• The World on Two Wheels
ago. – nov. 2016

A European Odyssey

In 2016 a group of 40 Australian cyclists completed a 6 week cycling adventure in Europe. This ride took them from Bruges to Budapest. It was an experience they will never forget. Leer más
  • Observing the Pajama People

    21 de septiembre de 2016, Alemania ⋅ 19 °C

    Wednesday September 21
    In Which we Observe the Pajama People of Passau

    "Do you think you should be going to Europe now ?"
    "I would never go to such a place ever"
    "I am too afraid to leave my front door, and you should be too"

    And so the well meaning advice went when I told people that I was planning on cycling across Europe from Bruges to Budapest. Obviously the media had done a great job in convincing the masses that the whole of Europe was a seething cauldron of suicide bombers, millions of illegal immigrants everywhere you go, and every one of them determined to put a premature end to every Australian cyclist they see.

    Now that we have been here for over four weeks, we have yet to see a single person that made us feel afraid

    We have cycled for over a thousand kilometres across a large part of the continent and been amazed every single day at the quietness and tranquility of the place. The interactions we have had with locals have not been because they were trying to murder us, but because they were in awe of what we were doing and wanted to know all about it. If we had listened to all the well-intentioned advice that we received, we would all have missed out on one of the greatest adventures of our lives.

    After the first twenty days of cycling, we reached the famous 3 rivers city of Passau. This region is regarded as one of the cradles of civilization and has been continuously inhabited for thousands of years. More recently, Passau has gained notoriety for an entirely different reason. This city is now one of the major centres of the exploding business of using huge boats to daily transport thousands of grey haired tourists along the rivers of Europe.

    On our previous trips to Passau we watched the way these boats filled up with their cargos of passengers as they shuffled the short distance from the big tourist buses to their cabins, puffing and panting as they went. At that time I commented that, once on board, they could change into their pyjamas and stay that way for the entire cruise

    Thus we christened these giant boats as "pyjama boats". The name has stuck ever since.

    I have always loved to observe people and see how they go about their lives. It is not possible to spend any time in Passau without seeing these huge crowds of pajama people jostling for selfie taking positions in front of every decorated building. I quickly came to the conclusion that I would be more in danger of losing an eye on the end of someone's selfie stick, than being attacked by some crazed terrorist.

    These pajama people wander the city in clumps, each clustered around their allocated tour leader and laughing on queue when the guide tells the same well rehearsed joke they have told hundreds of times before. After they shuffle around for an hour or so, they are herded back to their pens (sorry cabins) and then the boat moves to the next location so that they can do it all again. Of course the real die hard pajama people seldom venture beyond their cabins or the dining room. In that way they can eat and sleep the entire way around Europe.

    Even after only few hours of such "sightseeing" I was already keen to get back on my bike and start riding again.

    The more I do such travel, the more I am convinced that the "real Europe" does not consist of the crowded tourist hot spots, it is not the huge churches and museums, or the castles on the tops of hills. Although these places do give an appreciation for the depth of history, the real Europe is where the real people are. The farmer working his fields, the school children going to school, the mother teaching her 2 year old how to ride a bike, the old people sitting and chatting in the village square, the man sitting with a fishing pole by the river, or the shepherd using his dogs to control his sheep. I also love to watch the swans sliding across the water, the dog sitting obediently by their owner in the little cafe, the geese migrating south for the coming winter or the little squirrels running across the road in front of us. On the nearby hills the onset of autumn is already starting to change the colour pallet of the forests. In a few months these same hills will be blanketed in a carpet of snow and the cycle of life will continue to turn.

    Yes, there is no doubt that Passau is an impressive place, but somehow I cannot escape the feeling that it has been a little too restored. The buildings are just a little too immaculate. I would not mind seeing even a little peeling paint or a cracked wall somewhere to remind us of just how old these buildings really are. Perhaps that is one of the differences between Germany and France. In France they don't seem to be afraid to show a little wear and tear on their historic buildings.

    Tomorrow we resume our ride towards Budapest and early in the day we will be crossing the border in Austria, the fourth country we will be traversing on our journey. Our time on the German Danube is almost complete.
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  • Cycling the Schlogen

    22 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    Thursday September 22
    In Which we Cycle the Schlogen

    Today marked the start of section three of our European Odyssey. This meant that we would need to collect new bikes to carry us from Passau to Vienna. This would have been simple if the bike supplier could have delivered them to our hotel, but they didn't. They instructed that we would need to collect then from their depot, about 6 km out of town.

    Just to make sure that the handover of bikes would take place as efficiently as possible I rang the representative of the bike company the previous day and explained that we would be arriving in two groups of 14 people, about 30 minutes apart. "That is great, we will have the bikes ready and tagged with your names", she promised. It certainly never worked out that way.

    We arrived at the strangely named "Globus Garage" right on time at 8.30 am, expecting to be able to collect our bikes and get going

    The only person in the cavernous warehouse certainly did not seem pleased to see us.

    "What do you want ?", he demanded
    "Our bikes" (Why else would we have come to a bike storage warehouse?)
    "You can come tomorrow", he growled
    "Not tomorrow, we need them today !" (Why was my stress level starting to escalate?)

    I handed him the vouchers, showing the date of collection. He just grumbled and went to look in a big book. Then he gets on the phone to someone from his company. Twenty minutes later there were still no bikes. Eventually he starts to just grab bikes seemingly at random from the hundreds of bikes at his disposal. None had been prepared in advance. The only thing that the guy gave out freely was abuse.

    The shambles continued for the next hour while, one by one, we finally got a bike that was reasonable. This whole fiasco could have been been avoided if they had prepared the bikes like they were supposed to. While this was going on I rang the girl from the bike company and explained the disaster that was taking place. She simply replied that they could not be prepared as people needed to "try their bikes"

    I was not impressed at all. Every other operator we have dealt with has been able to prepare bikes in advance, except this company.

    The situation became more farcical when we asked for spare tubes and tools. I was met with the same torrent of abuse. Eventually he handed over one tube and a small box of tools. ONE TUBE for 28 bikes and about 500 km of riding ! The only way this grump would hand over another tube was when he was handed a 10 Euro bribe. We had also ordered one Ebike as part of the order and we discovered that the battery had only been partly charged, This was a really disappointing way to start this part of the ride and we were all glad to be finally out of the place and start pedalling our way to Vienna. Things could only get better from here - and they did.

    At least the weather was superb as we followed the left bank of the river out of Passau. We were now cycling one of the world's premier bike paths and we all knew just how lucky we were to have such a privilege. As Passau shrank into the distance behind us we looked to the mighty Danube on our right hand side. The water from the three rivers that join at Passau each has a distinctly different colour, and you can see these different colours in the water for some distance downstream

    After about an hour of riding we stopped to readjust our bikes and recover from the trauma of the bike collection, it was time for our first morning tea stop. We then climbed back on the bikes and continued till about 12.30 before stopping for a leisurely lunch. The last time we rode through this spot it had been a hot day and they had a sprayer rigged to cool passing riders. Today we had much milder temperatures and the sprayer was not required.

    Although we passed the occasional rider the path was actually very quiet, again emphasizing that this is the VERY BEST time for this type of trip in Europe. The hotels are quiet, most of the tourist hordes are back home again and the weather is usually great for cycling.

    It was interesting to pass the Gasthof Draxler at Niederanna, the place where our group stayed on our first Danube ride in 2009. I had many happy memories of that place and the fun time we had shared there.

    The final section of the ride took us further along the left bank to to the famous Schogener Loop

    This is where the Danube has to make a series of fantastic bends to get around some sizeable mountains that block the more direct route.
    Opposite the little hamlet of Schlogen we all crowded aboard a tiny ferry to cross to the other side of the river. This is the start of the walk to the famous Schlogener Blick (lookout). This is surely the most spectacular view of the river that we will get for the entire ride and well worth the short but quite strenuous walk to the summit. We all admired the view and took a camera full of pictures before returning to the base.

    Although we had originally planned to cycle to the hotel where we would be spending the night, I received an email the previous day to advise that the hotel would provide a lift for any that did not wish to ride (as it turned out everyone)

    The only problem was the the mini bus could only take 8 people at a time and the ancient bike trailer took an eternity to load and unload each time. This meant that the final group to be transported were half frozen by the time it was their turn for the lift. Fortunately the hotel Kocher at Sankt Agatha was probably the best hotel of the entire trip and our hardship was soon forgotten as we explored this lovely Shangri La, high in the Austrian mountains

    The views stretched out in all directions over the green rolling hills. Scattered over these mountains were the classic small villages, each clustered around their own church.

    By the time I arrived in the final batch, most of the women were already enjoying themselves in the swimming pool. Since Maggie had the room key, I was locked out and had to languish outside our room while she enjoyed the warm pool. I eventually managed to shower and change and get to to the the dining room just in time for dinner.

    The dinner was absolutely superb and so I was finally able to retire to bed in good spirits. It had been a long and very eventful day.
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  • A Perfect Cycling Day

    23 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

    Friday September 23rd
    In Which we All Enjoy a Perfect Cycling Day

    There is an old adage about "what goes up, must come down" and, after spending the evening on the top of a mountaintop, we knew that we would have a spectacular descent back down to Schlogen the following morning.

    We enjoyed a superb evening meal and retired to bed early. When the next morning dawned we found the surrounding rolling hills were covered in a blanket of white mist. After discussion some decided that it might be safer to travel back down the hill in the hotel's bus, while the rest decided to live a little dangerously and cycle down instead. It turned out to be a rather uneventful descent with very little traffic.

    When all the team were safely gathered at Schlogen, some enjoyed a drink in the sunshine while those who had missed out on climbing to the Blick the previous day climbed up to enjoy the view.

    The day's riding was about as perfect a day's cycling as you could imagine. It was yet another superb day of sunshine and no winds and a temperature of around 20C. The paths were sealed the entire way, there were few other riders and the path followed the river for most of the ride. We even had a ferry crossing and a boat trip to add variety to a very memorable day.

