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European Renaissance RidesEuropean Renaissance Rides
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European Renaissance Rides

August - November 2015
In 2015 I took 25 Ghostriders to cycle in Italy and France. The first part consisted of a ride from Venice to Florence. Then it was off to France to ride from Orleans to Le Croisic. The journal of this ride was recently rediscovered. Read more
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  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 1

    The Long Way Over

    August 25, 2015 in Australia ⋅ 14 °C

    Note - 2022. I recently rediscovered the journal of this trip we did in 2015. I thought it had been lost forever, so rereading it has brought back some wonderful memories as I relived the adventures all over again. Since then the world has changed a lot, the most serious of which has been the Covid 19 pandemic which has held the planet in its deadly grip for the past two and a half years. For much of that time, international travel was not possible. Borders everywhere were closed. Fortunately I still have the memories, notes and photos of so many wonderful adventures I have enjoyed over the past 20 years.

    That is one of the amazing things about travel - the enjoyment you get from an adventure actually increases with the passage of time. The fun does not finish when you get back home. Every time you share a memory or look at a photo, in a very real sense you are back there all over again.

    So here it is, the journal of that 2015 trip. It is not perfect. It contains numerous spelling and grammatical errors. They are just my daily impressions, usually recorded late in the evening in my hotel room. I don't want to "polish" it up, as that would lose the spontaneity of the words as they were recorded in that moment.

    If you take the time to read this journal, I hope you can feel some of the enjoyment we shared while it was all happening. Maybe it might even inspire you to take that important first step, and experience it for yourself.

    Over the next few days I hope to include some of the pictures I have of that trip.

    Days 1 & 2 – In Which we Learn it’s a Long Way from There to Here

    No matter which way you rotate the maps, there is no getting over the fact that Melbourne is a long way from just about everywhere. Nowhere is this more evident than when you have to travel to Europe. It seems an eternity ago that I awoke to my bedside alarm at 5 am on Tuesday morning. Since we needed to be at check in by 11 am, I decided to play it safe by leaving at 9 am and thus allow for any unforeseen circumstances.

    As soon as we turned on to the Monash Freeway I could see that the decision to leave early was a prudent one. The traffic on the freeway was almost at a standstill and, at that rate, I would not have reached the airport by Christmas, let alone it time for my flight. We turned off at the earliest opportunity and took the Princes Highway instead. Although we arrived in time, it was a slightly stressful start to my marathon in transit.

    The flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong takes around 9 and a half hours. While this might not seem like much to those on Brownwynesque budgets up in Business Class, for those of us sandwiched in the back of the plane it can seem like an eternity. My cramped situation was not helped when the tiny Asian woman in the seat in front of me immediately reclined it back as far as it could go – even though it was the still the middle of the day. For some strange reason it seems that the smallest people are the worst offenders in the battle of the reclining seat backs.

    With her seat squashed firmly against my knee caps and my fertile imagination conjuring up fearful thoughts of impending DVTs in my immobile lower limbs, I entered into a battle of psychological warfare and made sure that the rear of her seat got a big nudge every time I had to change my position (about every 20 seconds). I think she must have got the message because, after about 30 minutes, she reluctantly raised it back up again.

    The plane was obviously working on its own peculiar time zone and served “lunch” at about 4 pm in the afternoon and then “refreshments” just before landing. The plane disgorged its load of sardines into the massive labyrinth that is Hong Kong International Airport and I then proceeded to watch the clock advance for the next three hours. Just to liven up the boredom, Cathay Pacific decided to shift the departure gate for the next leg from one side of the airport to the other. I arrived just in time to be told that the flight would be delayed an hour or so. More clock watching.

    Perhaps the time spent waiting at the airport would have gone much faster if it had not been for the flashily dressed matron next to me. She insisted on carrying on an animated conversation with herself – in Italian. Every few moments she would burst out with some rambling utterances. I was not sure of what was the correct etiquette in such circumstances. Should I join in with my own monologues or is it best to just pretend that it was not happening ? I opted for the second option and hoped that she would not end up next to me on the plane.

    After finally getting admitted to the plane and squeezing myself into the matchbox that had been allocated to me, I just wanted to get the second leg of the trip underway. I knew that this leg was going to be close to 13 hours and I was already feeling as stale as a month old sausage roll. The mind games must have been too much for one passenger as the captain announced apologetically over the PA that one person was not feeling well and would not be proceeding with the flight. I could have responded by saying that I suspect that over 300 people were also not feeling well but were too tightly squashed in to ever contemplate leaving. That also meant that the departing passenger’s luggage would have to be removed from the cargo hold. Of course they would have to find it first. Another hour delay!

    By the time the plane finally lifted off I was regretting not having some sort of magic pills that would simply put me in a coma for the next 13 hours. Fortunately the sand man did pay me a short visit and I was able to grab a couple of hour’s of broken sleep along the way, while the screen in front of me tormented me by reminding me just how painfully slowly the little icon of the plane was making its way over Iraq and Syria and just about every other current world trouble spot. I suppose I should have been grateful that the pilot did not make a detour over North Korea, just to fill out the list.

