We will not miss the bad tempered automobile drivers, thundering trucks, poor neglected dogs or Luminati, the proprietress at the only accommodation in Dragodana who, no matter how much money we tried to throw at her, refused to let us pitch our tents on her weed infested patch of grass for one night. We never did find out the reason for her vehement stubbornness, but immediately abandoned all manipulation when she relented to the idea of a slumber party in the large, dilapidated reception area. After another one of Chef Jon’s sublime meals, the bleak floor was soon covered with sleeping mats as 45 weary bodies jostled for space and some semblance of slumber.
We WILL miss its unpretentiousness and the gentle, quizzical, salt of the earth rural folk who were so kind to so many of us along the road.
The mercury kept rising, and peaked at 45 degrees on the day we rode into Bucharest. Accompanied by a lone traffic officer on a motorbike, the riders braved the hectic traffic and potholed roads that led to the hotel. Pretty swish by Romanian standards, it had an elevator on the outside of the building which afforded a grand view of Ceausescu’s “Palace of the People”… the second largest building in the world after the Pentagon. Renamed “Parliament Place” after the demise of communism, it is now used for parliamentary sessions but most of the 3000 rooms stand empty. Overall, the city feels a bit like a tired old tart smoking a cigar on top of a demolition site. What was left of the old city – and there are some beautiful old buildings – is hemmed in by crumbling communist era buildings, many of which are covered by enormous fabric billboards. A most intriguing sight to see one crumbling ideology (communism) being gift wrapped by another, flimsier one (capitalism).
We crossed the border into Bulgaria yesterday and spent our first night outside the town of Russe in a beautiful campsite around a lake. It was time for the second Talent Show of the tour and we were entertained and delighted by a handful of the riders who recited poetry and sang ballads and songs. The highlight had to be the performance by Janice and Stewart, who belted out their rendition of ‘My Way’. Feel free to sing along….!
And so the time has come for me to take a trip to Turkey
Along a rugged road, Orient Express, the name is quirky
With maps and written notes I’ve followed each and every by-way
But more much more than that I’ve ridden my way
Detours, I’ve had a few, but then again too few to mention
I’ve closely followed notes which made me lose my direction
But when the camp is near or someone calls “It’s your dish day’
There’s more, much more than this, I’ve ridden my way
I’ve ridden plains and I’ve climbed hills
Passed fields of corn and bars with ales
I’ve read the signs to find the towns
I’ve done the ups and done the downs
I’ve ridden fast but still come last
I’ve ridden my way
In camp I pitch my tent away from those so fond of snoring
Dinner time, a big surprise, but nothing ever dull or boring
The lunch stop every day, a focal point along the highway
But more so more than this, I’ve ridden my way
For what is a man what has he got?
Two sore cheeks and one big spot
To ride the roads he really wants
Not just the usual local haunts
I took the chance to ride from France
And rode it my way
We will not miss the bad tempered automobile drivers, thundering trucks, poor neglected dogs or Luminati, the proprietress at the only accommodation in Dragodana who, no matter how much money we tried to throw at her, refused to let us pitch our tents on her weed infested patch of grass for one night. We never did find out the reason for her vehement stubbornness, but immediately abandoned all manipulation when she relented to the idea of a slumber party in the large, dilapidated reception area. After another one of Chef Jon’s sublime meals, the bleak floor was soon covered with sleeping mats as 45 weary bodies jostled for space and some semblance of slumber.
We WILL miss its unpretentiousness and the gentle, quizzical, salt of the earth rural folk who were so kind to so many of us along the road.
