Handy Companion

I forgot to mention the new member of the team - Two Mitts. Gloves weren't needed this time round so Two Mitts joined us instead. Cool and fingerless, it protects the palms without getting hot. He has been a great asset, one from the old school, definitely not digital.

Perfumed Garden - Cremona - August 27th

Italy has the best smells. I do not want to denigrate France. That country is vying for Silver Medal status but you get some stinkers in th Italian countryside. I do not know what they feed to their cows and pigs here but it is clearly working.

At the other extreme, I once caught the fragrance of an elegant lady in the famous shopping district in Milan. It was delectable. I did no take the opportunity to ask her the name of the scent - much to Sally's chagrin - but maybe its better that way. Somethings should be left to the imagination.

So my point is that perhaps each country evens out in the nasal stakes. Britain has chosen a middle way with no great highs or lows. Italy on the otherhand prefers to display some of e best and the worst. An olifactory roll-a-coaster.

Peach Perfect

That was the best peach yet. Two hours in the panier this morning brought it to a peak of ripeness.

Mixed Messages

There are at least two teams of road sign painters in Italy and they vie with each other for originality of design and distances indicated. There must be some benefit in over- or under-estimating kms to the next town. It can be marked 33kms, you travel 4 kms towards it and the nxt sign says 36. I am sure that I have been round a round-a-bout to see the flagged distance change within 270 degrees.

Accuracy is clearly not the main aim. Design embelishes and even supercedes function. The idea of an Italian Bauhaus movement was doubtlessly never, ever considered.

Fiddle-me-di

Arrived in Cremona, which sounds like a Quaker Otas breakfast cereal - just add hot milk. It's the home of Stradivari and it's my kind of town. The Saturday market stretches all through the centre and it had everything. In front of me in the Garibaldi Square is the horticultural section with trays of seedlings including leeks and fennel, rucola (rocket) and celey and so much more. As i siton th steps behind me is the impressive stone cathedral with a square brick tower reminiscent of Siena. In fact all four sides of the square are marked with stone columns, crenelated roof tops and curious tiled chinmeys, all in red ochre brickwork.

It is lovely just to watch Italian life go by. Everyone is out this Staurday morning to shop, talk, stroll or take a refreshment. The wind is getting up flapping stall awnings, launching on skyward, but they are caught by general action and tied down. Life bustles on.

Sour Thoughts - Crema - August 25th

I suddenly love low fat plain yoghourt. Big 500g tubs of it. There is something about the sour taste that satisfies a yearning and presumably fulfills some dairy dietary need. Good old Streptococcus thermopilus and Lactobacilius bulgaricus, they are two of my favourite travelling companions

If You Go Down To The Woods Today

One wants a nice place to eat the mid-morning meal. Somehere with dappled sunbligh to give some shade amongst the trees with soft grass to sit on. That would indeed be a lovely site and others agree. They join me but it was ten minutes before i sa them feasting on my legs and swatted to produce disconcerting blood smears. They were slow dumb mosquitoes.

Luckily I think that I go them in time, so no welts or irritation, just a delayed breakfast.

Hot Baking Plain

Down from the hills around Lake Como and onto the flat Northern Italian plain. I strung together a necklace of towns from the map to get me around Milan. Italian road signage can be confusing but the people were lovely, catering for m lack of Italian, guiding me through parks and urging me on. In the morning they live outside and want to engage. Friendly outgoing peope with time to talk.

Now the roads are stright and flat withth a littel wind to soften the sun but by midday it is taking its toll forcing me to stop. Butthis isn't campsite country so i cave in and take an Agriturisom B&B in the lovely city of Crema, persuaded as much by the charmng old couple in the Tourist Information Office. So it's a refeshing shower and a soft bed in my rustic room. Tent can play its part again tomorrow.

String of Pearls

Montefarno
Intimiano
Cantu
Mirabello
Mirano Camense
Cabiate
Seregno
Desio
Lissone
Monza
Concorezzo
Gorgonzola
Melzo
Spino di Adda
Pandino
Crema (B&B)

Como?