    Finally the plane touched down at Rome Airport under a beautiful cloudless sky. After what seemed like a decade spent in transit, somehow I felt much better. My drooping eyelids burst the velcro that had been holding them shut and I actually started to feel excited about the adventure that would soon be unfolding. My luggage did not go astray (in fact it never has) and the sign of a man waiting with a sheet of paper with my name on it indicated that the shuttle I had ordered on the Internet had not done a runner with my money.

    I suspect that these long transits may be a bit like childbirth – its horrible while you are going through them, but the horror is quickly forgotten once the good bit starts. Over the next few hours the rest of our participants will be gathering in Rome and the adventure that started almost two years ago will finally get underway.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 2

    Wandering Around Rome

    August 26, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

    “What a difference a day makes” or so says the old saying. I would like to modify this a little to make it apply to muddle headed, jet lagged travelers by saying “what a difference a few hours sleep make”. By last evening I was feeling that I had been run over by a succession of buses but, after a (mostly restful) few hours of slumber I am feeling quite human again. The horrors of the two days of transit are already fading into the dark recesses of my memory. I have even had a chance to catch up on some laundry.

    I have now had a chance to make contact with all the other members of our 2015 Italy ride and determine that they have all arrived safely. Since they had been arriving over the preceding couple of days, it was a relief to know that at least we had all successfully reached the start of our new adventure.

    It is already looking the weather in Rome will be a little like groundhog day – the same over and over again. I still have not seen a cloud since we landed yesterday morning and the midday temperature is always close to 35C. And this is at the tail end of summer ! I cannot imagine why so many people would choose to travel in Europe in the middle of summer and battle, not just with the heat, but with the worst of the tourist throngs. Late August through to early October is a much wiser choice.

    I have always been a little different to the “standard tourist” and do not have a lot of interest in what the guide book says I should see in a particular city. I cannot help but be amused by those that flock from hot spot to hot spot, trying to tick off all the boxes in their allocated few hours. Even worse are those poor throngs of tired looking people following some tour guide with a yellow umbrella or some other colourful object held high in the air. It always reminds me of some sort of penguin parade and it is certainly not the way that I like to explore a city.

    I am however intrigued by history and every time I come to Europe it is reminder of just how thin our history in Australia really is. It is barely 10 generations since white settlement began in Australia. There have been six generations since my own forefathers arrived in Australia in 1852. I used to think that was a long time ago, however when you walk around Rome you are surrounded by the efforts of the past two millennia and a history that goes back over 100 generations. When I stand at look at 2000 year old ruins and see the thousands of clay bricks that were used in the construction, my mind tried to imagine that each one of those bricks was made by some worker’s hands.Every single ancient brick could tell its own story.

    The other thing I always do in an unfamiliar city is simply wander the streets and observe the people going about their everyday lives. For me it is the people that define a city and I try to quietly observe and see what life in that location is all about. Are the people happy, busy and animated or are they sad, tired and dejected ? I try to absorb as much as possible of the essence of the place. I don’t particularly care where I walk, but I do always make sure that I know the way back to my hotel when I am done exploring. Some of the most rewarding and interesting experiences that I have had in my travels have happened when I least expected it. It is this serendipity of travel that I really adore.

    Today I headed off after breakfast and found my way first to the huge Main Central Rail Station. This is only a short distance from our hotel which will make it simple when we need to catch the train to Venice in a couple of day’s time. From there I just let my feet take me wherever they wanted and found myself zigzagging back and forth until I was back at the Roman Forum again.

    By mid morning the heat was starting to become oppressive and I found a quiet shady alley that ran around the back of the Forum and ended up at a small church. By this time the crowds were far behind me and I had the area to myself. I entered the church and found I was the only one there. It was a truly peaceful place to just sit and meditate in silence and comparative coolness.

    Every major European city has its clusters of spruikers and touts and Rome is certainly no different in that regard. Clustered around the major tourist hotspots these guys feed on tourists like flies on roadkill. In most places they are loaded with cheap souvenirs, but it appears that a technological shift has taken place since my last trip. This year virtually every spruiker is loaded with armfuls of extendable “selfie sticks”. It is no longer sufficient just to travel to fascinating places, but you now have to do it with your smart phone suspended at the end of a long pole in front of your face so that you can tag every site with your own smiling face in front of it. Judging by the huge number of selfie stick sellers I encountered during the day, the market must be booming. Perhaps Italy is hoping for a selfie stick led recovery in their economy.

    After about 30 minutes I decided it was time to leave. Back outside the sun was now burning fiercely and the number of highly overtanned females wandering around in skimpy clothing suggested that the skin cancer message had not made much impact here. By this time my sore feet told me that I had already covered quite a number of kilometres and it was time to make my way back to the hotel.

    After a few wrong turns and even more right ones I was relieved to finally walk into my hotel foyer and retreat to the sanctuary of my room for a late afternoon siesta. Well you know what they say – “when in Rome do as the Romans do”.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 3

    Heading Underground

    August 27, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C

    The long, hot Roman summer continues on without variation. Each day since we have arrived has been a carbon copy of the previous one, that is 35C, hot and sunny. Although I had very few set plans for my time here, there was one place that I did want to visit and that was the Roman Catacombes. Since John and Gonny were also keen to see them we decided to make an early start to beat the worst of the heat and the crowds.

