TRIUMPH AND DISASTER

New blog

2011-09-05T16:29:00.001+10:00

Hello everybody and sorry about the total lack of updates and news. I have been traveling and working since the last post years ago. I am off to India tomorrow and I will be recording my travels in a new blog: www.kylearcher.blogspot.com

The reason for this is I feel like a cheater writing on "bikevoyage" when I won''t be cycling in India! See you over there! :-)

Beginning/middle of the End

2010-09-20T15:50:00.001+10:00

It must be said, this was the point where I was beginning to lose the desire to keep cycling and traveling. I still didn't feel 100 percent, and I was kind of deflated. Nevertheless, I left Feliciano's beautiful house in the morning for the ride through Los Alcerces National Park. The next few days were to be a test to see if I had lost the passion for cycling and if my body had recovered fully from the debilitating illness. I decided, with Feli's advice, to cycle north toward Bariloche, folliwing a diiferent route than normal, through a national park, instead of the main road (still Ruta 40) which was said to be quite boring. Prior experience lended me no reason to disagree.

The road for the first 35km was lucsious tar-sealed tarmac, and even with a good climb out of a valley, I felt good. I found my black pen. The road crested down into a valley. I thought the park started there, but the entrance was not forthcoming. Half and hour later, finally, the entrance appeared, and with the guards at the gate, my hopes for a free entry were dashed. I paid 30 pesos, but observed there were also cheaper entry fees (for locals only?) Nevertheless, the park was lindo, a few waterfalls etc; but I had the feeling I had seen it all before on the Carretera Austral. Can't shake this negative vibe and mood. The hills were undulating, and the steepest was around 23% on loose rock, with seven slack-jawed gawpers leering at me. I despised them. Most of the day I just pushed on, looking for a free spot to camp, and according to my map, there were a few designated free spots on the way. I missed all of them somehow. After a good hundred or so kilometers that day, I played it criminal. I pulled into a pay-only spot, snuck my tent up, and read my book. Into the night, the campers next to me in their RV said Hola and called me over.

There were three of them, all Argentinean. All in their 40-50's. We talked for a few hours both in Spanish and English. They gave me some excellent dinner in the form of lamb schnitzels con chimi. I said my goodbyes, laid up for the night in my tent, then got up early the next morning, snaeking out and avoiding the camping fee. I was on my way out of the national park, back toward the rural Argentine countryside. On the road out, I met a local bike tourer. He had this endless enthusiasm about him that was shamefully grating to me. I happily warned him of an impending hill. As I left the park I passed a group of gauchos who either waved or offered me a cup of mate. I do hope it was just a wave, as I didn't stop. Strangely the faces of the locals here weren't as smiley as previously. Perhaps they mirrored my own. I was on my way on a rough road that was showing no pity and getting no gentler as the day's mileage increased. I was headed toward the dreaded Cholila-El Bolson road that had been under construction since 2004.

It lived up to it's reputation, reducing me to an exhausted, blistered, blubbering wreck, and almost drew a few tears of utter deperation. In fact if it weren't for the timely arrival of Sofie, I may have let the circling vultures take me. Sofie was a hard as nails kiwi bike-tourer laden with junk food. Naturally, with her chocolate, chips, and smile, she put a bit more in my tank, and once again I pedaled off alone toward the distant horizontal line on that forsaken road.

Hitchiking Journeyman

2010-04-29T01:36:00.006+10:00

I stayed at Feli's amazing stately home for two nights, recovering. His parents spoke no english, but prepared three delicious meat-filled meals a day for me, and I had a wash. As I was ill but still had to get my bike, Feli and I weighed the options. 1. Hire a car, drive to Puyuhuapi, get bike, drive back. Not too expensive, but unadventurous. 2. Hitch all the way. Maybe too much for a man with what I suspected was Guardia. 3. Get bus company to pick up bike and deliver it to closer village. Deal. We boneheadedly arranged for that same bus company that had so scarred my previous week to drop the bike off in Villa Santa Lucia, about 100km closer. 12000 Chilean peso via Western Union. Ouch. Feli took me to the border where I managed to rope three lifts to Santa Lucia. Made good time. Bus with my bike on it due at 4:00pm. I waited, anxious. The bus arrived late, and to my incredible, really terrifying fury, the bike was not on it. It was still in Puyuhuapi, and to top it all off, it was the same bus driver, that wretch from earlier, and he told me he knew nothing of the deal, and even if he did, he wouldn't have taken the bike on his bus anyway.

I tried to control my fury, and I showed him the Western Union reciept and recieved a shrug in return. I had to accept the fact that I was hitching to Puyuhuapi and had lost another $30. Converse to my seeming current luck run, I found my ancient old favourite black Quantas pen...my diary was back to black. I camped near the town in a beautiful campsite with some yanks in it. Nice place but no tent, so I was a little cold. Americans offered to take me to Puyuhuapi in the morning. I would have kept hitching that day, as it was still early, if I'd have known they would reneg.

The Americans and I, in the morning, drove to La Junta, a small town halfway there. For some reason the Americans decided not to keep going to Puyuhuapi. I was stuck there. Wished they had told me this yesterday. On the plus side, I met up with Belarus and Dan cycling north, I had no idea they were so far behind me. In La Junta, I tried hitching for three hours. Nothing, no-one. Finally a bus stops for me. No way. Its him. Are there no other bus drivers in Chile?

He somehow find a little compassion and takes me on the bus to Puyuhuapi. Anyway now I was finally in Puyuhuapi. It took another three hours for me to be reunited with my bike as it was in the post office which was unreasonably shut, perhaps for siesta. Getting dark, nowhere to stay. Must get out of here. I got to the outskirts of town and put out my thumb. Minutes later two other hitchhikers appeared and stood in front of me! Now thats just rude. I walked over to berate them. Didn't have to, as they turned out to be pleasant company. Israeli guy, can't remember name and a german girl, Liza. Had a good laugh con the Israeli, concerning the fact he was traveling alone rather than in a group of seven. We were picked up by a truck hours later and were able to ride in the back of it, bike and all. It was a great ride, talking world issues with the Israeli while the sun set over the mountains.

In La Junta (again) we were dropped off in the dark. We found a hostel type of place to stay for the night. I had some carne empanadas for dinner while poor Liza had nothing as she was vego and couldn't find anything without meat in it. Thats too bad. Next morning we snagged a cheap bus before sunrise. Israeli stayed to sleep in and take a later bus. Liza and myself had to swap buses in a village called Santa Lucia. Apparently the b us would be in one hour, but six later we were still waiting. Boredom. Finished my only book. No mp3 player batteries. Population 96. Damn Chile and its unholy unreliable everything. It is reliable at being unreliable. Had a few instant-coffees, four helados and much pan. We cried with joy when we spotted the approaching dust cloud of a bus. Still hadn't made it the whole way back, they bus left us at the border town of Futaleufu.

Waiting in Futa, I met a group of English lads cruising around South America in an old Landcruiser. It never fails to make me happy chatting with the Brits. They have something and their sense of humour that I really connect with. The final ride of my crude, unwanted bicycle recovery mission left us at Esquel after many misunderstandings, mishaps, miscommunications, mistakes and factors building up to the possibility of misanthropy. But I was 'home'! I was in Argentina! Liza seemed to have had a singular consciousness shift as we passed the border and was becoming quite a negative force in my new happy-Technicolor-Argentine world, so I left her for dust in an Esquel internet cafe. Rather than grind my way down the road seven k's I decided to stay for one night in a 'hostel' of sorts in town. It was a great time, really good vibe there and cheap. at only 23 pesos a night. I stocked up on food, ready to pick up my velocipede at Feli's and hit the road straight away, as I expected him to be away traveling, meaning I couldn't stay there. When I rocked up to collect my stuff, however, there he was. Looked flustered. Anxious, nervous. Reason being, there was a serious bushfire nearby that was threatening his family home. We fixed his motorcycle and he went off to check on the fire. By nightfall it was under control, Feli relaxed, and I sorted out my kit for the rest of the day. Everything was back on track in sorts, I felt a huge weight lifted from my aching shoulders. However this mishap had made a sizeable dent in my budget and taken two weeks more out of my coffers. I still had not fully recovered from my sickness also, which meant generally lower levels of energy. Of course, in hindsight, looking back on this whole loathsome episode, I have strangely good memories.

Travelling kid with bike has bad luck in foreign country

2010-03-30T13:41:00.008+10:00

“As long as we are lucky we attribute it to our smartness; our bad luck we give the gods credit for”
-Joshua Billings 1885

Coyahaique from the top of a big bastard hill.

Had a bit of trouble with ATMs. A bit of a worry. Coyhaique was the only place with an atm for the next 600km or so. Heard later it was because an earthquake had smashed the central servers. An Earthquake. I guess I had to cop it as a good excuse. Spent 16,000 on shopping - ouch, must buy cheaper. After a dose of internet, I booked into residencial Monika, my first bed and room for some time. Watched a TV. 'Casino' with DeNiro. Underrated film.

Luke appeared that evening, said he wasn't staying at Monika but we should have a beer or something later. "Agreed, meet me at 6:30pm". Due to coincidence, I once again met up with Bob, of all people. As we were going separate ways now, not following the same route, we were unlikely to meet again. He benevolently offered to shout me dinner at a nice restaurant. Hotel and resaurant. Could get used to this but can't as I have no money. I heartily agreed. Brought along Luke who was paying for himself. Had an amazing steak (rare for Chile) and some fancy fruit-sugar construction for dessert. Talked to Bob for hours. Will miss the tough old coot.

Couldn't decide the next day whether to leave town or not. Traded stories with some other Aussie cyclists, the first since Max. I bit the bullet and tackled the big bastard hill out of town (figures) in the Midday sun. Sweated like a pig. Other side was all down though. A lot of down. I got down. Caught up with Luke about 25km out of town. We called it a day and camped together next to Rio Simpson. Tried to cook with Petrol instead of gas. Didn't work. Extreme fury. Could have cooked my soup with the steam shooting from my ears. Made a fool of myself in front of Luke. Finally realised the source of the problem. I had lost a part. The 'non-return valve' had found a way to unscrew itself after never having been used, and work its way out of a mesh sack, three pots, a stuff sack, and a waterproof pannier, to freedom. Couldn't ue anything but euro-gas until I found a replacement. Good luck finding a part for a swedish stove in Chilean Patagonia Arch. Also temporarily lost my favourite black pen so had to write my journal in inferior blue.

Bad luck comes in threes, does it not? Luke left early in the dawn of the following day. I passed him, then maybe ten kilometres later my fancy, rare Rohloff gear-hub's cables snapped after years of neglect. Fine. No problem. These years of neglect actually helped me cool my temper as it was my own fault. I have all the parts, I'll fix it here. Under the shade of this tree near the waterfall.

Torque screws. I had allen keys. Didn't have Torque keys. They were not Allen screws. I was screwed. Had to thumb back towards Coyhaique and a bike shop. Luke caught me up and helped me get a lift. He had command of the language. I lacked that. Back in Coyhaique, I sought out a bike shop. Long search for torque wrenches but found some. Inserted torque wrench into screw. Instantly ruined the thread on all six bolts, no way to unscrew ever. The bolts and I were now more firmly screwed than ever. No way to fix bike except unthinkably using an angle grinder, haha!