Today Como as a spectacular summer playground for the rich, just like Geneva, Monte Carlo or Martha's Vineyard. But it felt somehow softer. The opulence was there but elegant and muted. I liked it

A Home from Home - Montefarno - August 25th

This Italian campsite at Montefarno is interesting. It's sort of semi-permanent. The raods are set out in a grid pattern and the individual plots all well established. They have roofs and guttering and lighting, trees and hedges, gates and parking... in fact almost everything except plumbing (I presume) as they use the camp facilities.

I guess the inhabitants come back often during the summer, maybe all through the year, and meet up with old friends. Luckily there are still one or two plots held over for transients like me. I can sit and watch Italian life at play.

Priceless

A kebab, a free moble phone charge and a friendly reception on arriving in Como. Now that's good value. The shop owner was orginally from Turkey

Euroland - August 5th

Back to Euroland so Wallet is happier. I got away with 50SFr (about £39) spending for 4 days but that cheating. Eric homed and fed me for two of them. Oh, plus the 81SFr train ticket. Worth it all for the experience and the short cut. Plus I start off again at the top of the Alps, all down hill to Florence.

Mein Beruf - August 25th

The incident with Ticket Inspector was instructive. He showed an intensity, a determination to do his job right. It was not just following the rules but a fairness, with flexibility when circumstances required. You felt that he aspired to a profession after years of training. One has to respect it. Oh that all people in customer service positions had this attitude.

All Change - August 25th

Uh, oh. Ticket Inspector has just been passed and pointed out that we have not one but two problems. He was very specific. Basically Bike needs his own ticket (he has got one, plain to see) and he has to move when we get to Belazona, in one hour. Apparently it's one carriage back so no big deal. Unfortunately there was no acknowledgement that maybe Swiss Bahn had fouled up but we've got a solution.

Relief. Half and hour later and we've got a solution. TI is back so say that the cycle area is full so Bike can stay where he is. All friends again.

Choo Choo - August 25th

I am on a train ride through the Alps and it's great. The views from the window are spectacular with mist on the lakes and majestic mountain peaks against a clear blue sky. And still two more hours of relaxation before Italy. Diddle-i-doo, Diddle-i-doo, Diddle-i-doo

Clunck, Grind - Train from Zug - August 25th

This is classic. The system is falling apart. There is no carriage 7, so no where to put Bike. After the drinks cart man squeezed by he said that the bike carriage is now at the front of the train. Swiss Bahn is going to pot. Has Virgin Rail bought the franchise?

p.s. I really like Drinks Cart Man. He's come by 4 times now and patiently waits while I move bike. I think he is from out of town, so no rules just felxible freindliness.

Tick Tock - Zug - August 25th

I love this country. Everything looks so perfect. Like a huge shopping mall. And it all works. I ask for a train ticket for Bike and me and Bike gets his very own, printed out specially in its own pastic wallet. He was so chuffed.

And he even has his own carriage, Number 7. The sign on the platform says exactly where each carriage will stop so no desperate last minute running to the other end when the train arrives. Now I can relax. As long as I get the right train. Two intercity expresses arrive on the same platform within 4 minutes of each other. Imagine that!

Dudes in Zug - August 25th

So I am in Zug. It is the place where unscrupulous British companies relocate their head office when they don't want to pay any corporation tax on their corporate income. Then they pay themselves lavishly because they must be so clever and the cost of living is so high.

I thought that I would pop by to tell them about the riots in the UK, so see if they get the connection.

As an aside, Eric tells me that the locals in Zug can't afford the rents due the the influx of rich foreigners that the 'no tax' rule encourages. Such unintended consequences.

Donner und Blitzen - Zug - August 24th

At lastthe thunderstorms are due to give break to the hot and heavy weather of the past week. Black clouds are forming over the Zugersee and the wind is picking up. It will be a real test for Tent tonight.