    At one particular ferry crossing we were confronted with a speaker box and a couple of buttons. Janna used her language skills to work out which button to press. This met a response of someone speaking rapidly in German. I asked her what he said and she dutifully explained that "it was a recorded message". At this time a helpful local guy walked up to us and asked if we needed help. We told him that we needed to go down the river. He went to the box and then conducted a conversation with the captain of the ferry, presumably apologising for the stupid foreigners who had been pressing the button and then not answering.

    Seeing our new friend had been so helpful, we decided to ask his advice which side of the river we should ride on. he immediately replied that the left bank was definitely the better option.

    The final few km into Linz were next to a busy highway and served to announce the proximity of a large city. We finally crossed the main bridge from the left to right banks and started searching for our hotel. When we reached the other side of the river I started checking the GPS for directions, when another friendly local guy asked if we needed help. We told him the name of our hotel. "Follow me", he instructed and then proceeded to take us to the path that would bring us to the hotel. It restored our faith in the Austrian temperament. That shows that not all Austrians are grumpy after all.

    We finally arrived at the hotel at around 5.30 and found our way to our rooms. When Janna opened the door to her room she discovered that, like the three little bears, someone had been sleeping in her bed. There were towels and mess all around. Obviously the room had not been prepared, but a change of rooms soon solved the problem.

    Maggie also had a panic of her own when she realised her wallet was missing, along with all credit cards and money. After a hurried search it was eventually found in the pannier still on the bike. Problem averted. Perfect day preserved.
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  • Paul Gets a Grein Pain

    24 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ 21 °C

    Saturday September 24th
    In Which Paul Gets a Grein Pain

    Like just about every previous day, the morning dawned clear, cool and fine. We rode out from Linz along the riverside bike path till we reached the large park area that serves as Linz' main recreation region. A few of us decided to ride around the lake while the rest waited on the bike path. The problem was that,when we returned to the path in about 10 minutes time, there was no sign of the rest of the riders. We searched in vain for some time but they were nowhere to be seen. We had to assume that they had ridden on for a little distance and were waiting for us. They weren't.

    We eventually rode on for over 10 km without seeing any of the missing riders. I was starting to get concerned,but eventually we caught them when they had made a wrong turn and were heading out over a weir in the Danube. They seemed unconcerned and explained simply that they "knew we would find them".

    This day involved an option to ride up to the site of the WW2 Mauthausen Concentration Camp. Most of the riders decided not to make this detour as they did not want to see the absolute depravity that was evidenced there. We met up with with Ken, John and Gonny who were enjoying coffee and apricot cake while some of the riders were at the camp.

    We then followed the Danube along an elevated levee bank for quite a distance before finding a lovely lunch spot about 10 km before Grein. Although the small town looked deserted, Carol disappeared into a small bar and emerged a couple of minutes later with a look of triumph on her face. Somehow she had used her fluent gibberish to persuade the proprietor to re open the closed supermarket and make us all sandwiches for lunch. It was one of those amazing events that makes travel just so much fun.

    We were soon all sitting on the grass eating our lunches of cheese rolls, drinks and sweets,

    The final few km into Grein would have been absolutely delightful if about 100 trillion tiny bugs had not chosen that same afternoon for their annual outing. We struggled along with these tiny insects in our eyes, hair, faces, mouths, ears and clothing. It really was hard to see where we were going or to concentrate on our riding.

    We were all relieved to finally reach Grein and get some relief from the onslaught. Grein is a lovely town that I remembered fondly from my previous rides along this section. On this occasion we discovered that it must have been home to every aging motorcycle rider within a 200 km radius. They were all gathered in the open space near the ice cream shop and took turns to leave the car park with as much noise and spectacle as they could. It was NOT a quiet way to enjoy the town.

    Because the hotels in this small town were not large enough to accommodate all of us in a single location we had to split between two hotels about 600metres apart. The evening meal was at the other hotel, meaning that a small group of us formed a walking peloton to walk to the other hotel. That was OK in the daylight, but when the time came for us to return in the dark , it was another story.

    We were groping our way along a narrow, dark cobblestoned alleyway when I heard an almighty crash behind me.One of our walkers had taken a serious fall. My immediate thoughts were "Oh no, not another broken leg" (We had two on our last overseas ride).

    We found that Paul had crashed heavily and was lying on the ground dazed. He proceeded to wipe away the blood and progressively examine each of his ancient limbs looking for protruding bones or missing pieces. After a little time of such examination, he announced that it was only a flesh wound and staggered back up on his feet. It could have been much more serious, but he would live to continue the ride another day.
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  • A Snake in the Grass

    25 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ 20 °C

    Sunday September 25th
    In Which we Spy a Snake in the Grass

    The run of perfect weather was really starting to become a little unnerving. I had always expected that we would get at least 5 or more wet days at some time during the course of the ride, however when the day dawned perfectly fine and clear, it was evident to all that rain was not going to be a problem today.

    We headed out from Grein in cool conditions and soon crossed from the left bank to the right bank of the river. The bike path was quiet and situated right on the bank of the river, making for exceptional cycling enjoyment.

    At Ybbs I knew that there was an impressive bicycle museum. We had explored this museum on our previous rides along this section and I was looking forward to showing it to the rest of the team. The problem was that, when we arrived at the front door, it was securely locked

    Apparently it did not open on Sundays. Oh well, so much for that idea. We proceeded to find a spot for lunch instead. We soon discovered that suitable lunch spots were also in short supply so had to make do with whatever we could find.

    Our plan was to reach Melk in time to explore the huge Baroque Abbey there. This is surely one of the major highlights in this section and requires at least a couple of hours or more to do it justice. We increased the pace of the ride to make sure that we would not be late, however our progress was interrupted by a large black snake crawling across the bike path. I had to admit that this was not something I had expected and called out for the entire peloton to quickly come to a halt while it slithered off into the grass. So much for those who claim that there are "no snakes in Europe". I can assure you that there are, and they can be quite large as well.

    We arrived at Melk soon after 1 pm, checked into our hotel and caught a taxi back to the Abbey. It was a little daunting to see just how many tourists had congregated on this spot. Busloads of travellers, each with their names printed on their large badges, were steadily being unloaded from a succession of huge buses. This is just my type of nightmare and I soon wished I was anywhere else but here.

    I decided that it was hot enough for an ice-cream and lined up at the stall where a young maiden in a low cut dress was serving the crowd. Apparently ice cream was not the only thing she was serving as each customer was also served up a liberal does of abuse at the same time. When I worked my way to the front of the queue, it was my turn to cop an earful.

    "I would like a coffee and an ice cream", I asked in my friendliest voice.
    "I told you TO WAIT", was her abrupt response.

    I felt like the naughty school boy who had been caught stealing the teacher's apple. While I was waiting I witnessed a stream of invective directed at anyone who had the temerity to try to place an order. Perhaps she was in the wrong line of work.

    Against my better judgement I booked the "English language tour" at 3 pm. One of my basic travel rules is "never take a tour" and I should have stuck to this principle. When 3 pm arrived we were shunted into a huge crowd of shuffling, middle aged and elderly tourists and instructed to follow the yellow tour guide.

    Although the young guide was easy on the eyes, she was impossible to hear over the background noise. I could see her lips moving, but that was all. Fortunately I remembered some of the details from my previous visits and was able to pass on some pearls of wisdom to others who were also unable to hear a word.

    I was glad when the tour was over and we were able to seek solace in the lovely gardens outside. At least the crowds were much thinner there as most were already huffing and puffing their way back to their buses. The gardens were cool and peaceful and I managed to avoid getting impaled on someone's selfie stick.

    After a couple of hours I was more than ready to return to the hotel.
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  • The Wachau Valley

    26 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ ☀️ 20 °C

    Monday September 26th
    In Which we Wide the Wachau

    Although the forecast was for yet another perfect riding day, it did begin with a very chilly start. We began by riding out of Melk and back to the bridge over the Danube. We then had a short but gut busting climb up the very steep ramp in order to cross the bridge itself. This took us back to the left bank of the river as we headed into the famous Wachau Valley region, famous around the world for its production of fine wines.

    As we entered the vineyards it was interesting to note that they did not just fill the floor of the valley, but continued right up the steep sides as well. It certainly would be hard work maintaining the vines on such steep slopes.

    As we rode we passed through a succession of extremely pretty small villages. With their narrow cobblestoned streets and medieval appearance, it was easy to see why this region is a favourite among those who travel on the numerous "pyjama boats" going up and down the Danube.

    In the mornings they were still quiet enough to be enjoyable, but as the day progressed they were progressively overrun by thousands of tourists. It was very difficult to cycle these streets once they got clogged with the masses.

    I was also having my own difficulties making any headway with my group of riders. It seemed that every time I turned my head they were further and further behind. I could not understand how anyone could already be 400 metres behind, when we had only ridden half that distance. The reason of course was that they were continually stopping for photos.

    One sight that particularly got my attention was of a guy busily painting the top floor of his house with the longest handled paint roller I had ever seen. The handle must have been 5 metres long and, each time it needed more paint applied to the roller, he had to direct it in through an open upstairs window for his wife to add the paint. It looked like a strange way to paint, but he was doing an immaculate job that showed he had obviously done it this way before.

    In the town of St Michael's there is a wonderful ancient church with a crypt full of stacked skulls, also an impressive tower with spiral staircase and panoramic views from the summit.

    I remembered this church from my previous rides along this section and we christened the skulls as the "heavenly Ghostriders".

    Durnstein is the most famous town in the heart of the wine region but it is spoiled by the crowds of tourists that surge through its streets every afternoon. Pity about that !

    As we rode through Stein we came across the filming of a period movie with a group of actors in historic costumes. I thought we might get a job as extras but I guess that yellow lycra clad bike riders would not be appropriate for this one.

    We arrived at Krems at around 3 pm and found that it was larger city than we had expected. It has lovely parks and a delightful old city centre. It would have been nice to spend more time exploring this place, but unfortunately that was not possible.