Found an angle grinder. Ancient bike shop man spoke no english. In a shower of sparks he put the angle grinder to my shiny US$1000 gear-hub. The wincing has given me permanent wrinkles. But because I was clever my luck held out and the bolts came off. No harm to the mechanics except some angle grinder scars on the outside. Kind of like my face. Anyhow I went to work. Four hours later due to my poor mechanical skill, I managed to get eleven of the fourteen original gears working.

I had to get out of Coyhaique today. Hitched again because I have a severe aversion to cycling the same road twice in quick succession, especially when that road is a 'big bastard hill' and in the scorching afternoon sun. Muy Caliente Aqui. I was dropped off to near where the breakdown originally was by some tourists in a hurry to catch a ferry in Puerto Aisen. Rest of day was uneventful, cycled maybe 40km and camped next to Rio Simpson. Swam sin ropas as there was nobody for miles. Sandy camp unfortunately. Similar to eating biscuits in bed then trying to have a comfortable sleep. It was only 20km or so from Villa Manihuales so I pressed on through. Nice village. Planned on making it to Villa Amengual. Didn't count on the shite ripio. Been on asphalt the last few days, so the awful ripio hurt bad. Map inaccurate. Much more ripio than I thought. Cursed at the sky. NB- in retrospect, a rubbish idea.

By the time I got to Villa Amegual I was utterly spent. Put through the meat-grinder. Worse than ever. Had two helados and called it quits at a nice campsite for the night. Met two yanks cycling south there. Shared a dinner and swapped literature. I had a quality hot shower. Best one yet. Little did I know this would be my last day's 'real' cycling for quite some time.

I woke up feeling like I had entered some gas chamber but had not quite died. Body wracked with shivery fever. Had to see a doctor or some pharmacist or an exorcist. Also had to choose between hitching to the next village in search of said expert, or trying to sleep it off. Chose to hitch. Took three hours to get a lift. Got one but it was a bad lift. It was a pickup with an enclosed tray. Tray was half-full. No seats left for me. Had to jam bike in the back, then jam myself in there with it. Lying on top of my bike in a crap truck on a dusty potholed road, wracked with severe fever on a hot dry day. I imagined this was what some poor Tommy soldier felt like, after copping dysentry, then some hot lead in the lungs from the Africa Corps at Alamein, being taken back to Cairo in a lorry for treatment. Except, I wasn't taken all the way back to Cairo.

Portrait taken around two hours before passing out

They left me, for reasons unknown, shivering, pale, with no food, a few drops of water and a disassembled bicycle, in the forest some thirty kilometres from Puyuhuapi, the next town. Struggling, I put the bike back together. Hooked on luggage. began pedaling. There were no cars to help me. Sucked down what little water I had left. After a monumental effort, plus some some heavy painkillers some cyclist had given me, I arrived in town, and safety. Felt better, but that was the Ibuprofen talking I soon found out.

With an 'I defeated the Africa Corps' grin on my face, I strutted into the internet cafe/information centre. Suddenly my vision blurred. My limbs lost their power. My head smashed into the keyboard. When I woke the first time, I was still looking at the keyboard really close up. I eyed the manger of the cafe and uttered "Necesito ajudar por favor" then passed out again. The good chaps there bundled me into a vanbulance. Took me to the local doc's. Hours later I emerged, medicine in hand, and went to 'Hospedaje Don Luis' to get a couple of day's kip in. A good choice. For two days I mostly slept and ate little, as I had also picked up some ghastly stomach bug - Don Luis and some Israelis forced me back to the doc's after a period of no improvement. I think I recall the doc mentioning Guardia in a flurry of espanol. I was put on four bags of saline in the arm. Replenished lost fluid. Felt a little better.

There was a bus in the morning, to near Esquel, where my amigo Feliciano lived. I had to sleep for a solid week so I bought a ticked with the last of my Chilean Pesos (no problem with bikes, they said). Next day comes. Still Ill. Bus arrives and bus driver refuses my bike to be taken. "This has happened before, Kyle, just tell him your loathesome story and all will be swell" I said to myself. Didn't work. Tried a bribe. Didn't work. Pleading and groveling. Didn't work. Nada. "Es tu problema, no me problema" that wretch told me.

But I had to take the bus as I had no money left. No ATM. I took the bus, and had to leave my bike in that tiny forsaken village in the middle of nowhere. Got to Futaleufu, totally disheartened and sick, and the following day, hitchhiked over the border, back into Argentina, and to Cabanas El Principio, the home of my friend Feli.

My sanctuary

PS: Things get better!!

Carretera Australian Pt2

2010-03-22T23:59:00.001+10:00

First impression of the town was "O.K I've found the tip, where is the town?" Turns out, the street coming into town was under reconstruction, hence the unfair first impression. So after a good shop-restock, I found the main square. Polish guy at the library. Strong character. Worked for a hydroelectric dam, so resented the 25 or so "¡Patagonia Sin Represas!" cycle tourers/protestors, assembled in town. Gave a Japanese cyclist that Marathon XR the swiss chap gave me earlier in exchange for his tarp, as I couldn't find one anywhere. He accepted, then ran off to a nearby shop. He came back soon after clutching a new tarp. A kind of anger welled up inside me, but I shook it off, the guy was so happy. Sat and read my book in the town square - 'Clear and present Danger', thoroughly enjoyable - even though it was a Tom Clancy. Don't judge me, books in English here are rarer than hen's teeth. Swissdeux finally arrived, halfway through chapter. Bummer. No thats not true, their company was appreciated and we went to the in-town campsite for the usual. Had some excellent fast food for dinner. Swiss had burgers too. Hot water at camp insufficient for three.

We made a late start, about midday. As usual, there was a big hill out of town, when we finally found out how to actually leave Cochrane. "This way!" "No, this way!" "You fool thats the way to Argentina!". A motorcycle tourist pointed as right - "That hill's outta town boys!". Three faces grimaced.

What a hill it was too, turned out to be about three big ones. The valley was arid and Hay los gradientes fuertes! Standard rubbish ripio, but I had managed to pull ahead of the swiss. Got to lovely Puerto Bertrand for a lunch stop and to wait. Jetty. Quaint houses. Little boats on the shore. Little fishing boats, and small dingies lining a shore in a place are one of my favourite sights in the world and this one was bringing warmth into my heart. Added loads of pan and Dulce de Leche (Manjar in Chile) to my stomach for lunch. the swiss arrived and we ended up hanging around Bertrand for a few hours. Left Bertrand to be greeted by another monstrous hill. What's with these 'leaving town hills'? Enough to drive Archy bonkers. Dog peacefully followed me for 5km. Scared it away, didn't want its owner worried, you see. Rode another 15km to a fateful turnoff.

Which way? To Chile Chico? Road really hard and like a rollercoaster. To Cerro Castillo? Few villages but better road and a chance to see Cerro Castillo mountain. Waited for Swissdeux to roll in so we could make our usual democratic 3-way decision. Waited for two hours. Still not here? Its only 17kms, guys! Fed up. Left alone, after consuming five manjar sandwiches and twenty swatted horseflies. At the next bend, (heading towards Cerro Castillo) I saw an old face. German guy from hostel in El Calafate. Greetings exchanged at this coincidence. He was hitching with some German broad to Rio Tranquilo. It was getting late so I went with them in the truck. As I loaded on my bike, the Swiss arrived. With that og that was following me. Told them "I´m hitching for 30km, bye!" I would leave a note for them at Tranquilo. Dog had to walk home 20km.

We got to Tranquilo and I restocked. Also had an "El Compleato" just as I was supposed to board a boat to tour the Marble caves on Lago General Carrera (Lago Buenos Aires in Arg, it lies on the border). The cheap boat trip was nice. Best weather and stillest lake in the history of forever, claimed the boatman. I believed him. Back in Tranquilo, I wrote a note to the swiss and stuck in on the "Bienvenidos a Rio Tranquilo" sign. Probably won't see them again (Haven't yet). Well, the two krauts and I left the boring village to wild camp. The scared Germans voted "no" at an excellent spot over fence for fear of tresspassing fines. We went on a bit and jumped a fence anyway due to the dimming light. Spot not as nice as my choice. Didn't say anything. Had some tasty burger/hot dog thingys for dinner, Germans had rice.

Up bright and early the next day, the krauts still shooting Z's. Left by myself and decided on about 80ms today, a fair cop on ripio. Actually took it pretty slow in the morning and spoke to numerous passing bike tourers about the road ahead. Really hilly and road conditions are crap was the general consensus. Had a small lunch with some euro-hikers and two female Chileno bikers heading south. The road really did go arriba. reading Tyson Schmidshals online diary prepared me for the worst. Really smooth mud ripio on the way down the other side of the hill. Got to the bottom, back to the rubbish ripio, and thought I'd come a long way. But kept going. There was a bad part of the road, 20km being ´reconstructed´. Big rocks. Nearly cried. I asked a road worker "How far to Cerro Castillo, amigo?" "Viente kilometres" "20km? Wow I had come a long way!" I thought. Might as well make it to Castillo, then. Another two hours of cycling pass. this is one looong 20km, I kept saying inside my head. After two more mountain passes at around 400-500m, I asked a local man: "How far to Cerro Catillo, amigo?" "38kms" he replies. Mind starts spinning. Anger at construction worker reaches 'fury' level. Nothing I could do to him as he was at least 38 km away. Decided to keep going - why stop now, use this rage for fuel! After cresting another whopper hill, I entered what looked like Utah. Rolled downhill a long way, and entered Villa Cerro Castillo. Saw a sigh facing the way I'd come: 'Rio Tranquilo 121km'. Not a bad day's work! Bought two sodas and a great burger at a singular bus-restaurant on the main road. After some Castellano confusion, the beautiful lady (first one in Chile so far!) at the restaurant let me camp just outside on their property, with free access to toilets and water. Sunset over Monte Cerro Castillo. Good end to a mammoth day.

Felt remarkably O.K in the morning, muscles were not in their usual cramped, burning state. Packed up camp, bought Pan, and begun the long slow climb out of town toward the famous 1300m pass. About 300m up and 4km into the ride, I realised I had left Ol' trusty, my much adored knife, back at camp in town. Frustration! Rolled back down, got the shank, sweated back up. Met up with the Krauts again, they were camping in some field. Hi and bye! I tackled the pass, about 9 switchbacks then a mirador. I strutted around, feeling like hot stuff around a group of measly bus-tourists. Must remember - keep that ego in check, Arch. The hill kept coming but Michael Franti had me singing up the pass, was actually quite fun - a paved road make a hell of a difference. Coasted down the other side for ages on a slight gradient. Tried to spot a Huemel but didn´t. "Uh-oh, the roads going up again, how can this be? Gimme a break surveyors, haven't I climbed enough today?". Super-exhausted. Got to a lake and saw that it was going to be mostly downhill now, into the big arid valley that holds Coyhaique.

But into the fray comes another player. My good old, almost forgotten nemesis, the wind. And, as it couldn't be any other way, it was bang-on in my face. Almost done for the day. Met Luke, a walker/hitchhiker. he told me of a small town up ahead - 'El Blanco'. The museum in town told me I could camp near the river. I did. Set up camp, and Luke showed up later also, at the same spot. Short green grass, in the shade of the burning sun, no wind, and a potable river right next to me. Unfortunately slipped on a wet rock in said river and lost yet another water bottle. Down to two, started with five. Lentil and rice soup for dinner.

