A Fierce Battle
2015年9月8日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C
Day 15 – In Which I observe a Fierce Battle
Two millennia ago the Roman Army was conquering Europe. The highly disciplined troops proudly marched into battle with their overlapping shields in one hand and their long spears held high in the other. Each group prominently displayed the colours of the century they belonged to and dutifully obeying the commands of their centurion.
In modern times a far more fierce battle is waged in dozens of European cities every single day. While the ancient Roman armies are now long gone, today we have the legions of pole carrying tour guides, each representing another competing tour company. Following behind each leader is their troupe of highly obedient (and often exhausted) modern tourists. Each follower has their ipad and guide book clutched in one hand and, in the other, they proudly hold their smartphones high in the air on the end of a selfie stick. It is easy to tell which regiment to which each traveler belongs because they are all saddled with a massive name tag garlanded around their neck. Presumably this also aids in identification if any of the confused and exhausted tourists are lost in the battle and fail to return before nightfall and their bus departure.
As each guide leads their followers into the conflict zone, the obedient troops all nod their heads in agreement with each new (but often doubtful) fact they are told, and all smile in unison at each carefully rehearsed joke.
The tactics of this new type of warfare are indeed complex. Each guide has their own theory as to the very best time to attack a tourist hot spot. Some choose the early morning and others prefer the late afternoon when the weaker armies have already retreated in exhaustion.
In ancient times the conquering heroes returned from battle loaded with the spoils of war – gold, silver and precious gems. While these rare spoils still exist for the very elite tourists, most must content themselves with a shopping bag full of cheap, Chinese made, T shirts, tacky plates and plastic souvenirs. Of course there is always the chance that they might return with the most highly sought after trophy of all – the perfect selfie, standing right in front of some famous work of art.
While the ancient Romans took centuries to conquer Europe, the modern day traveler has no such luxury. At most they only have around 2 hours to capture each city before nightly retreating to the sanctuary of their tourist buses. They need to catch a few hours sleep because tomorrow they will repeat the same campaign all over again in another city, maybe hundreds of kilometres away. After all they have around 2 weeks to conquer the whole continent before they must return home and make plans for their next conquest.
I spent most of today in the region of the famous DUOMO in the centre of Florence. I did revert to the role of the classic tourist just long enough to climb to the top of both the Dome and the nearby campanile. Battling my way up the narrow spiral staircases and trying to avoid being skewered on the end of someone’s selfie stick , I could not help but think that I can’t wait to get away from the jostling crowds and escape to the quiet backroads of France.
I must also admit that I could not help myself being a little mischievous. After seeing the throng of huffing and puffing unfit travelers struggling to the top of the staircase, I took up a position near the top of the stairs and announced with the most authoritative voice I could muster “Nothing to see here, people, please turn back”. I think the devil made me do it.
I have one more day in Florence before flying to Paris to meet the rest of our France Team. Bring it on.もっと詳しく
We reach Florence
2015年9月7日, イタリア ⋅ ⛅ 26 °C
Day 14 – In Which we Roar Into Florence
It is always amazing how much a group improves after riding for several hours every day. Even the saddles that might have been unfamiliar on the first couple of days, don’t seem so bad any more. When this ride was starting there were a couple of riders who had never before tackled this type of adventure and it is not surprising that they had some initial anxiety about how they would cope. For Gonny, this was the first time she had done any serious riding since her spinal surgery and no one would blame her for feeling a little nervous about how well it would stand up under pressure.
Now that five days of extended riding have been completed all riders are performing well, even in the sometimes unpleasantly hot conditions. Last night was spent in the beautiful country town of Brisighella. It was a treat to savour the cool mountain air blowing in our open bedroom windows. It was also a treat to be able to catch up on the backlog of washing and drying.
This morning we had to get up early to make sure we were able to catch the train from the Brisighella Station. The train was due to depart at 8.30 am and, if we missed that on, the next one would not come for another 4 hours. Although the ride from the hotel to the station was quite short, it did involve a quite steep climb. It was a good way to prepare the legs for the extended brutal climbs that were to come later that day.
Fortunately our team is well prepared and all were ready to leave even earlier than I had instructed. We made it to the station with plenty of time to spare and were soon seated in a very comfortable carriage speeding our way through the mountains. This was the most spectacular and beautiful countryside we had seen thus far and the train passed through numerous tunnels along the way.
About an hour later we were deposited at our appointed starting point for the final day’s ride to Florence. It was still relatively early but the coolness of the early morning was wearing off and the blazing sun was again making its presence felt. By this time we were so sure of our navigation skills that we hardly had to refer to the instructions. About 4 km of uphill riding later we realised that we had completely missed the turnoff and had to backtrack almost back to the start. Take Two.
We eventually found the right road and were soon into a routine of steady pedaling up the rolling inclines. The notes warned of a brutal section of 14% gradient and I can’t say that I was relishing the thought. No matter which way you say it, 14% is STEEP, really steep. Especially for those of us who are not friends of gravity, like me. On the other hand I was feeling quite well and some part of me was actually looking forward to the challenge. After all, if the entire ride was too easy, people would think they had been robbed.
When I turned a bend and saw the road rising vertically straight into the stratosphere, I knew that we had reached the steep bit. I clicked down a few gears and attacked it with gusto. The front of the bike lifted and the speed dropped, but it was still climbing. So far so good I thought. At least I had survived the first 10 metres. The next 10 metres were a little tougher. The speed dropped a little more, my heart rate rose a lot more. Lungs started heaving. How do those Tour de France riders do this ? Probably has something to do with the fact that they only weigh about 50 kg.
I started to tack back and forth across the road in a attempt to cleverly reduce the gradient. Two can play at this game I thought. That clever tactic bought me about another 7 metres of progress. Time to dig deep. Click down to the lowest gear. Bugger, I was already in it. No more gears left. Not much more strength left. The only thing I had left was the pride in wearing the coveted yellow jersey. I tried to imagine those scenes as the Tour heroes approach the summit of the Alpe d”Huez with hundreds of adoring fans running along cheering encouragement. I could almost hear their shouts, but I think it was the blood vessels in my ears about to burst.
Come on Dennis, you can do this ! Unfortunately I discovered that I couldn’t. I had made it about 400 metres up the climb, but had to come to the decision that it was better to get off than to risk having a simultaneous heart attack, stroke, pulmonary embolism and heebie jeebies. When it was all said and done I was able to rationalise my decision with the knowledge that it was clearly faster to walk than ride. I took a few deep breaths, grabbed the handlebars in one hand and the seat in the other and starting pushing. A hundred metres or so in front of me I noticed that Lionel (Irving, Walter, Claude ?) had also dismounted. I suspect that we were all going through our private purgatories.
Although it was tough, a little while later we had all made it to the top and were already making light of the challenge. The next few kilometres climbed further, but at a much more realistic gradient. We were even relieved to find a convenient coffee stop a couple of km before the top of the final climb. In some strange way I suspect that we were a little sad that the challenge was about to finish.
After a coffee and an icecream we had little difficulty reaching the final summit. All we had was about 15 km of mostly downhill to take us home to our final destination of Florence. This was a time to enjoy ourselves. Sweeping around the bends on a beautiful smooth surface, Cycling heaven. Soon we got our first views of the famous city and the even more famous “Duomo”. Each bend took us closer until we entered the outskirts of the city and into the final maelstrom of traffic.
About 20 minutes later we had finally reached the Hotel Grifone which marked the end of the ride. We locked the bikes for the final time, hugged and congratulated each other. Our first Italy ride had ended without a single accident. We had all got to know each other better and had accumulated a new storehouse of memories to recount in the years ahead. In a few days 5 of us will be regrouping in France to begin our 2015 France rides.
After dropping the bikes, I transferred to the Hotel Bigallo, which will be my home for the next 3 nights. I knew that it was close to the famous Duomo, but I did not appreciate just how close it was. The hotel is literally only a few metres from the towering church. I also discovered that it was the first hotel that I have had in Italy that charged for its Internet. In spite of the 10 Euro charge I never could get the Internet to work there. I think there is definite irony in that.もっと詳しく
Lazarus Makes a Comeback
2015年9月6日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C
Day 13 – In Which Lazarus Makes a Comeback
Again it is amazing what a difference 24 hours (and a hack saw) makes. By day 11 Irena had started to struggle with the long days in the saddle, riding a bike that was a little too big for her. We had already lowered the seat to the lowest position that was possible with that seat post, but she still had to stretch from side to side to turn the pedals. We decided to take matters into our own hands and go looking for an hack saw to cut off a few centimetres. Not off Irena, but off her seat post.
This modification seemed to make all the difference. After 24 hours off the bike and the lower seat she was ready for action once more and our peloton was restored to its full size again.
Since this was a very quiet Sunday morning, we were able to ride out of Ravenna on deserted roads. The weather was also a few degrees cooler which gave a most welcome relief from the sustained heat of the last week. As we left the town we could not help but notice the contrast with the regions we had cycled through over the past couple of days. Gone were the wide open spaces and deserted houses. We were now in a much more developed region and the farms were generally much better maintained.
It was interesting to see the huge size of some of these farmhouses, although many only seemed to have a few habitable rooms with the rest left to go to ruin. It was common to see sections of roof that had just collapsed into the inside of the house. Apparently the area must have been significantly more prosperous than it is now. When looking for the suitable word to describe these houses, the one that came to mind was “distressed”.Obviously anyone feeling the need to take on a project could certainly buy a suitable place here.
At the 40 km mark we stopped for lunch at Faenza. This is a sprawling town with a large cobblestoned central piazza. There were only a few people out and about and we settled in a suitable eatery in the shade while we enjoyed a cup or two of cheap coffee and a sandwich.
After lunch the road began to climb steadily and, for the first time, we started to encounter groups of serious cyclists. Some were riding singly and others were in groups of up to 8 riders. As we passed we gave them a wave and an “Aussie Aussie Aussie”. Obviously these cyclists are attracted to this region to strengthen their legs on the hills.