The mercury kept rising, and peaked at 45 degrees on the day we rode into Bucharest. Accompanied by a lone traffic officer on a motorbike, the riders braved the hectic traffic and potholed roads that led to the hotel. Pretty swish by Romanian standards, it had an elevator on the outside of the building which afforded a grand view of Ceausescu’s “Palace of the Peopleâ€... the second largest building in the world after the Pentagon. Renamed “Parliament Place†after the demise of communism, it is now used for parliamentary sessions but most of the 3000 rooms stand empty. Overall, the city feels a bit like a tired old tart smoking a cigar on top of a demolition site. What was left of the old city – and there are some beautiful old buildings – is hemmed in by crumbling communist era buildings, many of which are covered by enormous fabric billboards. A most intriguing sight to see one crumbling ideology (communism) being gift wrapped by another, flimsier one (capitalism).
We crossed the border into Bulgaria yesterday and spent our first night outside the town of Russe in a beautiful campsite around a lake. It was time for the second Talent Show of the tour and we were entertained and delighted by a handful of the riders who recited poetry and sang ballads and songs. The highlight had to be the performance by Janice and Stewart, who belted out their rendition of ‘My Way’. Feel free to sing along....!
And so the time has come for me to take a trip to Turkey
Along a rugged road, Orient Express, the name is quirky
With maps and written notes I’ve followed each and every by-way
But more much more than that I’ve ridden my way
Detours, I’ve had a few, but then again too few to mention
I’ve closely followed notes which made me lose my direction
But when the camp is near or someone calls “It’s your dish day’
There’s more, much more than this, I’ve ridden my way
I’ve ridden plains and I’ve climbed hills
Passed fields of corn and bars with ales
I’ve read the signs to find the towns
I’ve done the ups and done the downs
I’ve ridden fast but still come last
I’ve ridden my way
In camp I pitch my tent away from those so fond of snoring
Dinner time, a big surprise, but nothing ever dull or boring
The lunch stop every day, a focal point along the highway
But more so more than this, I’ve ridden my way
For what is a man what has he got?
Two sore cheeks and one big spot
To ride the roads he really wants
Not just the usual local haunts
I took the chance to ride from France
And rode it my way
Even though we are averaging a gentle 100 kms a day, the journey seems to be going by too fast. Over the past week we whizzed through Slovakia and Hungary and have just crossed into Romania. After a fantastic rest day in Budapest, we said farewell to the pastry and coffee route along the Danube river and the Danau cycle path and, now well into the second half of the journey, we are beginning to see and experience the differences between west and east Europe. The manicured landscapes and well maintained and affluent cultures and infrastructure of France, Germany and Austria have given way to a more run down, less affluent feel in Slovakia, Hungary and Romania. By no means poverty stricken, there is a general sense of people living little a little closer to the edge. The physical and psychological scars of the communist era are visible in the run down, sometimes abandoned, ugly concrete buildings that were thrown up in and round the beautiful old cities of Bratislava, Budapest and Timisoara. And the people, while friendly and helpful, seem to be, generally, more restrained and contained. Life is harder here. And certainly hotter. We’re experiencing dry, hot temperatures of between 30 and 35 degrees most days.
I was keen to get a sense from the riders regarding their impressions of travelling through Europe so far, and asked them to share the one thing that has stood out for them…
Win: The cleanliness, scenery and lack of billboards have been outstanding.
Bill: The fact that so many old, ornate buildings in ex-communist countries survived. Interspersed with the ugly communist buildings, they stand out even more.
Phil: Having dreamed of visiting Budapest for many years, the feeling of elation at crossing the Danube from Buda into Pest.
Albert: The general openness regarding nudity in western Europe. Even old ladies sunbath topless!
Jaco: Having my first one litre sized beer in Eggelstadt!
Carl: The 3 B’s: The botel, the bridges and the beautiful girls of Bratislava!
Rita: Experiencing parts of all these countries that most tourists would not get to see on the usual touristy routes.
Mannon: Going to bed after a great day of cycling feeling physically, not mentally exhausted.
Joss: The cammaraderie, bonhomie and support of the group.
John: Riding down the Champs Elyssees pretending I was Lance Armstrong!
Liz: The people are friendly and open. The automobile drivers are courteous. It’s becoming less manicured the further east we travel.
Allan: Putting up my tent again for the first time in 20 years! Fantastic to be the road. Having a ball.