Luke was up bright and early in the morning, to walk to Coyhaique. About 33km. Told me of a place to stay, Residencial Veronica, or Monica, or something. Said "I'll meet ya there!" I rode off about one hour after he left, soon overtook him, after after a frankly dull 33km ride, arrived in Coyhaique. Biggest town on the Carretera Austral and about halfway along.

Carretera Australian

2010-03-22T03:15:00.005+10:00

With Belarus and the swiss we hopped on down to Villa O´Higgins, 7km away. I scouted out the town and found very little of interest, so I booked into El Mosco, where the Swiss were setting up camp. Used the free, slow internet, dried some things, then Danny showed up. Don´t get me wrong, I like the guy, but that creep Danny, daft old boy, proceeded to dry out all of his kit on the lawn of El Mosco, used the facilities, jumped on the net, then told me he wasn't going to stay there at all anyway, he was jetting off that night. Owner of El Mosco overheard him, blasted him, and rightly so. Danny left and hung around Belarus at some other campground. I think he went fishing with Ben. That was the last time I saw Belarus and Dan. Meanwhile, I was fast making plans in El Mosco. Put on my chunky bike tyre for the rough road ahead. Had hotdogs for dinner and met a Canadian ocean surveyor.

Said goodbye to O'Higgins early in the morn, and left my companions of the previous week. The ride started well. Read a journal previously of a gentleman that had cycled to Rio Bravo in one day. Thought I'd do the same. Had a rough time of it, two big hills, visible in the distance, wrecked my thighs and nerves. Rain. Misery. Utter exhaustion, but I made it to Rio Bravo by 5:00pm, the ferry was at eight. Cooked a delicious tomato pasta dinner and dried off in a nice, clean ferry terminal building that was deserted. The ferry arrived, and I asked the driver if there was any place to camp on the other side of the Fjord, at Puerto Yungay. he said, "Yes, in my front yard!" I said "Great!" He said "You pay in Chilean pesos, yes?" I said, "No, I'm staying here, in this cozy terminal, for free, and catching the morning ferry!" He shrugged, couldn't care less either way. Another swiss man exited the ferry going the direction I came, and he also decided to use the handy terminal for a night's kip. Had a good gab all night and the nice chap gave me a brand new Marathon XR, as he didn't need it. Neither did I, but I never look a gift horse in the mouth.

The following morning, he was off early. Just as the ferry showed up at 10:00am, Swissdeux rolled in. Nick of time. We slept on the 3/4 of an hour free ferry, then hit a 24% grade hill out of Puerto Yungay. Pushing and swearing. Well, I was cursing, the swiss were too polite, just a little furrow of the brow for them. Met a bunch of other bikers coming the opposite way, having a grand old time, including a cool American coming up the pass. Gave me some lentil soup and oats, he'd heard of me before. Reputation precedes me. Must be the kitsch hat and knife. The swiss caught me up at the turnoff to Caleta Tortel. As a democratic group we voted 3-0 in favor of not going there, the boardwalk village, as it was an extra 44km of dirt road not in the direction we were headed. Maybe will regret not going, everyone since has shouted it's blessings. Apparently Danny even went there, some Israelis said.

The Swiss, being slowpokes accustomed to short days in the saddle, convinced me to stop after a mere 40km. We did choose a cracking spot, however, opened an interesting horizontal log-gate, were assaulted by mosquitos, and cooked a hearty dinner of pasta con sausage. We left in the morning as a group and startled a gaucho, whose cattle scarpered into the bush. With a whip-crack and an "¡aiii!" he chased them, probably thinking "fucking gringos!" Sorry pal. Some really rotten ripio for the next 38km was our companion, following a river toward the town of Cochrane. At km 38 there was a left turn to an Estancia 9km on a side road. Swiss wanted to buy pan, fruit and camp there. I couldn't swallow another short 40km day, and I had enough pan to swallow anyway, so I said "Goodbye, I'm off to Cochrane!". I was rewarded for my solidarity with a big bastard hill, but I stuck it out and made another 40 or so kilometres. Asked a guy: "¿Donde kilometres por de Cochrane?" Got confused glare back, and a reply in english, "28km that way". Realised I had asked the chap "Where kilometres for of Cochrane?" Slapped myself across the face, as my spanish teacher would have done, had she heard me. Had a hard time finding a sneaky place to camp, but eventually came across a broken farm fence and crept in. Was windy, so I put up the tent, had 3 coffees and whipped up some "curried" rice as dinner. Cheap and cheerful, tearful too. Much Aji.

Day 5 of the Carretera Austral was a lovely short one. Got to Cochrane about 10:30 am.

¿¡No repelente por mosquitos!?

2010-03-10T03:30:00.001+10:00

As we left El Chalten, we met Dan. He just got to EL Chalten and was leaving with us. Nice lakes, bad ripio, a puncture for Ben, mosquitos, choripan, and $US30 later we were on a ferry toward free camping on the north shore of Lago Del Desierto. A nice place with the most impressive landscape and view I have yet witnessed. Mount Fitz-Roy at dawn and dusk. In the morning after the night of fires, camping, swimming, and meeting other bike tourers (one a cool canadian), I left to begin the epic 23km border crossing. Alone, as Dan was so slow getting ready. As per usual. Good thing I left quick-smart anyway, the track was muy dificil, and if it weren´t for Bob, I would have begun following the completely wrong track, and out here that means helicopter rescue or death.

Typical path

Bob and I struggled on through a tough patch of boggy swamp. It was a slog. Bob and I were a hastily-assemblem team but not always together. He left me behind on the uphills due to the weight of my bike, in spite of my muscley youth, and I passed him on the downs due to my wheels and gravity. Bob photographed me stupidly hauling my bike over some logs over a river. There surely was a bridge there once. Don´t know why I didn´t take my bags off the bike and make two trips over the ford. Bravado, I guess.

So for the next four of five hours I man-hauled that steel bitch over some over the worst "track" ever built by man, whether it was or not, I don´t know, maybe built by sheep. So many rocks, so much, so deep, a swamp!! Oh no, another hill! Sweating profusely. Shirt now covered in white sweat-salt ridges. I had my Icebreaker shirt on, the camoflauge one, so even if I´d have keeled over from exhaustion my body would have never been found. I passed six other cyclists coming the other way, having a merry old time. Had thir luggage hauled by horses for the price of two beers. Why hadn´t I done that? Two beers at the end of the trip and the bragging rights would have been worth it, thats why folks.

The last of the biscuits were gobbled by Bob and I at the remains of an Argentine barracks abandoned and left over from some pointless war. Danny caught us up. Didn´t wait for him to finish his lunch, pushed on to Chile. Obligatory border sign picture and at last, a road! Shite, but navigable and semi-rideable. I followed the track forever, seemingly, then hit a summit and a worthy view. The camino verred earthward sharply, and I crashed my bike due to my still-poor cycling skills, and got a rock in my left hand, sharply. Same place as in other hand, the Copenhagen rock, back to having symmetrical hands again at least. Put one glove on my left hand as I had no plasters, so looked a bit Jackson.

Made it to the Cabiñeros de Chile to have my pasaporte stamped for entry. Stone face. Guard had as much personality as my chain-grease rag and less usefullness. Swatting away countless biting horseflies and vampiric mosquitos, then giving up a la the Germans on D-day, can´t stop a relentless horde, hydra-like, crush one and two replace it. I pulled my hat over my head and slept, waiting for Dan to catch up. Had a dream warning me that Dan was approaching. Woke up to Dan approaching. Uncanny. After his similarly stony experience with Captain Stonewall, we rolled to Candillario Mansilla, the house on the south shore of Lago O'Higgins, bought some homemade pan, and camped and cooked, waiting for the ferry north in the afternoon of the following day, and for our horse-bound friends Belarus and Swissduex to arrive. At 8 they arrived. Slack. Here Dan and I had all our kit, and we arrived at 5pm. Their gear, tent, etc; was another hour later. Apparently the horses had broken down. The guy loaded his truck with the stuff and brought it here instead. His truck was on it's last legs too, so many sounds coming from a machine that should only be making one sound - "brrrm". No, that truck wasn't going to simply break down. Whenit's time had come, it was going to explode into a fiery Hiroshima-esque wreck. Danny and had a good chuckle about all this, then passed out. Exhaustion, but worth it.

Turns out Bob sprained his foot falling down at almost the same spot I caught that rock in my hand. But he toughed it out. Finished the walk. What a champ. The next day was a rare rainy one.

Met hikers who had just arrived. Ten of us all crammed together into a tiny hut at a tiny dock. Had a stove inside. Smelly but homely. Belarus couldn't handle it for more than an hour, left the hut and found a dry spot beneath a tree. Probably wanted some alone time. I tasted teabag coffee. Didn't regret it, as it was at least kind of coffee, but didn't ask for seconds. Ferry was due at 4:00pm. Heard reports it was due now at 8:00pm due to some unsurprising delay. Cooked cheesy pasta for dinner at 6:55pm. Ferry got in earlier so had to angrily scoff the half-cooked pasta quickly. Too cheesy. Paid the whopping $80US for the 3.5 hour ferry and ate all their biscuits. Watched a documentary in Español about Villa O'Higgins, our destination. Very dull. The ferry dock as it turns out, was 7km from town. It was 10:30pm. I wasn't going anywhere. Pitched in the carpark. The others did the same.

El Calafate a El Chalten con El Wind

2010-03-09T05:05:00.001+10:00

Stayed with Dan and two Kiwi cyclist who also hitched on that bus to El Calafate at ´Los dos Piños´ hostel. Got good maps and good advice. I left El Calafate alone as I was tired of waiting for Dan´s grandma-like pace. Rode 30km to famous Ruta 40 again. I had an apparently miracle day of no wind, and made 110 kilometres. On the way I met two English, Ben and Laura (Belarus) riding Thorns ("Hey I built those!") and camped together at some expensive estancia where legend has it, Butch Cassidy and Sundance hung out. Didn´t see them. The pasta dinner was good though.

The next day was different. Wind back with a vengeance. The three of us made it to the turnoff to the road to El Chalten sans difficulty. El Chalten was to the west of us, 95km. The wind was roaring east. Laura lasted 1km before having a breakdown. They hitched because they were clever. At first it was spring chicken, in gears 3-5 but not so bad. Music. After four hard hours of cycling through boring scenery against the wind, I lost hold of my grip on reality when I saw a sign "EL CHALTEN 60KM".

Can´t decide whether to end it all or not? Forget visiting Palmerston North, just grab a

bike and cycle to El Chalten. Answer will be clearer than a nearby glacial river.

The world spun. I lost the ability to see in any colour bar red. After perhaps another 30km, my thumb was also out. No-one had pity, no-one pulled over. I ran out of food, pulled my bike over somewhere in the middle of some desert, laid down by my bike and awaited death. I awoke to a man saying "¿Señor?" "¿Señor?" Someone obviously had thought me dead, and had pulled over to loot my corpse. When I awoke I asked for a lift, he accepted. Lucky. Two other cyclists and their bikes were already in the back of the gaucho´s pickup. No-one was riding to El Chalten today. To my suprise and light fury, we were only about 10-15km away from El Chalten when I got the ride. Damn innacurate road signs! How hard is it, really? Wished I´d cycled the whole lot, then realised nobody actually cared either way, not even me. Two english cyclists on Thorns were basking in the sun at the town campsite, there all day. They were the smart ones.