    There are actually several catacombs scattered around Rome but, after a little research, we came to the conclusion that the one most worth visiting would be the Catacombe de San Callisto. These famous catacombs occupy a sprawling site on the Appian Way just outside the towering city walls. Although only a small proportion of the 21 km of underground tunnels is open to the public, those that you can access do serve to give an indication of just how much effort must have gone into their construction.

    We arrived at the entrance right on opening time and were very happy to see that we were the only English speaking visitors there at that time. That meant that we had the services of our very own guide, a quietly spoken Christian Pakistani student with the unlikely name of “Eric” who was in the middle of his Theology studies. Eric led us down a long flight of stairs into the wonderfully cool underground labyrinth that constitute the catacombs. He explained that over 500,000 bodies had originally been buried here, however their remains have now been relocated away from the view of the masses of tourists. Contrary to popular belief he also told us that the catacombs were not commonly used as permanent residences for the Christians, but were mainly for burials and for church services.

    Eric proved to be a very capable guide but he did have the slightly unnerving habit of replying “please do not ask me that now” every time we wanted to ask a question. He told us that, if we were patient, that all our questions would be answered in due time. Since there was only the three of us, we felt like he might have varied his rules just a little.

    After 45 minutes underground it was time to re emerge into the sunlight and heat. We eventually found the bus stop to catch the bus back to the city. The bus system appears to work very well, although the underground Metro system is rather tired and dirty looking by comparison.

    The other place that I wanted to visit was the Pantheon. This is surely one of the best preserved of all ancient Roman buildings, having been completed by Hadrian around 120 AD and has been in continuous service ever since. It was originally built as a temple but since the 7th century it has been used as a church dedicated to St Mary and the Martyrs.

    The most incredible feature of the Pantheon is the huge concrete dome overhead. This is apparently the largest unreinforced concrete dome in the world and it is astounding to think that it has survived for almost 2000 years. Standing in the centre of the Pantheon I could not help but wonder how many of our modern constructions will still be standing in 2000 years. I suspect that most will have disappeared without a trace within a few hundred years at most. And yet this building was built without the aid of modern mathematics, computers or machines.

    At the centre of the dome is a large circular opening which lets in the light (and the rain). Since the building is aligned North-South, the sunlight enters the opening and casts a beam onto the northern side of the interior wall. At solar noon this shaft of light strikes the wall directly opposite the main altar. Apparently the Pantheon provided an inspiration for the design of the huge dome in St Peter’s basilica.

    After spending quite some time sitting inside the Pantheon and gazing up at the walls that have stood for so many years I finally decided that it was time to head back to my hotel for a short siesta. A short distance from the Pantheon I encountered a street seller selling small dancing Mickey and Minnie Mouse toys. Forgetting my common sense, and thinking only of how much fun they would be for my grandchildren, I handed over 5 Euros and was handed two small packets in return. The seller gave me a lovely wave and smile as I left. What a nice fellow, I thought.

    About an hour later I finally stumbled back into my hotel room, switched on the air conditioner and decided to try out the dancing toys. They sat flat on the desk. Nothing, nada. Somewhere in the back of my mind a couple of lights switched on and I decided to do a quick search of the net to see how these toys actually worked. The unfortunate truth is that they actually don’t work at all. Apparently it is a common scam that has been going on in Rome for years. The sellers apparently have a thin micro thread attached between a loudspeaker and a nearby object and they carefully attach each toy to that thread. Of course when you get home they do absolutely nothing !!!

    Although I could have felt angry for being duped of 5 euro, I could not help but smile at my own stupidity. Obviously my travel smarts are not as well developed as they could be and I will put it down as a lesson learnt. At least it was harmless enough scam and it only cost me the price of a cup of coffee. It will also give me a story to share with others. Such is the nature of travel.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 4

    Ghostriders Become Ghostrollers

    August 28, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C

    I must admit that from the first time I saw a video of a Segway I have been intrigued by the technology. There is something about seeing someone cruising along on what looks like an early model push mower that seems to defy the basic laws of physics. And yet it is brilliant use of physics that makes the segway such an amazing machine. A couple of weeks ago I was searching on the Internet for ideas of how to spend our free time in Rome and came across a company that was offering a three and a half hour Segway tour for around $90 AUD. To me this seemed like a pretty good deal as other operators charge similar amounts for about an hour. In fact I would have happily paid that amount just for the experience of riding the machine, the tour would be an added bonus.

    When I mentioned the option to the rest of our team, five others also decided to follow me into the unknown, None of them had ever ridden a Segway before and I thought it best not to tell them that Jimi Heselden actually died of injuries sustained when he accidentally rode his Segway over a cliff. That would be tragic enough, but it takes on extra meaning when you point out that Mr Heselden was actually the owner of the company that manufactures Segways !

    The company providing the tour was not too far from the Colosseum and we decided to take the Metro from Termini to the Colosseum. Although the Metro works extremely work and gives unlimited travel for 100 minutes for only 1.5 Euro, it was disappointing to see the graffiti covered carriages. Both the insides and outsides of every carriage were completely plastered with graffiti. This served to remind us that actually our trains in Melbourne are clean by comparison.

    When we made it to the Segway office, Lionel discovered that he had accidentally booked his tour with another company and no amount of discussion would allow the two companies to transfer his booking. Thus our group was down to 4 Ghostrollers plus an English couple who were across in Italy for a couple of days. The Segways were lined up and we were then informed just how easy it is to crash on these contraptions. That was not a great way to instill confidence in an already apprehensive team.