After a final steep descent and corresponding climb we arrived at the delightful small town of Brisighella. The town is surrounded by mountains and we could see several imposing castles perched on the clifftops. The road into town is bordered by beautiful towering trees which gave the place a very welcoming feel. We were also interested to see the numerous signs warning of ice on the roads. Obviously this place must get cold in the winter months.
Our home for the evening is the La Meridiana Hotel, a large but thankfully not too distressed building on the outskirts of town. It was also the first rooms we had that did not have either air conditioning or TVs. However the water was hot and the cool mountain air blowing in my open window gave the best night’s sleep I have had so far.
Tomorrow we complete our Italy ride by riding into the famous city of Florence (Firenze).もっと詳しく
Our First Casualty
2015年9月6日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C
One thing that soon becomes apparent on this type of ride is that it can be difficult to front up day after day for another long stretch in the saddle. I have found on all the previous such rides that, while the fitness of the group increases rapidly, it is also likely that some will develop miscellaneous aches and pains. Soon after we completed the long day into Camacchio, Irena explained that she was not feeling very well and would need the following day off the bike. Fortunately it was possible to arrange transport for both Irena and her bike so this did not constitute a huge problem. We are all hopeful that she will be able to resume her ride after a day to rest and recuperate. This also meant that our peloton would be reduced to only 5 riders for the longest day of the trip which would take us from Comacchio to the famous city of Ravenna. Along the way we would be riding through a wide variety of surroundings, from isolated wilderness areas to crowded beachside tourist meccas.It would also introduce our first off road sections.
The early part of the ride followed the lagoon for many kilometres. This consisted of wide open spaces with absolutely no shade. Although we had been hoping for a considerably cooler day, the long awaited cool change seems to be perpetually delayed. Although there were some early wispy clouds, these soon burned off and most of the day was again ridden in full sunshine. Looking around at the stark and desolate surrounds and the ruins of old buildings, it certainly did not look like most people would imagine Italy to be. To me it seemed more like some place in Eastern Europe, such as Romania or Bulgaria.
It was while we were riding on one particularly long flat section that Lionel (Alwyn, Mervin, Angus, Oscar ?) and I were riding side by side when we realised that we had not heard any chatter from the following riders for some time. We stopped to look around and found there was no sign of them. We pulled over and waited for 10 minutes and, when they still did not appear, we tried to call them on the phone. This was the first time we had no service so we had no alternative other to ride back to see what had happened to them. It turned out that Mary had suffered a puncture, no doubt due to the extended section of off road riding we had just completed. Fortunately John had repaired the puncture by the time we arrived, so our timing was absolutely perfect.
In the meantime I had problems of my own. A couple of days earlier I had suffered an irritating case of ticking coming from my bike. Every rotation of the pedals resulted in a loud click noise. Fortunately Josef had arranged for a replacement bike and, for the next 24 hours, I was able to ride in silence. Unfortunately misfortune chose to pay me a return visit by gifting me with another clicking noise to replace the one that had been taken from me. For the rest of the day my riding was once again accompanied by the bottom bracket counterpoint. I had no choice other than to just accept it. In life there will always be some things you can change and others that you have to learn to accept. Rather than let it ruin my ride, I chose to regard it as something humerous instead. My faithful tick will now presumably travel with me all the way to Florence.
After riding about 47 km we arrived at the seaside resort of Casalborsetti and settled into a wonderful restaurant situated right on the beach. After a couple of cappucinos (only 1.4 Euros each) and a lunch stop we were on our way again. In the next section we left the road and followed a forest path for several kilometres. It was a relief to be out of the sun and to enjoy the relative coolness of the forest.
We then caught a ferry across to Marina di Ravenna which soon answered the question as to where all the people had been. Here was a place similar to Torquay or Lorne, with dozens of fancy restaurants, resorts and expensive cars everywhere. Obviously a lot of Italians are still enjoying their vacations on the beach.
Finally our path turned inland and for the final 12 km we followed a wonderful bike path, all the way to the centre of Ravenna. This large city has a rich past, having served as the capital of the western Roman Empire and much later as the home to the famous Lord Byron. In fact our hotel is called the Hotel Centrale Byron, presumably because it is situated right in the very centre of the city. We certainly do not have to walk far to explore the place.
After dark I left the hotel to wander around the Centrale. It was a warm Saturday evening in Ravenna and the streets and outdoor restaurants were bursting with happy people. A jazz trio was playing in the nearby Piazza and a crowd had gathered to listen. It would have been even better if they could have played well. Since I was feeling hungry after the long day I decided to try out an exotic local delicacy. It was absolutely delicious and I enjoyed every mouthful. Apparently it was called a “Doner Kebab” and it cost me 5 Euros.もっと詳しく
We Pedal the Po
2015年9月5日, イタリア ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C
What a difference a day makes. Yesterday my ride was plagued by a repetitious ticking noise from the bottom bracket of my bike. Although I tried my best to pretend it was not a big deal – in fact it was a niggling irritation. A bike is the most efficient form of transportation ever invented, but when it makes untoward noises, it can also be a source of mental torture.
When we met Josef yesterday afternoon I mentioned my problem and this morning he arrived at our hotel with a replacement bike. A short test ride showed that this one was smooth and virtually silent (just the way that a bike should be).
Our night had been spent at the impressive Hotel Stella d’Italia in Adria. This was not only an imposing and stately looking hotel, but it was in a street of stately homes suggesting that this was where the old money was in this town. It was slightly macabre that a couple of these huge homes looked like they had not been lived in for years (checkout the photos below).
The hotel was a genuine 4 star hotel but it did have a few shortcomings. The lock on my door fell off when I was closing the door for the last time, the water in my bathroom basin would not empty and the air conditioning gave about as much air flow as a flatulent sparrow. The breakfast was also very disappointing compared to the sumptuous offering from the Grande Italia in Chioggia.
The biggest challenge we faced today was to find the correct route out of Adria. Somehow when we asked for directions, instead of a simple instruction we had a 15 minute lecture from a helpful local. We battled our way up and down busy streets, over bridges, round roundabouts and still got lost. It was only when we consulted the GPS we realised that we were on the wrong road entirely. Fortunately after a few adjustments to the route we resumed the correct path and escaped the traffic.
Although we were hoping for a cooler day, today turned into another mirror image of all the previous days. We are rapidly growing an impressive array of red noses and pink legs as we ride under the strong Tuscan sun. Within a few kilometres we joined an amazing bike path along the wide Po river. The surface was as smooth as a baby’s bottom and made for wonderful cycling. The path was elevated as it followed the levee bank for many kilometres, giving us a panoramic view of the river and the (mostly) run down farm houses along the way. Without the ticks that had followed my bike the previous day, I was able to thoroughly enjoy the sensation of rolling along in silence.
We stopped for lunch at a seaside resort town of Lido di Volano. Italians obviously love to bake themselves black in the sunshine and many showed the distinctive signs of premature ageing caused by their lack of sun smarts. Apparently the slip slap slap message was not popular in this part of the world.
After lunch we had another 27 or so km to ride and we were feeling the combined effects of the heat, the head wind and the fact that this was our longest day in the saddle so far. We had a couple of roadside drinks breaks before finally reaching the quaint town of Commachio. With its narrow central canal and a couple of gondolas, it was a bit like a vastly more modest version of Venice.
Our dinner was taken right outside the hotel so we only had a few metres to return to our rooms.もっと詳しく
My Bike Starts Ticking
2015年9月4日, イタリア ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C
In Which we stay in the best hotel in Chioggia – and I am attacked by Ticks
When this trip was being put together I had no idea of which hotels to select in the various towns along the way. I had never traveled in this part of the world and decided to just go along with the recommendations that UTRACKS had put together for us. It was therefore something of a surprise when we arrived at the beautiful seaside town of Chioggia and found ourselves in what was unquestionably the finest hotel in the town.
Situated right on the waterfront the Grande Hotel Italia certainly lived up to the first part of its name. With its marble floors and impressive staircase, we felt like we must have accidentally got someone else’s booking by mistake. The rooms were equally as impressive, featuring huge beds and every modern convenience. I guess this was a bit like how Bronwyn Bishop must do all her travels, but for me it was a real novelty.
In the evening we had dinner in a nearby restaurant in a quiet side alley, off the main street. Chioggia is basically one large main street leading directly alongside the canal and ending at the water’s edge. Since our hotel was right at the end of the canal, it would have been impossible for even the most directionally challenged walker to get lost. As I walked back in the warm evening I noticed that the flags near the waterside were slightly fluttering – the first small signs of wind that we had seen since arriving in Italy over a week ago. Perhaps it was the first indication that the weather pattern might be about to break.
The next morning we celebrated breakfast (“ate” would simply just not be sufficient to describe the act of breakfasting in the most wonderful breakfast room you could imagine) overlooking the marina and the water beyond. There was a huge array of food to choose from and it would have been tempting to just sit and eat and enjoy the fabulous view. They even served cappucino coffee if you asked one of the attentive waitresses for it. However we had a ride to do and had to keep an eye on the time.
It turned out that we had arrived in Chioggia on market day. When I went out on my early morning walk I was astounded at the army of stall holders that managed to transform the main street within the matter of 15 minutes. The setup was achieved with military precision with each stall holder knowing exactly where their allocated territory was. The stalls themselves carried an impressive array of goods, everything from the cheap Chinese clothing copies and $2 screwdrivers to shoes, kitchenware, food, handicrafts, leathergoods and even bicycle parts.
The start of our ride actually took us up the main street, which meant that we had to walk the gauntlet of thousands of bargain hunting shoppers. It took us about 30 minutes to walk the avenue of stalls before we could actually mount our bikes. Somewhere along the way, I found myself the proud owner of a new leather wallet. It reminded me of the chaos at the start of every “Around the Bay in a Day” mass bike ride. Eventually we broke free of the masses and found ourselves on a quiet rural road running alongside a canal. This was the type of riding we had come so far to experience and it was a glorious feeling to just turn the pedals over and see the kilometres pass by.