Maureen: Being led into Regensburg by a little old couple on bikes. They took us across the old bridge and led us to the hotel. It was wonderful.
Glen: The friendliness of the people. Everyone is so willing to help.
Kirby: Being able to visit museums in furtherance of my interest in conservation science.
Graeme: Being on a bike all day has brought me sleep again. Since the age of six, I have not managed more than a few hours sleep a night.
Al: The fantastic gardens of France and Germany. I look forward to implementing some of these ideas when I get back home to my garden.
Janice: The fact that biofuel is being sold as an option in regular gas stations.
Mike: Getting used to not working!
Stewart: Cycling across the old iron curtain boundary without so much as an official in site.
Karen: How people rely on their bikes here for general mobility. I saw an old woman in Hungary transporting a hoe on the back of her bike.
John Ross: Getting lost with Karen in Gyor and having the best ice cream of my life! It had espresso in it with coffee beans on the top!
Today, we’re on a rest day in the Romanian town of Timisoara (tee-mee-shwa-ra) A few of us did a walk about the inner city with Sebastian, our local contact, who eloquently described what it felt like to be part of the revolution that toppled the Ceausescu regime between 15th and 25th December 1989. He whet our appetites for Bucharest, where we’ll get to see some of the more bizarre and excessive manifestations of the crazed Ceausescu couple in a few days time.
Even though we are averaging a gentle 100 kms a day, the journey seems to be going by too fast. Over the past week we whizzed through Slovakia and Hungary and have just crossed into Romania. After a fantastic rest day in Budapest, we said farewell to the pastry and coffee route along the Danube river and the Danau cycle path and, now well into the second half of the journey, we are beginning to see and experience the differences between west and east Europe. The manicured landscapes and well maintained and affluent cultures and infrastructure of France, Germany and Austria have given way to a more run down, less affluent feel in Slovakia, Hungary and Romania. By no means poverty stricken, there is a general sense of people living little a little closer to the edge. The physical and psychological scars of the communist era are visible in the run down, sometimes abandoned, ugly concrete buildings that were thrown up in and round the beautiful old cities of Bratislava, Budapest and Timisoara. And the people, while friendly and helpful, seem to be, generally, more restrained and contained. Life is harder here. And certainly hotter. We’re experiencing dry, hot temperatures of between 30 and 35 degrees most days.
I was keen to get a sense from the riders regarding their impressions of travelling through Europe so far, and asked them to share the one thing that has stood out for them...
Win: The cleanliness, scenery and lack of billboards have been outstanding.
Bill: The fact that so many old, ornate buildings in ex-communist countries survived. Interspersed with the ugly communist buildings, they stand out even more.
Phil: Having dreamed of visiting Budapest for many years, the feeling of elation at crossing the Danube from Buda into Pest.
Albert: The general openness regarding nudity in western Europe. Even old ladies sunbath topless!
Jaco: Having my first one litre sized beer in Eggelstadt!
Carl: The 3 B’s: The botel, the bridges and the beautiful girls of Bratislava!
Rita: Experiencing parts of all these countries that most tourists would not get to see on the usual touristy routes.
Mannon: Going to bed after a great day of cycling feeling physically, not mentally exhausted.
Joss: The cammaraderie, bonhomie and support of the group.
John: Riding down the Champs Elyssees pretending I was Lance Armstrong!
Liz: The people are friendly and open. The automobile drivers are courteous. It’s becoming less manicured the further east we travel.
Allan: Putting up my tent again for the first time in 20 years! Fantastic to be the road. Having a ball.
Maureen: Being led into Regensburg by a little old couple on bikes. They took us across the old bridge and led us to the hotel. It was wonderful.
Glen: The friendliness of the people. Everyone is so willing to help.
Kirby: Being able to visit museums in furtherance of my interest in conservation science.
Graeme: Being on a bike all day has brought me sleep again. Since the age of six, I have not managed more than a few hours sleep a night.