Myself and some antipodean cyclists banded together the next day for a walk in the Fitz-Roy national park. As usual I had luck with the weather when walking, and snapped some great pics of Cerro Torre and the rest of the park. Beat Torres Del Paine hands down. Two nights of Pizza libre, and Belarus and I hit the Ripio towards Laguna Del Desierto and the infamous border crossing to Chile.

Torres Del Paine in the Arse

2010-03-08T23:25:00.013+10:00

I booked into a cool hostel. Had one last dinner with the Germans, and said goodbye to them. At the hostel, I got down to business meeting all of the chaps there. Daniel, an American cyclist was heading north, as I was, so we decided to cycle together. We planned to leave at 6:30am the next morning but by 5pm, this loafer was still not ready. finally we left in the evening and cycled 40km past Cueva Del Milodones, got chased off by a moto-cop after trying to camp there, but soon found a nice spot with a river nearby and an improvised bench for cooking (curried rice).

40-60km into the next day ripio roads, great views, and hard climbs we were at the entrance to park Torres Del Paine and after some deliberation we decided to hide begind a bush, have lunch, then sleep until 11:30pm. All this was for a sneaky attempt to sneak into the exhorbitantly expensive national park for free. We crept through the entrance without our headlights on to avoid unwanted attention, avoided the CH15,000 fee and pushed our bikes along a road for an hour or so before finding a spot off the road (couldn´t actually see anything in the dark) and unpacking our sleeping bags, no tents. We were undiscovered the next morning. A black horse appeared out of the morning mist, alone, in the plains. Ominous. Found I had lost CH30,000 after the wind blew it from my pocket. Karma.

A beautiful ride through hilly ripio ended at Hosteleria Los Torres. We stashed our bikes and kit behind a nearby bush, and with packs on our back, began the 7km walk up the mountain to meet with Max, an Aussie cyclist, and Rebecca, Dan´s friend, at a free campsite. The campsite came into view just as the sun set, after a hike through stunning surrounds. We cooked dinner, met our friends and exchanged news.

On the cards for the next day was a return walk to ´Tres Torres´, which was certainly worth the difficult boulder scramble to get there. We Tres Torres in the morning sun, beautiful spires of granite rising from a glacial lake. Climbed back down, heading to the hotel, I mighty walk. Danny and I packed our bikes and left the park (no problem getting out) and camped in some wind-wracked spiky field. The rain had come to say hello too, so we both sat in the vestibule of my tent and failed at cooking a rice dinner.

At about midnight I heard the crack. A bad feeling. Minutes later half my tent had collapsed due to the rubbish weather. I decided to ride out the storm inside the busted tent until morning. I awoke when Danny screamed "Oh no!" after looking at my tent. Awoke in a bath of water. If it werent for my waterproof MacPac sleeping bag, surely I´d have had hypothermia. The sharp broken pole had torn a two foot wide gash in the rainfly. Had to choke back the anger at how this had happened to my ´wind-proof´ swiss tent, and laugh. The day continued badly, roaring wind and poor ripio. Hasty lunch in a bus shelter. Got to Cerro Castillo (south) and discovered it was rubbish. "Like Nevada" exclaimed Danny. After two coffees and three hours around a stove in a cafe (were fed by a stranger who took pity, his sons a mountaineer) we made the decision to take the bus to El Calafate.

Bike looking lovely after the abuse of Torres del Paine

2010-02-19T03:54:00.002+10:00

Day one of cycling was full of anticipation and excitement. I hadn´t thought of the pass. The first half of the day´s ride was nice, a decent road and all that stuff, but then came the incline. Bad fitness level + mountain pass + first day = unhappy cyclist. After an exhaution-nap, I struggled over the puny 500m pass. Scenery was nice, and I camped in some bushes next to the road just outside the hamlet of Tolhuin.

The following day was again nice for the first half, then it got old rather quickly. My tires were mostly flat, my pump broke, and I was not happy. I sprained my ankle in anger at the pump problem. Got over all that and after the distant memory of Tierra Del Fuego (not worth it!), relaxed in Punta Arenas.

More updates later! This is already really old news!! :)

Dulce de Leche

2010-01-30T23:56:00.005+10:00

***PHOTOS CROPPED WRONG, CLICK FOR FULL RESOLUTION***

I landed in Buenos Aires without problem, the flight itself actually wasn´t disagreeable for once. After a bus into the centre, I met with my host, Guillermo at his home, in which I was treated as if I were family. After exploring BA for four days, and swimming in Gil´s parents great swimming pool (it is hot here, like Brisbane) I booked (twice) and took a bus from BA to Rio Gallegos.

BUENOS AIRES

The bus trip began with a false start, due to washing my pants with the precious ticket in the pocket, then showing up to Retiro terminal and hour and a half after the bus had already left. Luckily the lady at the ticket office gave me a vastly reduced fare for the next morning, likely due to my pitiful show. The 38 hour trip was comfortable but boring, endless pampas (plains) as far as the eye could see for days.

BUS TRIP

I then took another 12 hour bus from Rio Gallegos to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, and trekked with some new-found friends to a nearby glacier. The glacier itself was not breathtaking, but the surrounding scenery certainly was. I plan to leave Ushuaia on my intact and assembled bicycle tomorrow (update: the day after tomorrow). Wish me luck!

USHUAIA

GLACIER

TREKKING

Queen Charlotte Sound

2009-12-11T10:08:00.009+10:00

As a final goodbye to New Zealand, I decided to travel to the Marlborough Sounds at the top of the North Island for a kind of holiday with Sofia. Throughout the majority of the trek, the weather was fine, and the diversity and natural beauty of the area overwhelming. The pictures below were taken by Sofia, by far the superior photographer.

We trekked for three days, and camped along the way in some beautiful coves. The camping was great, even with a punctured mattress and all-round bad planning for the trip on both our parts.

I am now back in Australia, for Christmas, and waiting for the flight to Buenos Aires, which has been pushed back a few weeks due to ticket availablity and price. I now leave on the 20th of January. Check up after that date for some updates.

Windy Wellington winding down

2009-11-06T17:54:00.005+10:00

Sometimes you don't realize how good something is until you have left it behind. This isn't one of those times. Due to a canceled overnight camping trip, my weekend was free and I decided to simply cycle around the hills surrounding the city of Wellington. Beautiful vistas and incredible winding roads have been right at my fingertips and I had not realized this until today! The weather created a picture-perfect day, and the temperature was not too hot in the sun and not too cold in the shade. T-Shirt weather has finally arrived. I almost feel like I miss the place already. I have six weeks until I hit the wide open roads of Patagonia shortly after navigating the cultural explosion and hustle of Buenos Aires, and then, such a serene, easy living, easy place like Wellington will be a distant and hopefully not too lusted-after memory.

I had a taste and reminder of Australia recently with a short visit for my mother's wedding, and while I loved seeing old faces, and I recognize Australia as a place of many foreigners daydreams, sadly it is not for me. I will spend Christmas there with loved ones, but it will be another short visit, South America's call is like the siren at sea, impossible to resist, but hopefully not as deadly!

New gear and setup

2009-08-29T16:13:00.003+10:00

I have been updating much of my gear that I haul around for lighter, more high-tech stuff. I have also been working hard to cut down on the amount of stuff I needlessly haul around and I have been able to get rid of the need for my front panniers. I will likely strap extra water to the front rack, for those long stretches of desolate road in South America.

Everything I will take to the Americas for over a year

Has he not gone-a beyond the hills

2009-05-12T19:35:00.005+10:00

Recently, I have fallen into the ultimately unavoidable state of mind I hit when I have had my fill of a certain place, when the lustre of an unexplored and unknown city and culture have grown a little dull. I am aware of the beauty of the city, but still constantly, happily dream of the next suburb, city, country or continent I hope to visit. I have remained fairly anonymous within Wellington due to incessant saving for the next trip, but am still enjoying myself thoroughly. The classes I am taking are not helping my wanderlust abate, learning Spanish has been enjoyable, motivational and has been firing all sorts of images into my mind regarding the cultures of South America. Lord knows what I am going to do with my life in the long term, when three months at rest leave me climbing the walls in eagerness and anticipation to be off into the wilderness again, when every resting second of each day makes me think I could be putting it to better use, and every morning waking up to the silouette of my bicycle at my window before the morning sun makes me want to call my work and tell them I won't make it in today, or ever again for that matter, as I am too busy putting the limited time I have to better use! But of course, I am just a regular, ordinary person who must earn my keep, my rewards, and even a day back to the grind at work thinking about the next great adventure is a privelage I should be thankful to luck of birth for.

Is there anyone else out there in the same situation, thinking and feeling the same thing? Let me know. Does leaving for South America from New Zealand circa September by any means possible, be it yacht, container ship, paddle boat, hot air balloon or even the dreaded airliner and arriving possibly tired, malnourished and weatherbeaten, jumping on a bicycle and pedaling north appeal? I hope so, because it certainly gets my heart racing, the looming test of whether I can mentally and physically stand up to a task that isn't actually unique, that many, many miscreants have actually completed before me will hopefully prove or disprove my bravado and naivity and leave me a better person afterwards, regardless of the result. I could certainly use some improvement!

Gorse: A Makara day ride

2009-04-25T15:38:00.007+10:00

I went on a ride out of Wellington today, a trip through Makara to the west of Wellington and south along the coast back into the city. I had planned to make it a two day ride, but I finished it in about 6 hours! As usual I carried my bike full of gear.

Gorse

Beach pushing, worse than gorse

Fewer gorse here

Sorted

2009-03-13T13:22:00.004+10:00

The latest stopping point

I am now well and truly sorted out in Wellington now, I have a full time job and a good room in a house. The perfect position to start saving up for my future adventures. I have had quite a few guests since I moved in also, several couchsurfers (good to be giving back to the community by hosting others), my friend Gijs from the north, and my father.

Wellington waterfront

Midnight Espresso, part of W'tons great cafe culture

Maori Totem

Matthias and Gijs

Hutt Valley

2009-03-13T13:12:00.003+10:00

I stayed with family friends in Upper Hutt for two weeks. During this time I sorted out a place to stay in Wellington, and a job for the next 6 or so months. Nicole and Tony were the most gracious hosts.

I did some hiking with Tony while I was in the valley, quite a good climb up to Cannon Point, and a descent on the other side to a lake.

Descent to the lake

My father had told me of the beacon at the summit, so it was good to able to retrace his footsteps, andsee his original hometown from a magnificent view above.

Summit navigation beacon

Half Done

2009-02-08T09:02:00.006+10:00

The photo directly below was the last taken on my cycle trip through the North Island. Just before Upper Hutt, in the Akatarawa ranges. The previous two weeks were full of family and friend meetings and reunions, hard but enjoyable cycling and constant suprises regarding the scenery, people and general vibe of New Zealand.

I left Toon and Gijs in Hamilton, ending the "Three Musketeers" partnership we had formed. The two of them were looking for some farm work and I decided to press on south. A gradual uphill, remote road for towards Lake Taupo was my companion for two days, and was glad to be rid of it when I first saw the great lake. Relatives looked after me in Taupo and Napier, to the east.

Art-deco Napier waterfront

Gorge road

On the way south, along the east coast of the North Island, I once again used couchsurfing to meet new people and find a place to stay for the night. After a few hair-raising experiences on the gorge road over the central ranges toward Palmerston North, I continued south, now on the west coast, toward Wellington.

