The final days from Rome to Amsterdam...

Thursday 22 August. I get going from Hotel Hinterland at Izenberge-Alveringen at 8.30 under a grey sky, and it is not long before the rain sets in. I stop at a bus shelter and put my rain jacket and trousers on. I cannot complain as this is the first time it rains on the whole journey apart from the thunderstorm descending the col de Vars two weeks ago. I soon realise my expensive rain jacket from Ground Effect in New Zealand must be made for the Southern Hemisphere! Down under it repels the rain and whisks any sweat out into the outside world, but here in the Northern Hemisphere it takes every drop, sucks it in and won't let any moisture out! I am soaked to the skin in no time. I must say this Hemisphere theory is entirely mine and not based on any scientific evidence, it is purely circumstantial. The roads are getting much busier and the large agricultural machinery spray me with muck as they race for shelter. The tractors are gradually replaced by large campers as I get closer to the sea and soon I see glimpses of it through the gaps between the large apartment blocks lining the seafront. I now ride along the promenade parallel with the beach tram lines which run all the way to Knokke up the coast. I arrive in Oostende after 2hours and find that most hotels are booked out. There are people everywhere packed like sardines in restaurants, bars and all available places on covered terraces. After enquiring at a few hotels along the promenade without success I learn that the world championship roller speed skating are on in town. I am just about resigned to the fact that I may have to go some distance inland or into the city centre, when I spot a sign "hostelry" above a restaurant. There is no obvious entrance so I enquire at the restaurant and the nice lady has one room for one night free, which happens to be tonight, perfect. I hang all my wet gear out to dry in the room and after a quick shower I walk out to find the railway station where Hilde arrives at 1.30 from Antwerpen to see me on my way through. The continual rain stops but the clouds are thick and heavy, it continues to spit and drizzle at regular intervals. We manage to have a very pleasant and long walk along the promenade and the beach to the next village to the South. After a drink we ride the tram back to Oostende and after a lovely meal I deliver Hilde back to the station for her return home. I am a lucky biker indeed.

Another great day, although wet, with a ride of 41 km in 2h3 min.

Friday 23August dawns clear and sunny, and I continue up the coast to Knokke before I turn inland to the border with Holland. There is no evidence of it and I slip unnoticed into the province of Zeeland, after which my adopted homeland of New Zealand is named by Abel Tasman around 1675 if my history knowledge serves me wright. I am unsure from which town the Ferry across the river Schelde goes so I aim for Schoondijke to keep my options open for Breskens or Terneuzen. It is a good move as the signs for the ferry appear just there and I arrive at Breskens at 1.30 pm. I miss out by a few bikers as a school party fills the ferry and I have to wait till 3.30 for the next one. Arriving just after 4 in Vlissingen, the place is buzzing with the Sail Show and a good many tall sailing ships in the harbour. The old city is in party mode and very busy. The school holidays are still on and accommodation is hard to find. At the VVV the Dutch tourist information office, I find a hotel in Middelburg the Capitol of the province less than 10 km from Vlissingen. A reminder of how small and close everything is in The Netherlands. I phone my cousin Kees, to see if I can visit his mother, (my aunt Nel), who recently went into a nursing home not far from here in Goes. Aunt Nel who is 93, has visited us in New Zealand three times with my mother in the past and I would like to pay her a visit on the way through. We arrange to meet at 11 am tomorrow morning at the nursing home. I look forward to it.

Another great day, a ride of 76 km in 3h5 min, with sunny skies!

Saturday 24 August, I rediscover the Dutch weather pattern of a good day, bad day as the clouds hang low again and the rain falls with regular intervals. My jacket hasn't acclimatised yet and despite sheltering during the heaviest downpours I am soaked to the skin in no time. It is only 40 km to Goes and once wet I push through to get it over with.  I arrive at 10.15 and find a convenient corner under the covered entrance to park the bike with my gear and a warm lounge and foyer to dry out and enjoy a coffee while waiting for cousin Kees to arrive. He arrives late because of the inevitable traffic jambs, and finds me dry and ready to visit Aunt Nel. She is extremely pleased to see us and I am very happy to have made the effort to detour. Kees offers to give me a lift to my young  brother Arie in Rotterdam and considering the time of day, the 90 or so km to ride and the fact that it is still raining off and on, I gratefully accept the offer. We arrive at Arie and Sylvia's place to find them away but I remember their neighbour has a key so I  am able to let myself in and give them a ( hopefully) pleasant surprise.  That is how it turns out and we have a great weekend together with lots of food and drink.