Al: The fantastic gardens of France and Germany. I look forward to implementing some of these ideas when I get back home to my garden.
Janice: The fact that biofuel is being sold as an option in regular gas stations.
Mike: Getting used to not working!
Stewart: Cycling across the old iron curtain boundary without so much as an official in site.
Karen: How people rely on their bikes here for general mobility. I saw an old woman in Hungary transporting a hoe on the back of her bike.
John Ross: Getting lost with Karen in Gyor and having the best ice cream of my life! It had espresso in it with coffee beans on the top!
Today, we’re on a rest day in the Romanian town of Timisoara (tee-mee-shwa-ra) A few of us did a walk about the inner city with Sebastian, our local contact, who eloquently described what it felt like to be part of the revolution that toppled the Ceausescu regime between 15th and 25th December 1989. He whet our appetites for Bucharest, where we’ll get to see some of the more bizarre and excessive manifestations of the crazed Ceausescu couple in a few days time.
With a five day, 500 kilometre stretch through Germany and Austria behind them, the riders have enjoyed idyllic cycling weather and a well deserved rest day in the magnificent city of Vienna.
We knew we had left Deutschland and were in Osterreich when our cell phones simultaneously beeped the same -welcome-to-Austria-your-calls-will-cost-you-a-lot-more-now - message. No border post or passport check point marked the occasion of our crossing.
From a scenic point of view, things remain pretty much the same as in Germany... farm fields, woodlands and charming villages not more than 5 to 10 kms apart unfurled before the riders as they continued to follow the cycle path along the mighty Danube river. But as we journeyed through the larger towns of Linz, Melk and into the city of Vienna, the change in the architecture signalled the difference. Those Holy Roman Emperors sure knew how to put on a good show. While completely over-the-top and excessive, the grandiose palaces, spires, domes, abbeys and churches perched atop hills and alongside the Danube are breath taking and awe inspiring.
Vienna is art, music, palaces, statues, golden domes, fountains, pedestrian walkways, bicycles, magnificent gardens... and dogs. Coiffed and stylish, they trot alongside their human companions, ride on the subways and in bicycle baskets with a most regal air about them.
Soccer fever swept across the city this afternoon as Italian and Portuguese fans poured in by bus and subway to get things warmed up for the critical match at the stadium. Faces painted, wrapped up in flags and sporting medieval carnival hats in their national colours, the fans did their best to out sing each other in the shadow of St. Stephan’s Cathedral. One particularly fervent fan was on his knees in the cathedral, clearly asking for divine intervention, in favour of Italy.
Tomorrow we leave Austria and cross into Slovakia and, cell phone messages aside, we WILL be aware we are doing so this time. Due to the large influx of foreign soccer fans into Austria this weekend, security has been stepped up and passports will be required, we are told. Hmmm… Why am I not surprised? I did enjoy wearing my T-Shirt with the outline of the African continent stamped boldly on the front and the back, and watching the reactions of the ticket sellers at the over priced art galleries when I asked them if there were any special discounts for Africans!
Once or twice in a lifetime, if you are fortunate, you come into the presence of a human being who seems to possess, with such grace and ease, the attributes of a celestial being... non-judgemental, compassionate, intelligent, humorous, respectful, endowed with infinite optimism and joie de vivre and the ability to make everyone feel they’re worth more than a billion dollars. One of the 2008 OE riders, Neil van Steenbergen, is one such rare being. And for the past 18 days we were indeed a fortunate and privileged group. His free spirited, curious and enthusiastic approach to living seems to be his secret to ensuring that every moment of every day is an adventure. And every adventure has a story. At 81 years old, with many wise and wonderful stories to share, he is inspiration and joy personified. Neil had an accident on the road yesterday just outside Passau, Germany, and is sadly unable to continue with us onto Istanbul. A few days ago, we asked him if he’d share his impressions with us on his journey so far.... his thoughts follow on from this. We miss him and his smile ... and wish him ‘au revoir’, a speedy recovery and many, many more glorious adventures.
