So here we are, the final day. All roads lead to Budapest. It feels a lifetime ago that I rolled off the in ferry in Dunkirk, laden with bags, without a formal plan and struck out for Ypres. I couldn’t have imagined the adventure would take me through: France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Switzerland, over the Alps, Liechtenstein, Germany, Austria, Slovakia to finish here, in Hungary.
It has been an adventure
Despite this, I’m aware that the job isn’t yet finished and so refocus to the immediate tasks at hand: namely: packing the bags for the final time and heading out to the open road.
The penultimate night
The final hostel was a good one. Located just meters from Esztergom Basilica, it provided a solid base to head out and explore this historic city. I joked upon entering Switzerland of its place at the top of The Economist’s Big Mac Index and the eye-watering cost of touring there. Hungary provides a perfect counterbalance to this with my monstrous cheese covered schnitzel and accompanying beers totalling a competitive £6. Exhausted from another 100 miles in the saddle I arrived back at the room, brushed my teeth and celebrated the final night of cycle touring by crashing out in my clothes. No one said this was glamourous!
Today is much shorter distance, along a section famed to be highly picturesque and enjoyable. Despite this, I find myself desperate to finish. It’s intriguing how the presence of the finish line can completely alter the mindset. I guess having travelled so far I’m nervous that a missed connection, mechanical failure or lapse in judgement could snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. However, the riding is good, path picturesque and I eventually settle into a rhythm. Over the course of the morning progress is halted twice by extended waits for ferries, as I accept that I’ll arrive eventually and start to savour the final moments of the trip.
The Citadella is a fortification towering 450ft above Budapest, providing stunning aerial panoramas back over the city. Following a month of spectacular experiences, I can’t think of a more fitting finale than to climb one last hill, figuratively plant my flag in the ground, and bring an end to this wonderful adventure. Appropriately, it’s a steep gradient in the hot midday sun, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing worth having in life is easy to attain and I enjoy this final effort.
Success!!
As I stand atop the hill, soaking in the magnificent views, I feel an overwhelming sense of appreciation. What an absolute privilege it has been to have this experience. And now, as I write this, I want to thank you for reading this blog and joining me on this adventure. Finally, if you’re in any way inspired to go out and seek adventure of your own – I can’t recommend it highly enough. It starts by leaving the front door…
100 miles with 400ft of elevation gain. Truly a billiard table
One of the joys of cycle touring is observing as the world slowly changes around you. From the language on the road signs, to topography, to climate, these changes are sometimes subtle and sometimes pronounced. Since departing Vienna towards Bratislava, the trip has taken on a distinctively different feel from the Germanic countries preceding this section.
The wonderful Eurovelo 6 continues
Today’s route, almost exclusively in Slovakia, initially tracks the man-made edges of the Gabčíkovo–Nagymaros Dam, before following the bends of The Danube and crossing into Hungary at Esztergom. The Danube, presumably artificially widened here, glistens in the sunshine as I pedal silently alongside the water’s edge. Well mostly silently save an expletive barrage as a wasp flies into the vent on my cycle helmet and, as a parting gift, stings my finger as I fish it out. After initially being joined by other cyclists two hours pass without seeing another person, and I grow increasingly concerned that perhaps the bridge at the far end is closed to traffic. However, these apprehensions prove to be unfounded as eventually I arrive at the towering concrete control tower, dart across the bridge and re-join the cycle path, thankful to have both feet firmly back on terra firma.
A little background about this contentious dam (disclaimer – I’m simply retelling the story the Slovakian guide shared yesterday!)
Central Europe gets hot in summer, with the mercury reaching 35C today. With no infrastructure around the path, one simply has to get their head down and push on through the heat.
Big sky
It’s hot!
The views are pleasant, bike running well and I enjoy the hours exploring Slovakia’s countryside. It’s not until the final 10 kilometres of the day that the path degrades, slowing progress. However this is completely offset by the route passing through acres of sunflower fields and a low sun casting a golden glow over the closing miles of the day.
Where’s Vincent?
It’s time for the final border crossing of the whole trip, and we’ve undoubtedly saved the best for last.
Welcome to Hungary
Yeah, I’m still not over this!
Sat strategically astride the right bank of the river Danube is the city of Esztergom, former capital (from the 10th till the mid-13th century) and home to the tallest building in Hungary, the magnificent Esztergom Cathedral. As you cross from Štúrovo, this striking and majestic structure (similar in scale and design to London’s St Paul’s Cathedral) dominates the view and provides a truly awe-inspiring welcome. If this is to be the final border crossing this trip, it’s an unforgettable one. The stage is set for a memorable final day.