Monday 26 August I set off at 9 .30 on my last day of biking as the GPS tells me that  90 km is the remaining distance left to finish another adventure.

However the roading network in Holland is designed so that motorised traffic and bicycles are separated for the majority of it and at times the two go their separate ways. The cycle way may run parallel with the road in the countryside but takes the cyclist through every settlement while the road goes around the outside. This throws the GPS into panic mode, loosing the plot and continually bleeping to turn around and trying to direct me back to the main road where cycling is prohibited. The result is that getting through the town or village becomes guesswork when to start following the GPS again. Several times I start too early and find myself back at the point where I left the road in the first place! A frustrating experience and without a map not to be recommended. On top of that without hills of any kind, the wind is a relentless companion and as usual against, the restaurants and roadside eating houses are closed on Monday, so with the detours and missed signpost I end up riding 127 km in 6 h 35 on a bottle of water and a muesli bar, reaching my destination at our friends Frans and Ellen hungry but happy. Another adventure comes to an end. Time to rest and reflect on the experience.

Veronica arrives in Amsterdam on the first of September so I have 6 days to rest and scrub up to enjoy a 2 week holiday together before we fly home to New Zealand on 15 September.

To close I list a few statistics of the trip for whoever is interested and say thank you for following and supporting me and the encouragement you gave me during this most enjoyable journey. I am a very fortunate fellow.

Total distance biked = 2,550 km

Total vertical meters climbed = 20,376m

Total hours on the bike = 139.5

Average speed = 18.3 km/h

Highest temperature while riding = 43 C

Total days on the bike = 28

Average distance per day = 91 km

Longest day = 147 km ,  6 h 48 min

Number of days with rain = 2

Number of thunderstorms = 1

Number of flat tyres = 0

Photos from France into Belgium

From France into Belgium

Monday 19 August, the grumpy lady negotiated the time for breakfast, from 7 am to 7.30 am, I like to ride as early as possible because the distance I achieve in an hour in the morning, takes 2 hours in the afternoon, with the heat and the wind. Still hoping for a tail wind sometime! Well I am right on time at 7.25 at the restaurant but it is locked, not a sign of life, all terrace chairs and tables stacked inside. I assume they live upstairs so I rattle the door so loud, the council workers watering the flowers in the square look up.

No response, I pace up and down a bit and have another rattle and a medium sized kick at the door at 7.45. When that has no result I go back to the room and look for a way to force the office door to get my bike out. The lady has such a cough that it crosses my mind she may have died during the night, as I have listened to her coughing fits when she locks up at night. I nearly succeed in opening the door but I fear the wooden strip might break so I ease off. Walking into the passage to go back up to my room to get my bags, a door in the dark end of the passage opens and a sleepy coughing lady appears from the back room! It is now 8.45am. She is very embarrassed and hurries along clutching a plastic shopping bag across the square to the restaurant. She opens up and tries to do every thing at once, tables, chairs, breakfast, coffee, coughing as she goes, now I feel embarrassed having put the pressure on to have breakfast this early. I scoff the breakfast of dry baguette, jam and a single quasson and get up to pay and leave. The lady gets out the receipt book, but when I gesture I do not need a receipt, she writes 120 on the back of the book, giving me a discount of 30 Euro off the negotiated price. She even trusts me with the key to get the bike out of the office, so she would not have to leave the restaurant unattended.  I must have passed the test after all. I finally ride away at 9.30am and the wind is up already. I expect to find the roads much busier from here on, but am surprised at the small back roads the GPS directs me to. The consequence of that is that I see very few shops where I can buy food to keep the fires burning.  I am almost resigned I might have to live on my power bars today when I find a bakery open who sells filled baguettes with blue cheese and tomato. I was pleased after 4 hours and just over 85 km. I ride North through Nogent, Nouran, Breval, cross the river Seine at Vernon, turn left at Thilliers and after 110 km I stop at a large country residence in the middle of nowhere with a sign on the gate saying Maison d' Hotes.