Lake Taupo

New Zealand

2009-01-27T20:05:00.008+10:00

On the way to Auckland, at Brisbane Airport, a man approached me after spotting my pannier and introduced himself as Toon, a Belgian cyclist planning on cycling and working through New Zealand. We decided to stick together for the a while, landing at the Auckland Airport and cycling our way into the centre where we met a friend, Gijs.

We boarded the ferry the next morning, after an early night, to the Coromandel Peninsular, making our way through beautiful scenery and arriving in the port to the south of Coromandel town. We decided to forgo the sealed main road and took the less-traveled gravel road 309 to Whitiangia. Very steep but very enjoyable, we descended over the range and set up camp on a beach after a good dinner and some wine. Toon entertained some locals with his impressive juggling skills.

A nice breakfast of scrambled eggs saw us off south, through some mixed forests of palm and deciduous trees, following the bluffs of the east coast of Coromandel. We enjoyed a break at an observation point overlooking 'Sailor's Grave' under a blistering sun. Smooth tarmac downhill to the next town where our party of three cyclists grew to five, as we met a couple of European travellers, Ben and Roberta, in Waihi.

I had my first genuine puncture in over 4000km of touring, and was helped eagerly by my new friends as it was repaired. The next camp was in some sand dunes to the south, Whangamata, on a beautiful coastline with a shady campsite and good food and company to keep the morale up high.

More pics of Europe

2009-01-16T17:23:00.006+10:00

Just thought i would post some photos of my last trip before i head off on the next one on the 21st. Good memories.

Josh's Trip

2009-01-04T12:51:00.004+10:00

I recently gave my old bike to a mate of mine from New Zealand, Josh Clarke. He decided to ride it from England to Spain, and being a surfer, enjoyed the beaches along the West Coast by taking his board with him! Here are some pics from the trip. I will hopefully be catching up with him when I head off to New Zealand on the 21st of January '09. Not long now.

Plans re-evaluted

2008-12-06T18:21:00.006+10:00

I have well and truly recovered from the accident of a few months back, and leaving on another adventure is the main objective for me at this moment. I love Australia, but after the whirlwind pace and extraordinary presence and vibrancy of the great cities and countries I have lived in recently, Brisbane seems slightly pedestrian. Over the past few months, my family have supported me greatly, and have helped me get back on my feet, without complaint - I thank them for that.

Through nightly jogging and running, some short bike trips and bushwalking, I have been slowly regaining fitness and the desire to escape again.

I have also compiled a list of various goals I wish to accomplish over the next few years, a few of which are learning Spanish, trying some some basic parkour/freerunning, and becoming competent with the Harmonica. I should be quite busy.

If life is what you make it, its time to build...

2008-11-01T13:49:00.007+10:00

I was hit from behind by a truck on a 'b' road in Croatia roughly three months ago, hence my sporadic blog posts. Unfortunately it has brought my trip to an abrupt halt. I was unconscious for a week and in a Zagreb hospital for three weeks before being flown home. Physically I will be fine - given enough time - hopefully by January 16th 2009, as this is the date I plan to get myself back on the road.

Not all the way back to Croatia, but a nice jaunt around New Zealand to see the sights and save some money to send to far-flung outposts in Alaska, Central Asia or Ireland (haven't decided yet!).

Central Europe: Borders and big miles

2008-09-23T08:51:00.007+10:00

Germany traversed, I was on my own, staring at the countless kilometers ahead of me wth no clear break until I reached Istanbul many thousands of pedal rotations away. I enjoyed, as I knew I would, the Czech Republic, following the same route through the country I followed last year - for nostalgic reasons. When I finally reached the Danube river, my well marked path all the way down to Bulgaria, I was excited, but the monotony of a dead straight, scenery defunct gravel road that stretches as far as the eye could see for weeks ahead soon expelled the happiness and replaced it with boredom and disappointment.

Imagine hundred of km's of this

I had to get myself off this waterway of drudgery, so in Slovakia I turned right at Bratislava, (a real gem of a city so close to the sheer wall of tourists found in Vienna) and headed south, destination: Adriatic Coast.

The hospitality of Hungary was a little lower compared to the previous countries I had covered, the occasional rude person, slightly bland food (still good for a parched cyclist), flat scrubby scenery, and an unbelievable mosquito population, I decided to cover the country as fast as I could and rode three 160km days to get out of there. I can't generalise a whole country from my limited perspective, so one day I will visit again. As soon as I crossed the border/borders into Slovenia/Croatia, the scenery visibly changed for the better, people suddenly seemed nicer and the mosquitos were fewer.

Germany

2008-08-06T00:23:00.005+10:00

Over the Border into Aachen and at last, Germany - a country we would spend the most time traveling as a pair. I had visited Northern Germany the previous year and I was delighted to be back. Instead of the pancake-flat Elbe river lowlands of the last visit, this time we would be traversing the hilly interior of the country, the heartland of Germany, starting with the Eifel National Park.

It was a startling change from the flat northern farmlands of Europe to be in a mountainous forest, but the scenery, breathtaking it it's semi-alpine beauty invigorated us with the extra energy required for the steep inclines.

After our contour exertions, we made camp on the Rhine River, bathed and relaxed. Following an offshoot of the Rhine, the Lahn River, Frankfurt Am Main - a metropolis, was thankfully skirted and we were more than halfway across the vast country, having quite an enjoyable time. We camped much of the time and bathed and washed our clothes in rivers and the like. It was a well-honed practice after a while, and I much preferred the mosquito netting and nylon of the tent to the brick-and-mortar of conventional dwellings. The freedom to stop anywhere along the route we took and the feeling of being close to nature had me hooked.

We continued through the dark green hues and summer bloom of Germany, stopping to stay with friends in Fulda and Suhl, two days of rest from cycling the mind and certainly the body needed greatly.

France, Belgium, Netherlands

2008-08-06T00:08:00.003+10:00

It has been over a month on the road since leaving the daily comforts and ease of everyday life in England. I set off from Dover with my good friend Rachel, our hearts set on traveling East. In France, fresh off the ferry, things got off to a shaky start. It was late at night in the seedy port town of Calais, an awful place - full of neon-boarded and dodgy looking casinos. Without a place to stay, we pitched the tent in the town's park, and made a rather ealy start the next day, keen to get out of the place.

The north of France passed quickly out of our lives, an we started making headway in Belgium, only to be stopped about 15km outside Bruges by a young lady and her slightly less young, but equally friendly husband. We were welcomed into their house as if we were old friends - food, drink and animated conversation a definite improvement on Calais and a good welcome to Belgium.

The usual touring deeds were undertaken in the beautiful towns of Bruges and Gent th next day. Germany was at the forefront of my mind, so we followed the horizon-straight Albert Canal through the heart of the small country to Maastricht, and the Netherlands. We met another couple there, and they showed us the magnificent sights of this ancient and well-conquered(14 times, I recall) city.

Plodding Along

2008-08-01T23:24:00.002+10:00

Bad bread, German Rennsteig and catching Herentals

2008-07-26T22:41:00.005+10:00

My trip started on the 9th of July when I left Dover on a ship to Calais. It is now the 26th and I am once again in Prague, Czech Republic. The fantastic scenery and wonderful hospitality from Belgium and Germany (the country I have spent the most time cycling) to Czech has ensured I have had an extremely enjoyable time, made even better with the inclusion of a cycling partner, Rachel, who unfortunately is departing tomorrow, leaving me once again on my lonesome.

Peace All

Mendip Hills

2008-07-08T23:29:00.002+10:00

Had a bloody blur on the lense!

Heading West

2008-07-06T05:18:00.005+10:00

Quite counter-productively, I found myself pedalling west, escaping London, sprawling like a spiderweb, towards Bristol. One of the reasons for visiting the western capital again was to say goodbye to the Parsons, the other to visit SJSC, the old bike shop for the last time. The same stunning scenery greeted me, a literal breath of fresh air after the closed-in feeling of London, like coming out of a grey dungeon into fresh summer freedom.

I met a companion on the second day of the trail following the towpaths west, a man travelling by bicycle to his friends birthday in Bristol. Camping is naturally more enjoyable with two, I handed over the book I had recently finished and he did the same, giving me the classic "As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning" by Laurie Lee. Quickly finished, it was tale that did not help alleviate my wanderlust.

Not quite Midland monotony

2008-06-22T07:24:00.002+10:00

After my continual sledging of her hometown of Leicester and the general regard of the Midlands of England as the pits, Rachel had had enough. Detemined to set the record straight before I forsake England, she insisted I visit that same night, after the London Bush protests. After a hour and a half train ride, we had to get from the station to her front door with one bicycle between the two of us and a large hill to start off with, exercise unwanted at 1:00am.

However, I lived to see another day, precisely, one filled with a guided tour of the Leicester highlights by two of the world's worst tourguides. The following day Rachel and I departed to the Liecestershire countryside for a quintessential day ride, a pleasant meander through fields and fords, complete with a picnic in a field of clovers. I felt like I was in England.

Barking up the wrong Bush

2008-06-22T06:21:00.003+10:00

An unexpected visit from Rachel promted my presence at the protest surrounding U.S President Bush's visit to the capital. The speakers of the event were impressive, all giving different takes on the situation without resorting to fire-and-brimstone style preaching.

Unfortunately, I had my ever-present companion with me, and a bicycle does not mix well with large crowds. The protest was panning out how most peace-promoting and tolerant protests do, until the police closed Whitehall, a major throughfare passing by No. 10 Downing St, where Bush and Gordon Brown were busy sipping tea and plotting coups.

Understandably, closing a public road to the public for no other reason except there being protestors present did not sit too well, and before long the crowd was pressed into a face-off between rapily reinforcing police lines (at least five deep). Naturally, Rachel wanted in on the action, getting a a birds eye view of the action from my shoulders, before lanching herself toward the front of the ruckus.

To the protestor's credit and police suprise, apart from a few obligatory ararchist troublemakers, the protest stayed peaceful and the night ended with a wonderfully contrasting Thai restaurant dinner with Rachel and her father. A interesting afternoon and evening that only got more interesting when I found myself on a train bound for Leicester, 100 miles away, at 11:00pm on a Monday night.

2008-05-28T02:56:00.001+10:00

I've created a monster!

2008-05-26T20:19:00.003+10:00

I was sitting in the bar area of a hostel in Vienna some time last year, having a good old chitchat with the usual assortment of travellers and tourists. The riffraff were listening intently to my (exaggerated) tales of high adventure, in my adorable Australian accent. I was talking to an attractive Czech lass, was even shouted a couple of beers and generally having a grand old time being the only Antipodean in the bar...but then the Contiki Tour showed up.

I don´t want to sound elite, but Contiki Tours, busabout, any of these companies catering to Westerners who want to get royally pissed in as many European cities as possible, as fast as possible can really impose on my hideously vain attempts at impressing strangers in random bars. Unfortunately, this group of 20 drunken heathens turned out to be Australian. Within moments, I was suddenly, seemingly, just another one of these obnoxious parent-funded gap year revellers wanting to experience Europe in he least cultural way. To each their own I guess.