    Tomorrow we continue on to complete the final day of riding to Vienna.
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  • Rolling into Vienna

    27 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ ☀️ 20 °C

    Tuesday September 27th
    In Which we Roll into Vienna

    It is becoming harder and harder to believe that, after 24 days of cycling, we have still had only one wet day. It is almost as if we have become stuck in a sort of meteorological ground hog day, with every day exactly the same as the previous one. Once again we awoke to find ourselves gifted with another absolutely perfect day for riding.

    Today we had a choice to either ride all the way to Vienna (around 80 km) or take a train part of the way to Tulln and then ride from there to Vienna. If we opted for the second approach, it would cut about 40 km of somewhat monotonous riding from the day's ride and also mean that we would have a couple of extra hours to explore the wonderful capital city of Austria. Since Maggie had never been to Vienna before, I quickly decided that I would give her as much time there as possible.

    We boarded the train without any trouble and made the short journey to Tulln without incident

    There was a small storage area for bicycles which allowed us to take our bikes on the train, however we would have been in trouble if all 28 riders had decided to do the same thing.

    Soon we were unloading our bikes at Tulln and resuming our ride into Vienna. Much of this part of the ride was along huge elevated levee banks and made for very enjoyable cycling. It is amazing just how much work the Germans and Austrians have put into flood control over the centuries. Although the Danube does still flood regularly, the resultant damage is much less than would have been done if the waters were not contained by the hundreds of kilometres of levees.

    We finally rode into Vienna around 1.30 pm and, after making a small navigational error, found ourselves riding along the wrong river. A short retreat allowed us to cross the bridge to the correct side and resume our entry into the city. We found our hotel without drama, although we arrived before our luggage. This meant that we had to explore Vienna wearing our cycling gear.

    When our luggage arrived we changed into less conspicuous gear and caught the nearby metro to Stephenplatz station.

    This is regarded as the centre of Vienna and is very close to the impressive St Stephan's Cathedral. This is always the very best place to begin any exploration of the city. We then spent the next couple of hours wandering out past the Spanish Riding SChool to the incredible museum quarter. Dominated by the Hofburg Palace Complex, this area contains a whole collection of world class museums. If the contents of the museums are not interesting enough, you can just admire the buildings themselves as they give a glimpse back in time to the imperial grandeur of the Austro Hungarian Empire. As you wander from one palace to another, it feels as if the entire neighbourhood must have been an almost continuous succession of palaces for just about anyone who was related to the royal family.

    As the day drew to a close and night began to fall over the city, we started to look for something to eat. There are hundreds of potential outdoor eateries to choose from, but we chose one close to Stephansplatz, and I ordered a Wiener Schnitzel (what else could you choose when you are in Vienna after all ?)

    When the dinner was served I was confronted with a huge schnitzel, about the same size as Texas. Fortunately it was very thin and extremely tender, so that I was able to rise to the challenge and clear the plate.

    Not so pleasant was the challenge of trying to enjoy a meal while being continually assaulted by clouds of foul smelling cigarette smoke from fellow diners. The Europeans have just not realised how disgusting and dangerous the smoking habit is. From the vast numbers of young smokers it would appear evident that the tobacco companies are guaranteed a good profit for at least a generation into the future.

    We slowly walked back to the Metro station. It was a balmy early autumn evening and the centre of the city was still full of people just wandering and chatting. It had been a long and most eventful day.
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  • The City of Mozart

    28 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C

    Wednesday September 28th
    In Which we Wander the City of Mozart
    There is no doubt that Vienna is one of the most spectacular cities of Europe. I have been here twice before and each time I just loved the history that seems to flow from every cobblestone and rooftop. It is generally a clean city (apart from the carpet of cigarette butts underfoot everywhere) and has a very efficient mass transit system. The metro trains are much cleaner that the famous Paris Metro and run every few minutes, so you never have to wait long for the next train to come along.
    Today we caught the metro back to Stephansplatz and then walked to the famous Leopold Museum. Since Maggie was more interested than I was in exploring the art works on display there, I opted to wait outside in the sunshine. I had not been sitting long before I began being approached by a series of persistent beggars asking me for money. From my observations, they did not appear to be too badly off and I decided that they were "professional beggars" on their daily round

    Beautiful Gardens

    .
    I also had not been sitting long before the daily inflow of tourist groups began to invade the courtyard. As I looked at the shuffling mobs with their headsets clamped over their ears, I could not help but think that they looked like mindless zombies being controlled by some sort of remote mind control device. I imagined that there was a controller somewhere that was directing them along with a big joystick.
    Vienna has a huge smoking problem that is clearly evident in any open space. It is , impossible to sit down at any outdoor restaurant without getting stunk out with second hand tobacco smoke. This really is such a pity for such a beautiful city.
    In the evening we bought some food from the local supermarket and joined David and Carol for a picnic by bank of the Danube. While we were sitting there, eating our goodies, we would not have swapped places for the swankiest restaurant in the city. With our fruit, drinks and nibbles we were blessed with one of the best free entertainment spectacles you could imagine.
    We watched the pyjama boat parade of buses collecting travellers from the huge "pyjama boats" and transporting them to one of the many "Mozart Concerts" held every night in the city. The tickets to these concerts are sold by touts all over the city,and somehow they always magically just happen to have a few tickets available for tonight's concert.Not for us , thank you.
    As we were finishing our picnic dinner, the moon started to appear over the tops of the trees on the opposite side of the river. It was a wonderful way to finish a truly memorable evening.
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  • Riding the Straight and Narrow

    30 de septiembre de 2016, Austria ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    Friday September 30th
    In Which we Ride the Straight and Narrow

    Today marked the 25th cycling day of our European Odyssey. After 3 nights in Vienna it was time to get back on two wheels and resume our journey. I must admit that, while Vienna is indeed a lovely city, after two days of inhaling huge amounts of second hand tobacco smoke and jostling for survival among thousands of blank eyed shuffling tourists, we were all really glad to be back out in the fresh air and open spaces.

    Our route out of the city took us across the river to the long island that splits the Danube into two major rivers. This gave us a quiet exit from the city and soon we were clocking up the kilometres as we cruised along a lovely series of bike paths that ran parallel to the Danube.

    When I was planning this trip I estimated that we could reasonably expect at least 5 or more wet days. So far we have defied all the odds, with only 1 wet day out of 24 completed riding sections. Once again the weather was fine and mild, with a top temperature of around 25C. This weather has been almost too perfect. In some contrary fashion, I am almost hoping for a wet day, just to vary the pattern. No, on second thoughts I would be happy for this weather to follow us all the way to Budapest.

    It quickly became evident that the cycling in this section was going to be different from the most famous section between Passau and Vienna. When I last rode this, back in 2009, I remember that the route was often ill defined and quite often rough. In the past seven years it was evident that much work had been done to improve the surface and signage. Even so, it is possible to ride for long distances without encountering other riders (or coffee stops).

    On one such section we rode on the top of a perfectly straight levee bank over an hour. The path was smooth and completely straight, so much so that it actually became difficult to maintain concentration. I was also conscious of the fact that the seat on the new bike was causing extreme pain in my nether regions. Every couple of kilometres I had to lift up from the seat and have a few blessed seconds of relief from my anal anguish. It is not easy being a long distance rider.
    In the small hamlet of Stopfenreuth we stumbled upon a lovely cafe, hidden away in the forest. It was a great find and the food was delicious.

    The final challenge was to cycle across the huge suspension bridge at Bad Deutch-Altenburg. This bridge must have been close to 2 km across and the narrow bike path and extreme height gave us all a dose of vertigo. It required a lot of nerve and concentration to keep going, but we all managed to succeed in the challenge without falling over the barrier and down into the Danube.

    Our stop for the evening is the Marc Aurel Hotel, situated among a cluster of Roman ruins in eastern Austria. This will be our final evening in Austria as tomorrow we enter Slovakia - the third country of our Danube ride. Already the chalets of Bavaria seem a very long way away. The architecture here is markedly different and gives a foretaste of what to expect as we enter the old eastern block countries of Slovakia and Hungary.
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  • The Reactor Fails

    1 de octubre de 2016, Eslovaquia ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

    Saturday October 1st
    In Which the Reactor Fails and the Canons are Fired

    It is amazing just how often the shortest days turn out to be the most eventful. At around 30 km the ride from Carnuntum to Bratislava should have been an absolute doddle in the park. It didn't turn out that way.

    Way back home in Melbourne a ferocious battle was being played out between the Sydney Swans and the Bulldogs. The Bulldogs apparently had not won a grand final since the time of Noah, and were everyone's sentimental favourites. Even though we were on the other side of the world, due to the wonders of the Internet, we were able to follow the unfolding drama while we were having breakfast. It was quite something to see a group of Ghostriders all gathered around the tiny 2 inch screen of someone's mobile phone, all trying to glimpse a piece of the action. Every few moments the picture froze (always at a critical moment in the game) causing those watching to break out in a loud chorus of jeers and accusations that someone was secretly downloading movies on the hotel's wifi connection

    When the Bulldogs finally emerged triumphant, the group seemed happy that justice had been served and the evil menace from Sydney had been defeated.

    We then had a short meeting with the guy who has been looking after our luggage. The lanky guy answered to the name of "Wolfgang" (not many of them in Australia, but still a popular name in Austria) and was able to give us some valuable information about the next couple of day's riding. "Bad weather is on the way", he promised. After so many weeks of perfect sunny days, none of us believed his dire forecasts.

    Soon we were all off exploring the nearby Roman ruins. When I saw the great number of aging riders climbing all over the stone walls of the old city, I could not help but think that one collection of ruins was being examined by another.