It was about this time that a couple of small irritations arose to detract slightly from the perfect nature of the morning. The first was a meteorological matter. The wind that had begun the previous evening was now a steady, but gentle breeze. Unfortunately it blew directly into our faces most of the day. Headwinds are an inescapable part of cycling, but the second annoyance was something else entirely different.
Before coming to Europe we had been warned to keep an eye out for ticks, as they can cause all manner of illnesses. I had not ridden far before I became aware of a tick at very close quarters. Actually it was NOT the small parasitic insect, it was a persistent tick, tick, tick from the bottom bracket region of my bike. Every time I turned the pedals over, there it was – TICK, TICK, TICK. I tried kicking the pedals TICK, TICK, TICK. I tried changing gears TICK, TICK TICK. I even tried standing up on the pedals TICK, TICK, TICK, bloody TICK. it was obvious that it was going to follow me for the entire ride.
When confronted with an annoying repetitious noise like that, there are only two alternatives. The first option is to let it drive you insane. The second option is to find a tune that has the same rhythm and then just hum along with it. I adopted the second approach. And thus occupied, I hummed my way through the day’s ride.
The end of the day’s ride was in a lovely small town called Adria and it was a lovely surprise to find the hotel’s staff waiting to welcome us with a delightful jug of iced orange juice with ginger. We sat in the shady gardens, drinking juice and listening to the operatic singing wafting through the trees. Although I told the group that the music was part of the welcome that I had organised, in truth it was because we are located right next door to the Conservatory of Music and it was the students practising their talents in the late afternoon. The soprano worked her way up and down the scales while the pianist battled with some complex symphony. I wondered what the poor triangle player would add to the occasion. Did they also have to practise for hundreds of hours having to perfect the ever elusive perfect “ding” ?
A young female student came out the front door with an enormous double bass dragging behind her. I bet she wished she had chosen the piccolo instead.
It was a magical end to a great day.
PS The hotel is also VERY impressive. It looks like we must have selected the deluxe accommodation option.
FOOT NOTE:
As a footnote I would also like to take a little time to introduce the members of our 2015 Italy Ride. Although I have already mentioned a number of them in passing, it is probably a good time to introduce them all and provide you a brief background on each one.
John Rundell – has completed a number of previous overseas adventures including the 2011 Danube Ride, The 2011 Elbe Ride, the 2013 Thailand Ride as well as our 2014 rides in Finland, Sweden and the UK. When he is not enjoying himself on the bike he spends most of his time counting his vast collection of classic cars. If our team were the cast of Gilligan’s Island, John would be the perfect candidate to play Thurston Howell. John will also be leading Group 2 of our 2015 France ride.
Gonny Rundell – is also a very experienced rider, having participated in the same rides as John, as well as our unforgettable 2013 Bhutan Ride. For the past couple of years Gonny has suffered with a serious back problem and, late last year underwent a spinal fusion. This has proven very successful, although she has not been able to ride seriously for a long time. This trip represents her return to extended cycling.
Lionel Rex – Lionel is also a very capable and experienced rider who took part in our 2011 Danube and Elbe rides. In keeping with his regal surname, Lionel has extremely high expectations for hotel rooms and probably would not even find Buckingham Palace up to his standard. Lionel loves long, early morning walks where he can take pictures of himself with his newly acquired selfie stick. Lionel also likes navigating and his map skills have already proven useful.
We also have two members of our team who have never completed any previous overseas rides.
Mary Jonas – is a capable rider but not so capable navigator. She is inclined to get a little lost at times and to forget her room number when staying in a hotel. In the evenings, Mary always looks like a distinguished lady of the calibre of Helen Mirren. I have also found her very interesting to chat with.
Irena Blonder – when Irena first expressed an interest in this trip, she went on to explain that she does have a particular distinction in that she is rather short of stature. Personally I would not say that she was extraordinarily short, however if she was any smaller, her legs would not reach the ground. When trying to locate a suitably sized bike for her, UTRACKS explored numerous options (including fitting pedals to a roller skate) but fortunately they finally located a bike of the right size. Although Irena sometimes looks like she is wrestling an elephant more than riding a bike, I have been very impressed with her riding ability. On a couple of occasions during today’s ride, she actually bolted away into the distance, leaving the rest of us languishing in her wake. I have been especially pleased to see how much Irena has obviously been enjoying the ride so far. A couple of days ago I actually asked her if she has always been short, and she explained that she used to be very tall, but has been progressively shrinking.
Dennis Dawson – the only normal member of the group.もっと詳しく
The Wheels Start Turning
2015年9月2日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
My short time in Venice has certainly taught me one thing – I am eternally grateful that we did not book our accommodation anywhere near the famous San Marco area of town. After another evening meal at our new favourite restaurant last night I again wandered out into the byways and alleyways this morning, to improve my knowledge of this fascinating place.
As I crisscrossed back and forth I found myself pulled by the increasing throng of pedestrians heading towards the San Marco Basicila. I felt a little like I was a wandering asteroid being sucked into a gravitational vortex of a huge black hole of tourists. Although it was tempting to be just swept along by the crowds, when my way took me past a large open space with a couple of large trees near the centre, I escaped the vortex and made my way to an inviting seat under the larger tree.
As I have said may times before, I am not like the typical tourist who clutches their map and guidebook and rushes from highlight to highlight. For me, the main attraction of travel has always been to watch and meet local people. Over the years I have had some amazing encounters that I recall and treasure dearly. This morning provided another of those “chance” encounters.
I had not been siting long when a tall middle aged gentleman with a shock of white hair asked if he could rest alongside me. “Sure” I replied. We sat together in silence for a few minutes before I decided to open a conversation with him. What followed was a 45 minute discussion with one of the most interesting characters I have met in a very long while. At first it was hard to pick his accent, but he revealed that he had been born in Germany but had spent the past 45 years living in America. He had progressed in his education to become a university professor and then left for a series of appointments in research organisations. His work was in the field of molecular biology and he was happy to talk with me on many of the things his research had been involved with. Like me, he had no time for the crowded throngs of tourists with their selfie sticks. Apparently he was in the middle of an extended solo trip around Europe. He had purchased a small car for his travels and planned to sell it when his trip cam to an end. He explained that, even if he could not sell it, it was still cheaper than hiring a car for that period of time.
Of course the conversation also turned to what we were doing in Italy and I was able to tell him about the Ghostriders. He seemed very disappointed that he did not have a similar group that he could travel with as he loved cycling and agreed that it would be a perfect way to explore the world. On several occasions we said goodbye and then got involved with another topic of conversation. I genuinely felt sorry that I could not invite him to join our adventure. He was travelling alone and intimated that he would have loved the companionship of good friends to travel with. Eventually we parted with a warm handshake and with mutual wishes of a safe and enjoyable trip. Whatever else I did today, I already felt that my day was complete.
For the next couple of hours I allowed myself to be sucked back into the vortex of pedestrians, past the selfie sellers and tacky trinket shops and into the centre of the maelstrom. The queues were just as long as yesterday, the sun was just as hot and my personal space had disappeared. After taking a few more pictures I retreated back to the much quieter region of the Dorsoduro. Since this is too far for the throngs from the tourist boats and buses to reach in their 2 hour visits, it is very much quieter than the Eastern end of the island. After sundown the alleys are deserted and silent. With the full moon above it makes for a memorable late night walk.
This was our last full day in Venice. Tomorrow we travel back to Mestre to collect our bikes and get underway on our ride to Florence. I think we are all very hopeful that the weather might finally break and give us some relief from the 30 plus temperatures.
LATE NEWS FLASH
I was amazed when one of our riders returned from their day’s adventures, proudly holding a brand new selfie stick. In some respects it was the very last person I would have expected to succumb to unrelenting selfie stick sales pressure, but believe it or not, it’s true. I will reveal their identity in the next update.もっと詳しく
Serendipity Pays a Visit
2015年9月1日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
My short time in Venice has certainly taught me one thing – I am eternally grateful that we did not book our accommodation anywhere near the famous San Marco area of town. After another evening meal at our new favourite restaurant last night I again wandered out into the byways and alleyways this morning, to improve my knowledge of this fascinating place.
As I crisscrossed back and forth I found myself pulled by the increasing throng of pedestrians heading towards the San Marco Basicila. I felt a little like I was a wandering asteroid being sucked into a gravitational vortex of a huge black hole of tourists. Although it was tempting to be just swept along by the crowds, when my way took me past a large open space with a couple of large trees near the centre, I escaped the vortex and made my way to an inviting seat under the larger tree.
As I have said may times before, I am not like the typical tourist who clutches their map and guidebook and rushes from highlight to highlight. For me, the main attraction of travel has always been to watch and meet local people. Over the years I have had some amazing encounters that I recall and treasure dearly. This morning provided another of those “chance” encounters.
I had not been siting long when a tall middle aged gentleman with a shock of white hair asked if he could rest alongside me. “Sure” I replied. We sat together in silence for a few minutes before I decided to open a conversation with him. What followed was a 45 minute discussion with one of the most interesting characters I have met in a very long while. At first it was hard to pick his accent, but he revealed that he had been born in Germany but had spent the past 45 years living in America. He had progressed in his education to become a university professor and then left for a series of appointments in research organisations. His work was in the field of molecular biology and he was happy to talk with me on many of the things his research had been involved with. Like me, he had no time for the crowded throngs of tourists with their selfie sticks. Apparently he was in the middle of an extended solo trip around Europe. He had purchased a small car for his travels and planned to sell it when his trip cam to an end. He explained that, even if he could not sell it, it was still cheaper than hiring a car for that period of time.
Of course the conversation also turned to what we were doing in Italy and I was able to tell him about the Ghostriders. He seemed very disappointed that he did not have a similar group that he could travel with as he loved cycling and agreed that it would be a perfect way to explore the world. On several occasions we said goodbye and then got involved with another topic of conversation. I genuinely felt sorry that I could not invite him to join our adventure. He was travelling alone and intimated that he would have loved the companionship of good friends to travel with. Eventually we parted with a warm handshake and with mutual wishes of a safe and enjoyable trip. Whatever else I did today, I already felt that my day was complete.