I am not really a 'normal' person when it comes to social interaction. Call me boring, antisocial, call me what you will, but I have never had the desire to wander streets looking for pubs and clubs at ungodly hours, depriving myself of sleep, nutrients and general enjoyment for the ability to brag and compare with people the next morning who got the least sleep and who managed to have the highest blood-alcohol concentration. The Vienna anecdote reinforces my views. Unfortunately, my friends do not share my curse and have been convincing me of late to join in their revelry. It has been fun enough, I guess, but this way of life can seriously destroy your bank account in the same way it destroys your liver, brain cells and decision making processes.

Here are a couple of reasons not to involve yourself in this new-fangled youthful clubbing lifestyle:

Not in gear

2008-05-23T01:29:00.005+10:00

I have just over a month before I begin the trip, July 10th to be precise, and yet my planning, purchasing and general tying up of loose end processes are less efficient than solar-powered torch. It hasn´t sunk in that I will be homeless for the next year or two quite yet, but when my job is finished, my lease is up and my belongings sold, I´m sure it will hit me in the face like Thor´s hammer.

I have everything I need really, there are a few wishlist items I want but don´t really need - ie: Suunto Watch, lightweight tent, waterproof jacket; but the cost of each of items is on par with being able to live on the road for weeks.

I choose the second option.

London with a view

2008-04-27T19:11:00.003+10:00

Here are a couple from the top of 'New Zealand House near Trafalgar Square, on a work information session - with free beer.

Words to follow...

2008-04-26T00:46:00.001+10:00

My new local area - Hackney

2008-04-26T00:36:00.001+10:00

More hideous pics from France and Switzerland

2008-04-15T10:02:00.001+10:00

An unexpected discovery

2008-04-15T09:51:00.002+10:00

I received an email today from a cycling buddy in France, Sadrra, enquiring as to what I was up to. It turns out he is living, literally 200 meters from me in Stoke Newington! If I didn't hate the phrase, I'd say it's a small world indeed!

Here's a few long-lost photos I from his PC:

Stuck here for a quarter-year

2008-04-14T05:05:00.001+10:00

In the the time it takes for the weather to change in this country, my situation and mood have performed a complete reversal. This sudden high note may have something to do with the fact I now have some sort of stable platform to continue my planning and saving. For once, something I planned actually saw itself through - in this case, it was acquiring a new (and livable) abode. It was a little dicey for a while there, for my newfound friend, flatmate and London newbie Sarah was a little more apprehensive of the chosen residence. Sure the house was terrific, said she, but the neighborhood was a little too far on the 'ghetto' side of the railway tracks.

In a swiftly planned and well-executed operation, myself, the landlord and an unidentified foreigner managed to sway her to the "Yeah, why not - It's only for three months, I can get out of there pretty soon if I have to" camp, of which I belonged, it was the scenic and well-narrated tour of the local area by the landlord that did it, I'm sure. The move-in date is Monday the 21st of April, very soon, so that means that it is time for me to load up the bike once more, hit the road again (for about 4 kilometers) and resettle like a good little nomad.

The rent is higher, but for an extra £15 a week, but I think that uninterrupted electricity, heating (think 'air-conditioning' if in Australia), friendly similar-aged housemates, and a seemingly trustworthy landlord is well worth the extra cost. I've always told myself, and probably others as well, that I could live anywhere whilst on this trip, as long as I kept my eventual goal and dream in my mind. How wrong I was! I'm really a gutless wonder at heart. I can't wait to be in a real house. Here, I shall put it in a way that soothes my conscience:

I appear to thrive when I am either fully attached to general society, or completely autonomous. I crumble when it comes to semi-attachment. Give me the open road, a tent, some visas for far-off countries and I'm in my element. But having a semi-reliable income, a nigh-unlivable residence and an uncertain -foreign- bank account leaves me feeling like I'm on the run from the cops - It could all come crashing down at any moment.

The new house should hopefully give me some much-needed relax-time, because if it doesn't poor old Sarah is in for a rough time, looking after the weird depressive social misfit that convinced her to room-share - but hey, "It's only for three months, you can get out of there pretty soon if you have to".

A picture is worth 1000 words - here's 6000 words

2008-04-14T04:07:00.003+10:00

Tower of London

Tower Bridge

Battlements

Tower Bridge

Old Thames Side Inn

Not sure where, but its London.

Loitering in London

2008-04-08T06:20:00.001+10:00

Loitering in London

Filed under: London, preparation — kyle @ 5:14 pm

Let’s start on a positive note! The past few weeks have really tested my will to stay in London and save for the next stage of the trip. For the most part, I want to leave now, with less money, and save my sanity. The place where I am staying at the moment (for the month, anyway) is quite unpleasant, my job is not bad, but it is retail, and watching paint drying and grass growing at the same time generally has more entertainment value.

Cold, recently

It’s not all doom and (London) gloom, though. There a few threads of the rope binding me to England still hanging in there. I have met some wonderful people and have had a great offer to share a room and subsequently have cheaper rent and some non-religious, sane human company - something decidedly lacking in my current accomodation. Summer would be a far more agreeable time to cycle through notoriously gloomy Eastern Europe, I’d rather see out the rest of this season from behind a pane of (double-glazed) glass, but I’ll get to the weather in a minute. Last but not definately not least is money, and more precisely lack of it. A convenient roomshare and the job should take care of that little issue as time passes.

Area behind ‘Seven Dials’ or ‘Roundabout where seven roads meet’

as I have heard a certain London newcomer call it.

Thankfully, I haven’t been too lonely. I met Sarah, a fantastic girl ‘fresh off the plane’ from Sydney, and we have been hitting the tourist trail, wasting time watching movies, listening to obscure yet terrific bands and searching for a decent shared place to see out the rest of the time here. Her blog is here: (http://proustianproportions.blogspot.com/) but beware, she’ll slap you through the internet if you comment with incorrect grammar! I haven’t got away with being in England and not picking up some local habits scot-free, so I’ll talk of the weather, a undeniably British thing to do - it snowed in Central London on Sunday, quite heavily. Walking the streets, I was beaming from ear to ear the biggest smile I’d had on my face in a long time. Sarah wasn’t too keen on it, though. To my dismay, the next day the heavens were back to their regular dull-grey shroud over London (presumably, God has to store all his clouds somewhere).

So I will trundle along, for the next three weeks, feeling sorry for myself until I find a new place to live, either with the aforemetioned, or with a Kiwi bloke that is coming back from Italy in a few weeks, whom I’ve convinced to join me on my insane marathon pushie trip - but that’s another story.

Kyle

My plans - Set in stone

2008-03-17T07:17:00.004+10:00

An update is in order: I am in London, a good place to sort out all things adventure. I have visited Stanfords for their maps, Covent Garden for it's equipment shops, and Regents Park for it's silence - perfect for dreaming up plans and plotting on maps.

I will be leaving to begin my expedition on July 10th, I simply can't justify being stagnant too any longer than this date. It will give me (hopefully) about £6000 all up to have at my disposal - to last me 2-3 years.

But even after a few days working at The North Face, I have the urge to travel. Most of my colleagues are international travelers or students, and each one has a great story to tell. However, to my embarrassment, they can't get enough of my own trip!

Semi-homeless in Bristol

2008-03-07T00:33:00.006+10:00

I'm heading back towards London over the next few days, at the moment I'm in Bristol and I've never felt happier. It has been liberating getting away from my sedentary life in Bridgwater, and I'm looking forward to seeing my old mates back at the Nevill in Hackney.

In Bristol

Looking forward to the road ahead

Farewell Bridgwater - (Thank god!)

2008-03-07T00:27:00.005+10:00

Here are a few pics from my last few days in Bridgwater.

Dunkery Dash

2008-03-07T00:15:00.004+10:00

I entered an Audax (long distance bike 'race' ) a couple of weeks ago, the Dunkery Dash. It was 115km ride from North Petherton to Dunkery Beacon on Dartmoor and back again. Most sensible people had fast road bike and lycra, but in my wisdom, I decided to ride my heavy touring bike and wear an Aussie army uniform. Needless to say I didn't place near the start of the pack...

Most people rode these

And I rode that

Castle Ruins on Dartmoor

Some older chaps found it hard going

Halfway, highest point in Dartmoor

View of the ride back

Coldest so far

2008-02-18T06:38:00.005+10:00

Camping again this weekend, went trotting off into the hills but didn't get too far. It was well below zero, and we were very unprepared - but it was still good fun.

Bike not frozen

Road into the hills

Rachel and tent before the freeze

View from the tent

Frost in the morning

Icy cold tent

Bike is now frozen

Cheddar Gorge and a spot of sneaky camping

2008-02-11T08:07:00.000+10:00

Freeganising

2008-02-08T08:56:00.001+10:00

For a bit of adventure, my friends and I in Cardiff decided to raid the local M&S supermarket for all of it's 1 day overdue (ie: perfectly fine) food, which is routinely thrown out. It is such a waste, food that could be used to feed people ending up as landfill. But not this night!

The raiding party

Rachel and I rode there, naturally

Yes, it's a bin, but we only take packaged, safe food! :)

Making our escape over the wall of the compound

The haul, now can you see why it's an awful waste of perfectly good food?

The sun in Tuscany

2008-02-05T08:42:00.001+10:00

Made for perfect cycling.

Not the usual Australia Day

2008-01-27T03:21:00.000+10:00

I had two choices today regarding today's schedule. I was planning to go for a ride, but there was a local rugby match with a few other Aussies playing at the local grounds. The weather was a bit cloudy in the morning, but I'm glad I went out on the bike. The weather cleared quickly, and it was the first time I'd seen the area in sunshine during the day for a long time.

I did about 50 miles around the Quantock area. To the west of Bridgwater the scenery is incredible, as you can see from some of these pics.

At the highest point in the hills, just before a big descent through heath and woodland on a difficult dry creek bed.

Typical view of the heathland.

Road heading up, up, up.

The dry creekbed I negotiated my heavy bike down and through.

Path along a ridge.

I joined these mountain bikers for an hour or so, and heard a child ask his father: "Why does that guy have to carry all the bags?" haha.

In the hills, scenery very much what I imagine Canada is like.

Autumnal colours on a (dead?) tree.

One of my sandals fell from my bike on a rough section of track. Backtracked a mile or so and thankfully found it.

Looking back along one of the many tracks heading up into the hills.

Looking out from Triscombe stone.

Tree on the way back to Bridgwater.

A great day was had by all (me). A couple of snags and a beer with mates on the beach back home would probably be the only thing topping it.

To see all the pics of the day, see here: Quantock Australia day pics

Canal Towpath - Typical Winter weather

2008-01-20T01:31:00.000+10:00

I had originally planned to ride to Lyme Regis this weekend, but typically atrocious weather told me otherwise. Instead I went for a 40 mile day ride to keep up the training. Most of the ride was along a canal, quite nice despite the rain and wind. I also found out my 'waterproof' jacket isn't up to the task.

My new bike is in getting a respray at the moment,it's going to be white - ready for me to plaster stickers all over it. The old bike (in the pics), the Trek 520, is still going strong.

Near Taunton, about 12 miles south of where I work.

And one more thing...

2008-01-17T09:57:00.000+10:00

Because it's a monumental time-waster, when I need to concentrate on more important things!

And more....

2008-01-17T09:27:00.001+10:00

Been cycle-camping a bit more lately, including right in the middle of Cardiff as a precursor to my inevitable city-park camping later down the track!

Near Talybont court, Cardiff, if anyone's interested.

In the tent

Sunrise the next day

Back in Bridgwater - local park

The leadup.