    Around 10.30 am we decided it was time for morning tea and started to head for a delightful coffee shop in the town. We had not gone far before Scott started to complain. "My motor is not working", he moaned. He was not commenting on his state of health, but rather on the operation of his electric bike. It was not operating properly. In fact it was not operating at all

    Nothing, Nada. Zilch. David and I pooled our combined expertise in electric bikes (exactly nothing) and decided that "something was wrong". We tried the old remedy of a few hard whacks, but even that didn't seem to achieve anything. What were we going to do ?

    A couple of phone calls to Wolfgang sealed the deal. Scott would not be able to continue. It was arranged to get a lift to Bratislava and to get a new bike organised for the following day. It was a disappointment but we had no other option.

    While all this was going on, three other members of our peloton somehow went missing (we never saw them for the rest of the day). Things were definitely not going according to the script. I rounded up the dregs of our group and announced that we would be heading for Bratislava before anything else went wrong.

    Finally we got moving in the right direction and started to make some progress. I knew that one of the highlights of the day's ride would be the border crossing from Austria to Slovakia. In the not so distant past this border crossing marked a significant border into the soviet eastern block countries. Today the border can be crossed without even a passport or a vigorous interrogation and thrashing by one of the border guards

    The only thing left to mark the location of the border crossing are the large complex of buildings and checkpoints - now all unused and falling into disrepair.
    On the outskirts of Bratislava we started to encounter a throng of keen Saturday morning riders from the capital. The bike path appeared to be the equivalent of their "Beach Rd", with many serious riders on expensive machines.

    Not far from the bike path we saw a huge fortified blockhouse and decided to investigate. It turned out to be one of the series of huge forts that were built by the Czechs back in the 1930's to defend their borders against attack. With walls over 2 meters thick and equipped with an array of high powered machine guns, it was home to a garrison of 27 soldiers at a time. A young volunteer offered to give us a tour of the interior and gave us a fascinating insight into how the fortification operated. The lowest levels could only be accessed by climbing down a vertical ladder into the lower storage and sleeping quarters.

    Although Czechoslovakia was well prepared for invasion and was famous for the high quality of its weapons and had a huge army, due to the treaty of 1938 they signed over all control to Germany.

    A very surprising act indeed. Germany thus took over control of the whole network of fortifications that had been built at such a high cost to defend the country.

    After an hour exploring the fort we resumed our ride into Bratislava. This involves riding over a huge and very impressive bridge, complete with towering observation deck. When we met up with the other riders of our group they explained that they had been enjoying themselves by watching a large number of locals who were dressed in medieval military costumes and re enacting some famous battle. They even had a large number of muskets and canons which sent booming detonations out over the city. What an impressive way to welcome the famous Ghostriders to Bratislava. We were quite overwhelmed.

    The first impressions of the city itself were extremely favourable. We had arrived in the midst of a vibrant weekend scene with hundreds of formally dressed locals, all apparently on their way to a wedding. It seemed that the first Saturday in October must be the most popular day for Slovaks to get married.

    We then took a long (and very slow) detour through the old city. Hundreds of pictures were taken and there was much oohing and ahing over the beautiful old buildings. It is a pity that we will not have more time to experience this delightful place.
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  • Hungry in Hungary

    2 de octubre de 2016, Hungría ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    Sunday October 2nd
    In Which we Almost go Hungry in Hungary

    Our ride out out of Bratislava took us through an assortment of derelict areas, large expanses of graffiti and trashed and empty buildings.It was not the most attractive way to exit the city, but at least it was a quiet Sunday morning and the place was deserted.

    We soon found the bike path and spent the majority of the day riding on smooth bike paths . This made for almost effortless riding and the progress was quite rapid. The weather was still fine, although it did give the first early indications that the pattern was about to change.

    During the ride we crossed the border back into Hungary and it was easy to see that the socio economic conditions were a lot further behind than even in Slovakia. As we rode through small villages we noted that the condition of the houses was run down and (in some cases) almost derelict

    It seemed that any form of house maintenance was not high on the locals list of priorities.

    When time came for a morning tea stop we pulled into a local pub. Inside the air was full of stale tobacco smoke and several locals were clearly settled into a drinking session at the bar. David and I tried to order a couple of coffees, however the proprietor did not seem to take much interest. It was obviously more lucrative serving alcohol than coffee. We waited for several minutes and, when there was still no progress on the coffees, we told him not to bother and walked out the door and back to our bikes.

    It was only when we were ready to leave that the proprietor belatedly appeared at the doorway with the two coffees we had ordered so much earlier. By that time we did not want them. I reluctantly paid the price of the coffees but left them untouched on the outside table.

    We reached the significant town of Mosonmagyarovar where we stopped for lunch before looking for the railway station. This was another instance where we could make a short train ride and thus arrive in Gyor with more time for exploring this beautiful city. For Maggie the date was also significant as it was her birthday

    You might think that it would be simple to ask for directions to the railway station, however this turned out to be anything but the case, especially when you do not speak even one word of the language. The only thing we could do was make a noise like a train and then point in any direction with a confused look. It didn't work. The first person we tried this approach on was apparently the village idiot. He looked just as confused as we were and then tried to tell us that the station was "100 km" away. Not a good start.

    We spent about 30 minutes zig zagging back and forth around the town, until I decided to ride in the direction that the GPS was advising. We rode along a busy road for a considerable distance before we finally found the sign indicating the station. As it was, we still had another 2 km to go before we finally discovered it.

    The station itself was old and depressing. It was covered in graffiti and peeling paint and looked much like it must have looked in the old soviet days. We were pleased to find Wolfgang waiting with the bike trailer and handed our bikes over to him. It was just as well we did not have to worry about the bikes as, when we boarded the train, we found it packed with hundreds of travellers and mountains of luggage

    There was no way we could even have fitted a single bike on board.

    The train certainly moved along briskly at 160 kph and we were soon dismounting at Gyor. This was my favourite town from the 2009 ride and I was keen to show Maggie around this place. One of the most refreshing aspects of this place is that there are NO TOURISTS and the streets and quiet and clean. The people seemed a happy lot and almost everyone was eating an icecream.
    There is a magnificent central square with an elaborate fountain display. Numerous young children were amusing themselves running in and out of the water spouts. In 2009 we had been here a couple of weeks earlier in the season and the weather was quite hot. The fountain then were proving to be a welcome haven from the heat. Maggie and I enjoyed a coffee and cake to celebrate her birthday before walking back to our hotel.

    The hotel we were staying in did not have its own restaurant so arrangements were made for us to eat at a nearby restaurant. This was the only place that insisted on us ordering our meals before we left Australia. I had a list with me of what everyone had ordered as I well knew that no one would remember their selections

    The dinner turned out to be a complete circus. Although I had the original list of options that the restaurant had supplied us, the waiter insisted that the numbers were all wrong and tried to just tell us what each person was going to get. There was much shouting of numbers and general confusion all round. It was so chaotic it was actually great fun. We felt like we were in the middle of our own Fawlty Towers episode. We ended up just about rolling on the floor laughing as it was such a disaster. All the while plates of food were being passed back and forth along the table looking for someone to claim them.

    Since it was Maggie's birthday, someone told the waiter that it was a special occasion. Normally you might expect a small cake or something similar, so you could imagine our surprise when the waiter reappeared with an unripe peach on a plate and presented it to the birthday girl. It was completely inedible, but we thought it might be some sort of tradition in Hungary so took it in good humour.

    When I returned to our own hotel I asked our concierge about the peach, however he was just as confused as we were. He assured me that it was certainly not a tradition that he had ever heard of. This was just the sort of evening it had been. In spite of the massive mix-up it had actually been good fun and the food itself was quite good.

    We now have only three more riding days to go till we roll into Budapest.
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  • Ten Pin Bowling in a Synagogue

    3 de octubre de 2016, Hungría ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    Monday October 3rd
    In Which we Play Bowls in a Slovak Synagogue

    With each new day that we face we are expecting the weather to break. Surely it would not be possible for us to complete our entire Odyssey with only one wet day ? Or would it ? As we get closer and closer to Budapest, we are almost daring to believe that we might just pull off the most impossible meteorological miracle in the annals of cycling.

    Although the weather looked a little threatening at the start, we somehow managed to escape the rain bullet for yet another day. The weather remained cool and dry with a growing wind from the North East. Of course that actually provided a tail wind at times, so its presence was quite welcome.

    As soon as we left Gyor we found ourselves riding through more dilapidated small villages. It appeared as if all the young people had long since left for greener pastures, leaving only the old people behind

    It was also impossible not to feel as if there was not much hope in these places, maybe they spent all their time reminiscing about what might have been if things had been completely different.

    Each new village brought its own collection of rusty barbed wire fences and barking dogs. Some locals gave us what passed for a friendly sign of acknowledgement, while others did not seem to welcome our intrusion at all.

    Through some miracle we were able to find a small shop in which we bought some food for a roadside picnic. We eventually found a likely lunch spot in the garden of some sort of public building. The "garden" was rather unkempt but it was the closest thing to a public park that we ever likely to find in this part of the world.

    After lunch we encountered the first substantial climb we had had for several days. This region is predominantly flat, but this unexpected climb had us all clicking back down through our gears in search of the proverbial granny. To make matters even tougher we were confronted by a raging headwind at the same time. We were all relieved when the route took a sharp turn to the east, but we were not so happy to find that we had somehow ridden straight into a cemetery - a real dead end in every sense of the word

    I was amused by the fact that many of the tombstones had already been pre prepared for the eventual occupants. All that was needed was the final year of death. One such tombstone was prominently inscribed for "POOR MARIA 1942 - ". I wondered why Maria might have suffered so much that her perpetual gravestone recorded her poverty for posterity.

    We had no choice but to backtrack in search of the correct path. The closest thing I could find to a bike path was an old rut filled track alongside a railway line. It took all our concentration to avoid riding into one of the huge potholes and disappearing from sight forever. This path continued for some kilometres and we found ourselves reunited with the "bolters" group of riders. This group of course has no interest whatsoever in photographs or looking at anything else along the way, they are solely interested in arriving at the next hotel in record time. We were therefore surprised to see them at al,l as the only sight we usually have of them is their rear ends disappearing from the hotel each morning.