    The first 30 minutes were spent on a training session and, after a few initial abrupt stops and starts, I started to get the hang of the thing. When none of us managed to fall off we followed our guide out into the hustle and bustle of Rome. Much of the roads we were riding on were constructed of uneven cobblestones but the Segway handled the surface quite well.

    After we had climbed up and over the first of Rome’s seven hills, I no longer felt anxious and really started to feel exhilerated. We started to dodge and weave and test out our new prowess, ,but an ominous noise behind me indicated that someone had come to grief. I looked back and saw Mary lying on the footpath while her Segway took off without her. I could not help but feel a sinking feeling in my stomach, however Mary immediately got back to her feet and assured us that she was fine. In fact that was the only incident we had all day.

    The next stop was the huge Circus Maximus, site of the famous chariot races of Ben Hur, and the ideal location to really let the Segways stretch their wheels. We thundered down the main straight but I soon discovered that the harder I pushed forward the more the control handle pushed back into my stomach. At the end of the main straight our guide explained that was because the machine has an automatic speed limiter. He asked whether we would like the speed limiter disabled ? Stupid Question !!! Does a duck like to swim ? A few minutes later all our limiters were disabled and we were charging up and down the arena like crazed hoons. What an absolute blast.

    The next three hours were spent riding from place to place all over Rome. It was a fantastic way to explore the city without walking behind some flag toting guide. I could really become addicted to this contraption but I had to admit that, by 1 pm the hot sun was taking its toll and I was glad to step down and look for a shady place to sit down.

    Unfortunately the place we chose to sit down turned out to be a restaurant owned by Rome’s surliest restaurateur. It was the classic case of service WITHOUT a smile and was a huge contrast to the friendly service we had enjoyed everywhere else in the city. I had ordered pasta and when it was served I made the mistake of asking for some Parmesan cheese. You might have thought I had asked to marry his daughter – he was so disgusted. There was no way he was going to bring any cheese so I just had to give up. The pizza that had been ordered by Gonny and Mary seemed to have left the kitchen minus the topping, and the rest of the dinner would have scored about 2 out of 100 on any dining scale.

    I then asked for the bill. This led to another unfortunate confrontation when he refused to give it to me. I was only allowed to see the total, apparently the bill was his property and he did not have to give it to us. Any chance he had of getting a tip immediately went out the window and down the Appian Way. Since his total was 37Euro we gave him 40 Euro and asked for our change. When he reluctantly returned with our 3 Euro we told him to give it to the wandering piano accordion player who had been playing nearby. There’s one restaurant I will never go back to again.

    By mid afternoon I was back at my hotel and glad to escape the burning heat outside. This was our final full day in Rome and tomorrow morning we will be catching the train to Venice which will be starting place for our cycling adventure. I think we are all hoping that it will be a few degrees cooler there.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 6

    Claude Catches a Bagsnatcher

    August 30, 2015 in Italy ⋅ 31 °C

    Day 6 – In which we Head to Venice and Claude Confronts a Bag Snatcher

    After 4 wonderful days in Rome it was time to progress to the next leg of our journey and take the train to Venice which will become the starting point for our Italian Ride.We formed a peloton of rolling luggage pullers and made our way to the main Termini Railway Station to meet the high speed train to Venice. Once again the day turned out to be carbon copy of the previous 4 days – hot, sunny and humid.

    Although the train was very comfortable there was almost no space to store luggage and therefore our bags had to be squashed right at the entrance to our carriage while we made our way to our allocated seats. At least the four hour journey gave us plenty of time to chat and relax along the way. Like many European trains, this one flew along at up to 250 kph and tilted considerably when it was rounding a bend. Why are we apparently unable to build trains of this standard in Australia?

    By now you might expect that all the members of our team would have got to know each other’s names, however Mary seemed to have great difficulty remembering what Lionel’s name was. She called him a variety of names – but never the right one. The rest of us decided to add to her confusion by inventing a never ending sequence of alternate names for him (Claude, Owen, Virgil, Bruce, Brutus, the list was endless).

    When we stopped at a station somewhere in the middle of Italy, Claude (or Bentley, Rufus, Alexander ??) jumped to his feet and said that he thought he should keep an eye on our luggage. A few seconds later we heard him remonstrating with a girl who was apparently intent on getting off the train with his suitcase. He must have won the argument because the girl got off the train empty handed. It was just as well his instincts had been alert or else he would have arrived in Venice minus all his belongings.

    At around 2.30 pm we finally arrived at Santa Luzia station on Venice Island. We joined the queue for tickets to the water bus and were just about to get on the waiting ferry when Septimus (Oscar, Trevor, Erwin ???) pointed out that there was a 2 cm x 2 cm sign advising that the tickets needed to be validated before boarding. Judging by the number of people we soon observed being fined 67.5 Euro for not having a validated ticket, this is a very lucrative money earner for the local authorities. It would have proven to be a very expensive short voyage.