Sure enough, four hours of thunder and lightening but still no match for Tent. So now it's cool, and hopefully the same in Italy

Loose Bearings - Moehlen - August 24th

Left Pedal is playing up. The bearing is loose and probably worn. I noticed it the morning and that's when I also saw that both Pedal Clips had come loose as well. I could fix those but Left Pedal is a worry. I don't want it to break down on me in the middle of no where but it costs a lot to replace a pair, especially in Switzerland.

So I am going easy on Left Pedal, not pushing so hard. It means that right leg is doing most of the work and building muscle. I'll be very lop sided by the time I get home.

The Only One Here - Zug - August 24th

I am certainly the only British person holidaying in Switzerland this year and probably the only foreigner. With the strength of the Swiss Franc no one else can afford it. The trick is to cycle, camp and just eat peaches.

It is a big responsibility. I feel like I am representing the whole of the rest of the world. So I am on my best behaviour. No major foul ups, yet.

Of course there is a price to be paid. The Swiss Bahn website said 29 SFr for the train. The ticket lady said 81 SFr. Oh well, its the old 'bait and switch' trick. Just pay up and relax.

But I m no sucker so let's not do me down. I also provide a service. The smartly dressed inhabitants of Zug look at my stick legs with big boots on the end, crumpled T-shirt and tight blck cycling shorts and it reminds them of how far the've come. That's why they let me into the country. I am a sort of warning to their children. Of what would happen if they let their guard down, if they slackened.

Travelling Blind - Near Zurich - August 24th

I never got around to buying a detailed map for Switzerland - one suitable for cycling. So I have been winging it somewhat. My plan for getting from Eric's to Zug was to Google the flattest route and then write down all the place names I could see. Armed with this list I set out for the first and if I do not see a sign for the second then I ask. It's a bit hit and miss. I have probably added 10% more to the distance but I have met a lot of helpful people. I think that Google also accepts advertising so part of the route led me via a few restaurants and garden centres on the list.

Hornby Double-O - Zug - August 24th

Switzerland is like the best model train set you ever did see. The one you always wished for when you were a child. Everywhere you look there are local trains coming out of mountains, motorways rushing by and Inter-City expresses speeding on their way.There are little model people on bicycles waving to pedestrians as they slowly pass by.

The Swiss have clearly asked for new parts each Christmas and Birthday and carefully saved their pocket money for those new designs they always wanted.  The valleys have been flattened and the mountains built up to be even more breathtaking. The old building have been carefully restored and there are just a few more spaces to fill in.

So now its nearly finished. And when it is I think that they will put the price up for people wanting to see it. But then no one will be able to afford to come

To Feel Alive - Mohlen/Rhine - 23rd August

Each time I go on a solitarty cycle trip like this I wonder why. Soon I tell myself never again. I'll sell Bike and find another passtime. But then the 'why' hits me. The challenge gives me highs and lows, stretching them from normal ups and downs to mountains and chasms. The trouble is that I cannot bring anyone with me.

A Talisman

I have just reread Bruce Chatwin's introduction to Robert Byron's "Road to Oxiana". Becky gave it to me as, in her words, "the bible of travel writing". I have heroically ploughed through it but the effort is being rewarded. It trully is an inspiring book. Not just because of the efforts that he (Byron) must have exerted to reach Persia and Afghanistan in the 1930's but also his insightful writing as he described what he saw and felt.

Chatwin followed in his footsteps in the 1950/60's before the area was 'discovered' and comments on our Western folly in trying to impose our ways on a proud people. So many of us are like the former Shah of Iran (his father was in power in Byron's time - and he acted just the same) believing our own myths. That I think is part of the cause of the recent UK riots in a society where hubris rules and those in power and particularly business,  lose contact with everyday people around them. They mistake luck for ability and convicne themselves that they are deserving of the rich rewards they demand and their colleagues conive to èay them .Byron, by contrast, sought out real genius (in his field of historical architecture) and put the run of the mill examples in their place

Then he died when his ship bound for West Africa was torpedoed in 1941 but he left behind a literary masterpiece and words of truth. That we all could.