    Later in the afternoon we rode through a magnificent forest along an undulating path strewn liberally with brightly coloured autumn leaves. This section blessed us with some of the most memorable riding of the entire trip

    Although some find the technical nature of the riding a little challenging, everyone found it absolutely exhilarating.

    We finally arrived at Komarno early in the afternoon and crossed the huge bridge over the Donaj (Danube) back into Slovakia. What awaited at the end of the day's ride was the biggest surprise of all. The strangely named Hotel Bow Garden was housed in what used to be a synagogue but is now surely one of the most incredible hotels I have ever seen. The modest entrance was very underwhelming, but once inside, everyone's jawa begun to drop. The place was equipped with a number of palatial rooms (suites) and even came complete with a ten pin bowling alley.

    Our suite had an opulent bedroom, bathroom with roll top bath, lounge room, sitting room, conservatory, sauna, theatre room (and even a blind owl) ! What a memorable place to stay.

    The evening meal was amazing and followed by laughter packed games of 10 pin bowling. The alley was not quite up to world standard. The pins seemed to be attached to the ends of long threads to lift them back upright after each hit, the whole system kept jamming up with messages of "KLUKD" coming up on the large overhead screens. But it certainly was a HUGE amount of fun and a night that we will never forget. It was also the first time I had played bowls in around 20 years.

    Tomorrow is the second last day of riding and our amazing adventure is drawing to a close.
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  • Tailwind into Esztergom

    4 de octubre de 2016, Hungría ⋅ 🌧 12 °C

    Tuesday October 4th
    In Which we Share a Tailwind to Ezstergom

    We awoke to a morning with a slight drizzle. Could this finally be the day when our run of fine weather draws to a close ? With only two more days to go till we roll into Budapest, it would almost feel cruel if the weather cracked at this late stage. Fortunately it didn't, it actually fined up to give us another dry day.

    Our ride began on the left bank on the Slovakian side. The previous time we rode this section it gave us the worst and roughest riding of the entire trip. In fact it was so bad that we christened the section as "Siberia". Rather than being a bike path, it was just a series of rough tractor grooves that saw us continually switching from one track to the other, just trying to make any sort of headway.

    Well it is amazing what a difference seven years makes

    As we rode this same section I was staggered the find that the entire rough section had now been replaced with a lovely sealed bike path. Not only did it give us a perfect surface to ride on, but we were also aided by a steady tail wind, meaning that our progress was easy and swift. For most of the first hour we were able to effortlessly ride along between 25 to 30 kph.

    I was also surprised to find that the main pace setter was none other than Rosemary. She bolted to an unfamiliar position at the front of the peloton and I had to really work hard to keep her in sight. She explained her newly found stamina as being due "to the coffee she had at breakfast".

    One hazard in this otherwise beautiful bike path was the large number of strategically placed bollards, right in the middle of the path, where they could inflict the most serious injury. As we hurtled along there was an, almost continuous succession of shouts of "bollard", "double bollard", "another bollard", "bollard down", "hidden bollard" and so on.

    Each time I turned around I could see dark clouds billowing behind us, however we were making so excellent progress that they did not seem to be getting any closer to us

    It started to become a race between us and the chasing weather. We won.
    Last time we rode this section we stopped for lunch at a large restaurant boat that was moored on the riverbank. I thought that it would be n ideal spot for lunch once again. Unfortunately, when we reached the boat, it was obvious the the last seven years had not been kind to it. Not only was it all locked up, but looked like it had been left neglected for a long time. No lunch for us today !

    We immediately decided to continue to Esztergom instead. The tailwind stayed with us, but the lovely bike path did not. In fact we found ourselves riding along a very busy road for the final 10 km into the city. With a succession of huge trucks apparently doing their best to drive us off the road, it made for the most unpleasant riding we had done so far. One particularly evil truckdriver seemed determined to kill me. In spite of my normally placid nature I did find myself involuntarily giving him a huge shout of abuse and the sight of the raised middle finger of my right hand. I just could not help it. Another similar driver tried to run straight over the top of Gerry !

    Esztergom is best known for the huge basilica which can be seen from at least 15 km away as you ride towards the city

    It is fascinating to see it gradually growing larger as you approach, till it dominates the entire skyline.Unfortunately we were too scared for our lives to spend much time admiring the basilica as we approached.

    Our hotel was very near to the basilica and, thanks to our energetic riding we arrived at around 12.30 pm - far too early to get access to our rooms. We were extremely pleased that we had managed to complete yet another cycling day without getting wet. Can our incredible run of meteorological good fortune hold out for just one more day ?

    We spent the afternoon exploring the basilica, before returning to the diminutive rooms of the hotel. In many respects this hotel was one of the worst of the entire trip. Not even the sheet extended all the way to the foot of the bed, finishing about 15 cm short of the end of the mattress ! Oh well, sometimes you just have to take the bad with the good.

    Tomorrow our odyssey draws to a close as we ride into Budapest.
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  • The End of the Odyssey

    5 de octubre de 2016, Hungría ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C

    Wednesday October 5th
    In Which our Epic Odyssey is Completed

    For the past few days the long unbroken run of dry weather had threatened to break. For much of yesterday we seemed to be just ahead of an advancing wet front, but somehow managed to arrive without so much as a drop of water on our helmets.

    On our final day of cycling we awoke to the coldest day so far. Those hot days in Belgium and Holland now seemed a long distant memory. It was obvious that the seasons were shifting and the European winter was approaching rapidly. The final day of riding was also going to be the longest of the entire Odyssey with a distance of around 90 km to be cycled for those who wanted to ride the whole way to the finish line in Budapest.

    We donned all the cold weather clothes we could muster. I knew that the thermal top I had been carrying since the start of the ride would eventually come in useful - now was its chance. Even with all the cold weather gear I had, it was still chilly. I really wish I had brought my long fingered gloves with me. But I hadn't.

    It was also obvious that some were feeling the cold even more than I was. I noted that the "other Dennis" had wrapped himself up like an Egyptian mummy, with only two narrow eye slits the only parts of his body that were visible. It showed that the Queenslanders really don't cope well with chilly weather.

    We had been advised by Wolfgang that this section of cycling was the prettiest of the entire section between Vienna and Budapest. "Please, please take your time and do not rush", he implored. Although I passed this advice on to the whole group, I knew that it would be wasted on the bolters. For some unknown reason they only wanted to complete each day as quickly as possible, without stopping to look at anything along the way.

    I was a little apprehensive about the ride out of Esztergom as many of us had experienced numerous "near death episodes" on the way in to the place. Fortunately the outward ride was less harrowing and soon we were cycling along the beautiful riverbank that Wolfgang had promised.

    The first challenge was to complete two ferry crossings during the course of the day. At this time of the year the ferries only run intermittently, and we knew if we missed one, we would have a long wait till the next one. As we cycled along past a succession of magnificent stately old homes I was trying to keep one eye on my watch. We were soon met, and passed, by the bolters who were obviously intent on arriving for the ferry at least 20 minutes early.

    The final section of the route to the first ferry at Szob took us back onto the public road. We divided into several smaller groups and tried to keep up a steady pace. The only problem was that, when we arrived at the ferry, three of our riders were missing. We could not make the crossing without them and I started to worry about what had delayed them.

    "Why are they taking so many pictures ? Didn't they realise we had a tight schedule for this ferry ?" The rest of the group were just as confused as I was as to what might have delayed them.

    It was only when they finally appeared (with about 2 minutes to spare) that the true story emerged. Apparently Caterina had ridden straight into one of the steel bollards along the way. This was every cyclist's worst fear and the outcome could have been very serious indeed. There was no doubt that she was still dazed, but apparently she had somehow escaped major injury. That was more than I could say for her poor bike. The front brake caliper had been ripped clean off the frame and the cable was just hanging free. This left her with just one brake to complete the rest of the ride.

    In spite of the delay we all managed to roll aboard the ferry on time. This was quite a surprise to those in the bolters group who were convinced that we would have no chance of catching the first ferry. This first ferry transferred us to the large Szentendre Island located in the middle of the Danube. We rode across the island and felt the brunt of the strong wind that had previously been at our backs.A short bridge brought us back onto the mainland at the far side of the island.

    We then had a short section of road riding before joining another quiet bike path that meandered among the forest canopy. This really was a serenely beautiful path that we did not want to hurry along. You can imagine our surprise when, at the end of the island, we again met up with the bolters who had chosen to race straight down the centre of the island, rather than take the scenic bike path along the bank. I suspect that they were just as surprised to see us.

    One thing that had not changed was the temperature - it was still freezing. We looked eagerly for somewhere to buy a hot cup of coffee and seek temporary refuge from the cold, and our endeavours were rewarded when we stumbled upon a likely looking roadside stop. We all huddled inside and ordered our coffees from the sole overworked assistant. Most of us then crowded into a tiny lounge area with a few small tables and chairs. But at least it was warm.

    Carol had ordered a cup of tea and some nibbles and looked around for somewhere to offload her used tea bag and other rubbish. She found a plate with a partly eaten baguette on it and then proceeded to load her old tea bag and discarded food scraps on top of it. It was only when the owner of the plate returned from the toilet that Carol's embarrassing mistake became evident. The poor lady looked at what had happened to her lunch and quietly tried to recover what was left of it from under the pile of Carol' s castoffs. The rest of the ladies looked on, trying to do their best not to burst into laughter.

    The next leg took us to the large town of Vac and another ferry crossing. Once again we somehow made the ferry just in time to roll right on board without waiting at all. Safely across the river we continued to the historic town of Szentendre. At this point a number of our riders had elected to catch the train directly into Budapest and thus save a few kilometres from the final day's ride.

    The train station again proved a little difficult to locate and even more difficult to reach. When we did find it, Wolfgang was already waiting with the bike trailer. Five of our riders climbed off their bikes for the final time, collected their tickets and waited for the train.