Vignettes - Paris to Istanbul. By Neil van Steenbergen.
15 June 2008
About 20 k out of Chaumont on Rainy Day Five in France, a young snail crawled onto the top of my handle bars and seemed quite content to be an observer for a while. After a bit I gently picked him off and dropped him in the grass by the road, having no idea why I assumed that snail was a male. I knew it was one of the hoard of snails and slugs on my tent and bike after two wet days of camping in Chaumont. I was happy. So, I think, was my travelling handlebar partner.
I smile a lot on this 50 day 4000 km ride from Paris to Istanbul. That playfulness of riding my bike with our group on June 1st – the best deal Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Seine River, Arc de Triomphe and then getting totally, absolutely lost between Paris and Provins. We had been cautioned about being occasionally lost – but to get lost before lunch on Day One takes some sort of prize which I still haven’t collected!
There is an ease about this group. A genuine support and acceptance, a rhythm and flow. We seem to like each other. The staff is extraordinary. I’ve made some friends here that will be lifelong. And I smile.
It’s rained a lot. Tents are wet almost every morning and it’s not that big a deal. The country side is magnificent – red poppies, farms and fields, champagne country in France, picturesque villages, some with maypoles to dance around.
A major day of rain riding into a wet field in Xertigny, a small town in eastern France, Duncan performs miracles and gets us inside accommodation inside a town hall where we can’t wear muddy shoes because of a big party the next night and the floor has just been waxed. So we hang wet tents around the edges and have a kind of slumber party.
After falling off unstable three -legged camp stools at meals two days in a row, I was a recipient of a four legged camp chair with a back and it is heavenly. The staff got three other comparable chairs for the three other oldest riders. Everybody knows I’m really responsible for this largesse and I take full credit and offer to rent my chair out occasionally.
I smile a lot. I talk with people – staff, riders and locals. Theresa, a white South African staff woman, and I talked this morning about some of the results of years of apartheid in South Africa – the rage and feelings of entitlement on the part of many black South Africans (“We want no less than an apologyâ€) and the resistance and defensiveness on the part of many white South Africans (“We didn’t do it. It was before our timeâ€) reminds me of the work on white privilege that I am doing in Oregon.
I am sitting on the steps of the great church in Regensburg, Germany, writing in the sun and watching people on the Dom Plaz take pictures of me. I suppose they may want the Dom in the background as well.
I smile a lot. I am in exactly the right place in my life. Life is good. And I am content.
Rest day duties done, I set off in the late afternoon to explore downtown New Ulm, just a few blocks away from the hotel. I didn not manage to get to the pile of rocks in Ulm, on the other side of the river, that apparently marks the spot of the now non-existent home in which Einstein first saw the light of day, but breathing in the same air that he once did was good enough for me.
The elegant, moody spire of the Ulm cathedral (apparently the highest cathedral spire in the world) dominates the skyline and exudes a strange magnetism. Dark and mystical, inside and out, its towering proportions evoked in me what I suspect was the intended effect of 16th century Christianity – “You insignificant thing!†I crept quietly up to one of the dirgey side alters to light a few candles and, for just a moment, the clouds parted and the late afternoon sunshine poured in through the magnificent stained glass work set in the massive arched windows. It was breathtaking and I had to respect the creativity and ingenuity of those old time architects and artisans who put the whole show together. Must-do touristy stuff done, I set off to lose myself down the cobbled streets and alley ways, appreciating the way in which 20th century development has been considerately woven into the tapestry this 16th century city.... and wondering all the while if Einstein had walked here...eaten there...
The soundtrack to my afternoon stroll was a loud, quadraphonic roar. Soccer fever is rampant across the Germany and judging by the howls of despair emanating from the television audiences packed into every bar, cafe and restaurant in Ulm, Croatia was clearly thumping the Germans in an all important European Cup match. With beer being cheaper than any other beverage in Germany, I settled down with a tall one and a kebab to watch the passing parade before heading back to the hotel to prepare for the three day stretch ahead of us to Regensburg.