I ask the lady for a bed for one night for one person I my perfect French and she says, "why not!" In English. She says it is 70 euro including breakfast, but I suspect you may want dinner, so please join us for another 20 euro in the big house. The residence sits in 4 hectares of gardens, has some outbuildings in which the B&B guests are housed and a very small thatched cottage, which became home to my bicycle for the night. My room is a complete self contained Unit with a spare bedroom, small kitchen and bathroom. I am given a basket with my breakfast ingredients for me to have in the unit and the lady is quite happy to unlock the gate at 7.30 tomorrow morning. She finds me two 25 cl  bottles of cold Grimsbergen beer on arrival so things cannot be any better in my little world. We have dinner in the kitchen, a little below expectation, but interesting all the same. There are no waiters or a butler, the meal of pasta is cooked by the host. He doesn't speak English but his flamboyant gestures while serving more than make up for it. It isn't a bikers quantity either and the prediction that I will sleep well, after drinking half a bottle of wine between the three of us convinces me that they are not the types to over indulge.

The ride today from Maintenon with Louis XIV's chateau built for his mistress to Doudeauville En Vexin, 112km in 5 h34,  climbing 807m and descending 820 m, still going down.

Tuesday 20 August no sleeping in for this lady, she is waiting at the gate and gives me a pamphlet of her enterprise, she puts her hand on my arm and asks: "where will you eat?"

It makes me wonder if they have ever been outside their estate. The world certainly looks different through each persons window. On the road early after a good breakfast and the legs are willing and spinning before the wind gets up and spoil it all! It is large rolling country again, up and down long slopes over very small roads through Foret de Lyons and fields of wheat, corn and sunflowers. Harvest is in full swing here, a shift of season as further South they were virtually finished. I am close to the sea, a few km inland and traffic becomes notably busier. I ride through Forges les Eaux, Neufchatel, Londinieres. I cross the toll road E 11 several times, but I resist the temptation to prove my point that there are very few Dutch cars on it! The wind is getting very strong and I have given up the idea that today I want to see the sea, as the road doesn't seem to go anywhere near it. When I reach Namont in the early afternoon I call it a day to have time to get my riding garb dry before tomorrow. I spot a pretentious looking hotel, but the room is an interior decorators nightmare. Pink flowery wallpaper in the room that hurts my eyes and dark green tiled walls in the bathroom with a huge bath. I fill it and have a hot soak, which may be a mistake as my legs feel like lead when I climb out of it.

Dinner was unexpectedly beautiful and made up for the tasteless decor. The ride today from Doudeauville en Vexin to Namont was 147 km in 6h48 climbing 1040m and descending 1132m still going down.

Wednesday 21August, I get away from Namont by 8.30 am. I find it hard to get going this morning and blame last nights hot bath. I emailed Hilde (a biker from Belgium I met in NZ) last night who lives in Antwerpen that I will arrive in Belgium today and I hope to get somewhere near Oostende on the coast, by tonight or tomorrow. The roads get flatter but also much busier here with lots of trucks and heavy farm machinery. A long incline of up to 10 % through a forest takes me by surprise and I am pleased to spot some picnic tables not far from the top. I sit down and enjoy my pain o' raisin to recover from the unexpected effort. When I get to the top after a few more bends I ride into the very trendy and historic town of Cassel. The main square is packed with tourists filling up all the terraces in front of the restaurants and cafes. The road is pave, ( basalt cobble stones) not only through the main square, but the continuing road and most of the descent down the other side of this big hill. Which is a punishment instead of reward after a climb, as I have to keep the speed down to walking pace, about 3km/h To prevent the bike from falling to bits ! I finally cross the border into Belgium at Oost Capel and ride on via Beveren and Pollinkhove to Izenberge-Alveringem. The hotel is called Hinterland, very appropriately so. It is not far from Ieper, where so many soldiers died in the trenches of the First World War. There is an extensive tourist industry around here, with guided tours, walk and bike routes, events, museums and  American, Belgian, Commonwealth, French and German War Cemeteries.

It is a sobering experience to see some of the memorials to the young men who gave their lives during this war and the strongest question I felt was why?