    About an hour later we were safely arrived at our small hotel and ready to do some exploration of the surrounds. Mary wasted no time with preliminaries and immediately proceeded to forget the way back to her hotel. Fortunately she was eventually found and escorted back to her enclosure. The next couple of days should be most interesting.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 7

    We Meet Mary & Maria

    August 31, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C

    For the three days we are in Venice our home will be the Santa Margherita Guesthouse in the Dorsoduro District of the city. This is a small but immaculately clean guesthouse not far from the Camp Santa Margherita, a large open plaza filled with small eateries and wine bars. Over the few days preceding our arrival in Venice I had received several emails from a mysterious “Maria”. These contained instructions for how to find and gain access to the guesthouse. This place is strictly a “self serve” accommodation with no reception. That arrangement works very well as the place is very well set up and contains everything we need for a short stay.

    Our first full day in Venice began with the first overcast sky I had seen since arriving in Italy 5 days ago. This meant that conditions were a little cooler than the scorching days we had been experiencing. I set out into the maze of small lanes, canals and blind alleys that constitute this famous and ancient city. Glancing at the map of the city reminded me of one of those huge puzzles that I loved to do as a kid. You know the type where you have to draw a line to help the mouse find the huge piece of cheese. Rather than try to follow each road on the map, I decided just to head off and follow the general flow of foot traffic. At least you don’t have to worry about being hit by a car, since there aren’t any. Venice is purely a pedestrian city. The only way to shift goods and people is via the numerous linking canals.

    In the early morning there was a cloudy mist laying low over the city which gave the place a rather otherworldy feel. Numerous artists were positioned on the dozens of small bridges, each trying to capture the quaint buildings on their small canvases. It is obviously a place where artists of all levels of skill come to try out their techniques.

    After about 30 minutes of wandering I found myself in the large Plaza outside the Basilica de San Marco. Obviously the huge cruise liners had already disgorged their thousands of passengers who were now shuffling their way in swarms behind their allocated tour guide. Again you have spectacle of dozens of these guides, each with their own flag or number on a stick followed by their shuffling herd of camera toting customers. The queue outside the Basilica stretched for as far as I could see and served to quickly convince me that I really did not need to see inside another famous church. I was however amused at the large sign at the entrance which warned against wearing inappropriate clothing, taking videos and NO SELFIES ! When I saw that sign I suddenly felt a new respect for this place. Maybe other places should declare themselves to be selfie free zones,

    By mid morning the cloud cover was starting to break up and the hot sun was making its presence felt on the back of my neck. I decided that it was time to start making my way back to the sanctuary of the Santa Margherita. Some types of technology are fantastic and, although I am not a fan of the addiction to smartphones, I do appreciate the usefulness of a GPS (especially for someone as directionally challenged as myself). Switching on the GPS it told me that I was about 2 km from home and indicated which direction for me to take. All I had to do was occasionally recheck to make sure that I was going in the generally correct direction.

    When I arrived at the Guesthouse I was met by a tall young blonde Italian girl who introduced herself as the mysterious Maria that I had been emailing with. We spent a very pleasant 30 minutes or so talking about travel and our previous cycling adventures. Maria told me that she would love to join us but that “her husband was far too lazy” to ride a bike. I told her that she could become our first Italian Ghostrider and showed her the website.

    Maria then turned the topic to that of Mary. She asked how old I thought that Mary might be. Now that’s a dangerous question to ask any man, but apparently Mary had filled in her application form stating that her birthdate was in 2015. Now while I did not know exactly how old Mary really was, I could be pretty sure that she was older than 8 months. Maria said she had been a bit doubtful that such a young girl would be travelling the world, but I was able to say that Mary occasionally suffered from lapses of concentration. That was the reason we heard her banging on the outside door this morning when she could not remember the entry code.

    I then introduced Maria to Lance (Oscar, Wallace, Henry, Benedict ?). Rather than great Maria with a beaming smile, Trevor started a rambling diatrobe about how uncomfortable his bed was. I really felt sorry for our newest Ghostrider recruit who tried to apologise to him and explain that she could not make a new bed in the little time available.

    When I later went out for another walk I was a little surprised that the chaotic laneways actually made a little more sense than they had just 24 hours earlier. And, by the way, Maria explained that she still sometimes gets lost in Venice and she had lived here for 30 years !    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 8

    Serendipity Pays a Visit

    September 1, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C

    My short time in Venice has certainly taught me one thing – I am eternally grateful that we did not book our accommodation anywhere near the famous San Marco area of town. After another evening meal at our new favourite restaurant last night I again wandered out into the byways and alleyways this morning, to improve my knowledge of this fascinating place.

    As I crisscrossed back and forth I found myself pulled by the increasing throng of pedestrians heading towards the San Marco Basicila. I felt a little like I was a wandering asteroid being sucked into a gravitational vortex of a huge black hole of tourists. Although it was tempting to be just swept along by the crowds, when my way took me past a large open space with a couple of large trees near the centre, I escaped the vortex and made my way to an inviting seat under the larger tree.

    As I have said may times before, I am not like the typical tourist who clutches their map and guidebook and rushes from highlight to highlight. For me, the main attraction of travel has always been to watch and meet local people. Over the years I have had some amazing encounters that I recall and treasure dearly. This morning provided another of those “chance” encounters.