2008-01-17T09:02:00.000+10:00

The past few months have involved planning and training for the big event - ETA June. I have been optimising my gear to save weight, and having my bike resprayed white, ready for all the stickers to be put on.

Training in and around Somerset:

Near the Quatock Hills

At Work at Thorn Cycles

Training again

Typical Somerset winter landscape

In a muddy farmer's field (wrong turn)

Camping

A novel idea

2007-12-09T02:22:00.000+10:00

Dominic is riding the lenght of the Americas, but he's doing it on Tandem. By himself. Usually, a bike designed for two, Dom hopes to find people he meets to join him on parts of his trip! An excellent idea!

http://www.blue-ant.tv/takeaseat/home.php

About time

2007-11-26T00:20:00.001+10:00

Of course, I'm skeptical. But with these three promises made AFTER his election win, things are looking up for Oz.

1. Pledged to sign the Kyoto Protocol as soon as possible.

2. Withdrawal of Australian troops from Iraq.

3. Immediate change of I.R laws. (No more ridiculous 'Workchoices" scheme)

My New Bike

2007-11-05T23:32:00.000+10:00

Since I am working at Thorn Cycles at the moment, I naturally got myself a new tourer. This thing is an Expedition-quality Rohloff and S+S equipped superbike! Will be good for my eventual return journey! Here's some pics of my bike in Thorn's white room. Sorry about the blurriness in some of the pics, I didn't know how to use their fancy camera properly...

Enjoy!

Cycling in Europe - Wrap up.

2007-10-23T05:02:00.000+10:00

I suppose the first stage of my hopefully global cycle tour has reached a conclusion. In retrospect, It has been a fantastic journey through some simply amazing places, and most of my most vivid memories are ones that no guidebook guides you to. The tiny villages, amazing people, the freedom of having no permanent home and a truly open road only available when travelling by bicycle will be with me in my mind forever.

I can only imagine how hard it will get in the future stages as I sacrifice even more luxuries: running water! electricty! English language! but the the hardest part of the trip up until now have not been western luxuries or physical difficulty, but the mental aspect. The highs and lows of life on the road, even for a few months in such an easily accessible continent such as Europe a very strongly felt. Lots of lonliness, but also plenty of times where nothing could dampen my spirits. By far the good outweighed the bad. The summits of the hills and mountains were usually the summits of my mood and crawling into a wet sleeping bag in a leaking tent by myself for two weeks I have generally assumed as the low point.

I cannot stress enough how important it is to connect with locals when travelling, they are 3/4 of the experience itself! With some very minor exclusions, everyone I have met so far have been amazingly generous people, inviting a stranger, not to mention a hairy, grimy foriegner stranger riding a bicycle into their homes, feeding me, and giving me somewhere to stay and sending me on my way with a smile on their faces.

Now, with anticipation, I will wait until I have saved up enough money to continue, and do it all over again.

This Pikey Life

2007-10-19T03:26:00.000+10:00

I've completed my first fortnight at Thorn, and it has been a harsh reality check sliding back into the world of the working. It's a good job, and I am being trained at what I want to do, 'Bike salesman', but work is still work!

I have been living a very gypsy life, out of a caravan, eating pot-noodles and cheese and ketchup sandwiches (See attached pic). I like my tent more. It's warmer and the rent is on par. I have spruced up the bike (Trek 520) with numerous bits and pieces, including fancy new handlebars. Time's up,

Back to work for me.

What's wrong with this Caravan? Nothing. It's tip-top.

Bristol Panorama

On the way to Bridgwater from Bristol

Park in Bristol

New Look Malik

Crazy News

2007-10-09T17:22:00.000+10:00

Two really cool things have happened to me recently, one is I managed to land a job at the greatest touring bike store in the world, Thorn Cycles Ltd, in Bridgwater. Really cool.

Secondly, Alastair Humphreys has kindly donated the bicycle HE used to cycle around the world to me. I was looking for the exact same model as the one he used, and half-jokingly sent him a message asking if he'd sell it. He went one better and offered it to me! Maybe this bike will see two round-the-world trips?

London to Bath

2007-10-06T23:25:00.000+10:00

I am going to be updating this site less frequently, but I won't abandon it completely. It takes up a lot of free time off the bike to be constantly updating this internet bizzo.

I left London after failing to find a job, so I kept riding west, this time with Gonz, a cyclist from Mexico. The English countryside has surpassed my expectations, from what I was hearing frok fellow travellers and locals it was a place of doom and gloom. Not so at all.

A beer before leaving

Cycling out of London (it went on forever)

View from our first camp (next to a highway!)

Second night's camp on a farm (with permission)

English Manor

(A) White Horse carved into the hillside

Cycling onto Bath

The London Freewheel Event

2007-09-25T08:19:00.000+10:00

Whilst loitering in London, I noticed a sign for the London Freewheel, whatever that was. Upon further investigation, it turned out that it was a 30 000+ strong mass cycle ride through central London. I quickly signed up to be a mashal for the event, even though I knew/know nothing about London's street system.

It was a marvellous day, lots of bikes, (Malik was still the most impressive). Gonzalos, the dude I'm cycling with also signed up for 'Marshal' status. Hey, it got us a free lunch and an feeling of superiority, like a mall cop with a power trip, except we had no power.

Here's some pics

"Leaders"

Experienced cyclists (yellow vest) leading rookies (red vest) to main venue

Experienced Cyclist

Wind in my hair

Enbankment

Dr. Gonzo (can I call you that?) in photo mode

Continuing the loop

The BBC next to 'an experienced cyclist'

No-more-tramp

2007-09-17T06:54:00.000+10:00

I had a haircut, and Steve (cycle partner in Germany), whom I am staying with, gave me a new shirt. London is cool, very expensive place though. Except for accomodation, because it's free for me, ha ha backpackers.

I'm getting a new bike, but Malik isn't going into retirement yet. I still need to find a job, and

even then I'll won't sell it. It will be shipped back home. It has sentimental value you see.

Last step in Europe

2007-09-15T22:17:00.000+10:00

Here I am on my final day cycling in mainland Europe. It was a fantastic 70 or 80km or so ride from Ijmuiden through sand dunes and beachfronts, finishing in Hoek Von Holland where I caught the ferry to Norwich, England.

Scenery 1

Self Explanatory

Lighthouse

Typical Dunescape

The North Sea

Cockpit View

Scenery 2

Amsterdam

2007-09-15T22:03:00.000+10:00

Im a bit slow at updating this, but here is some shots of Amsterdam. I visited the sights for two days, whilst stying about 20km out of town at the home of two cyclists I met in Italy. Tess and Nicole were the perfect hosts, they put up with my general grubbiness and slack cleanliness discipline and hosted me for three nights. Thanks guys!

The city itself is wonderful for bikes, as you have all heard, but it is also quite picturesque, especially one you get onto the outer canal rings where there are very few tourists.

Lion Statue in one of the many plazas

Fluter

Yours Truly

Canal

Easy rider

2007-09-08T23:09:00.000+10:00

At a campsite in Houffalize (17km north of Bastogne), I met a two bikers - Bas and Will, riding a pair of awesome trikes. Upon heeding my fascination with these machines, and after hearing me whinge about the hard, boring scenery, they offered me and the bike a lift to Arnhem. How could I resist? It saves me money, sanity, and gives me the chance to spend a few more days in Amsrterdam. Their generosity was amazing, they even shouted me lunch!

Another change of plans

2007-09-08T22:56:00.000+10:00

Well, after cycling a bit of the Rhine and declaring it a tad boring, I decided to detour through Luxembourg and Belgium. Luxembourg city is an underrated place, sterling views and a nice layout. The ride north proved harder than I anticipated. I expected rolling flatlands but instead I got soul-destroying neverending 7% grade hills. By the time I got to Bastogne in Belgium I was wiped.

Luxembourg City

Typical cyclepath scenery

Update

2007-09-06T00:37:00.000+10:00

The Black Forest and Beyond...

2007-09-06T00:18:00.000+10:00

I hqd a go at the Black Forest, quite hard, a 1300m pass and some snow. My hands and feet were freezing!

UPDATE: For LOTS of photos, look at my facebook profile:

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=686314148

A little cold..

Nice scenery in the Jura mountains

Great hospitality

Repairs on the road

My 'wild camp' in the Black Forest

Sprung

2007-09-02T07:47:00.001+10:00

The week has been lazy, as previously mentioned, relaxing in the apartment in Biel. The Swiss hospitality has been marvellous, so far as they have given me beers, food and even a new seat for my bike, a Brooks B66, similar to my ol' trusty, but it has ass-saving springs built into it. (Thanks Oli!)

Me and my new best friend

Special thanks for your hospitality and friendship: Regula, Oli, Käthi, Juri 'The Body' Jaquemet, Lars, Doris, Unknown beer shouting guy, Beppe, Dänu, Andrea

Visiting Bern with a (free) tour guide

2007-09-02T07:25:00.000+10:00

Heres some pics of Bern, the capital of Switzerland. I visited toady, and was chaffeured around by my venerable host and guide, Regula.

Vista

Bear in the pit

Beppe and his magnificent smile

Münster chapel and the river

View of a bridge from the top of the Chapel

Regula (left) and Andrea (right)

From a Café

Here he goes again...

2007-08-31T03:19:00.000+10:00

While my current slightly unwarranted rest period is only halfway through (I leave Biel on Sunday 2nd of September), I can't wait to get back on the bike. Sure, I have the time to relax, and my ass is still sore, but this lying around and doing nothing is driving me crazy.

Since my host works during the day, I have had the apartment to myself, and naturally I have gravitated towards the internet. Some of the stories of adventurers and cyclists on REAL expedition trips (ie: Russia, China) have made me quite jealous. I have decided to make a line straight back to the U.K, probably Edinburgh, where I can work, save my pennies, and undertake an adventure such as the ones I've read.

Sure, there have been some hard parts of this trip (Two sets of Alps and the Rivieras), but looking back, I have found these hard stages the most rewarding and enjoyable. I yearn for actual wilderness cycling, where the isn't someone close by who can speak english, where I have to work out water and food plans, and where I won't see some sort of town every 2km.

Of course, I may regret it when I'm actually doing it, and I have no real experience in these matters, but you have to start somewhere. If I am to have my ego shattered, I'd rather have in shattered in the middle of Siberia.

So I'll be making my way from Biel to the Rhine and follow the great river to Amsterdam and over the sea to Britain. On the way I will pass through the Black Forest, and, come to think of it, that actually sounds a little adventurous....

Creature comforts

2007-08-29T01:47:00.001+10:00

Looking out at the lake towards Biel

I have finally made it to Biel, and to the comforts of a real house. I will certainly be staying as long as my host allows. The ride here I somehow got lost, even though all I had to do was follow a lake. I happened to get lost in an area where there was a huge prison, not so nice. But all's well that ends well.

On a ferry from Evian to Lusanne (reason for the salute is unknown)

Out-of-focus tree photo

Another fairytale village

Geneva Convention

2007-08-29T01:12:00.000+10:00

We arrived in Geneva after a small stint on the motorway, and after asking the guards to stamp our passports (border control is so lax these days they dont usually bother). In Geneva, the nearest place to camp was 7km away so we went to the hostel. It was marvellous having a shower and a bed. The next step was Bern or the nearby town Biel, where my friend Reggie graciously offered to let me stay.