The numbers are mind boggling, but has humanity learned anything, I wonder. There are some incredible stories told, two British nurses "The Angels of Pervijze" worked from a basement 50 m from the trenches, her dog took a request to the German commander, he agreed for them to collect the wounded in no mans land between battles, they would not shoot, provided they wore there nurses caps and not helmets. The Menin Gate, the large commonwealth memorial, stands on the site of one of the old town gates, through which thousands of soldiers passed, on the way to the front. It was opened in 1927, it bears the names of 54.896 soldiers who were reported missing in Ipres between the outbreak of the war and  17 August 1917. Because the gate is to small to hold the names of all the missing, the names of a further 34.000 are commemorated on the panels of the Tyne Cot Memorial in Passendale. The Last Post is played every evening at 8 pm at the Menin Gate, by buglers from the local fire brigade, The traffic stops during this ceremony, it has been held since 1928, the only interruption was during the German occupation of 1940 to 1944, when it was performed at Brookwood Barracks in England. More than 60 million soldiers were mobilised during the war, of which 10 million died. There is a 37.5 km thematic cycle route called: "No More War", maybe it should be compulsory for all world leaders and politicians of this world, to ride this route before taking up office. Are we civilised enough, I wonder.

Today's ride from Namont to Izeberge-Alveringem was 126 km in 5h45, climbing 809 m and descending 820 m, yes still going down.

Cross country Rural France

Autun, Thursday 15 August, I enjoyed my stay in this old but very luxurious hotel. Last night I dined like a king and slept like a log. The breakfast is also above the norm, with an extensive buffet with serial, fruit, yoghurt, cheeses, meats, bread  and pastries. I do not need any encouragement. Well fortified I am on my way although a little sluggish, a combination for the need of a rest day and the fact that the road undulates and I am going up hill. I decide to take it easy today and stop when I have enough rather than try and reach a target. The ride is beautiful through forests and small villages, it is still rolling country but it seems less so. I notice a disproportionate amount of cars with Dutch number plates on the road, I wonder if there is something for free here? When I realise that the majority of motorways are toll roads, that would explain it!

I ride through the Parc Naturel Regional du Morvan, in a mainly Westerly direction. I pass through Chateau Chinon with a huge museum in the middle of nowhere. I reach Premery by 2 pm and call it a day after 101 km in 5h22, climbing 1088 m and descending 1209 m, so we are still going down! There is no hotel here only a camping and one small restaurant with 4 rooms to rent above it. I enquire and the first question is, am I a pilgrim? It is on the pilgrim route to Northern Spain. The room is pretty basic, separate bathroom, a handkerchief size towel and a single outside toilet in the back yard. I am the only guest and wonder what it would be like with all 4 rooms occupied in the morning. The food is good, although the meat in France is often very tough, the restaurant has a very pleasant atmosphere. I sleep well despite the noisy traffic for most of the night.

Friday 16 August, I am back on the road by 8.30 and heading into the Loire Valley. I cross the main road 151 at Nannay and follow the small country roads through the Forests of Bellary to Donzy. The wind is strong and against as usual and although a man cannot ride across France on "pain au raisin and pastries" alone, one gets a long way with them. Thanks to the Artisan Patisseries which I visit each morning I can obey the calorie alerts my GPS gives me at regular intervals. I hit the main road next to the Loire river after crossing the A77 at Neuvy sur Loire and it is heavy traffic from here. I stop for lunch at a roadside restaurant for the 15 euro plat du jour, which consists of an entrée of cold green beans and cucumber, a main of a 1/4 chicken of unknown age with some chips and green leaves, followed by a tartlet in a foil cup, mass produced somewhere unthinkable. The entertainment was a fat Dutchman who told me how much money he makes, and all the famous people he knows or knew, as most of them have unfortunately died! It is good to get away sometimes. At Bonny sur Loire I cross the river and follow it through small villages away from the busy road on the other side. I reach Chateauneuf after crossing the river again at  5 pm after 140 km in 6h20, climbing 650m and descending 756m, still going downhill.

After my usual laundry duty and shower I find a cold beer as reward for another great day.

Saturday 17August, my Europe Weather App on my mini iPad tells me it is going to rain tomorrow, so I will ride another day and have my rest day tomorrow, wherever that may be. Breakfast in this hotel is at 8 am so by the time I get away it is just about 9 o 'clock. It starts out well with a strong wind semi behind for the first 25 km or so and I make good progress. I leave the river and am heading into a heavily populated region with a lot of mayor highways so it will be interesting to see how the GPS navigates me through this. I ride through the Forest of Orleans, then avoid the city of Pithiviers on my left. I am riding on country lanes closed for vehicles over 3.5 ton! I leave the city of Malesherses on my right followed by Etamples on my left. I ride on through the Parc Naturel Regional du Gatinais following a small river Essonne. It is a hard ride with the wind against which gets very strong in the afternoon. But when I see the twin towers of the cathedral of Chartres on the skyline to my left I know I am nearing my destination. I stop for a breather and a power bar on the village square of La Ferte-Aalais and sit beside an old local man in the shade. After exchanging greetings and establishing that neither speaks each others language, we continue with gestures and my notebook and manage to find out our ages, (he is 83) where I am from, my route and all the Tour de France heroes of the last 50 years. When 2 other men of similar vintage join us, he tells them the story, in a way like he has known me for years. He then asks me if I sleep in a tent, but when I say in a hotel, he raises his eyebrows and gestures plenty of money! He smiles and nods when I sign: Young-lots of time- no money, Old- lots of money- no time! We shake hands and I nurse my developing saddle soar for the remaining 22 km into Maintenon.  Arriving at 4.30pm after 136 km in6h38 climbing 502m and descending 524m still going down!