    I had not been siting long when a tall middle aged gentleman with a shock of white hair asked if he could rest alongside me. “Sure” I replied. We sat together in silence for a few minutes before I decided to open a conversation with him. What followed was a 45 minute discussion with one of the most interesting characters I have met in a very long while. At first it was hard to pick his accent, but he revealed that he had been born in Germany but had spent the past 45 years living in America. He had progressed in his education to become a university professor and then left for a series of appointments in research organisations. His work was in the field of molecular biology and he was happy to talk with me on many of the things his research had been involved with. Like me, he had no time for the crowded throngs of tourists with their selfie sticks. Apparently he was in the middle of an extended solo trip around Europe. He had purchased a small car for his travels and planned to sell it when his trip cam to an end. He explained that, even if he could not sell it, it was still cheaper than hiring a car for that period of time.

    Of course the conversation also turned to what we were doing in Italy and I was able to tell him about the Ghostriders. He seemed very disappointed that he did not have a similar group that he could travel with as he loved cycling and agreed that it would be a perfect way to explore the world. On several occasions we said goodbye and then got involved with another topic of conversation. I genuinely felt sorry that I could not invite him to join our adventure. He was travelling alone and intimated that he would have loved the companionship of good friends to travel with. Eventually we parted with a warm handshake and with mutual wishes of a safe and enjoyable trip. Whatever else I did today, I already felt that my day was complete.

    For the next couple of hours I allowed myself to be sucked back into the vortex of pedestrians, past the selfie sellers and tacky trinket shops and into the centre of the maelstrom. The queues were just as long as yesterday, the sun was just as hot and my personal space had disappeared. After taking a few more pictures I retreated back to the much quieter region of the Dorsoduro. Since this is too far for the throngs from the tourist boats and buses to reach in their 2 hour visits, it is very much quieter than the Eastern end of the island. After sundown the alleys are deserted and silent. With the full moon above it makes for a memorable late night walk.

    This was our last full day in Venice. Tomorrow we travel back to Mestre to collect our bikes and get underway on our ride to Florence. I think we are all very hopeful that the weather might finally break and give us some relief from the 30 plus temperatures.

    LATE NEWS FLASH
    I was amazed when one of our riders returned from their day’s adventures, proudly holding a brand new selfie stick. In some respects it was the very last person I would have expected to succumb to unrelenting selfie stick sales pressure, but believe it or not, it’s true. I will reveal their identity in the next update.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 9

    The Wheels Start Turning

    September 2, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    My short time in Venice has certainly taught me one thing – I am eternally grateful that we did not book our accommodation anywhere near the famous San Marco area of town. After another evening meal at our new favourite restaurant last night I again wandered out into the byways and alleyways this morning, to improve my knowledge of this fascinating place.

    As I crisscrossed back and forth I found myself pulled by the increasing throng of pedestrians heading towards the San Marco Basicila. I felt a little like I was a wandering asteroid being sucked into a gravitational vortex of a huge black hole of tourists. Although it was tempting to be just swept along by the crowds, when my way took me past a large open space with a couple of large trees near the centre, I escaped the vortex and made my way to an inviting seat under the larger tree.

    As I have said may times before, I am not like the typical tourist who clutches their map and guidebook and rushes from highlight to highlight. For me, the main attraction of travel has always been to watch and meet local people. Over the years I have had some amazing encounters that I recall and treasure dearly. This morning provided another of those “chance” encounters.

    I had not been siting long when a tall middle aged gentleman with a shock of white hair asked if he could rest alongside me. “Sure” I replied. We sat together in silence for a few minutes before I decided to open a conversation with him. What followed was a 45 minute discussion with one of the most interesting characters I have met in a very long while. At first it was hard to pick his accent, but he revealed that he had been born in Germany but had spent the past 45 years living in America. He had progressed in his education to become a university professor and then left for a series of appointments in research organisations. His work was in the field of molecular biology and he was happy to talk with me on many of the things his research had been involved with. Like me, he had no time for the crowded throngs of tourists with their selfie sticks. Apparently he was in the middle of an extended solo trip around Europe. He had purchased a small car for his travels and planned to sell it when his trip cam to an end. He explained that, even if he could not sell it, it was still cheaper than hiring a car for that period of time.

    Of course the conversation also turned to what we were doing in Italy and I was able to tell him about the Ghostriders. He seemed very disappointed that he did not have a similar group that he could travel with as he loved cycling and agreed that it would be a perfect way to explore the world. On several occasions we said goodbye and then got involved with another topic of conversation. I genuinely felt sorry that I could not invite him to join our adventure. He was travelling alone and intimated that he would have loved the companionship of good friends to travel with. Eventually we parted with a warm handshake and with mutual wishes of a safe and enjoyable trip. Whatever else I did today, I already felt that my day was complete.

    For the next couple of hours I allowed myself to be sucked back into the vortex of pedestrians, past the selfie sellers and tacky trinket shops and into the centre of the maelstrom. The queues were just as long as yesterday, the sun was just as hot and my personal space had disappeared. After taking a few more pictures I retreated back to the much quieter region of the Dorsoduro. Since this is too far for the throngs from the tourist boats and buses to reach in their 2 hour visits, it is very much quieter than the Eastern end of the island. After sundown the alleys are deserted and silent. With the full moon above it makes for a memorable late night walk.