    David, Paul and I rode back into the lovely old city centre and looked for somewhere to eat. It wasn't easy, but eventually we managed to get a quick bite before assembling for the last leg of the ride into Budapest. Since the bolters had already left there was only an elite group (David, Paul, Douglas, Janna and myself) of riders who would be riding the path into Budapest.

    Although the day was well advanced, the tailwind continued and the rain held off. We made good progress and were almost reluctant for the final kilometres to tick away. On the outskirts of Budapest we stopped for some hot chips and a drink before battling the suburban streets to our hotel.

    We finally reached Budapest around 5 pm and made our way around the tedious detour that was necessary to reach the centre of the city. You can only imagine our amazement to find the bolters group still visible ahead of us. Although they had a huge start, they had apparently lost their way on the way into town, and this gave us yet another chance to catch up. I guess the old story about the tortoise and the hare is true after all.

    By the time we reached the Danubius Flamenco Hotel the light was rapidly failing, but there was still NO RAIN. The "Miracle on the Danube" had actually taken place. We had ridden a cumulative total of over 50,000 km with only a single wet day and only two punctures.

    It had been an adventure none of us will ever forget. It if not often that a group of ageing cyclists get to share such an experience together. Thanks to everyone that shared the journey with us. What had started as a dream over two and half years ago had now actually been completed safely. What a trip it had been.

    Although I felt exhausted I had an overwhelming sense of relief that all the arrangements had worked, there had been no serious accidents and everyone had completed what they set out to do. For many it was certainly the hardest thing they had ever attempted, but they would now have the satisfaction of knowing that they had achieved it.

    Now where can we go to next ?
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  • Exploring Budapest

    6 de octubre de 2016, Hungría ⋅ ⛅ 6 °C

    Thursday October 6th
    In Which we Wander Budapest

    It was absolutely perfect timing. I could not have planned it any better if I had tried. When we awoke on the morning following the completion of our epic ride, we were greeted by the unfamiliar sound of teaming rain pouring down on the hotel window. A look outside confirmed that the long awaited breaking of the amazing run of dry weather, had finally taken place.

    Did we care ? Not in the slightest. Our ride was over. We were safe under the refuge of a dry roof. Although we were planning on doing a little exploration of the city of Budapest, we were happy enough to do that in the wet or the dry.

    A small group of us left the hotel, bundled up in the warmest clothes we could find to face the bracing 5C temperature. The rain was still falling from a grey sky

    It really felt that the summer was now officially OVER and that eastern Europe was plunging headlong into another long winter.

    A short tram journey took us to the centre of the city where we spent the next hour exploring the huge indoor market. It reminded me of a smaller version of the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul. By the time we had finished in the market my wallet was a lot lighter and our bags were considerably heavier. At least we had been successful in finding some gifts for the grandchildren.

    Not far from the market we happened to meet an Australian woman who was now the owner of a shop in Budapest. She explained that many years ago she had met an Hungarian man and moved to Hungary to start a life with him. Now, many years later, the man had moved out of the picture, but she had stayed in the country, learnt the language and started her business. This was just another example of how we just never know how our lives are likely to turn out. All of us can just live a single day at a time and make the most of every situation that comes our way.

    Since the weather was still cold and the rain drizzling down, we sheltered outside a French Patisserie for lunch before catching the Number 2 tram along the side of the Danube

    This gave a cheap, warm a dry way to see most of the most famous buildings of the city.

    In the evening we returned to the river for an evening cruise in a glass topped boat. Since this was the end of the tourist season it was surprisingly quiet and we were rewarded with a beautiful view of both sides of this impressive city from the river we had been following for the past six weeks. It seemed the perfect footnote to our incredible adventure.

    Tomorrow will be our final day in Budapest. Our group will be scattering with some returning to Australia and other continuing in Europe on their own individual travels. It felt really sad to be bidding farewell to those whose company we had treasured so much. We had grown to know them so well and looked forward each morning to riding alongside them as we worked our way to Budapest.

    Tomorrow Maggie and I will be catching the plane to Paris and another adventure in the country we love so much.
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  • Off to Paris

    7 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    Friday October 7th
    In Which we Fly to Paris

    Our final day in Budapest dawned bright and clear. Although we had only had two nights here, we had already grown fond of many aspects of this city. The last time I had been here was seven years ago. At that time I had been disappointed with the lack of pride that the locals had in their city. That had been at the height of the GFC and there were huge problems in many large cities all over the world.
    This time my impressions were quite different and I could see that much had been done to improve the infrastructure and cleanliness of the place.

    There is little doubt that the location of Budapest is spectacular. The Danube has now grown to a massive waterway and the twin cities of Buda and Pest really do make an impressive sight, especially at night.

    Last evening we decided to take an evening cruise along the river

    Since we had spent the last five weeks cycling along its banks, I figured that it would be an appropriate way to spend the final evening of our time together with the team. We were not disappointed. After dark the numerous buildings along the banks of the Danube are tastefully illuminated. The contrast between the hills of Buda and the flatlands of Pest is also clearly visible.

    The most dramatic of all the buildings is the huge parliament building. This is the most famous building in the city and apparently it lays claim to being the largest building in Europe. Although it was only completed in 1902, it was constructed in the classic imperial style and looks much older. Unfortunately the architect of this fine building died before completion and never got to see the finished project.

    This morning we bade farewell to the city and took a short taxi ride to the airport.
    This was the first time I had seen the Budapest airport and I was most impressed by its modern design and efficiency. We were able to quickly check in to our flight and clear security without any delay. A short two hour flight to Paris brought us to Charles de Gaulle airport at around 6 pm.

    I had booked a shared shuttle to take us to our hotel, however there was a slight mixup that saw us with an entire 10 seater minibus just for us and an Irish nun.

    The driver spoke excellent English, as well as Hungarian, Rumanian and French.
    He explained that the traffic in Paris was going to be diabolical due to a big soccer match taking place between France and Bulgaria. This meant that he had to take a very circuitous route to try to dodge the worst of the traffic. Even with all his best efforts it still took over 90 minutes to reach our hotel in the Sorbonne.
    We had a fixed price for the ride, so it did not cost us any extra, but I did feel sorry for the driver and gave him an extra tip for his hard work.

    Our hotel is actually part of the Sorbonne University and has a great location. What it gains in location, unfortunately it lacks in room size. The room was beautifully clean, but so small that I felt that I would need to keep my luggage out in the corridor. This is true of all similar hotels in this city. It is the price you pay for some of the most expensive real estate on the planet.

    At least the bed was clean and comfortable and we were both thrilled to be back in the city we had grown to love so much.
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  • Suckers are Born Every Minute

    8 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    Saturday October 8th
    In Which Suckers are Born Every Minute

    According to the old saying, there is a sucker born every minute. That is certainly true in Paris. For many years tourists have been falling prey to the same old Gypsy scams. I spent some time today watching numerous naive suckers make themselves victims.

    In the past I have tried warning people when I have seen them about to get caught, but I have found it is a waste of time - they have to learn for themselves. From time to time the police have tried to remove the Gypsies from the streets, but they appear to be back in greater numbers than ever.

    Their most common scams are the "sign my petition" perpetrated by groups of young Gypsy girls, and the variations of the old 3 cup game, perpetrated by groups of older men.

    The black Africans have another very profitable scam called the "friendship bracelet". In one 10 minute period I saw at least 6 people conned out of lots of cash with that one. No wonder the scammers are so hard to drive away when they are making so much money.

    Maggie and I spent the day wandering the city to visit some of our favourite places. This is getting near the end of the tourist season, so the crowds are not as bad as they are in the middle of summer. We always try to keep clear of the dreaded tour groups and spend most time where the Parisians themselves go. I love the tiny quirky shops in the back streets and the big gardens. The weather was perfect for walking and I have absolutely no idea of just how far we walked, but I am certain that my feet are suffering.
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  • Flaneurs for a Day

    9 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ ⛅ 12 °C

    Sunday October 9th
    In Which we Become Flaneurs for a Day

    The French have a word for it - "flaneur". It means one who just spends time strolling about the city. Indeed it is the very best way to explore and experience Paris, not the Paris of the tourists, but the Paris that is enjoyed by the locals. The function of the flaneur is both to see and to be seen, although we were both content to settle for the former.

    The weather in Paris today was absolutely perfect and gave us the perfect opportunity to become flaneurs for a day. We first walked to Gare Montparnasse and then back to the Sorbonne (about 4 km). The next couple of hours were spent relaxing in the beautiful Luxembourg Gardens. This is a favourite recreation area for Parisians and every Sunday it is filled with joggers, exercise groups, family picnics and those just enjoying the sunshine. Sitting on a chair in the warm sunshine, I have to admit that my eyelids became very heavy and my head was soon tilting backwards at a perilous angle

    A few minutes later I woke with a start, grateful that no one had used my open mouth for an ash tray.

    A treasured tradition of this garden are the dozens of small sailboats that children (and adults) sail in the small lake. On this occasion there were dozens of such boats of all shapes and sizes. After our time in the gardens we walked across the Seine and along the Isle St Louis.

    Three years ago Maggie stayed here in an apartment for 2 weeks and it is one of her favourite places in Paris. We enjoyed lunch in a tiny restaurant on the island that we had eaten at several times on previous visits. The food was just as good as we remembered.

    The rest of the day was also spent exploring and observing. By 4.20 pm we were exhausted and returned to our room for an early dinner of coffee, baguettes and biscuits.

    Neither of us will ever get tired of this beautiful city. Tomorrow will be our last full day here before we catch the train to St Malo. We plan to start at Sacre Coeur Cathedral and let the rest of the day take its own course.
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  • Revisiting an old Favourite

    10 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ ⛅ 9 °C

    Monday October 10th
    In Which we Revisit an Old Favourite

    The first time I came to Paris I quickly fell in love with the area around Montmartre and Sacre Coeur Cathedral. I also discovered that the very best time to enjoy this place is early in the morning. If you wait till after 10 am you will quickly be swamped by the teaming hordes of tourists with their dreaded selfie sticks. It then loses all its magic and just becomes another circus.