Looking back at where I’ve come from – the stunning curve of the Danube
A fabulous welcome, and now just one day to Budapest
Countries: Austria and Slovakia. Distance: 13km run and 83km bike
Morning Run and Afternoon Cycle
In October 2019 Kenyan running superstar Eliud Kipchoge became the first human to complete a marathon distance (26.2 miles/42.2 kilometres) in under 2 hours. Previously thought to be impossible, this mind-bending feat of athleticism has become part of running folklore, mentionable in the same breath as other watershed feats such as Bannister’s breaking of the 4-minute mile. As opposed to the latter’s completion on cinders at Oxford University’s Iffley Road Track, Kipchoge’s achievement occurred here, through the city’s Prater Park – locally referred to as ‘The Green Lung of Vienna’. As a marathoner myself I’m keen to run, figuratively, in his footsteps.
“No Human is Limited” – I’m not sure the locals realised what all the fuss was about
Upon reaching Prater it’s clear to see exactly why this was selected. Pan flat, perfectly straight, tree lined and closed to motorised traffic. Aside from the park’s historic relevance, it’s simply a beautiful place to go for a run. Those who watched Kipchoge will recall memorable scenes as he accelerated towards the line, beating his chest once he knew he was going to break the record. To my mind, this deserves a grand monument, but is instead memorialised by a spray-painted 1:59:40 across the road. Satisfied and grateful for having had the opportunity to soak up this little bit of running history, I head back to the hotel to pack and prepare for a spin toward the unknown: Bratislava.
Lovely bit of post run, pre-ride carb loading
Just 50 miles separate the capitals of Austria and Slovakia, so it’s back to Eurovelo 6 and the predictable, billiard flat cycle path alongside The Danube. Stacking the deck even further in my favour is a stiff West to East tailwind, which sees me hitting the dizzy heights of 20mph most of the way (unheard of with all this luggage).
Tailwinds and blue skies
The border between Austria and Slovakia passes in unspectacular fashion. Austrian countryside is much the same as Slovakian countryside, but as you approach the city the changes become more pronounced. There are two sights that stand out as you approach: Bratislava Castle, an almost fairytale-esque renaissance style fortress juxtaposed against the incongruously intimidating ‘UFO’ bridge – a brutalist metallic Soviet style structure. It’s clear from the outset that Bratislava is a city of contrast.
UFO bridgeJuxtaposed with a fairytale castle!
After a brief cycle up to the castle to take a few photos, I head to my ‘pod’ hostel. Promising early impressions – very clean, outrageously cheap and well located. The pod design affords a greater degree of privacy than a standard dorm, with card operated lockers, USB charging and other thoughtful touches.
Hello from Bratislava Castle
Another day another walking tour hosted by an impressive, knowledgeable and enthusiastic polyglot. The history of Bratislava is fascinating, largely comprising of occupation and liberation (ranging from Ottomans, Turks, Habsburgs, and Napoleon to the Soviets), with each group leaving a mark on the city. The last of which ended in 1993 following the dissolution of Czechoslovakia. It has an attractive old town, friendly people and is well worth a visit.
Panorama
A key benefit of hostelling is the people you meet. I was lucky to be rooming with 2 engaging characters: an MBA candidate from Paris, currently driving through Europe prior to starting his studies and a member of the Slovenian military, visiting friends across the continent. With the three of us each having interesting stories to tell we made the most of the cheap beer on offer (€1.50/pint, if you wondered) and made a night of it. A fitting farewell to Slovakia before crossing into the final country of the trip, Hungary, tomorrow.
Each year the Mercer Quality of Living Survey evaluates 450 cities according to 39 factors (ranging from socio-cultural environment, to schools and education to recreation) to establish the ‘World’s Most Liveable City’ and for the past 10 years Vienna has emerged on top, beating the likes of Zurich, Vancouver, Munich and Auckland (2nd – joint 5th in 2019 respectively). With just 48 hours in town, I’m intrigued to understand the factors that make this such a special place.
The bike looking particularly out of place in this wonderful room!
So, first thing I find myself rushing across town to join a walking tour. With the luxury of not having to cycle anywhere and access to an absurdly comfortable bed I’ve overburdened the snooze button and find myself running late. Feeling distinctly hurried and un-Viennese, I grab a sandwich and espresso on the fly and fall into line.
