Coast to Coast

You knew he was there as soon as you entered the hostel room - not in person but the signs were plain to see. It was the clothes line strung up across the window that first gave the game away - complete with that day's washing.

And what washing! Each piece of clothing was a technological masterpiece. Designed to speed the serious cyclist on his dash across, or around, Holland. The vests were aerated, the shorts slick. Even the sneakers - I do the name an injustice - would have garanteed Michael Jordan an extra ten points a game.

And then there were the medications set out on the shelf. Pills to deaden pain, fight off allergies and give you an extra boost. WADA would have are started an enquiry.

All told I felt provincial. No wonder I was struggling against headwinds on the first day of my trip. If I had prepared like Him then I would have been in Switzerland by now.

I eventually met up with him and we had a beer together. He was actually a nice guy, Canadian, from British Colombia, on a trip around Holland where his ancestors came from. He'd already done the south and was averaging 100km a day. That will give me something to aim for, but never achieve.

But then he was the slow one amongst his friends. Some girl he knows did Coast to Coast USA in 11 days on her bike.

Of course, it's easy if you have the right equipment.

Follow the Leader

He seemed to know what he was doing, so I followed the bike in front as we left the ferry. He was the confident type, walking to the front of the ferry so he didn't have to wait until all the cars had disembarked and we'd sucked in all their fumes. I liked his approach.

I figured that he knew where he was going and that could only be Rotterdam- where else was there from Hoek van Holland ferry terminal?

So I trailed him - the yellow vest in the distance - through the suburban streets. He was heading north which seemed peculiar but then he knew better than me. That is until he popped into a petrol station- probably to buy a map. Which meant that I had to ride on past so as not to raise suspicions of stalking. Now I was on my own

But it all turned out fine. It may not have been the road To Rotterdam that I would have chosen but then it did take me away from the river with its blasting wind. A good choice. I should thank him. Wherever he is now.

Raised from the Bed

Either this is a joyous occasion, being the resurgence of Saddleman on this blog after 4 years of slumber, or else it is a melancholy trip to bid a fond farewell to Europe if the dastardly Maybot gets her way and rips us out of the EU before I return.

I will hope for the best, that the UK will be given the opportunity to think again, and this will be a way to remind myself of all the joy that comes from being part of a wider union.

And so next Wednesday, 24th April I take the overnight ferry from Harwich to the Hoek van Holland and set off up the River Rhine to venture as far as time allows before returning to the UK for 22nd May.

As always, I fear that this time advancing age may play against me but I have taken the unusual step of doing some half-day training runs outside Cambridge to hopefully miss the third day slump that often occurs on such trips - I have come to admit that a lazy ride into Cambridge for a coffee does not stand as sufficient preparation.

So 5 days to prepare and then off to Holland, with tent aboard but three youth hostels booked in Rotterdam, Utrecht and Arnhem with modest distances in between, to ease me through the early days.