Mostly overcast with the odd shower here and there, we’ve had three days of perfect cycling weather from Ulm to Regensburg. Gentle tail winds, a good mix of gravel and paved surfaces, pristine forests, rolling wheat fields, prolific bird life, fabulous campsites and Chef Jon’s exquisite food combinations have delighted the riders along this stretch of the Danau cycle path. A few of the riders stumbled across a medieval festival happening in Eickestadt. The locals, dressed up in medieval costumes were having a merry old time celebrating the 1100th birthday of their town and it didn’t take much to persuade the riders to get jiggy with them too!
Sassy, humorous and not a little irreverent, the 2008 OE riders have taken it upon themselves to ridicule or respect one of their own each day through the passing on of the Lame Duck Award. Nimbly ‘uplifted’ by Joss from his hotel bathroom in Ulm, the little rubber duck has so far graced the handle bars of Stewart (who thought, when reading the daily direction board, that ‘Zig Zag’ was the name of town) and John (who cycled 10 kms out of the campsite to find Liz a bottle of wine, not realising that he could have bought one at the campsite shop)
Today we are at rest in the 2000 year old city of Regensburg...a somewhat mind blowing experience for someone coming from South Africa, where the oldest surviving building is the 400 year old fort built by the Dutchies in Cape Town. With over 1200 historic buildings clustered together in the centre, the ‘City of Towers’ is a Unesco world heritage site. Particularly characteristic are the mansions built by rich patrician families who traded with cities as far away as Kiev in the east and Venice in the south who proudly displayed their wealth to all by building great houses with towers rising high into the sky. Dating back to Roman times, it’s all ancient, old stone work, quaint cobbled streets, churches, museums, theatres and concert halls reflecting in the waters of the Danube river. It’s also home to 20 000 university students, the current Pope, the oldest music academy in the world, a flourishing artistic community and it prides itself on innovative products that come out of the biotechnical research done here.
Rest day duties done and dusted, camera charged up, I’m heading off to explore. With Germany playing Austria, I predict loud, raucous revellry in the ‘City of Dreams’ tonight.
One internet site I recently visited summed it up quite well, I thought. Germany has had a seminal impact on Continental history. From Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire to Otto von Bismarck's German Reich, Nazism and the rise and fall of the Berlin Wall, no other nation has moulded Europe the way Germany has - for better or worse. Upon discovering their amazing cycle pathways, superb beer, and the fact that someone switched the sun back on in Freiburg, I grudgingly came to terms with leaving France!
As we crossed the Rhine river and entered the Federal Republic of Germany, it became immediately evident that things were different. While the French landscape sprawls out haphazardly like a beautiful, languid lover at rest, the Germans, bless them, seem to like things a little more ordered and regimented. Not that it is not beautiful. The wooded forests, hills, rivers, valleys and charming towns are breath-taking, in a picture post card perfect sort of way. But haphazard or languid it is not! There is a place for everything and everything is in its place, it seems. I watched a man with a garbage trolley outside our hotel this morning, wielding what looked like a long pair of tweezers. He disdainfully picked up a leaf that had fallen onto the ground and disposed of it immediately. Into the bag marked ‘Leaves’, I have no doubt. No place for garbage, dirt or anything unsanitary in this here place. One of the riders told me that as she stood up to flush the toilet, it immediately started cleaning itself! So the German hoteliers dig really deep when 42 grimy, rain sodden cyclists bumble into their pristine lobbies.
Our first stop in Germany, which included a rest day, was the eco-conscious university city of Freiburg – which generates nearly as much solar power as the whole of Britain. Philip Moeller, a native of Freiburg who worked on the Silk Route Expedition as bike mechanic last year, met up with us for dinner, lots of laughs and reminiscing and a night time walk about the city. Medieval buildings, cobbled stones, bars, bicycles everywhere... it’s laid back, congenial and home to over 20 000 students.