For the next couple of hours I allowed myself to be sucked back into the vortex of pedestrians, past the selfie sellers and tacky trinket shops and into the centre of the maelstrom. The queues were just as long as yesterday, the sun was just as hot and my personal space had disappeared. After taking a few more pictures I retreated back to the much quieter region of the Dorsoduro. Since this is too far for the throngs from the tourist boats and buses to reach in their 2 hour visits, it is very much quieter than the Eastern end of the island. After sundown the alleys are deserted and silent. With the full moon above it makes for a memorable late night walk.
This was our last full day in Venice. Tomorrow we travel back to Mestre to collect our bikes and get underway on our ride to Florence. I think we are all very hopeful that the weather might finally break and give us some relief from the 30 plus temperatures.
LATE NEWS FLASH
I was amazed when one of our riders returned from their day’s adventures, proudly holding a brand new selfie stick. In some respects it was the very last person I would have expected to succumb to unrelenting selfie stick sales pressure, but believe it or not, it’s true. I will reveal their identity in the next update.もっと詳しく
We Meet Mary & Maria
2015年8月31日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
For the three days we are in Venice our home will be the Santa Margherita Guesthouse in the Dorsoduro District of the city. This is a small but immaculately clean guesthouse not far from the Camp Santa Margherita, a large open plaza filled with small eateries and wine bars. Over the few days preceding our arrival in Venice I had received several emails from a mysterious “Maria”. These contained instructions for how to find and gain access to the guesthouse. This place is strictly a “self serve” accommodation with no reception. That arrangement works very well as the place is very well set up and contains everything we need for a short stay.
Our first full day in Venice began with the first overcast sky I had seen since arriving in Italy 5 days ago. This meant that conditions were a little cooler than the scorching days we had been experiencing. I set out into the maze of small lanes, canals and blind alleys that constitute this famous and ancient city. Glancing at the map of the city reminded me of one of those huge puzzles that I loved to do as a kid. You know the type where you have to draw a line to help the mouse find the huge piece of cheese. Rather than try to follow each road on the map, I decided just to head off and follow the general flow of foot traffic. At least you don’t have to worry about being hit by a car, since there aren’t any. Venice is purely a pedestrian city. The only way to shift goods and people is via the numerous linking canals.
In the early morning there was a cloudy mist laying low over the city which gave the place a rather otherworldy feel. Numerous artists were positioned on the dozens of small bridges, each trying to capture the quaint buildings on their small canvases. It is obviously a place where artists of all levels of skill come to try out their techniques.
After about 30 minutes of wandering I found myself in the large Plaza outside the Basilica de San Marco. Obviously the huge cruise liners had already disgorged their thousands of passengers who were now shuffling their way in swarms behind their allocated tour guide. Again you have spectacle of dozens of these guides, each with their own flag or number on a stick followed by their shuffling herd of camera toting customers. The queue outside the Basilica stretched for as far as I could see and served to quickly convince me that I really did not need to see inside another famous church. I was however amused at the large sign at the entrance which warned against wearing inappropriate clothing, taking videos and NO SELFIES ! When I saw that sign I suddenly felt a new respect for this place. Maybe other places should declare themselves to be selfie free zones,
By mid morning the cloud cover was starting to break up and the hot sun was making its presence felt on the back of my neck. I decided that it was time to start making my way back to the sanctuary of the Santa Margherita. Some types of technology are fantastic and, although I am not a fan of the addiction to smartphones, I do appreciate the usefulness of a GPS (especially for someone as directionally challenged as myself). Switching on the GPS it told me that I was about 2 km from home and indicated which direction for me to take. All I had to do was occasionally recheck to make sure that I was going in the generally correct direction.
When I arrived at the Guesthouse I was met by a tall young blonde Italian girl who introduced herself as the mysterious Maria that I had been emailing with. We spent a very pleasant 30 minutes or so talking about travel and our previous cycling adventures. Maria told me that she would love to join us but that “her husband was far too lazy” to ride a bike. I told her that she could become our first Italian Ghostrider and showed her the website.
Maria then turned the topic to that of Mary. She asked how old I thought that Mary might be. Now that’s a dangerous question to ask any man, but apparently Mary had filled in her application form stating that her birthdate was in 2015. Now while I did not know exactly how old Mary really was, I could be pretty sure that she was older than 8 months. Maria said she had been a bit doubtful that such a young girl would be travelling the world, but I was able to say that Mary occasionally suffered from lapses of concentration. That was the reason we heard her banging on the outside door this morning when she could not remember the entry code.
I then introduced Maria to Lance (Oscar, Wallace, Henry, Benedict ?). Rather than great Maria with a beaming smile, Trevor started a rambling diatrobe about how uncomfortable his bed was. I really felt sorry for our newest Ghostrider recruit who tried to apologise to him and explain that she could not make a new bed in the little time available.
When I later went out for another walk I was a little surprised that the chaotic laneways actually made a little more sense than they had just 24 hours earlier. And, by the way, Maria explained that she still sometimes gets lost in Venice and she had lived here for 30 years !もっと詳しく
Claude Catches a Bagsnatcher
2015年8月30日, イタリア ⋅ 31 °C
Day 6 – In which we Head to Venice and Claude Confronts a Bag Snatcher
After 4 wonderful days in Rome it was time to progress to the next leg of our journey and take the train to Venice which will become the starting point for our Italian Ride.We formed a peloton of rolling luggage pullers and made our way to the main Termini Railway Station to meet the high speed train to Venice. Once again the day turned out to be carbon copy of the previous 4 days – hot, sunny and humid.
Although the train was very comfortable there was almost no space to store luggage and therefore our bags had to be squashed right at the entrance to our carriage while we made our way to our allocated seats. At least the four hour journey gave us plenty of time to chat and relax along the way. Like many European trains, this one flew along at up to 250 kph and tilted considerably when it was rounding a bend. Why are we apparently unable to build trains of this standard in Australia?
By now you might expect that all the members of our team would have got to know each other’s names, however Mary seemed to have great difficulty remembering what Lionel’s name was. She called him a variety of names – but never the right one. The rest of us decided to add to her confusion by inventing a never ending sequence of alternate names for him (Claude, Owen, Virgil, Bruce, Brutus, the list was endless).
When we stopped at a station somewhere in the middle of Italy, Claude (or Bentley, Rufus, Alexander ??) jumped to his feet and said that he thought he should keep an eye on our luggage. A few seconds later we heard him remonstrating with a girl who was apparently intent on getting off the train with his suitcase. He must have won the argument because the girl got off the train empty handed. It was just as well his instincts had been alert or else he would have arrived in Venice minus all his belongings.
At around 2.30 pm we finally arrived at Santa Luzia station on Venice Island. We joined the queue for tickets to the water bus and were just about to get on the waiting ferry when Septimus (Oscar, Trevor, Erwin ???) pointed out that there was a 2 cm x 2 cm sign advising that the tickets needed to be validated before boarding. Judging by the number of people we soon observed being fined 67.5 Euro for not having a validated ticket, this is a very lucrative money earner for the local authorities. It would have proven to be a very expensive short voyage.
About an hour later we were safely arrived at our small hotel and ready to do some exploration of the surrounds. Mary wasted no time with preliminaries and immediately proceeded to forget the way back to her hotel. Fortunately she was eventually found and escorted back to her enclosure. The next couple of days should be most interesting.もっと詳しく
Ghostriders Become Ghostrollers
2015年8月28日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
I must admit that from the first time I saw a video of a Segway I have been intrigued by the technology. There is something about seeing someone cruising along on what looks like an early model push mower that seems to defy the basic laws of physics. And yet it is brilliant use of physics that makes the segway such an amazing machine. A couple of weeks ago I was searching on the Internet for ideas of how to spend our free time in Rome and came across a company that was offering a three and a half hour Segway tour for around $90 AUD. To me this seemed like a pretty good deal as other operators charge similar amounts for about an hour. In fact I would have happily paid that amount just for the experience of riding the machine, the tour would be an added bonus.
When I mentioned the option to the rest of our team, five others also decided to follow me into the unknown, None of them had ever ridden a Segway before and I thought it best not to tell them that Jimi Heselden actually died of injuries sustained when he accidentally rode his Segway over a cliff. That would be tragic enough, but it takes on extra meaning when you point out that Mr Heselden was actually the owner of the company that manufactures Segways !
The company providing the tour was not too far from the Colosseum and we decided to take the Metro from Termini to the Colosseum. Although the Metro works extremely work and gives unlimited travel for 100 minutes for only 1.5 Euro, it was disappointing to see the graffiti covered carriages. Both the insides and outsides of every carriage were completely plastered with graffiti. This served to remind us that actually our trains in Melbourne are clean by comparison.
When we made it to the Segway office, Lionel discovered that he had accidentally booked his tour with another company and no amount of discussion would allow the two companies to transfer his booking. Thus our group was down to 4 Ghostrollers plus an English couple who were across in Italy for a couple of days. The Segways were lined up and we were then informed just how easy it is to crash on these contraptions. That was not a great way to instill confidence in an already apprehensive team.
The first 30 minutes were spent on a training session and, after a few initial abrupt stops and starts, I started to get the hang of the thing. When none of us managed to fall off we followed our guide out into the hustle and bustle of Rome. Much of the roads we were riding on were constructed of uneven cobblestones but the Segway handled the surface quite well.
After we had climbed up and over the first of Rome’s seven hills, I no longer felt anxious and really started to feel exhilerated. We started to dodge and weave and test out our new prowess, ,but an ominous noise behind me indicated that someone had come to grief. I looked back and saw Mary lying on the footpath while her Segway took off without her. I could not help but feel a sinking feeling in my stomach, however Mary immediately got back to her feet and assured us that she was fine. In fact that was the only incident we had all day.