Lake Geneva bay

Canal in Geneva

The mighty General Dessaix

On the road from Geneva to Bern

Lakeside photo opportunity

More of day two and three

2007-08-29T01:06:00.000+10:00

Magnificent gap in the mountains just before Geneva

Small town near Lac Bourget

Same town

Typical Swiss countryside

Small village street

The Gap

Day two of the Lyon - Geneva route

2007-08-29T00:59:00.000+10:00

Were still following the Rhone river, its getting more clear and swimmable. Great views around every corner here. The bike feels as heavy as ever, and the hills in the distance dont agree with that...

In thought....

Waterfall in the morning

Another bridge over the Rhone

Slow but steady climb

Over the Alps again (well, the foothills, anyway)

2007-08-28T22:30:00.000+10:00

From Avignon, it took me two and a half days to arrive in Lyon. Great scenery the whole way, no bike probs. In Lyon, I stayed for two nights and met a batch of travellers. To my delight, one of the aforementioned travellers was a bike tourer, Sadi, and I convinced him to go to Switzerland rather than north France.

Sadi and myself shortly before leaving Lyon

Street in Lyon

Campsite next to the carpark of a small town

One of many nuclear reactors in France

I cant wait to get on the Rhone again

2007-08-22T20:52:00.001+10:00

I slept at a proper campsite last night, it turned out to be a beutiful Chateaux, a HUGE yard to camp in, and great hospitality (beer). Today I made a line for Lyon, France, and got to within 15km when a massive storm hit. Myself and another bike tourer sheltered on the side of the road under my tarp and fixed his puncture, had a cup of tea and some soup while we waited out the storm.

Campsite bar (notice the kangaroo sign above the bar)

Road to Lyon

Vienne (not Vienna) just south of Lyon

Lyon Hostel terrace

Malik in Red Square, Lyon

Crest for the night

2007-08-22T20:45:00.000+10:00

I spent the night in a town called Crest, fitted my new panniers, and went for a refreshing dip in the Drome River. I kept seeing all these signs for "Velo - Drome" and I thought to myself 'Wow theres a lot of Velodromes (bike racing stadiums) in France...' It was only later that I realised that it was the Drome river cyclepath...

Crest

Malik looking heavy (new red panniers)

Sunflowers, I presume

Into Provence

2007-08-22T20:32:00.000+10:00

The county of Provence in southern France is by far the most consistantly beautiful place so far in Europe (I seem to say that a lot). Hilltop villages and castles everywhere, great scenery, vineyards and country roads make for great cycling.
Unfortunately the night before I left Avignon, I had one of my front panniers stolen from outside my tent. So my bike looked and steered quite odd. When I was passing through a small village in Provnce, and man leaned out of his window and asked if I wanted a drink. Jean-Noel provided me with a terrific beer, and upon enquiring about my odd baggage setup, proceeded to give me some new panniers, just like that! Things always have a habit of working out, eh?

Outside Jean-Noels little house

Last shot of Avignon

Chateaux

Its a big problem in France, apparently

Random vista

Dancing on the Birdge in Avignon

2007-08-22T20:18:00.000+10:00

Avignon is beautiful, the perfect walled fairytale city. I spent two days with some scottish lads exploring the city (and juggling)

Pedestrian Alley

Archway

The Palace du Papes

View of the city from my campsite

The city again

Pedestrian thoroughfare

Continued...to Avignon

2007-08-17T19:48:00.000+10:00

More pics guys. Now Im in Avignon, but I havent taken any photos yet. Ive been too busy doing this blog! Avignon is my second favourite city so far, the first being Hamburg, and the third being Padua (Padova).

The landscape slightly restored my strength.

Town. (Im very descriptive, arent I?)

Bay Sunset

Another beautiful bay

At the statue in Toulon (Picture taken by a squad of U.S Marines, who were impressed by my effort!)

My beard was the source of my power

2007-08-17T19:39:00.000+10:00

I shaved after someone special asked me to, and I swear it was the worst decision I have made. My Bicycle Hero powers have diminished, I feel lethargic, I cant spell very well on the keyboard, and my knees hurt. Surely the beard is the cause. Anyhow, the latest batch of scenery was awesome. Almost made up for the missing beard, but not quite.

Something missing...

Oh, the beard

Landscape 1

Landscape 2

Landscape 3

Nice is Nice (another bad pun)

2007-08-17T19:32:00.000+10:00

I got to Nice, determined to have a swim. I got that, and also some heartburn from trying to find a place to stay. I finally found a place on top of a HUGE hill overlooking Nice. Not fun getting there on the bicycle. I made some pals, lazed about, and then left for Toulon, bypassing Cannes which was overrated I think.

War memorial, Nice

Nice Square

View from the Hostel

Cannes Beach

Ventimiglia, the border (and Monaco)

2007-08-17T19:27:00.000+10:00

Almost in France! Here is Ventimiglia, the last Italian town I was in, and a view of the French coast. I have a lot more pics, it just takes a lot of time, therefore money, to upload them!

Ventimiglia from my tent!

View of the French coast

Walk in Rich Rich Monaco

More on Riomaggiero

2007-08-17T19:21:00.001+10:00

Heres some more shots from Riomaggiero, and the Village just beyond, Levanto, where I stayed for the night. Not much to report on the cycling, except its HARD, and Malik is behaving.

Levanto Beach

The Sea and Ventimiglia

2007-08-17T19:11:00.000+10:00

I finally made it to the sea, and cycled some of the Riviera. The Belgians had gone home and I was alone again. I took a break at a cliffside village called Riomaggiero, breaktaking!

Not Riomagierro, but still nice

This and all the others are Riomaggiero

Too much lean on that...

2007-08-12T23:40:00.000+10:00

Arriving at Pisa

Broken Malik (now fixed)

Sunset in Pisa

Have a guess what this is

When my Belgian biking mates finally made it to Pisa we thought our troubles were over, nay, they had only begun. OK, it wasnt that big of a deal, but I had a hefty crash and destroyed yet another front wheel. Pisa was nice, by the way. The computer I am using won't upload my photos, so you'll just have to wait a little while before you see what I see.

Kyle

Under the Tuscan sun

2007-08-09T04:34:00.000+10:00

Some of the scenery in Italy is fantastic, while some is monotonous, heres some of the nicer shots

Me and my companions on the road

Typical Italian scenery

Halfway up the Appenines

Panorama

Sunset in Padua

2007-08-09T04:27:00.000+10:00

This is the city of Padua, just west of Venice. This night I met a couple of Canadians and we spent the better part of three hours searching for a Pizzeria in Padua. Imagine that, a pizza shop in Italy...

Fear and loathing in La Mestra

2007-08-03T22:04:00.001+10:00

I'll update this with more words later, but I left Venice this morning and I'm in Pdua at the moment.

Very Hunter. S, sans Aviators

Venice Plaza

Old building

Typical canal

Auf Wiedersehen,Vienna

2007-08-01T18:25:00.000+10:00

I am now preparing to depart this historic city...

Here another video, no cycling in it, though.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7Y9J1W8ZCA

You'll have to tilt your head...

Statue

Malik and a fountain

A hearty dinner with the Oirish

'If it aint baroque then don't fix it'
Austrian Saying

"It could only happen to that dork"

2007-07-31T20:20:00.000+10:00

Here's another one of my 'yeah right' stories. Early in the morning I went roving thorough Vienna on my push-bike, only to discover when I returned to the hostel, to my utmost horror, that my room key and dummy wallet were missing. I recoiled violently upon learning that the lost key fee was $60AUS.

With the utmost haste I set off, retracing my steps though this most labyrinthine of cities. When I neared the police station I passed on my earlier jaunt, I enquired as to whether anyone had handed them in. Here's where the plot thickens, and you may struggle to believe me.

My keys and dummy wallet were pickpocketed from my person, but another bystander apparently witnessed this action. He called after me, but I was well off on the bicycle. He summmoned the nearest policeman, who promtly chased down and arrested the pickpocket, and found my lost keys. I just happened to return to the right police station, and quote the number on my keys, ending my dilemma.

Unbelievable.

(Well, this is what I could make out what happened, as my grasp of the German and german/english languages is quite poor.)

Random Streetcorner

Road Bridge near town centre

Stephansdom, the most incredible church

Stephansdom outside

The mighty Goethe

Typical Viennese vista

Cafe Central, a historic coffeehouse where I had my (expensive) lunch

A clever man commits no minor blunders.

-Goethe

And now something completely different...

2007-07-31T19:53:00.000+10:00

Everything is going fine with my health, the physical aspect that is. On the road I tend to talk to myself in a monty-python style english accent, but enough about that.

But it's not all spring chicken. I seem to be following a pattern. I wake up at 7:00am feeling like death, mainly because of my frankly crap closed-cell foam mattress. I stretch and have breakfast, and feel slightly less dead. Once I'm on the bike and in the zone, everything levels out. The next 90-100 km are fantastic, and I love it. Lunch comes and goes, most probably in the main square of the town closest to 12:00 noon.

However, recently, this is where things have turned pear-shaped. My goal of the day is usually a substantial town where I can find a campground or a place where I can stock up on food. The final 10km approach to these towns are horrifying. I end up getting lost, circling the town, and adding another 15km onto the total.

Repeat cycle.

However, the good outweighs the bad tenfold. I love the feeling that I dont know exactly where I'll be tomorrow, only that it will be within a couple hundred km's. I arrived in Vienna yesterday after a hard 3 1/2 day's ride from Prague. The city is equally as marvellous in architecture, but for some reason I feel more at home here. Too bad my pocketbook doesn't think the same way.

There's never a spanner when you need one, but there's always one in the works...

2007-07-30T22:05:00.000+10:00

Yet another 'lounging by the water' shot

Rosenburg Castle

Rosenburg, my favourite town so far

Typical Austrian countryside

Breakfast on a park bench in my first substantial Austrian town

Into Austria. That's the Czech border post in the background

A touch Czech bastard

Road in Czech Republic

Hilltop Castle

Just a few pics...

2007-07-29T16:57:00.000+10:00

I'm about 1.5 km from the Austrian border, the Czech Republic was incredible to cycle through, but alot more hilly than the previous countries. Here's a couple of pics...

Rest by a lake

Forest path

One of the hundreds of lakes

Hotel window in Jindrichuv Hradec

Typical Cycle road

Another road

Fairytale land

2007-07-26T19:50:00.000+10:00

Honestly, everything you have heard about Prague and the Czech Republic is true. The buildings are incredible, the women are all models and the beer is cheap, tasty and free flowing. I will be staying awhile here for sure.

Astronomical clock

The above two photos are of the same street taken from different ends, just awesome scenery.

But it hasn't all been spring chicken. I was in the hostel bar having a few brews, when I slammed the glass into my mouth for some inexplicable reason. A large part of my front tooth had been smashed off and I looked like hillbilly bob. Rather than panic, I booked a eastern european dentist for the next day, and had it capped. Not only did they do a bang-up job, it was cheap ($80) and my teeth actually look better than before.

I was also stopped by the local police for some reason and taken to the watchouse where they checked my passport about 100 times. I think that I'm not allowed to ride in the city centre. I don't think my irrational, erratic style of riding helped the matter either. Luckily I'm a friendly chap, and I befriended the cops, and they gave me a couple more stickers to slap on the bike! (no fine)

Nothing else to report, except now I've decided to go through the Alps in Austria and Italy and head along the Meditteranean to Valencia in Spain.

finito