Along with the beer, one of the things the Germans have certainly got right are their cycle paths. Away from the traffic and the autobahns, the Danube Cycle Way, which starts in Donaueschingen at the source of the Danube River, stretches for 1400 km all the way to Budapest. For the past two days, the riders have been meandering past celestial castles and through the wooded forests and quaint villages that nestle along the banks of the Danube. Every few kilometres, there is a little cafe or restaurant to stop in at for coffee and cake. Cyclists, pedestrians and locals are all out and about on the path which makes every moment on it an adventure. It’s relatively well sign posted, but even so, a few of the riders have done more than a few extra k’s a day as they’ve taken a ‘wrong’ turn here or there.
Today we are in the city of Ulm... the birthplace of Einstein. We are whizzing through our rest day duties so that we can get out and explore what looks like a most fascinating town, with 16th century architecture, old bridges and some interesting artwork.
While we say a big welcome to Lesley and Charles Hughes from South Africa who joined us in Donaueschingen, we say a sad farewell to Marilyn and Murray McCraig from Canada. Marilyn broke her ankle yesterday between Sigmaringen and Ulm. Wishing you a safe trip home, guys. We will miss you.
It is midday. We are somewhere between the exquisite medieval French champagne communes of Provins and Xertigney. The temperature is around 15 degrees, perhaps? Whatever. It is spring in France. And it is cold. And wet. The rain has been pelting down for four days now and I am on lunch truck duty. One by one, the bedraggled riders roll into the half way mark for the day.
“Anybody got any marijuana?â€
“Isn’t it GREAT to see some rain again?â€
“Are we having fun, yet?â€
“I didn’t sign up for this rain.â€
“Why is there no more peanut butter?â€
As Chef Jon remarked, “Lunch brings out the best and worst in everyone.â€
Reactions to the first week on the road in France range from gung-ho hard core “I’ve- been -round- the- world- on- a- bike†to “Where- is- the- hair dryer?â€
But, give them their due, when it comes to priorities, this bunch of (predominantly) baby boomers knows exactly what to do when it comes to keeping their bruschetta, camembert and rocket sandwiches from getting soggy!
Having travelled just over 500 kms from Paris, through some of France’s most fabulous towns and villages on highways, byways and cycling paths, we are in the commune of Munster tonight.
At this point, I take everything back that I said about the stereotypical Frenchie! On lunch today, just outside the stunning town of La Bresse, we parked the lunch truck at the bottom of a 15 km, 1139m climb up to Clos de la Schlucht. As we put up the gazebo, a woman from a beautiful guest house across the road came over to find out what was going on. Her name was Anka Krizmanic and she alerted the media, fortified us with fantastic stories, coffee and chocolate, great French music, a vase of exquisite lupins on our step ladder and the gift of ‘ubuntu’ as we call it in Africa. Anka, it was great to meet you! Thank you for the gifts and blessings. And if anyone is ever thinking of staying in La Bresse, be sure to contact her on k.ankal@orange.fr.
While the daily distances have ranged between 90 and 130 kms and the mist and the rain has been unrelenting, none of it has managed to drown the spirits of the 2008 OE expedition riders. Yet...! We have it on good authority from Janice of Australia that the best we can expect for the next while is “Pas beaucoup du soleil†which translates into “Not a lot of sunâ€.
I asked a couple of the riders what some of their highlights have been so far. For Big Don from America, drinking coke out of a real glass bottle and not a can did it for him. Garris from New Zealand raved about the undulations from Chaumont to Xertigney. Manon, Graham and Nicole from Australia belted down a hill and through a sleepy village reaching a top speed of 60 kms. Some of Duncan’s fondest memories include “Peas, grapes, orchids, poppies. The Julien Canal cycle path. Meandering through lush country fields and villages. Favourable winds. Superb meals. Light traffic. Champagne tasting. The rest of the day was history!â€
For all of us, it’s the joy of experiencing first hand a soupcon of the 36 000 villages or ‘communes’ that exist in France. It’s stopping in at a 200 year old brasserie or pattiserie and savouring what the French do so well – food and beverage. But with only a day left in the land of cheese, bread and wine, I hope that someone listens to Kurt’s suggestion and switches the sun back on. Soon.