Lap of Luxury - Mohlen, near Rhine River - August 23rd

I feel like a king. Drinking my Lowenbrau beer out of my plastic beaker while sitting on my plastic chair at my plastic table lent by the nice Swiss lady from the caravan next door.

My evening meal is all prepared and I have reached half way in my trip through Switzerland. Just as well as the prices are horrendous. Still, never mind, back to that beer.

Daily Fix

My little packets of white powder, they are what keeps me going. A snort of two every day in the drinking water helps stop the shivers and cramps from coming back. It was pricy stuff from Boots the Chemist in Potters Bar, but worth every penny.

On A Swiss Roll

I dreaded the illegal return to the highway but no need! The Swiss side was heaven. A beautifully flat, quiet road wending it's way along the valley from Delle to my mid-trip rest and recuperation stop at Porrentruy. Now for two nights of comfort at Eric's house

They Pinched My Road

That's the second time it's happened. The French Authorities have enthusiastically upgraded a nice country road to highway status which means 'no bikes'. It is usually accompanied by a self congratulatory sign of how they are 'building your future'. The first time into Hericourt I could plot a route around. The second to Delle offers no alternative so I broke the law and rode like crazy for a hour or two in the baking sun. It was a limp rag that rolloed into Delle just short of the Swiss border but luckily the French Highway Police don't seem to work on Sunday

Talking Gibberish - Esprels - August 20th

Campsites are set up for a particular type of clientelle. Ones with air conditioned cars and big tents, with fridges. The sign at reception says call Boris on this number. But what if your cell phone does not work because the phone company have bungled the top up? And what if cramp sets in when you get off the bike and you can't speak properly because of dehydration? Well then a lovely French lady calls the number for you and Boris arrives. He's very helpful but charges the same full rate for Bike and my little Tent. Plus extra for the showers. He's the one talking gibberish

Over the Hills and Far Away - August 20th

Iexpected a tough day as I struck out towards Switzerland. I remeber the tales of William Tell, of how it is a mountain fortress that he bravely defended against al invaders. There is no easy way in.

The first signs were encouraging. Within half an hour I had reached the French equivalent of the Continental Divide. Saddleman surmounts. But then the sun rose high and the clouds evaporated. Locals retreated behind closed doors leaving only mad dogs and English cyclists in the midday sun. I limped into Versouel around 2.30pm but ignored the camping sign to press on another 25kms. It soon felt like a mistake to be marked as a skeleton in the road but I finally made Esprels and a picturesque riverside campsite.

Text Messaging - Esprels - August 20th

Im gttg mch bttr @ sndng Slly cmprssd txt mssgs whn I cnt cllhr on th phn. If sh cn fx th tp up prblm thn we cn tlk agn. Tht wll b gr8

Sorry to Say Goodbye - Langres - August 19th

I've grown to love the Marne Canal. It's got everything a biker needs but I've soon got to say goodbye and head east towards Switzerland. The prospect is daunting. The Voges, or is it the Jura, mountains between me and my friend Eric's house grow higher by the day. If only I had found another way around them, via Strasbourg for instance. But then I would have missed out onthese lovely few days on the Marne

Bikes Beat Boats - Marne Canal, Joinville - August 19th

Take it from me, bikes beat boats on canals. Not only are they faster- not necessarily an advantage, I grant you - but then you don't have to keep stopping for locks. The first few may be fun but I am sure they become a bind. Though that's not my point. Men in boats look silly. They insist on wearing a captain's cap and sit proudly behind the wheel - it's always men driving - while his lady friend basks. Neither seems to ackowledge the rest of the world unless the other party is also sitting behind a huge wheel. Maybe they compare as they power along in their separate worlds -another gated community. The boats are generally huge. Their engines chortle away blowing bubbles from the back.And they all have flags.