The town of Maintenon lies between Chartres and Paris and roughly on a diagonal line from Grenoble to Le Havre on the coast. It has a chateau in the centre of town which I overlook from the window of the rather grand room I have rented from a grumpy lady who first tried to make me take the much smaller and inferior room at the back for 75 euro/night. It was a bit of a stand off negotiating, I knew she would not reduce the price and she knew I would not take the small room, all without speaking. It does include breakfast at the restaurant 50 m up the road.

Sunday 18 August, a pleasant rest day, late breakfast, a walk about town, a few drops of rain around 10 am, lots of clouds but the sun is peeping through at regular intervals. I am the only occupant and the lady is a little less grumpy, probably realising that letting the large room to one person is better than hoping for more people to come and having it empty.

In the next two days I should cross the Seine and hit the coast, direction Belgium. Another week or two of adventure awaits me.....

Photos of Rural France

Continuing through Rural France

In the last blog I had arrived in Guillestre and looked forward to catching up with Brad, who in fact drove up from the coast to see me. We missed out on lunch, he was held up along the way, and it is impossible to get a meal between 2.30 pm and 7 pm in France. So we got the last 2 filled rolls at the bakery and had an ice cream after a walk around town. Dinner was better and so was the breakfast next morning. We talked and laughed a lot, or maybe I should say, I talked a lot, because a solo bike tourer hasn't always the opportunity to talk much.

We said our farewells after breakfast and went our separate ways early as a busy day lay ahead. I got as far as Briancon, when I realised I did not get my passport back at the hotel after paying the bill. My first thought was I am getting senile, but Brad who is many years my junior had done the same, which was reassuring to say the least. I decided to stay in Briancon, book into a hotel , store the bike and take the train back to Guillestre to collect it. That took the rest of the day as the train stops at the nearest village, which took some doing to find out how to get to Guillestre. After getting nowhere with a very unhelpful station attendant trying to find out about the bus service, and not having seen a bus for a good hour, I thumbed a lift and got to the hotel where they were very apologetic about it. After lunch the train back was at 3.45 pm the hotel receptionist was unable to find out if there was a bus going there and trying to get a taxi was no better as 5 taxi firms flatly refused to take me! At least she speaks French and could not get an answer.

In the end the receptionist took me in her car and delivered me to the station. Not a day to remember.

Saturday 10 August I leave Briancon and climb from the outset for about 3 hours to the Col the Lautaret, which is 2058 m high. The gradient is good at an average of 7.5%. The wind is fresh and it makes quite a difference after riding in the heat. At the summit  I indulge in a pancake and coffee, before I put my jacket on and start the descent. It is magic, 35 km downhill through half a dozen tunnels some a km long. I am pleased to have my tail light going, although there are many people on racing bikes riding these cols without any lights at all. The motorists are very good, they do not pass in the tunnels and on the open road they are very considerate and slow down before overtaking. I arrive at Bourg de Oisans by noon and book into a small hotel. I email our friend Olivier who runs a camping 4 km the other side of the summit of the Croix de Fer, to make sure they can accommodate me before I climb this col. Confirmation arrives so on Sunday morning 11 August. I ride to the summit of the Croix de Fer, 35 km climbing with  grades up to 17%. I arrive just in time for lunch, and it is great to see Olivier and Aniqu again. My initial plan was to ride on from here through the Alps via Albertville, but with my slow progress because of the heat and the delay with the passport, I decide to ride the same way back again and leave the Alps via Grenoble. I still have this potential problem that the front carrier is still held together with a shoelace and I need a little time up my sleeve in case of trouble. This may sound like an excuse, and in hindsight it may be, who knows!