A gentle mist cloaked the city as Jon and I drove the tour trucks down Rue La Fayette to the hotel at Gare de
l' est to meet the riders and load the baggage. At 6:00 am the sleepy, Sunday streets of Paris yawned and stretched as proprietors unlocked cafes and shops and positioned and displayed their cafe tables and chairs, fruit and veges, bread and croissants. The heady aroma of freshly filtered coffee wafted across intersections and through the open window of my truck.
As I came to a stop at a traffic light, I looked up to admire the ubiquitous red geraniums in clay pots on the balconies of the charming apartment buildings. A woman on the third floor, in her silk pyjamas, pulled open her wooden shutters to let in the early morning light. We smiled at each other and in that instant I resolved to do the same myself one day. To return to this incredible city and languidly open a beautiful old pair of wooden shutters to plan yet another day in Paris! So, advice to future Orient Express riders: give yourselves at least a week to bike this beautiful city if you haven’t done so before!
As we pulled into the parking bays outside the hotel, we were greeted by the impressive sight of 40 gorgeous looking spandex clad cyclists all making final checks to their bikes and bike bags on the pavement. Raring to hit the road, passerby tourists snapped away as the riders made their way to corner for the start of the expedition. And then. The moment happened. Duncan, our tour co-leader shouted ‘Ha So Hi Ho’ and with that, the Orient Express Bicycle Expedition of 2008 was officially on the road!
The first part of the day’s ride took in some of the most famous landmarks of the city. We cycled down Boulevard de Magenta, passing the Place de Republique and the Bastille, crossed the Seine River from where we got our first glimpse of the majestic Notre Dame cathedral. While High Mass was being conducted inside, a bunny-rabbit clad busker amused us on the outside for a few moments. While his earnest monologue was as unintelligible as the latin sermon going on inside, I felt certain that the rabbit had picked his medium well and that the message was being transmitted and received at some level!
Next stop was the Eiffel Tower, passing en route, the Musee D’Orsay, the Hotel des Invalides and Ecole Militaire. One magnificent, awe inspiring building after another, golden statues, golden domes, expansive gardens. Relics and reminders of the sheer abundance and wealth that existed in the city in days gone by. “It’s not hard to understand why they had a revolution here.†Remarked Stuart as we rode past the Palais de Chaillot. We did two laps around the Arc de Triomphe – the enormous chunk of beautifully composed and sculpted stone and then, as proud as any Tour de France rider, we charged down the Avenue Des Champs Elysees to the Place de la Concorde! As we passed the Musee Du Louvre, I clapped my hands twice, made a wish and dried my eyes as we said ‘merci’ and ‘au revoir’ to Paris!
Heading out of Paris and riding through the surrounding ring of suburbs and commercial centres is much like being in any other western town anywhere in the world. Bad tempered automobile drivers, super markets, fitment centres, car dealerships, billboards, fast food outlets... but soon enough, we passed through the concrete jungle and by degrees, the road became quieter and the beauty of the French countryside welcomed and embraced us. Rolling green fields, ancient old trees, orange tiled roofs on old stone homes, elegant church spires, church bells ringing, birds singing... bliss. By late afternoon, after a fortunate last minute change of campsite, we rolled into a gorgeous guest farm in Chenoise and, as the smell of Chef Jon’s heavenly cooking wafted across the campsite, we toasted our first day with the fruit of the vine and started getting acquainted with each other.
As the light dwindled and darkness surrounded us, the sound of tents zipping closed soon died down. And as sleep came, so too did the rain, the thunder and the lightening! Grinning deep inside of me, I snuggled down closer to the earth. Thanks boss! It doesn’t get better than this!