The next stop was the huge Circus Maximus, site of the famous chariot races of Ben Hur, and the ideal location to really let the Segways stretch their wheels. We thundered down the main straight but I soon discovered that the harder I pushed forward the more the control handle pushed back into my stomach. At the end of the main straight our guide explained that was because the machine has an automatic speed limiter. He asked whether we would like the speed limiter disabled ? Stupid Question !!! Does a duck like to swim ? A few minutes later all our limiters were disabled and we were charging up and down the arena like crazed hoons. What an absolute blast.
The next three hours were spent riding from place to place all over Rome. It was a fantastic way to explore the city without walking behind some flag toting guide. I could really become addicted to this contraption but I had to admit that, by 1 pm the hot sun was taking its toll and I was glad to step down and look for a shady place to sit down.
Unfortunately the place we chose to sit down turned out to be a restaurant owned by Rome’s surliest restaurateur. It was the classic case of service WITHOUT a smile and was a huge contrast to the friendly service we had enjoyed everywhere else in the city. I had ordered pasta and when it was served I made the mistake of asking for some Parmesan cheese. You might have thought I had asked to marry his daughter – he was so disgusted. There was no way he was going to bring any cheese so I just had to give up. The pizza that had been ordered by Gonny and Mary seemed to have left the kitchen minus the topping, and the rest of the dinner would have scored about 2 out of 100 on any dining scale.
I then asked for the bill. This led to another unfortunate confrontation when he refused to give it to me. I was only allowed to see the total, apparently the bill was his property and he did not have to give it to us. Any chance he had of getting a tip immediately went out the window and down the Appian Way. Since his total was 37Euro we gave him 40 Euro and asked for our change. When he reluctantly returned with our 3 Euro we told him to give it to the wandering piano accordion player who had been playing nearby. There’s one restaurant I will never go back to again.
By mid afternoon I was back at my hotel and glad to escape the burning heat outside. This was our final full day in Rome and tomorrow morning we will be catching the train to Venice which will be starting place for our cycling adventure. I think we are all hoping that it will be a few degrees cooler there.もっと詳しく
Heading Underground
2015年8月27日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
The long, hot Roman summer continues on without variation. Each day since we have arrived has been a carbon copy of the previous one, that is 35C, hot and sunny. Although I had very few set plans for my time here, there was one place that I did want to visit and that was the Roman Catacombes. Since John and Gonny were also keen to see them we decided to make an early start to beat the worst of the heat and the crowds.
There are actually several catacombs scattered around Rome but, after a little research, we came to the conclusion that the one most worth visiting would be the Catacombe de San Callisto. These famous catacombs occupy a sprawling site on the Appian Way just outside the towering city walls. Although only a small proportion of the 21 km of underground tunnels is open to the public, those that you can access do serve to give an indication of just how much effort must have gone into their construction.
We arrived at the entrance right on opening time and were very happy to see that we were the only English speaking visitors there at that time. That meant that we had the services of our very own guide, a quietly spoken Christian Pakistani student with the unlikely name of “Eric” who was in the middle of his Theology studies. Eric led us down a long flight of stairs into the wonderfully cool underground labyrinth that constitute the catacombs. He explained that over 500,000 bodies had originally been buried here, however their remains have now been relocated away from the view of the masses of tourists. Contrary to popular belief he also told us that the catacombs were not commonly used as permanent residences for the Christians, but were mainly for burials and for church services.
Eric proved to be a very capable guide but he did have the slightly unnerving habit of replying “please do not ask me that now” every time we wanted to ask a question. He told us that, if we were patient, that all our questions would be answered in due time. Since there was only the three of us, we felt like he might have varied his rules just a little.
After 45 minutes underground it was time to re emerge into the sunlight and heat. We eventually found the bus stop to catch the bus back to the city. The bus system appears to work very well, although the underground Metro system is rather tired and dirty looking by comparison.
The other place that I wanted to visit was the Pantheon. This is surely one of the best preserved of all ancient Roman buildings, having been completed by Hadrian around 120 AD and has been in continuous service ever since. It was originally built as a temple but since the 7th century it has been used as a church dedicated to St Mary and the Martyrs.
The most incredible feature of the Pantheon is the huge concrete dome overhead. This is apparently the largest unreinforced concrete dome in the world and it is astounding to think that it has survived for almost 2000 years. Standing in the centre of the Pantheon I could not help but wonder how many of our modern constructions will still be standing in 2000 years. I suspect that most will have disappeared without a trace within a few hundred years at most. And yet this building was built without the aid of modern mathematics, computers or machines.
At the centre of the dome is a large circular opening which lets in the light (and the rain). Since the building is aligned North-South, the sunlight enters the opening and casts a beam onto the northern side of the interior wall. At solar noon this shaft of light strikes the wall directly opposite the main altar. Apparently the Pantheon provided an inspiration for the design of the huge dome in St Peter’s basilica.
After spending quite some time sitting inside the Pantheon and gazing up at the walls that have stood for so many years I finally decided that it was time to head back to my hotel for a short siesta. A short distance from the Pantheon I encountered a street seller selling small dancing Mickey and Minnie Mouse toys. Forgetting my common sense, and thinking only of how much fun they would be for my grandchildren, I handed over 5 Euros and was handed two small packets in return. The seller gave me a lovely wave and smile as I left. What a nice fellow, I thought.
About an hour later I finally stumbled back into my hotel room, switched on the air conditioner and decided to try out the dancing toys. They sat flat on the desk. Nothing, nada. Somewhere in the back of my mind a couple of lights switched on and I decided to do a quick search of the net to see how these toys actually worked. The unfortunate truth is that they actually don’t work at all. Apparently it is a common scam that has been going on in Rome for years. The sellers apparently have a thin micro thread attached between a loudspeaker and a nearby object and they carefully attach each toy to that thread. Of course when you get home they do absolutely nothing !!!
Although I could have felt angry for being duped of 5 euro, I could not help but smile at my own stupidity. Obviously my travel smarts are not as well developed as they could be and I will put it down as a lesson learnt. At least it was harmless enough scam and it only cost me the price of a cup of coffee. It will also give me a story to share with others. Such is the nature of travel.もっと詳しく
Wandering Around Rome
2015年8月26日, イタリア ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
“What a difference a day makes” or so says the old saying. I would like to modify this a little to make it apply to muddle headed, jet lagged travelers by saying “what a difference a few hours sleep make”. By last evening I was feeling that I had been run over by a succession of buses but, after a (mostly restful) few hours of slumber I am feeling quite human again. The horrors of the two days of transit are already fading into the dark recesses of my memory. I have even had a chance to catch up on some laundry.
I have now had a chance to make contact with all the other members of our 2015 Italy ride and determine that they have all arrived safely. Since they had been arriving over the preceding couple of days, it was a relief to know that at least we had all successfully reached the start of our new adventure.
It is already looking the weather in Rome will be a little like groundhog day – the same over and over again. I still have not seen a cloud since we landed yesterday morning and the midday temperature is always close to 35C. And this is at the tail end of summer ! I cannot imagine why so many people would choose to travel in Europe in the middle of summer and battle, not just with the heat, but with the worst of the tourist throngs. Late August through to early October is a much wiser choice.
I have always been a little different to the “standard tourist” and do not have a lot of interest in what the guide book says I should see in a particular city. I cannot help but be amused by those that flock from hot spot to hot spot, trying to tick off all the boxes in their allocated few hours. Even worse are those poor throngs of tired looking people following some tour guide with a yellow umbrella or some other colourful object held high in the air. It always reminds me of some sort of penguin parade and it is certainly not the way that I like to explore a city.
I am however intrigued by history and every time I come to Europe it is reminder of just how thin our history in Australia really is. It is barely 10 generations since white settlement began in Australia. There have been six generations since my own forefathers arrived in Australia in 1852. I used to think that was a long time ago, however when you walk around Rome you are surrounded by the efforts of the past two millennia and a history that goes back over 100 generations. When I stand at look at 2000 year old ruins and see the thousands of clay bricks that were used in the construction, my mind tried to imagine that each one of those bricks was made by some worker’s hands.Every single ancient brick could tell its own story.
The other thing I always do in an unfamiliar city is simply wander the streets and observe the people going about their everyday lives. For me it is the people that define a city and I try to quietly observe and see what life in that location is all about. Are the people happy, busy and animated or are they sad, tired and dejected ? I try to absorb as much as possible of the essence of the place. I don’t particularly care where I walk, but I do always make sure that I know the way back to my hotel when I am done exploring. Some of the most rewarding and interesting experiences that I have had in my travels have happened when I least expected it. It is this serendipity of travel that I really adore.
Today I headed off after breakfast and found my way first to the huge Main Central Rail Station. This is only a short distance from our hotel which will make it simple when we need to catch the train to Venice in a couple of day’s time. From there I just let my feet take me wherever they wanted and found myself zigzagging back and forth until I was back at the Roman Forum again.
By mid morning the heat was starting to become oppressive and I found a quiet shady alley that ran around the back of the Forum and ended up at a small church. By this time the crowds were far behind me and I had the area to myself. I entered the church and found I was the only one there. It was a truly peaceful place to just sit and meditate in silence and comparative coolness.
Every major European city has its clusters of spruikers and touts and Rome is certainly no different in that regard. Clustered around the major tourist hotspots these guys feed on tourists like flies on roadkill. In most places they are loaded with cheap souvenirs, but it appears that a technological shift has taken place since my last trip. This year virtually every spruiker is loaded with armfuls of extendable “selfie sticks”. It is no longer sufficient just to travel to fascinating places, but you now have to do it with your smart phone suspended at the end of a long pole in front of your face so that you can tag every site with your own smiling face in front of it. Judging by the huge number of selfie stick sellers I encountered during the day, the market must be booming. Perhaps Italy is hoping for a selfie stick led recovery in their economy.
After about 30 minutes I decided it was time to leave. Back outside the sun was now burning fiercely and the number of highly overtanned females wandering around in skimpy clothing suggested that the skin cancer message had not made much impact here. By this time my sore feet told me that I had already covered quite a number of kilometres and it was time to make my way back to the hotel.