An early start on Monday 12August, I climb the 4 km back to the summit and descend more or less for 135 km all the way through Grenoble then through Vorseppe, Voiron, Les Abrets to Les Aveniers. It is not all downhill I still climb 1190 m but that is offset by 2874 m of descending. It is not all plain sailing either as I strike 15 km of roadworks through Grenoble and the state of the road surface is terrible. I am lucky not to have broken a few spokes or worse. My backside may never be the same again! I try to avoid big cities, for the obvious reasons, but one cannot always avoid them.

Tuesday 13August takes me from Les Aveniers through some big rolling hills via Morestel, and Lagnieu across some serious traffic situations where several motorways and toll roads interchange near Amberieu. Still in heavy traffic I cut across to Chalamont, leaving Bourg en Bresse on my right through Montrevel to Cormoz in the Bresse district, famous for their poultry. I found the Alberge du Grand Ronjon via my GPS having to backtrack a few km.

It is a big place part of a traditional farm and they serve traditional dishes from the Bresse area. The waitress is dressed in traditional dress less clogs and the waiter has the traditional handlebar moustache. On arrival the place seemed deserted, but once I am discovered I am served a litre of beer from a corked bottle, which is heavenly after the long bike ride. Although it nearly put me to sleep! The accommodation is in a small mobile home, with everything there one could wish for. At dinner I sit next to a lovely Dutch couple, who write down all the recipes they are able to extract from the hostess for future dinner parties at home. The food is indeed lovely.

After a good sleep I have early breakfast with the hostess and set off on Wednesday 14August for the next leg of the journey. Today is a treat, rolling hills via small back roads well away from traffic. 120 km of silence, apart from the odd motorbike or farm tractor. I travel through Louhans, Muntret,St Germain, missing the city of Chalon onto Autun. The weather is hot with a cool breeze against as usual. That is how a biker knows he is going the right way, if the wind is behind, there must be something wrong and it is worth checking it out! The other reminder is, when your traveling North in the Northern hemisphere, to check you are going the right way is that all the sunflowers are facing you! 

Anyway this will do for now, I am a little behind posting because Google France doesn't always recognise me, so here we go I hope it get's posted.

Photos of the alpes

From Italy into France

The ferry from Olbia took me overnight to Genova, it is a cow of a place to get out of on a bicycle. The last time I was here I ended up on the motorway and had quite a job to get to the nearest exit. This time I did not expect any problems with my new Garmin 810 GPS specially made for cyclists. It is programmed to find the shortest route, avoid main roads and motorways.

It takes me right through the centre, at 8.30 am on a Monday morning! Heavy traffic lots of traffic lights and not easy to follow the instruction in these circumstances. The distance to Savona, where I had planned to sail to, is 46 km down the coast to the West.  After getting through the centre I am steadily climbing up a large hill, I notice looking back that I am leaving the coast. I stop and check the distance to destination and it says 150 km!

I turn it off and find my way back into town and if I keep the sea on my left I should eventually get to Savona. After I  strand at the end of many dead end streets, I move one block inland but discover that all roads lead to the motorway. So in desperation and the fact that I am well advanced in a westerly direction I turn the GPS back on and set it to take me to Savona. Off we go again criss crossing street after street until I recogniseI am  on the same route as the first time! I have fruitlessly biked for 2.5 hours and got nowhere. I turn back into the city and weigh up the my options. Maybe go north up the Po valley and over the st. Bernard pass into France, but that is a much longer route.

The answer is in front of my face, I am staring at a signpost to the railway station, which is just across the square I am standing on. So I join the queue after checking the departure times for trains to Savona. It shows trains at regular intervals on which one can take a bike.  When my turn comes I politely say Bon jour to a grumpy man behind the glass. I ask for a ticket to Savona with a bicycle, he shouts something waiving his arms, no bicycle, I try to say ..but on the list, but he kept shouting, no bicycle! I stare at him in disbelieve, when a lady from the queue behind taps me on the shoulder and says another window, pointing at one two places to the right. It is free and I ask the lady at that window the same question, she smiles and asks me when I want to go and the bike is free! I still do not know why or how it works, but an hour later I sit on the train on my way to Savona. I get there mid afternoon, so find a B&B and get out of the hottest part of the day.

