.
What a Stupid Idea - February 18th
From the forest of doom, past St Omer and on towards Arras with a lot of pushing bike uphill. This is hard work. I arrived around 6pm only to find that the Youth Hostel had closed permanently. Then a nice lady walked me right across the centre of town to get advice from the taxi stand. This reaffirmed my faith in the people of north France as before then they seemed to be men with barking dogs and old ladies without smiles - I was wrong. It then strarted to pour with rain but I followed the suggestion to hotel Formule 1 on the edge of town and cottage pie for tea. But the question kept comoing bqck to me - whydid I do it?
Dash for the Coast - February 17th
Two hours to cover the 16 miles to Dover to catch the ferry. Made good progress along the beloved A2 and finally made it after which the ferry was 1 hour late leaving. Nice chat with some bikers in the queue who said that snow threatened. I have decided that I only want to hear positive news from now on. Wobbled off the ferry at Calais, got lost in town and then found the canal path heading East. Made good progress until the path was blocked for dredging so had to set off inland. This meant that reaching St Omer for the night was not on so finally set off up a track to camp in the forest. There always seem to be big 'Private' signs in France and that together with cars with headlights driving past until midnight meant keeping a low profile. But at least I proved that I could camp and cook meatballs
Monday 22 February 2010
The Trouble with Rochester - February 16th
If I should die soon then carve Rochester on my gravestone for the trouble with the place is that it is not near enough to Canterbury. Setting off from London in the pouring rain I knew it was going to be a long mile haul to make it to my reservation at the Canterbury Youth Hostel. Had a nice chat at some traffic lights with another cyclist then across Tower Bridge to the no-mans-land that is south London. Two hours later saw me emerging into Kent and now following the Route 1 cycle path. This was fine to begin with as the it is well posted but soon you realise that it takes you around the houses. It took ages to reach Gravesend (suitable named) and then across firing ranges and pot holed gravel tracks towards Rochester, a place that always seems to be 5 miles further on. Finally reached there at 3pm with still 30 miles more to go to Cantebury. I will cut the dramatics and just say that I made it at 8pm.
Finally Underway - 15th Feb
This is going to be a paired down version as blogging on the go has proven not without its difficulties - e.g. map update awaits access to another computer.
Left on Monday with a bike that felt as heavy as the Queen Mary and wobbled off down the road waved on by Sally and Tom. Finally got used to it - lesson being don't expect to do more than 2 miles per hour. Lunched near Puckeridge and after following muddy bridle paths emerged into the suburbs of London. Made mistae for following the envionmentally friendly bike map which meant stopping at every junction to check I was on the right quiet back street.
Through rain and fading light I made it to Camden and a warm welcome from Jess who fed me and then for even gave up her bed.
Left on Monday with a bike that felt as heavy as the Queen Mary and wobbled off down the road waved on by Sally and Tom. Finally got used to it - lesson being don't expect to do more than 2 miles per hour. Lunched near Puckeridge and after following muddy bridle paths emerged into the suburbs of London. Made mistae for following the envionmentally friendly bike map which meant stopping at every junction to check I was on the right quiet back street.
Through rain and fading light I made it to Camden and a warm welcome from Jess who fed me and then for even gave up her bed.
Wednesday 10 February 2010
Time to Go
Just a few more days before I am due to leave. The weather outside is snowing and things sound to be worse on the Continent. Meanwhile my preparations are coming on a pace - today's main task is to set up the tent in the garden to prove I can do it.
I have spent many happy evenings mapping out a route across France to the Black Forest. Once I reach the Danube then it should be all down hill from there. Friends look worried and ask me how much training I have done. The answer is 'very little' as it seems pointless spending time cycling around England when the energy can be saved to go in the direction I need to go. I think that I may regret this philosophy after a couple of days on the road but it's too late now.
The only other possibility is to hideaway in a hotel somewhere near to home for 6 weeks and then get the train to Lebanon. Wasn't that ruse used by a round-the-world yachtsman some time ago? All the best ideas have already been taken. So what I need are delaying tactics. Like it would be insensitive to leave on Valentines Day. Sounds sensible. That's gained me another 24 hours.
I have spent many happy evenings mapping out a route across France to the Black Forest. Once I reach the Danube then it should be all down hill from there. Friends look worried and ask me how much training I have done. The answer is 'very little' as it seems pointless spending time cycling around England when the energy can be saved to go in the direction I need to go. I think that I may regret this philosophy after a couple of days on the road but it's too late now.
The only other possibility is to hideaway in a hotel somewhere near to home for 6 weeks and then get the train to Lebanon. Wasn't that ruse used by a round-the-world yachtsman some time ago? All the best ideas have already been taken. So what I need are delaying tactics. Like it would be insensitive to leave on Valentines Day. Sounds sensible. That's gained me another 24 hours.
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