After a few wrong turns and even more right ones I was relieved to finally walk into my hotel foyer and retreat to the sanctuary of my room for a late afternoon siesta. Well you know what they say – “when in Rome do as the Romans do”.もっと詳しく
The Long Way Over
2015年8月25日, オーストラリア ⋅ 14 °C
Note - 2022. I recently rediscovered the journal of this trip we did in 2015. I thought it had been lost forever, so rereading it has brought back some wonderful memories as I relived the adventures all over again. Since then the world has changed a lot, the most serious of which has been the Covid 19 pandemic which has held the planet in its deadly grip for the past two and a half years. For much of that time, international travel was not possible. Borders everywhere were closed. Fortunately I still have the memories, notes and photos of so many wonderful adventures I have enjoyed over the past 20 years.
That is one of the amazing things about travel - the enjoyment you get from an adventure actually increases with the passage of time. The fun does not finish when you get back home. Every time you share a memory or look at a photo, in a very real sense you are back there all over again.
So here it is, the journal of that 2015 trip. It is not perfect. It contains numerous spelling and grammatical errors. They are just my daily impressions, usually recorded late in the evening in my hotel room. I don't want to "polish" it up, as that would lose the spontaneity of the words as they were recorded in that moment.
If you take the time to read this journal, I hope you can feel some of the enjoyment we shared while it was all happening. Maybe it might even inspire you to take that important first step, and experience it for yourself.
Over the next few days I hope to include some of the pictures I have of that trip.
Days 1 & 2 – In Which we Learn it’s a Long Way from There to Here
No matter which way you rotate the maps, there is no getting over the fact that Melbourne is a long way from just about everywhere. Nowhere is this more evident than when you have to travel to Europe. It seems an eternity ago that I awoke to my bedside alarm at 5 am on Tuesday morning. Since we needed to be at check in by 11 am, I decided to play it safe by leaving at 9 am and thus allow for any unforeseen circumstances.
As soon as we turned on to the Monash Freeway I could see that the decision to leave early was a prudent one. The traffic on the freeway was almost at a standstill and, at that rate, I would not have reached the airport by Christmas, let alone it time for my flight. We turned off at the earliest opportunity and took the Princes Highway instead. Although we arrived in time, it was a slightly stressful start to my marathon in transit.
The flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong takes around 9 and a half hours. While this might not seem like much to those on Brownwynesque budgets up in Business Class, for those of us sandwiched in the back of the plane it can seem like an eternity. My cramped situation was not helped when the tiny Asian woman in the seat in front of me immediately reclined it back as far as it could go – even though it was the still the middle of the day. For some strange reason it seems that the smallest people are the worst offenders in the battle of the reclining seat backs.
With her seat squashed firmly against my knee caps and my fertile imagination conjuring up fearful thoughts of impending DVTs in my immobile lower limbs, I entered into a battle of psychological warfare and made sure that the rear of her seat got a big nudge every time I had to change my position (about every 20 seconds). I think she must have got the message because, after about 30 minutes, she reluctantly raised it back up again.
The plane was obviously working on its own peculiar time zone and served “lunch” at about 4 pm in the afternoon and then “refreshments” just before landing. The plane disgorged its load of sardines into the massive labyrinth that is Hong Kong International Airport and I then proceeded to watch the clock advance for the next three hours. Just to liven up the boredom, Cathay Pacific decided to shift the departure gate for the next leg from one side of the airport to the other. I arrived just in time to be told that the flight would be delayed an hour or so. More clock watching.
Perhaps the time spent waiting at the airport would have gone much faster if it had not been for the flashily dressed matron next to me. She insisted on carrying on an animated conversation with herself – in Italian. Every few moments she would burst out with some rambling utterances. I was not sure of what was the correct etiquette in such circumstances. Should I join in with my own monologues or is it best to just pretend that it was not happening ? I opted for the second option and hoped that she would not end up next to me on the plane.
After finally getting admitted to the plane and squeezing myself into the matchbox that had been allocated to me, I just wanted to get the second leg of the trip underway. I knew that this leg was going to be close to 13 hours and I was already feeling as stale as a month old sausage roll. The mind games must have been too much for one passenger as the captain announced apologetically over the PA that one person was not feeling well and would not be proceeding with the flight. I could have responded by saying that I suspect that over 300 people were also not feeling well but were too tightly squashed in to ever contemplate leaving. That also meant that the departing passenger’s luggage would have to be removed from the cargo hold. Of course they would have to find it first. Another hour delay!
By the time the plane finally lifted off I was regretting not having some sort of magic pills that would simply put me in a coma for the next 13 hours. Fortunately the sand man did pay me a short visit and I was able to grab a couple of hour’s of broken sleep along the way, while the screen in front of me tormented me by reminding me just how painfully slowly the little icon of the plane was making its way over Iraq and Syria and just about every other current world trouble spot. I suppose I should have been grateful that the pilot did not make a detour over North Korea, just to fill out the list.
Finally the plane touched down at Rome Airport under a beautiful cloudless sky. After what seemed like a decade spent in transit, somehow I felt much better. My drooping eyelids burst the velcro that had been holding them shut and I actually started to feel excited about the adventure that would soon be unfolding. My luggage did not go astray (in fact it never has) and the sign of a man waiting with a sheet of paper with my name on it indicated that the shuttle I had ordered on the Internet had not done a runner with my money.
I suspect that these long transits may be a bit like childbirth – its horrible while you are going through them, but the horror is quickly forgotten once the good bit starts. Over the next few hours the rest of our participants will be gathering in Rome and the adventure that started almost two years ago will finally get underway.もっと詳しく
Back Home in Melbourne
2014年7月18日, オーストラリア ⋅ 🌧 10 °C
After almost six weeks, our trip finally came to an end when we landed back in Melbourne.
Robbed in Paris
2014年7月13日, フランス ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C
Paul and I had always planned to finish our trip with a few days in London, followed by a few days in Paris. What better way to relax after the riding we had both done over the previous few weeks ?
Although our time in London all went according to plan, things did not start so smoothly in Paris. After our 3 hour trip on the Eurostar Train from London, we emerged at the Gare du Nord, and looked for a metro link to get us to our hotel. It would have been simple if we had not both been dragging all our luggage with us and were not both tired. We were ripe victims to be robbed. And that is exactly what happened.
When a metro appeared before our eyes, it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. We dragged our cases and jumped in the open door. Our entry had not gone unnoticed by a group of young gypsies who were loitering in the train doorway. We pushed through the crowd and staggered to the first two available seats. I suppose I should have been worried when the young gypsies all jumped out the door, just before the train left the platform.
It was only when I took the time to check the contents of my pockets, that I realised that my mobile phone was no longer there. In my haste to get on the train, I had stupidly left the phone vulnerable in my jacket pocket - a fatal mistake. My phone was obviously now in the hands of an opportunistic thief.
I should have been angry, and I was - but mostly with myself for making such a rookie mistake. If only I had taken a couple of minutes to secure my personal items, it would not have happened. There was nothing I could do about in now, and I certainly was not going to let the incident spoil my time in Paris.
Our four days in Paris coincided with the famous July 14th Bastille Day Celebrations and it was wonderful to see the residents of Paris in such a party mood. I would love to have some images of our time there, but unfortunately they were all lost in a hard drive failure. C'est la Vie, I guess.もっと詳しく
Last Day in London
2014年7月12日, イングランド ⋅ 🌧 21 °C
Hyde Park, London
As this was to be our final full day in London, Paul and I decided to just wander the streets and see what we found. We began by walking across the now familiar Kensington and Hyde Parks towards the palace. Since we now felt that we were on first name terms with her majesty, we would not have been surprised if she had invited us in for tea and scones. In spite of our expectations, there was no sign of the Queen but we did see some of her coachmen out road testing a new carriage with about 8 well groomed horses. I guessed that, if the horses are not run regularly, they will have trouble starting them when the next ceremonial occasion demands a full equine display.
We watched the horses disappear into the Queen’s front yard and then continued on our way towards Piccadilly Circus. Of course anyone looking for a “circus” at Piccadilly would be sadly mistaken. The name has nothing to do with a circus in the Barnum and Baileys tradition, but simply means a central point where a number of roads meet together. There are a number of these “circuses” throughout London, each one has become a popular meeting point for wandering tourists and a staging point for the dozens of “hop on hop off” tourist buses.
Our journey towards Piccadilly Circus took us along the famous Piccadilly Street and past such establishments as the Ritz Hotel. This street is also home to a large number of fancy outlets selling unpriced goods to the wealthy. We stepped inside a couple of these but our appearance in shorts and Tshirts probably quickly gave the well dressed attendants little optimism there we were there to buy anything. These shops reek of the smell of polished veneer, leather, Harris Tweed and old money. It is here you can come to buy a 200 pound shaving brush, a pair of 700 pound shoes or even a 61,000 pound watch!
As I looked around at the array of pompous items I could not help but think that they were just as tacky as the gaudy collections of “I Love London” T shirts and plastic models of the Tower of London that you find in the numerous souvenir shops. When it was all said and done, it was all just stuff. I suspect that both types of stuff were equally unnecessary and I suspect that the eager tourists buying the cheap souvenirs would probably get just as much enjoyment as the foppish snobs buying the leather hunting boots. It made me sad to think that some people actually measured their personal value by how much they spent on clothes and accessories. At least the cheap crappy souvenirs did not even pretend to increase the status of their purchasers.
I wandered along Piccadilly and the adjacent streets, paid a visit to the Ripleys Believe it or Not Museum and then decided that it was time to move on. Although there are plenty of other tourist sights in London, I had lost my appetite for jostling with crowds of other visitors, flag toting tour guides and hordes of shouting schoolchildren. It was time to retreat to the relative solitude of the parks and spend time watching the squirrels and pigeons instead. Although they didn’t have a penny or a pound to their names they seemed to enjoy a very happy existence regardless.
Early tomorrow Paul and I will catch the Eurostar to Paris for the next leg of our adventure.