On Monday 5 August I leave Savona at 7.30 am (it is already 25*C ) climbing steady uphill. It is a coal mining area with bucket lift installations going up into the hills. It is tough going and I cannot get out of low gear for the first 2 hours. I am nearly out of water when I spot a small alimentary, (grocery) they are hard to spot as they often look like an ordinary house, no window or advertising. It is my lucky day 3 litres of water, 4 bananas and some pre-packed quassons. Bananas are hard to come by in this part of the world, and if there are any they are black and well past their use by date.

I get to the top of the hill to find another village, the GPS takes me right into the heart of it again. Up and down the narrow cobbled streets, in an effort to shortcut a few hundred meters. The GPS looks for the shortest route but has no regard for the contour or suitability of the terrain. I have to change the setting to "fastest" rather than "shortest"and see if that improves things.

After descending and riding a reasonable flat valley road I ride through a concentration of heavy industry and mining, sharing the road with large coal trucks. Then the climbing starts again and  I get to Ceva at 1.30 pm and call it a day, the temperatures have again risen in to the high thirties.

I book into a very new but virtually empty hotel for 50 euro including breakfast. It took me 6 hours including stops to ride 68 km climbing another 1320 m.

Worth mentioning is the dinner that evening, walking into the restaurant of the hotel, there were about 25 people, all men. One guest like me the others are workers of some project who are housed somewhere else but eat in the hotel. The owner?/waiter welcomes me in from the other side of the room and points to the table he wants me to sit. He asks me if I am the biker and on my nodding announces this to the whole room. He rattles off the choices of dishes and when decided he pushes one of the swing doors into the kitchen open and shouts the order into it. I must say, compared to this man, John Cleese is an amateur. This procedure happens with everyone present and if the person he is shouting at (from afar) is not paying attention, he thumbs the table gesturing to wake him up. He makes comments to which many laugh, unfortunately beyond my comprehension, and occasionally burst into song. He rushes in and out of the kitchen and I wonder if he is the only one in there, but it is physically impossible for him to prepare or dish up in the time available.  He speaks a couple of words of English and every time he serves a dish to my table he says:"very good" and shakes my hand. I must say after a large dinner and a half litre carafe of red wine, it is hilarious.

He is the host again for breakfast, just as loud but concerned, I must eat "for energy"he shouts. It is the first time there is muesli and cornflakes (somewhat stale looking in jars) but no milk or bowls to put it in. Here I discover that there is only one other guest in the hotel.

I leave Civa smiling but soon sweating again as the firsts 1.5 hours is straight uphill again.

However the day is cooler in the low thirties and I make good progress. After reaching Mondovi the road descends into a huge valley and I am enjoying the downhill and the fact not having to ride in the lowest gear. I reach Cuneo a lovely old city with a beautiful Main Street lined with trees and impressive old buildings. I stop for a pizza and as it is not so hot I decide to carry on up the valley to Vinadio, with the big mountains looming up ahead. It is very hazy and the visibility cannot be more than 10 or 15 km. I book into the Piccolo Hotel which is in a restored old building and  I have a huge comfortable room to rest my weary legs after more than 5 hours biking,  100 km and climbing another 850m.

Wednesday 7 August, I leave Vinadio at 8.30 with a fresh supply of water and food to tackle the real mountains. The road rises gently for a while and takes me to the border with France at the col de Madelene at just over 2000m in altitude after 30km climbing. There are a lot of big trucks on the road and with the narrow road and many hairpin bends it takes a good driver to negotiate it safely.

The descent into France towards Barcelonette is the well earned reward, I turn right to St Paul and soon I am climbing again to the col de Vars at 2109m altitude and am happy to reach it amongst many other cyclist riding the famous cols on their holidays (without baggage ) lots of motorbikes too, who usually pass in groups fast and noisy. At least when they pass I cannot hear my own heavy breathing !

It is quite windy on top and I can hear the distant rumble of thunder. I put my jacket on for the first time this trip and descend to Guillestre for the final 20 km of the day. The first half is smooth and fast, but then the heavens open and I ride into the thunderstorm with no where to hide. The road turns into a river and I have to slow down to a crawl, taking great care in the bends. I arrive in Guillestre soaked but in one piece and find a hotel where I book in for 2 nights for a rest day tomorrow. I rode 82 km in 5.5 hours climbing 1953m and descending 1743m. Another great day.

Thursday 8 August a rest day and it is raining! Janey'son Brad who travels the world on a super yacht is in the area and we will meet up today for lunch and a beer or two.

As I said before one has to be flexible !

Pictures from Sardinia