    Maggie and I decided to catch the bus from the Sorbonne to Clignancourt and then walk up to the summit of the Butte Montmartre. It is easy to find the cathedral as all you need to do is to keep walking uphill. Since Sacre Coeur is built on the top of the hill, you can be sure that you will eventually get there. You will also find yourself climbing lots and lots of stairs, but that is OK. All worthwhile things in life should be earned. Although there is a funicular railway to the summit, that should only be for the aged and infirm. . Everyone else should definitely walk to the top.

    When you do reach the top of the front stairs you will be rewarded with one of the best views of Paris you can get anywhere. In fact I much prefer it to the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower as it provides a much more intimate panorama of the nearby streets and rooftops. Stretched out before you are the higgledly piggledy streets that make Paris so darn confusing for the first time visitor. Look higher and you will see hundreds of chimney pots adoring every building in sight. Look further afield and you can see the famous large buildings along the Seine - the Musee D'Orsay, the Grand Palais, the Louvre - and of course the Eiffel Tower itself.

    Tucked in behind the cathedral is the artist precinct known as the Place Du Tertre. Here you can always find artists willing to sketch your portrait for a few Euros, or sell you a painting of Montmartre for a few more. It is in this area that I found a little coffee shop with a tiny verandah tucked behind a grape vine. I have made this little cafe a mandatory stop on every subsequent visit to Paris and it is has become a favourite place for Maggie as well. It is a wonderful place to enjoy a coffee and indulgent cake while quietly watching the bustling crowds just a few metres away.

    After a lovely time at the cafe we began our long walk back to the left bank. Of course we could have caught the metro or bus, but we decided to walk instead. This gave us a good opportunity to revisit some other favourite places along the way. Our walk eventually brought us back to the Louvre and the magnificent Tuileries Gardens. I stopped here for a little while to watch the Gypsy thieves at work. I know it sounds a bit voyeuristic, but I do find human nature fascinating. Observing the way the Gypsies go about their scams and then magically disappear any time a policeman or security guard appears, really have to be seen to be believed. Of course the Gypsies always reappear just as quickly when the threat has passed by.

    The GPS told me that I had walked just over 10 km by the time that I arrived back at my hotel in the Sorbonne. It had been a perfect way to spend my final day in Paris. Tomorrow Maggie and I will be catching an early train to St Malo, where we hope to spend a very quiet 4 days.
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  • Sojourn by the Seaside

    11 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ 11 °C

    Tuesday October 11th
    In Which we Sojourn by the Seaside

    Our four days in Paris went by far too quickly, but still served to remind us of all the reasons we love this place so much. This morning we packed up our belongings from our tiny hotel room in the Sorbonne and rolled our bags about 1.5 km to Montparnasse Station. We arrived in good time and settled down to wait for our platform number to be announced. The procedure is that the platform is announced exactly 20 minutes prior to the train departure time and this invariably results in a stampede of luggage wheeling travellers all trying to charge to their carriages at the same time.

    We actually would have made it easily if we had remembered to validate our tickets at the entrance to the platform, but we hadn't. By the time we remembered this important step we were already halfway along the platform and right in the middle of the stampede. I risked being trampled while looking after our luggage, while Maggie fought her way against the tide back to the validating machine.

    Finally we were reunited and in our allocated carriage. The only problem was that a couple of Canadian women were sitting in our seats. "Would you like us to move ?", one of them asked, stating the bleeding obvious. "Well yes", I replied, "these are our seats after all". They shuffled to their correct seats with much huffing and puffing and relocating of bags and other paraphenalia. Eventually we were all in the correct seats and ready for the 3 hour ride to St Malo.

    European trains are so far ahead of Australian trains that it almost seems unfair to class them in the same transportation class. This trip was no exception. It was serenely quiet, fast and smooth. The seats were comfortable and it was almost impossible not to fall asleep. Actually it WAS impossible and soon both of us were dozing peacefully.

    We arrived at the modern St Malo station and started to walk towards our hotel at the seaside. The weather was absolutely delightful with clear skies and no wind. The sunshine was actually warm on our shoulders and we were relieved when we found our hotel about 30 minutes later. We were even more relieved when the receptionist told us that our room was ready.

    I had ordered an ocean front room with balcony and we were delighted to find that we were only about 50 metres from the water's edge with an unobstructed view right out over the ocean.

    We could see several small islands not far off shore and the walls of the old city were only a short walk away. We even had a very friendly and extremely curious seagull waiting to welcome us to our room.

    The ocean was as smooth as the proverbial mill pond and in the near distance we could see the modern ferry departing for Portsmouth in the UK. In four day's time we will be catching that same ferry ourselves. Scattered out over the calm seas were a number of small pleasure boats and a group of sailboats conducting some sort of race. On the wide sandy beach there were a number of small dogs enjoying a frolic in the sand. It really was a picture postcard perfect scene.

    The rest of the first day in St Malo was spent wandering the old city and marveling at just how pretty this location is. At this late stage of the season, most of the dreaded tourist groups have now departed the scene, and we were able to enjoy the city in relative peace and quiet. This is a town that would be extremely easy to fall in love with.
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  • Maggie Becomes a Victim

    12 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ 12 °C

    Wednesday October 12th
    In Which One of Us Becomes a Victim

    Maybe it was the spluttering lady on the flight from Budapest or maybe it happened on the train to St Malo. Somewhere in the past few days a single malevolent bacterium or virus had obviously found its way into Maggie's respiratory system and discovered that it was perfect place to raise a big family.

    The first indication I had that all was not well was when I thought we had discovered a walrus colony on the beach at St Malo. When I turned around I could not see a mustachioed walrus anywhere in sight, but I did see Maggie doubled over in a vigorous (and quite impressive) display of coughing. This did not auger well.

    "I feel really sick" she explained. "I think I caught the plague from somebody".
    This was not the way that I had planned to spend our time in St Malo.

    "Perhaps it will get better really quick", I tried to comfort her.

    It didn't. By the next morning she was sneezing and coughing in alternating sequences of respiratory contractions. We went in search of a pharmacy in order to get some medication. We eventually found one in the old city and she came out holding a large back of pills and potions, all inscribed with directions which we could not decipher.

    "You should always start by taking a BIG dose", I expertly advised. She obediently followed.
    "How can I measure the amount of cough medicine to take, when we don't have a medicine cup ?"
    "I can measure it with my eyes, I used to study chemistry about half a century ago".

    She swallowed down a huge dose (about half the bottle), rolled her eyes and asked to go back to the hotel. It seemed a shame to waste another perfectly sunny day in such a beautiful place, but I knew she was not well. We had no other choice. Let's both hope she gets better soon and also hope that I don't catch it as well (as I am a hopeless patient).
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  • Mental Images

    13 de octubre de 2016, Francia ⋅ ⛅ 11 °C

    Thursday October 13th
    In Which I fill my Mind with Images

    There is absolutely no doubt that St Malo is a spectacular place. The amazing wide sandy beaches are probably the finest I have seen anywhere in the world, and the sand has a fine consistency that makes it perfect for long walks or jogs along the coast. The shoreline is liberally dotted with offshore fortifications that give an insight into the rich history of this place.

    History is certainly something that St Malo has in abundance. Two thousand years ago this was the site of a significant Roman town called Reginca, and it has been a strategically important centre ever since. In the 17th and 18th century fortunes were made as the so called "privateers" (pirates sanctioned by the king, also known as Corsaires) patrolled the coastline demanding tribute from the passing English captains.

    Other fortunes were made by the prosperous traders of the area who built dynasties importing silver and other goods from South America.

    You can still see ample evidence of these prosperous times in the huge mansions in the old walled city.

    In more recent times St Malo was severely damaged by allied bombing during the second world war. In fact many parts of the old city were almost completely flattened. What you see today has all been rebuilt or repaired over the past 70 years.

    The coastline is subject to violent storms and has now been largely protected by a long line of massive stone walls along the north facing shoreline. There are some amazing photos of huge waves crashing over this wall, but so far the walls seem to have achieved their protective purpose.

    After a restless night, Maggie is still suffering from the effects of a bad dose of the flu (so much for the efficacy of the flu vaccinations we both had before leaving Australia). Since she is currently too unwell to get out of bed, I spent the morning having a long solitary walk along the beach. It was an experience that I will long cherish.

    Anyone who knows me, already would be aware that I love to take "mind pictures" when I am travelling.

    These are not just something that can be absorbed with the click of a button, but need to be built up over a period of time. Whereas a camera picture only captures what light travels in through the lens, a "mind picture" can include information from all the senses. In fact I often find it helps to close the eyes when taking such a picture, in order to give the other senses a chance to contribute more.

    As I propped myself against an old rotting post on the beach, I gazed around and tried to soak in every aspect of the scene. The smells of the ocean and the salty sand. The chill in the air of the late autumn day. The sounds of the waves lapping the shore and the distant gulls fighting over morsels of food. The cool sunshine filtering through the thin high clouds. The happy barking of two dogs chasing after a frisbee. The small grooves in the sand at my feet that had been made by some small marine creature. I really felt that I was in a special place and that I was so lucky to be here.

    I also tried to bring the image into clearer focus by recalling some of the events of the preceding seven weeks of this trip. In a very real way, every day of our lives is a product of every other day that has gone before it. The thoughts that were running through my mind on that beach contained so many recollections of events that we had shared together.

    I am now back at the hotel, sitting in the dining room and looking out through the window over the vast beach outside. A group of young children have unpacked kites and are watching them soar overhead. Somehow it seems to fit the mood of the day perfectly. Some days are just magic.
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  • Setting Sail on the Ghost Ship

    15 de octubre de 2016, Inglaterra ⋅ 🌙 11 °C

    Friday October 14th
    In Which we Set Sail on a Ghost Ship

    The 25,000 tonne MV Bretagne was launched in 1989 after a build cost of around 100 million Australian dollars. It plies the English Channel between St Malo and Portsmouth and normally carries around 2000 paying passengers. I say normally, but on this occasion in mid October, it was almost empty.