Sorry no pictures remainもっと詳しく
Time in London
2014年7月10日, イングランド ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C
Not so long ago we had 24 Ghostriders in Europe, now after the end of our Scandinavia and UK rides, there are only two of us left. On Tuesday Paul, Rick and I caught the train from Sunderland to London. Since it was near the end of our trip we decided to lash out and upgrade to a first class ticket. At least that guaranteed us nice comfortable seats and a cup of tea and biscuits along the way. Unfortunately it did not ensure quietness as there was a lady in the carriage who seemed determined to share her entire life story with everyone else in the carriage. This epic (but incredibly boring) epic lasted virtually the entire 4 hour journey to London. It would have been bad enough if she had been blessed with a nice speaking voice, but to make matters even worse, she must have had Minnie Mouse as her voice teacher. For the first hour or so I thought I was the only one who was being annoyed by her non stop babble, but it became evident that she was an embarrassment to the locals as well. On our arrival in London quite a few raised eyebrows and timid smiles clearly indicated that there were many others who also wished our talkative companion could have travelled on another train.
Paul and I bade farewell to Rick and then made our way by taxi to our hotel near Hyde Park. I had stayed in this area before and remembered it as a lovely region of stately homes in easy walking distance to Hyde and Kensington Parks and with two Metro Stations close at hand. The first glimpse of the Hyde Park Hotel was certainly quite impressive. With its lovely white exterior and polished brass name plate I thought they we would be in for a first class experience that belied its budget price. When the receptionist directed us to the basement my hopes started to evaporate, and when we were shown to our diminutive room I was once again reminded of the old adage that you get what you pay for. Fortunately the sheets were clean and the TV worked. So what if you had to come outside in the hallway if you wanted enough room to blow your nose ?
Paul and I spent the remainder of the day wandering Hyde Park and marvelling at the row of impressive embassies along the park border. The one that was easily the most imposing was the Russian Embassy. I guess that is where Putin stays when he wants a holiday in the UK. Even the poverty stricken tiny nation of Nepal had an impressive mansion as its London home leaving me wondering why on earth such a little nation needed such a big presence here.
The following morning in London dawned bright and clear and Paul and I decided to walk through Hyde Park to James’ Park and see what the Queen was doing in her big palace. We arrived just in time for the changing of the guard and were entertained by the rows of brightly uniformed soldiers marching and then standing still (but mostly standing still). It looked like half of Europe had also turned up to watch the spectacle so we did not stay long and continued our walk to Westminster Abbey and the Thames. That is where I left to have a look at Winston Churchill’s underground war headquarters. This is certainly worth a visit for anyone interested in the Second World War and Churchill in particular.
I spent some time examining the hundreds of exhibits, including an example of the famous German Enigma Encoding machine. One of the exhibits was a vintage typewriter and I was bemused to see a row of curious children lined up to see how this amazing piece of technology actually worked. They could not wait to type away and see the letters immediately appear on the paper ! Perhaps technology has turned the full circle after all.
Back outside in the air again I could see that the crowds were building everywhere around London. I guess this is the peak of the tourist season after all and made me appreciate all the more, the time we had spent on the quiet back roads of Finland, Sweden and The UK. Roads where we never saw another person and we could just enjoy the peace and quiet. I guess I will never be just another passenger on a tourist bus being whizzed around on the “all of Europe in 8 days” bus tour. I was very glad to escape the crowds and make my way back to the peace and quiet of the Hyde Park gardens. I took the time to talk to a few of the friendly grey squirrels that were happily playing under the trees, before walking back to the confines of my cell at the hotel.
It was a nice feeling knowing that, after all the complex arrangements for our series of European ride, in the final analysis, all had actually gone according to plan. No one had been injured, we managed to find our way to our hotel each night and everyone had become a little fitter due to the daily exertion. I will be able to return to Australia with yet another store of wonderful memories and even more convinced of the value of touring by bicycle.
Next year we will be back in Europe to complete rides in Italy and France. It is already evident that we will actually be taking two groups to France because of the number of applicants. It is still not too late to be a part of these trips but you will need to move quickly.
Unfortunately the images from this part of the trip have been lost.もっと詳しく
On the Train to London
2014年7月8日, イングランド ⋅ 🌧 15 °C
Yesterday we finished our ride across the UK. The final tally for the group was zero punctures, zero crashes and zero breakdowns. We even had great weather for almost the entire ride, with only a couple of hours of drizzle near Keswick. The last couple of days in particular were some of the most enjoyable riding I have done anywhere in the world as we followed a beautiful bike path all the way from Stanmore to the Sunderland coast.
After a final dinner last night to celebrate our achievement our group has now dispersed. Paul, Rick and I are currently on the Grand Central Railway from Sunderland to London. We have lashed out on First Class tickets and are enjoying life in the lavish lane as we watch the English countryside flash by outside the windows. The only thing to disturb the peace and quiet is a lady who has not stopped talking for the past 90 minutes - certainly a feat of epic proportions. Perhaps her tongue will soon seize up and we might get some welcome respite.
This afternoon we arrive in London where we will be spending four days (with no bikes) before heading under the Channel to Paris. After a few days there we fly back to Helsinki, then to Hong Kong and finally back to Melbourne. Another amazing adventure to savour for a long time.もっと詳しく
Reaching the East Coast
2014年7月7日, イングランド ⋅ 🌧 17 °C
Today we completed the final 21 km of the ride from Coast to Coast. It was easy riding, largely downhill for much of the way. It was a great way to celebrate the hard riding we had done over the first four days.
Tomorrow marks the official end of this cycling adventure. I will be travelling to London with Paul Coutts. We will be spending a few days there, before catching the Eurostar to Paris. What a marvelous place to complete another amazing trip.もっと詳しく
What Goes Up Must Come Down
2014年7月6日, イングランド ⋅ 🌧 16 °C
I am currently sitting in my room at the Moorings Hotel in Chester Le Street, County Durham, UK. By this time tomorrow our UK ride will be completed but we will all be returning to Australia with a huge store of memories and impressions of the amazing experiences we have had.
The last two days have been the hardest of our entire trip and really stretched some of our riders mentally and physically. We all knew that riding across the UK from West to East would take us across the line of mountains that constitutes the backbone of the country. What we did not anticipate was that the roadmakers would run their roads directly into the face of a mountain, without making any deviation to reduce the gradient. This provides the aspiring cyclist with a series of gut busting climbs at gradients far higher than any you are likely to meet in Australia.
Our ride yesterday took us across 4 of these high and desolate mountain passes. Even with our lowest granny gears engaged the climbing is still tough, especially for those of us who aren’t built like toothpicks. It was hard going and certainly harder than the “moderate” rating this trip had been given. In fact for some it was the hardest riding they had ever done.
As we got higher and higher we entered a desolate realm of treeless barren hills that reminded me of the images we see of riders approaching the tops of the climbs in the Tour de France. Speaking of the Tour de France, it actually started yesterday, not all that far away from where we were riding. Quite a few of the locals apparently took the opportunity to ride down to watch the Tour riders pass by and it certainly got a lot coverage in the local media.
As we crossed over each successive summit we then enjoyed a period of wonderful downhill riding, but the enjoyment is always tinged with the fearful knowledge that every metre of vertical height we dropped would soon have to be clawed back with blood, sweat and tears when we reached the next climb.
Late in the afternoon our exhausted riders finally reached Allenheads and were dismayed to find that our accommodation was in one of the highest buildings in the village. No wonder that most of us pushed our bikes up the steep and winding driveway to the Old School House, which was to be our home for the evening. This was a no frills B &B that necessitated most of us to sleep in small dormitories. Fortunately we were all so tired that none of us could be kept awake by even the loudest of snoring and flatulence.
Although yesterday was always going to be the toughest single day of the ride we also knew that today was also going to be challenging as we still had two significant gut busters of climbs to complete before we could finally start the long descents into County Durham.
The first ascent began as soon as we left Allenheads and provided a real challenge for cold legs. We climbed into a barren but beautiful series of rolling moors. This region was once home to numerous lead mines and the ruins of numerous old mines and small, now uninhabited, villages were passed as we rode along the high roads. After morning tea at Stanhope we immediately began the final huge climb of the ride. This was tough but we were buoyed by the knowledge that the really hard work was nearly over.
Finally we turned from the main road and joined the “Waskerley Trail”. This provided us with some of the most delightful cycling I have ever done anywhere in the world. It began high in the moors and initially followed the path of a disused railway line. As we rode on for kilometre after kilometre the terrain gradually changed to shady tree lined paths interspersed with towering bridges, tunnels and viaducts. This really is cyclists’s heaven and I am surprised that it is not publicised more as I am sure that many would travel from around the world to enjoy the experience.
The bike path took us almost of the way to our destination at Chester le Street, but of course our hotel had to be perched on the highest mountain in the district, necessitating one final climb for the long day.
Tomorrow we have a relatively short ride to Sunderland where we will reach the east coast of the UK and the tradition is that we will have to dip our front wheels in the water, just as we dipped our rear wheels in the water at Ulverston. That will mark the end of our ride and the separation of our riders as they each make their own ways back to Australia. I am sure that this will be a ride that none of us will ever forget.もっと詳しく
Hills and More Hills
2014年7月5日, イングランド ⋅ ☀️ 13 °C
We have now completed the hardest day of the entire ride, having crossed the Pennines. We had a succession of 4 climbs to comp!ete in quick succession, some of the gradients were incredible - probably well over 20%. The roads here make now allowance for common sense and most often just head straight or down the sides of mountains. Fortunately everyone made it here, tired but proud of their achievement. We spent the night in the old schoolhouse at Allenheads.
This is claimed to be the highest village in the UK and the views are amazing.
One of the photos shows the view from our window.
This morning we still have two hard climbs to conquer before the road starts to head downhill again. Tomorrow will be the final day's riding into Sunderland to officially complete our Cumbria and Coast to Coast rides. Then our group will scatter to each make their own ways back to Australia. Paul and I will be spending some time in London before catching the Eurostar to Paris for a few days.