To me they look like floating egos. I think these are captains-of-industry playing at captains-of-canals. Of course I may be wrong and I am a tiny bit biased.

I Should Have Stopped - Marne Canal - August 19th

Cheryl once told me how her father advised to never turn down an opportunity - a funny thing to advise your daughter. But then life's made up of the experiences they offer. I am getting better but missed one today. The sign said 'Vende Truffe' and the guy was just setting up his stall on the far side of the canal bridge so he could catch passing road traffic.If only I had waited to see what he had to offer. I could have bought one to share with Sally in two weeks time. Now I don't know how long a truffle will keep in a hot and humid panier bag but it seems to me to be the ideal environment for it to double in size. But then I will never know. I did not follow Cheryl's dad's advice and by the time I wish I had I was far down the road.

Fromage Frayed - August 19th

Someone or something stole my breakfast. The second half of my beautiful fromage frais was gone in the night from right outside of my tent, just near my head. Whoever it was didn't like peaches or greengages, or bread, just my cheese.

I guess that I just failed Basic Camping 101 and some Gentleman of the River took his chance. But I will know better next time.

In Praise Of...

* Tree lined straight French roads that give shade to cyclists
* Liptons Ice Tea (peach flavour) not gassy but expensive - see recent cheaper solution
* Friendly boulangerie owners who enter into lively conversation and laugh at your jokes.
* Well signed French camp sites costing 5-7 Euro's - the price seems to be going up as I move south
* Dutch people wo sahre their dinner and ask about your trip
* Cycling next to water
* Smooth canal side paths
* Gently undulating road that get you quickly across France when you want to

En Tente Cordial

I have found a cheaper alternative to Lipton's Ice Tea (peach flavour) that has proven so refreshing. It's a bottle of peach and mandarin cordial from the supermarket, added to my bottles of water, which I now drink all the time.

I've decided to see whether it is actually possible to get fed up with peaches. I doubt it.

Entente Cordial - August 18th - Joinville

It broke down today, that century long amicable relationship between Britain and France.The River Development Associatiom man gave me a blast on his horn from behind which scared the living daylights out of me. I was on the narrow canal path but he pulled me over to explain that Agency vehicles had the right of way. I told him that I understood but given that I couldn't hear him behind me then two short beeps on the horn would be more friendly that a long blast. So we had a stand off.

Then he shrugged his shoulders and drove on. He probably looked at my sweaty state and decided it was not worth pursuing. A diplomatic incident was avoided

The House That Jacques Buiilt

This is the house that Jacques built arounf 1847 along with the canal. Now his great grandson lives in it but he's also getting on. He's as wide as he's tall, smokes long thin cigars but knows about growing vegetables and given have a chance he'll show you around his plot and into the cellar where his tomatoes are ripening.

He can tell you when everying was planted and picked, the same with his haricot vertes. He's so very attached to it all that I doubt he will eat them but judging by his girth something is going down. I could learn a thing or two from Jacques' great grandson.

L'Oreillible Histoires

My French has deteriorated so much and I put it all down to my ears: I was quite good once but now all I hear is a tirade of sounds. In response, I give a mixture of German, Spanish and Frenc so now we are both confused.

As I cycle along I notice other new symptoms with my ears associated with dehydration and salt loss. I wil take these back to the specialist and between them we'll sort of the problem and my French

This is it. What I've been waiting for. Coffee at a cafe off the main square, local produce from the market, village boulangeries selling home made savouries - bucon de pate, or something like that, cool soft goats cheese, fresh bread and ripe fruit. Yum

Charmant Chalons en Champagne

And the Kitchen Sink - August 17th

I blame it on the others. I should have followed my instincts. I don't need the cooking stove or the associated pots and pans. Nor the extra long sleeved tops and rain trousers. How much lighter Bike would be without them.