    This was our last full day in Venice. Tomorrow we travel back to Mestre to collect our bikes and get underway on our ride to Florence. I think we are all very hopeful that the weather might finally break and give us some relief from the 30 plus temperatures.

    LATE NEWS FLASH
    I was amazed when one of our riders returned from their day’s adventures, proudly holding a brand new selfie stick. In some respects it was the very last person I would have expected to succumb to unrelenting selfie stick sales pressure, but believe it or not, it’s true. I will reveal their identity in the next update.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 11

    My Bike Starts Ticking

    September 4, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    In Which we stay in the best hotel in Chioggia – and I am attacked by Ticks

    When this trip was being put together I had no idea of which hotels to select in the various towns along the way. I had never traveled in this part of the world and decided to just go along with the recommendations that UTRACKS had put together for us. It was therefore something of a surprise when we arrived at the beautiful seaside town of Chioggia and found ourselves in what was unquestionably the finest hotel in the town.

    Situated right on the waterfront the Grande Hotel Italia certainly lived up to the first part of its name. With its marble floors and impressive staircase, we felt like we must have accidentally got someone else’s booking by mistake. The rooms were equally as impressive, featuring huge beds and every modern convenience. I guess this was a bit like how Bronwyn Bishop must do all her travels, but for me it was a real novelty.

    In the evening we had dinner in a nearby restaurant in a quiet side alley, off the main street. Chioggia is basically one large main street leading directly alongside the canal and ending at the water’s edge. Since our hotel was right at the end of the canal, it would have been impossible for even the most directionally challenged walker to get lost. As I walked back in the warm evening I noticed that the flags near the waterside were slightly fluttering – the first small signs of wind that we had seen since arriving in Italy over a week ago. Perhaps it was the first indication that the weather pattern might be about to break.

    The next morning we celebrated breakfast (“ate” would simply just not be sufficient to describe the act of breakfasting in the most wonderful breakfast room you could imagine) overlooking the marina and the water beyond. There was a huge array of food to choose from and it would have been tempting to just sit and eat and enjoy the fabulous view. They even served cappucino coffee if you asked one of the attentive waitresses for it. However we had a ride to do and had to keep an eye on the time.

    It turned out that we had arrived in Chioggia on market day. When I went out on my early morning walk I was astounded at the army of stall holders that managed to transform the main street within the matter of 15 minutes. The setup was achieved with military precision with each stall holder knowing exactly where their allocated territory was. The stalls themselves carried an impressive array of goods, everything from the cheap Chinese clothing copies and $2 screwdrivers to shoes, kitchenware, food, handicrafts, leathergoods and even bicycle parts.

    The start of our ride actually took us up the main street, which meant that we had to walk the gauntlet of thousands of bargain hunting shoppers. It took us about 30 minutes to walk the avenue of stalls before we could actually mount our bikes. Somewhere along the way, I found myself the proud owner of a new leather wallet. It reminded me of the chaos at the start of every “Around the Bay in a Day” mass bike ride. Eventually we broke free of the masses and found ourselves on a quiet rural road running alongside a canal. This was the type of riding we had come so far to experience and it was a glorious feeling to just turn the pedals over and see the kilometres pass by.

    It was about this time that a couple of small irritations arose to detract slightly from the perfect nature of the morning. The first was a meteorological matter. The wind that had begun the previous evening was now a steady, but gentle breeze. Unfortunately it blew directly into our faces most of the day. Headwinds are an inescapable part of cycling, but the second annoyance was something else entirely different.

    Before coming to Europe we had been warned to keep an eye out for ticks, as they can cause all manner of illnesses. I had not ridden far before I became aware of a tick at very close quarters. Actually it was NOT the small parasitic insect, it was a persistent tick, tick, tick from the bottom bracket region of my bike. Every time I turned the pedals over, there it was – TICK, TICK, TICK. I tried kicking the pedals TICK, TICK, TICK. I tried changing gears TICK, TICK TICK. I even tried standing up on the pedals TICK, TICK, TICK, bloody TICK. it was obvious that it was going to follow me for the entire ride.

    When confronted with an annoying repetitious noise like that, there are only two alternatives. The first option is to let it drive you insane. The second option is to find a tune that has the same rhythm and then just hum along with it. I adopted the second approach. And thus occupied, I hummed my way through the day’s ride.

    The end of the day’s ride was in a lovely small town called Adria and it was a lovely surprise to find the hotel’s staff waiting to welcome us with a delightful jug of iced orange juice with ginger. We sat in the shady gardens, drinking juice and listening to the operatic singing wafting through the trees. Although I told the group that the music was part of the welcome that I had organised, in truth it was because we are located right next door to the Conservatory of Music and it was the students practising their talents in the late afternoon. The soprano worked her way up and down the scales while the pianist battled with some complex symphony. I wondered what the poor triangle player would add to the occasion. Did they also have to practise for hundreds of hours having to perfect the ever elusive perfect “ding” ?

    A young female student came out the front door with an enormous double bass dragging behind her. I bet she wished she had chosen the piccolo instead.

    It was a magical end to a great day.

    PS The hotel is also VERY impressive. It looks like we must have selected the deluxe accommodation option.

    FOOT NOTE:
    As a footnote I would also like to take a little time to introduce the members of our 2015 Italy Ride. Although I have already mentioned a number of them in passing, it is probably a good time to introduce them all and provide you a brief background on each one.