    We were somewhat sad to be saying adieu to St Malo. Although we had only had
    four nights there, we had very quickly fallen in love with its amazing sea views and charm. The incredible tides there mean that the entire appearance of the foreshore changes dramatically from one hour to the next. When the tide is in the sea looks like a unbroken expanse of water, but when the tide retreats it reveals dozens of small rocky islands. It must require a lot of skill to navigate such a waterway safely.

    After a short taxi ride from our hotel to the ferry terminal, we were surprised to find that the place was almost empty.

    We had expected long queues of passengers waiting to check in, but we were able to walk straight up to the desk without any wait. The same thing happened when it was time to go through the outward emigration control - straight up to the counter, get the passport stamped and through to security. There was no wait there either - or any security check either for that matter. When we walked our luggage to the XRay scanner, we were waved to ignore it and proceed directly to the ship instead. I guess we just don't look like terrorists.

    Once on board we were given directions on how to find our cabin. Yes, although the trip to Portsmouth only takes around 9 hours, it cost almost no extra to have a double cabin with full ensuite. We didn't spend all our time there, but it was a convemient place to leave our luggage and have a lie down.

    We were even more surprised to find that the ship was almost empty. Hundreds of luxurious arm chairs remained empty, the cafes and restaurants were deserted, the upper decks were devoid of passengers, it was almost eery. During the day they even had a series of floor shows in the large restaurant theatre. I felt sorry for the performers that I was the only audience member - and even I didn't stay for longer than a couple of minutes.

    The voyage itself was almost dead smooth. The first part was sailed in bright sunshine and we spent considerable time enjoying the warmth and fresh air on the upper deck. Later in the day the skies clouded over and a slight drizzle started. We figured it was just setting the stage for the English weather we were to get in the weeks ahead.

    We arrived at Portsmouth just a couple of minutes late at 6.10 pm, quickly passed through the deserted immigration check and jumped into a taxi to take us to our hotel. The room was a pleasant surprise and was much larger than the tiny rooms we had been getting used to on the continent. Tomorrow morning we collect our hire car and begin our exploration of the Jurassic Coast.
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  • Our Car is Missing

    16 de octubre de 2016, Inglaterra ⋅ 🌧 13 °C

    Sunday October 16th
    In Which Our Car Goes Missing !

    I suppose it was inevitable that in executing such an extended and complex trip, sooner or later something was going to go wrong. Up to now, it was remarkable that every arrangement, every booking had fallen exactly into place. We had completed the entire Odyssey Ride just how it had been planned to happen. Now Maggie and I were on our own, certainly nothing could go drastically wrong now ?

    Well actually it did.

    As part of our advance plans we had arranged to collect a hire car from Europcar's Portsmouth office on Sunday 16th October. I had even received a confirmation email from them just four day's earlier, confirming the collection details and informing me that they had already deducted the full rental cost from my credit card. Very efficient of them

    On the morning in question we booked a taxi to take us from our hotel in Southsea to the Europcar pickup depot. The driver was helpful and chatty and was happy to accept 10 pounds for the short ride
    "The place looks empty", Maggie commented.
    "No you will be OK, I drop people here all the time", the driver replied replied before driving away.

    We were left outside the office with our luggage. Rain had been falling most of the morning and looked about ready to start again.

    I tried the door. It was locked. The internal lights were off. Rising concern. Maybe we were just a little early. Maggie checked the sign with the opening hours. Someone had hand written "CLOSED ON SUNDAYS". I rechecked my details. They clearly stated that the car was to be collected at 10 am on the 16th October.

    We waited till 10 am. Still no one in sight.

    I tried ringing the Europcar rental number. My call was so important to them that they put me on hold for a long time (on international mobile call rates) before hanging up on me.

    OK, what do we do now ? Maggie politely reminded me of all the times that I had told her that I love the serendipity of travel. She now wanted me to practise what I preached. I was trying hard, but I was also angry that we had been let down. We had a written agreement that was apparently worth nothing. We didn't even have data access on our phones to search for other contact numbers. The only thing I could do was ring our hotel to tell them what had happened and to get them to arrange another taxi collection for us.

    By 10.30 am we were back inside another taxi and heading back to our hotel. Another 10 pounds wasted and NO CAR. The only positive thing I could be grateful for was that we had allowed for a second night in the same hotel. We had not planned to start driving till Monday morning. This gave us at least some extra breathing space in Portsmouth.

    Back at the hotel I tried to settle down and "look on the bright side of life". At least the weather had improved enough for us to take a walk along the beachfront to the nearby "D Day Museum".

    I paid the seniors entry fee and spent some time wandering the displays. They were tired and in major need of refurbishment and updating. The food in the cafe was deplorable - sad looking toasted sandwich, cold chips and stale cake. It fitted the mood of the day.

    Maggie was still recovering from the flu and walked back to the hotel while I wandered the beach, looking for a silver lining. It certainly did not come in the form of a lovely sandy beach. There was no sand in sight, just acres of rough stones. Even the impressive looking pier was closed down "for repairs". Compared to the magnificent beachfront at St Malo, our first impressions of Portsmouth left a lot to be desired.

    In the evening we walked to the strangely named "Gastro Pub" for our evening meal. It had been recommended by our hotel, although naming a restaurant "Gastro" did not auger well for the quality of the food. Fortunately the food was excellent and the place was clean and quiet. I hoped that things would go better the next day.
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  • Stonehenge is Closed Today

    17 de octubre de 2016, Inglaterra ⋅ 🌙 11 °C

    Monday October 17th
    In Which we Visit Mary but Stonehenge is Closed

    At 8.30 am in the morning I rang Europcar to explain what had happened the previous day. I said that I did not want to turn up at the rental office and find the same thing happening the second time round. "I will give them a call", the representative explained.

    Nearly an hour later I was still on hold.
    "I cannot understand why they are not picking up their phone", he lamely apologised.

    What an incredibly inept way for a large company like Europcar to run a business.
    Not only had I wasted the previous day and 20 pounds in taxi fares, I had also spent around $40 on phone charges and I still had no definite result.

    When the guy seemed unable to do anything, we decided that we had no other alternative other than to return to the depot and hope that it was going to be attended.

    Another 10 pounds taxi fare later we were back at the depot, with all our bags.
    At least it was open this time.

    I walked to the counter and explained the stuff up of the previous day.
    "I don't work here", was the helpful reply. Then why was she sitting behind the desk ?

    Eventually someone who apparently did work there appeared and explained why nothing could be done for me. I showed them the printed contract with the collection details on it. Finally we were offered 2 day's free rental (I will believe it when it is actually credited back to my bank account) and eventually we were sitting in a Vauxhall Mokka (what the hell is that ?) outside the depot.

    The first few minutes in a new rental car are always a little stressful, especially when you cannot figure out how to get the blessed thing started. Press this, push that, what is that beeping noise ?, how did I turn the wipers on ? What gear I am in ? And so on.

    Finally we were underway and making our way gingerly through the unfamiliar and very busy streets of Portsmouth.

    I had decided that our time would not be wasted entirely if we could visit the Historic Naval Dockyards. They were only about 6 km away and we had the expert assistance of Tom (actually Tom Tom the resident GPS).

    Tom directed us through a succession of interesting manoeuvres until we could see that we were nearing a naval precinct. "Turn Right Now", he ordered. I did what he instructed. I shouldn't have. "I don't think you should be here", Maggie helpfully suggested, adding liberally to my state of stress.

    The policeman windmilling his hands furiously also added to my stress as well. I stopped and put on my best "senile old fart" expression. "Is this the way to the Mary Rose Museum ?" I asked. "NO, you are heading straight into a military base", was his tert reply. The nearby sign proclaimed that the base was in a state of "heightened terrorist alert", so I probably should have been grateful they didn't fill the rental car with bullet holes.

    An embarrassed U turn later and a few more turns found us in the correct place. We were then able to spend a couple of very interesting hours exploring the HMS Warrior and the HMS Victory

    I have to admit that this was really fascinating, although the five foot ceilings in the Victory added some extra bruises to my ageing head. I should have worn my bike helmet.

    By 1.30 pm we decided that it was time to say goodbye to Portsmouth and head to our next port of call at Weymouth. I checked the route and noted that it was not all that far away from the famous Stonehenge. "It would only add about 70 km to our drive", I told Maggie. She didn't seem convinced, but soon we were telling Tom to take us to the famous stone circle.

    At least the drive gave us our first real look at the countryside of Hampshire and Dorset. Maggie made up her mind really quickly. "All these places look old and tired", she commented, "and the shops are disgusting". Fair comment, they were.
    Soon after 3 pm the road took us past the famous ring of stones. "Look Maggie, there it is".
    "Where what is?" she answered.
    "Stonehenge".
    "I didn't see it".
    Some days are like that.

    I drove on to find the official car park. It was a couple of kilometres further on. We turned in and were met with a CLOSED sign. The young guy at the entrance explained that Stonehenge, for some completely unknown reason, closes at 3 pm each day. What utter rubbish. Why on earth would such a famous attraction close at 3 pm ? Apparently it just does, they don't have to have a reason.

    We had no choice but to drive past a couple more times and view it from the road. It actually didn't look all that impressive anyway. I decided that it was just another "Rubbish Attraction" and that we could just as easily give it a miss after all.

    We asked Tom to take us to Weymouth instead. It was only about 80 km further on, every single one of them directly into the face of the setting sun. It made for very tiring driving, but eventually we safely made it to our next B&B in the tiny hamlet of Chickerell, on the outskirts of Weymouth. Fortunately the Heritage B& B was absolutely delightful and our room was probably the best we had stayed in for the entire trip so far. At least the day ended well.

    We had a fine dinner at the Turk's Head Pub which was directly next door to our B&B and retired for an early night.
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