It has been a fantastic trip with everything going according to plan so far.もっと詳しく
Joining the Classic C2C Route
2014年7月4日, イングランド ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C
I am sitting in my room at the Edenhall Country Inn looking out the window at some beautiful stone cottages surrounded by acres of green grass and separated by beautiful drystone fences. Yesterday we completed the Cumbria Way Cycle route by cycling from Grasmere to Keswick. The weather was perfect for cycling and we even had the rare assist of a steady tail wind for a substantial part of the day’s ride.
The route took us through some magnificent countryside and it was easy to see why the Lakes District is so popular with walkers from all over Britain who come here to walk the ancient walking paths. The nicest cycling came when we cycled alongside beautiful Lake Thirlmere. For several kilometres the road followed the coastline and we stopped in the sunshine to just soak up the beauty that was all around us. On the other side of the lake the terrain rose steeply to Mount Hevellyn, one of the highest mountains in Britain.
Our destination yesterday was Keswick, quite a large town with an impressive park. Situated on the Derwent River, this town became famous for its very popular range of Derwent colouring pencils. When I was at school in the 1950s any child that appeared at school with a box of 72 Derwents clearly showed the rest of us that their parents were indeed rich.
Today we woke to grey skies and steady rain. This was a reminder that it is very hard to ride in this part of the country, even in summer, without encountering cold and wet conditions. We had no choice but to don our wet weather gear and pedal off from the hotel. Within minutes the steady rain increased to a downpour but surprisingly it did little to dampen our spirits. We were just so grateful to have the opportunity and the good health to do this iconic ride that the rain only added another dimension to our experiences.
The first few kilometres of the route took us along an unused train track which has now been converted to a rail trail. This was also our first encounter with the famous Coast to Coast cycle route, since we have now left the Cumbria Way Cycle route and joined the C2C route to Sunderland. Over the next four days this route will take us over a succession of mountain ranges until it eventually reaches the East Coast of Britain.
Although the weather was cold it did not take us long to warm up. It is impossible to stay cold when you are pedalling furiously to climb each new uphill path. In this part of the country we have learned that there is no flat land – you are always either going uphill or downhill and it always feels as if the uphills outnumber the downhills.
Fortunately the rain had cleared by around lunchtime and this was also the time that we reached the small town of Greystoke, famous as the location for the Tarzan stories. Greystoke Castle is certainly an impressive building but it is now privately owned and out of bounds to the general public.
After lunch at Annie Swarbick’s Cycle Cafe we continued on our way to our destination of Edenhall. The path undulated regularly and “blessed” us with one enormous climb on the outskirts of Penrith. By that time our legs were getting tired but we all managed to make the summit and then enjoy the fast downhill on the other side.
Tomorrow will be the hardest day of our entire trip with a succession of 4 mountain ranges to cross and a route that will take us to the highest village in the entire UK. I will let you know how we fare, but for now I am heading for an early night.もっと詳しく
Through the Lakes District to Keswick
2014年7月3日, イングランド ⋅ 17 °C
Today our route took us around Thirlmere, once again on quiet roads, but later
with some busier sections heading into Keswick. We had good views of Helvellyn 950m from across the lake. Thirlmere is certainly a beauty spot and it is a great place to view birdlife, especially wild fowl.
Thirlmere was amalgamated from two lakes into a reservoir in 1889 and is three miles long and over 150 feet deep in places. Swimming in it is not allowed because they say it is too cold!
Our accommodation was in Keswick: the town that nestles beneath giant Skiddaw by the shores of Derwent water, we stayed at a 2 star hotel set right on the old market square close to all the towns amenitiesもっと詳しく
The Land of Derwent Pencils
2014年7月2日, イングランド ⋅ 18 °C
Yesterday was a “rest” day in Ulverstone, Cumbria, UK. This gave me a great opportunity to explore the town and to also climb to the top of Hoad Hill to gain a magnificent panoramic view around the whole district. At the top of the hill there is an impressive structure that looks like a huge lighthouse, but in fact it is a memorial to the region’s favourite son – Sir John Barrow.
Barrow was a local lad who rose from humble beginnings to become a distinguished mathematician, linguist, explorer and scientist. He was the Second Secretary to the Admiralty for over 40 years! Over a hundred years ago this impressive monument was erected to make sure that his achievements would not soon be forgotten.
Ulverstone is also the birthplace of Stan Laurel (of Laurel and Hardy fame). There are a number of Laurel and Hardy signs throughout the town as well as the well known Laurel and Hardy Museum. This is a rather quaint collection of memorabilia housed in an old picture theatre. A few of us watched an old Laurel and Hardy classic and were soon rolling in laughter. The secret of their comic genius was in being able to work elaborate skits with the most basic of props as well as their comic timing and facial expressions.
Today we collected our bikes and rode to the edge of the sea. Since we were about to complete the Cumbria cycle route as well as the Cyclist’s Coast to Coast Ride it was only fitting that our start point should be the sea on the western coast of the UK.
We had not ridden far (in fact about 500 metres) before we encountered the first of many hills. This soon reminded us that the riding here would be very different from the flatter country of Scandinavia. The Lakes District of Cumbria is studded with hills large and small and this region is home to many distinguished mountaineers. In fact the entire day’s ride was a succession of steep uphills and downhills, some up to 25% gradient.
It also didn’t take long for my bike to develop an annoying clicking sound which accompanied me for the rest of the day (and I suspect I will have it for company for the rest of the ride). Rick reminded me of the great advantage of wearing cleats and explained how he had bought his own pedals and cleats from Australia for the ride. A few moments later we all heard a skid and a shout and noticed that Rick had fallen heavily in the loose stones – apparently caused by not being able to get his foot from the cleat quickly enough. I think I will stick to the normal pedals after all.
Although the riding was hard, the scenery was spectacular – narrow lanes, dry stone fences, small farmlets and of course lakes. For some kilometres the road skirted beautiful Coniston Water before climbing very steeply over our final mountain for the day and then descending to our destination of Grasmere. `
Grasmere is a very popular tourist centre with numerous restaurants and hotels.
We arrived to find dozens of tourists climbing out of huge buses to wander the town and take pictures of the surrounding mountains.もっと詳しく
Free Day in Ulverston
2014年6月30日, イングランド ⋅ ☀️ 20 °C
A lot has happened since I sent out the last email. Yesterday was the final day of our Scandinavia Adventure and the scattering of our riders as they begin to make their long journeys back to Australia. This is always tinged with some regret that the adventure that they have long anticipated has now come to an end. It is amazing how quickly people settle into the simple routine of daily cycling, so much so that they really miss it when the riding finishes. Perhaps it is because we live in such a complex world that it is refreshing to distil your life down to a simple daily routine of just turning the pedals over and over while the world passes by your handlebars.
The end of the Scandinavia Ride signaled the start of the UK ride for 9 of our riders. I had originally anticipated that the trip from Stockholm to Ulverstone would be a routine affair but it turned out to be laden with excitement and mystery.
When I booked two local taxis to take us to the airport I did not realise that I would have somehow found two drivers who seemed bent on arranging a simultaneous suicide mission. Hurtling along the freeway at 145 kph through peak hour traffic while weaving from lane to lane was not my idea of a relaxing ride. While the engine of our little mini bus screamed in torment we sat huddled in the back with white knuckles and sweaty palms. Time and time again he swerved and braked to avoid imminent catastrophe. I counted every kilometre to the airport and was mighty relieved to finally fall out onto the pavement outside the departure terminal at Stockholm Airport. At that stage I though the worst was over.
The next stage was over quickly as we completed the completely automated checkin with Norwegian Airlines. I learned that Norwegian is one of the youngest airlines in the world and also the most automated. The relatively short flight to Manchester was achieved without incident (and also without much comfort) but I discovered just before landing that the previous occupant of seat 17F had sabotaged the seat with chewing gum. To my dismay I found long lengths of gum stretching between my trousers and the seat in front. What do you do in such circumstances but try to look unfazed. The guy in the next seat said “Welcome to Manchester”.
I followed the throng out of the plane and found myself in a huge stationary crush of people waiting to pass through Immigration. It’s somewhat ironic that you can move about all of Europe without so much as a border crossing but the UK still insists on stamping passports. This would not be so bad if the queues had been laid out in some sort of logical fashion. As it was it looked like the planners had done their best to create chaos. I had never before seen two intersecting queues until I saw the fiasco in Manchester Airport. The sign on the wall said “Britain’s Best Airport” making me wonder what sort of state the rest were in.
By the time I finally reached the front of the queue the man with the stamp asked me “How long have you been here ?” I replied “too long, at least an hour”. He glared at me fiercely. I belatedly realised that he had asked me “How long will you be here ?” so he probably thought I was some sort of wise guy. Oh well, not a good start and I probably have a black mark against my record already.
It had taken so long to get through Immigration that the luggage carousel had ceased dispensing luggage from my flight and had moved on to the next flight. Fortunately potential chaos had been averted by someone else kindly removing my bag.
If I thought that the hard part was now over I was again mistaken because the next stage involved catching a train from the airport to Ulverstone. This would have been easy if at least two of the staff had agreed on what was the best way to purchase a ticket and which train to catch. It seems that the British Train System is a hotbed of mass confusion and disinformation. When we found the train, even the conductors at each end of the train had different opinions about where that train was actually going ! It turned out that the train actually splits in the middle somewhere along the journey. Another trap for the inexperienced to fall into.
Somehow we jammed all 9 of us and our luggage into a carriage and managed to upset all the fellow passengers who had to make room for our bags. The ride itself took about 2 and a half hours and delivered us finally to the seaside town of Ulverstone. By this time we were quite exhausted and were relieved to walk the short distance to our quaint little hotel – The Virginia House B & B. With its floral wallpaper and floral carpets and narrow staircases we all expected Basil and Sybil to appear at any moment.
The day did have a surprise ending when we walked to the nearby Rose and Crown Pub for dinner. Although I had been told to expect very poor quality food from rural pubs, the food here was superb. Not only were the servings huge but it was well prepared and very much cheaper than the high prices of Scandinavia.
Tomorrow we have a free day before starting our UK ride. I am sure it will be interesting.もっと詳しく
あなたの旅行のプロフィールを入手する
無料