    John Rundell – has completed a number of previous overseas adventures including the 2011 Danube Ride, The 2011 Elbe Ride, the 2013 Thailand Ride as well as our 2014 rides in Finland, Sweden and the UK. When he is not enjoying himself on the bike he spends most of his time counting his vast collection of classic cars. If our team were the cast of Gilligan’s Island, John would be the perfect candidate to play Thurston Howell. John will also be leading Group 2 of our 2015 France ride.

    Gonny Rundell – is also a very experienced rider, having participated in the same rides as John, as well as our unforgettable 2013 Bhutan Ride. For the past couple of years Gonny has suffered with a serious back problem and, late last year underwent a spinal fusion. This has proven very successful, although she has not been able to ride seriously for a long time. This trip represents her return to extended cycling.

    Lionel Rex – Lionel is also a very capable and experienced rider who took part in our 2011 Danube and Elbe rides. In keeping with his regal surname, Lionel has extremely high expectations for hotel rooms and probably would not even find Buckingham Palace up to his standard. Lionel loves long, early morning walks where he can take pictures of himself with his newly acquired selfie stick. Lionel also likes navigating and his map skills have already proven useful.

    We also have two members of our team who have never completed any previous overseas rides.

    Mary Jonas – is a capable rider but not so capable navigator. She is inclined to get a little lost at times and to forget her room number when staying in a hotel. In the evenings, Mary always looks like a distinguished lady of the calibre of Helen Mirren. I have also found her very interesting to chat with.

    Irena Blonder – when Irena first expressed an interest in this trip, she went on to explain that she does have a particular distinction in that she is rather short of stature. Personally I would not say that she was extraordinarily short, however if she was any smaller, her legs would not reach the ground. When trying to locate a suitably sized bike for her, UTRACKS explored numerous options (including fitting pedals to a roller skate) but fortunately they finally located a bike of the right size. Although Irena sometimes looks like she is wrestling an elephant more than riding a bike, I have been very impressed with her riding ability. On a couple of occasions during today’s ride, she actually bolted away into the distance, leaving the rest of us languishing in her wake. I have been especially pleased to see how much Irena has obviously been enjoying the ride so far. A couple of days ago I actually asked her if she has always been short, and she explained that she used to be very tall, but has been progressively shrinking.

    Dennis Dawson – the only normal member of the group.    Read more

  • The World on Two WheelsEuropean Renaissance Rides
    Day 12

    We Pedal the Po

    September 5, 2015 in Italy ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C

    What a difference a day makes. Yesterday my ride was plagued by a repetitious ticking noise from the bottom bracket of my bike. Although I tried my best to pretend it was not a big deal – in fact it was a niggling irritation. A bike is the most efficient form of transportation ever invented, but when it makes untoward noises, it can also be a source of mental torture.

    When we met Josef yesterday afternoon I mentioned my problem and this morning he arrived at our hotel with a replacement bike. A short test ride showed that this one was smooth and virtually silent (just the way that a bike should be).

    Our night had been spent at the impressive Hotel Stella d’Italia in Adria. This was not only an imposing and stately looking hotel, but it was in a street of stately homes suggesting that this was where the old money was in this town. It was slightly macabre that a couple of these huge homes looked like they had not been lived in for years (checkout the photos below).

    The hotel was a genuine 4 star hotel but it did have a few shortcomings. The lock on my door fell off when I was closing the door for the last time, the water in my bathroom basin would not empty and the air conditioning gave about as much air flow as a flatulent sparrow. The breakfast was also very disappointing compared to the sumptuous offering from the Grande Italia in Chioggia.

    The biggest challenge we faced today was to find the correct route out of Adria. Somehow when we asked for directions, instead of a simple instruction we had a 15 minute lecture from a helpful local. We battled our way up and down busy streets, over bridges, round roundabouts and still got lost. It was only when we consulted the GPS we realised that we were on the wrong road entirely. Fortunately after a few adjustments to the route we resumed the correct path and escaped the traffic.

    Although we were hoping for a cooler day, today turned into another mirror image of all the previous days. We are rapidly growing an impressive array of red noses and pink legs as we ride under the strong Tuscan sun. Within a few kilometres we joined an amazing bike path along the wide Po river. The surface was as smooth as a baby’s bottom and made for wonderful cycling. The path was elevated as it followed the levee bank for many kilometres, giving us a panoramic view of the river and the (mostly) run down farm houses along the way. Without the ticks that had followed my bike the previous day, I was able to thoroughly enjoy the sensation of rolling along in silence.

    We stopped for lunch at a seaside resort town of Lido di Volano. Italians obviously love to bake themselves black in the sunshine and many showed the distinctive signs of premature ageing caused by their lack of sun smarts. Apparently the slip slap slap message was not popular in this part of the world.

    After lunch we had another 27 or so km to ride and we were feeling the combined effects of the heat, the head wind and the fact that this was our longest day in the saddle so far. We had a couple of roadside drinks breaks before finally reaching the quaint town of Commachio. With its narrow central canal and a couple of gondolas, it was a bit like a vastly more modest version of Venice.

    Our dinner was taken right outside the hotel so we only had a few metres to return to our rooms.    Read more

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