But oh no, my brother said otherwise and Sally added emergency rations. Now the stove doesn't even work and I just need a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. My friend Eric is going to receive lots of lovely camping equipment when I get to Switzerland. If I make it there with all this stuff. Yes, I blame the others. Well, maybe not Sally.

Stiffening up - August 17th

The theory held that the first few days were hard and then it all got better. The muscles harden, my resolve stiffens, Saddleman reappears. Bike and I become as one.Well it's day 4 and I still detect limpness

Still Looking - August 16th

I am determined to eat local specialities but it's proving hard. Luscious peaches, soft cheeses, pate on fresh bread. I keep looking. The boulangerie-patisseries are letting me down. It's all bread and apple stuffed pastry. Nice enough but not what I'm looking for. Give me a quiche Lorraine or something savoury. A man's got to eat.

Right Between The Eyes - August 16th

It was like a scene from a Cohen Bros. film - 'No Country For Old Men', I think. The problem when you get tired is you make stupid mistakes. The tent poles are formed by lengths of aluminium tubes strung through by a length of elastic.Well designed but potentially lethal. I got all but one out of the bag and then pulled. The last one shot up and hit me right between the eyes, low on the forehead. It dind't quite penetrate the skull like the nail gun in the film, but it came close. I am going to contact them brothers and offer the rights. Campsite bloodbaths could be a new genre.

Life's A beach in the Main Square of St Quentin

Time Lag - August 14th

I thought that I would start writing as soon as I hit the road. but I couldn't do it. First I had to clear my head and that took a few days. It's the anxiety of the road again. Soon I settle down and realise that the end of the world is not waiting around the next corner and then I can think of other things

It's The Asking That Counts

It's come late in life but I have discovered the benefits of asking. Normally a shy retiring thing, I leave all that to Sally, or hold back and hope the other person will realise my need. It didn't have a high success rate and I looked like a wimp. English reserve I call it.

Now I have a better approach. It's one of the reasons for lone cycling, it forces you out of yourself. Actually, I really do it for the other person. They feel good having helped me. Like the lady on the Rue de Canal de Calais who let me camp in her garden even though she and her husband weren't going to be home that night and left me the keys to lock up.

Or the farmer lady near Arras who badgered her husband to let me camp in a corner of their field.Or the lady at the campsite that sold be two of her beers when all the shops were closed for a religious holiday.

I am just glad that I was able to make so many people happy. What a hero.

It's Not Nice

I've made decison and it feels right. My original route took me down the Rhone and across Provence to miss the Alps. It all sounded so sensible. But then common sense prevailed. Common knowledge has it that all of France goes on holiday in August and they head south. The weather map shows 40 deg C heat. The roads will be chocker-block and the campsites full. Only a fool would go there by choice, so I choose the Alps.

Of course, Antonia has offered a place to stay in Nice so Sally and I will come back that way. She will fly on and I will mosey on home. But by then it will be September and everyone will have left.

The Vision Thing - June 2011

I can either look this next trip full in the face and confront the scary bits as I they occur, or I can close my eyes and search for the positive. I choose the latter.

So with Dylan playing on my MP3 I close my eyes and I see the future. There will be the customary dash for the coast to make the ferry then a trip down memory lane through St Omer, Arras and Laon to Rheims where the real trip begins. A saunter along the Marne Valley, its Route Vertes dedicated to cyclists just like me.
I shall eat local specialities, drink red wine and camp at picturesque sites in small villages. The sun will shine and all roads will be down hill.

Then across to Switzerland to see my friend Eric and confront the Alps. I may take the train to Italy but there seems something epic in slogging up to the pass where James Bond drove his Aston Martin and there I will stand astride the border. Far below will stretch the northern Italian plain basking in the sunlight. In the distance Sicily will glint like a jewel in the Medierranean Sea and beyond the haze of north Africa.

Now it's all down hill to Florence to collect Sally on Sept 1st. Yes, that's exactly how it will be. Won't it?