As I settle down to drink my evening beer another cyclist has just arrived at this otherwise deserted campsite, that time seems to have passed by. I am sure that he is German. He has all the right kit. His bike has disc brakes, his tent is that expensive Swedish model and his shirt and shorts have been sprayed on, in yellow and black with the Specialized logo plastered all over. It all says "I'm a real cyclist". He's probably done 300kms today. I think I need another beer.
How wrong can you be? He is Australian, over here on a 2 week holiday and he is just wandering down the river from Paris. He may have all the right gear but that's just what Australian do. He's a nice guy. He even has a mysterious side. His job is flying around the world advising embassies on their security arrangements. It takes him everywhere but he says he's fed up with flying, hence the bike.
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