Walking tours are a fabulous way to orientate yourself within a city and provide essential context and background to assist in understanding and appreciating the sights around you. Starting opposite the Albertina gallery we work our way through Habsburgian Winter Palaces, down highstreets, past numerous monuments to finish on Stephansplatz, overlooked by the stunning St Stephen’s cathedral and in the heart of the city. Before we depart our tour guide is keen to point out two vital lessons for maximising one’s time in Vienna.
If you choose to indulge in Sachertorte (which any self-respecting Great British Bake Off fan will know is a glossy chocolate sponge with apricot jam filling), you mustn’t look to save euros by foregoing whipped cream (sold separately). While there’s no risk of me seeking Sachertorte, I’m led to believe it’s incredibly dry without dairy accompaniment.
To visit Vienna and not visit The Habsburgian Summer Palace of Schönbrunn is tantamount to visiting Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tower. Well, that’s this afternoon’s plan sorted then!
The view from St Stephen’s Cathedral roof
Before darting towards Schönbrunn, and upon the guide’s final recommendation I lunch at Trzesniewski (pronounced: treas (like treasure) – knee – evvs-keeee) – Vienna’s fast food. Tiny rye bread half-sandwiches with punchy, colourful and flavourful toppings.
Including classics such as “egg on egg”
Littered with a history of housing Austria’s most relevant and prominent historical figures, Schönbrunn is a magnificent baroque palace located to the south west of the city. With impressive symmetry and extensive manicured gardens, it’s an exceptionally photogenic and worthwhile stop on any itinerary. I spend an enjoyable couple of hours walking the grounds, nursing a coffee and filling the memory card with duplicate photos before heading back to the hotel, freshening up and heading out for relaxed drinks in the bustling and buzzing centre.
Symmetrical SchonbrunnI’d advocate walking up the hill for a particularly memorable coffee stop
I have just tomorrow morning left in Vienna before continuing down The Danube towards the 9th country of the trip – Slovakia. While I’m excited to explore somewhere new, I’m reluctant to leave this fabulous, soulful city. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve merely scratched the surface of what Vienna has to offer yet am starting to understand its decade of dominance atop the World Liveability Index. To my mind, Vienna makes a wonderful city break and sits alongside iconic historic cities such as Rome, London and Paris. Once the world opens and we can all start travelling again, I’d urge anyone to promote Vienna to the very top of their travel-lists.
The task today is a simple one: follow The Danube 110 miles downstream to Vienna. With a benign elevation profile, gentle tailwind, glorious sunshine and grandstand Viennese finish it should be a memorable ride.
Student digs?
Tacking on an additional 50km last night turned out to be a good decision. After a comfortable night’s sleep I’m well placed to rejoin Eurovelo 6 just a couple of kilometres from the front door. The room was one of those semi-professional/student accommodation type set ups with shared public spaces. I imagine, being so well located for the cycle path, that it’s usually packed with tourers heading in all directions, but I had the place entirely to myself so had plenty of space to splay out my belongings and repack prior to today’s big push.
A snapshot of Eurovelo 6
This section is popular with tour groups and families, and for good reason, it’s immaculately signposted, easily navigable and incredibly gentle. With all this in its favour progress is good and the kilometres sail by.
Similar to Eurovelo 15 between Austria/Switzerland and Liechtenstein, Eurovelo 6 has parallel paths running either side of the river. With bridges or ferries fairly infrequent (probably one every 30 kilometers or so), once you choose your path you’re committed. I started this morning on the Northern bank of the Danube and despite fantastic conditions found myself increasingly gazing across to the opposite bank suspecting that it may deliver a better experience still. Of course with each crossing, it became clear that the new path is scarcely discernible to the one left behind. I suspect there’s a moral to this story. Whichever side you choose, I can attest that Eurovelo 6 between Linz and Vienna is an outstanding route boasting: stunning riverside views, hilltop castles, plush orchards, abundant wildlife and bike-friendly cafes.
You know the route is flat when a 10% gradient has a warning sign. Aha – I guess you can’t be too careful!
As I say… this path is consistent
No matter how wonderful the path, the true appeal of today’s ride is the fact it terminates in Vienna, a magnificent and historic city. Having not visited before, I’ve scheduled a couple of rest days to enjoy the coffee houses, visit the galleries and explore the palaces. After a mammoth 100+ miles in the saddle, the tree-lined banks of the Danube eventually give way to buildings signalling the approach of a major city.
A well needed pit stop
First impressions are superb with the Viennese architecture ranging from contemporary Zaha Hadid modernity through to grand neo-classical and baroque palaces.
Having captured the moment with a couple of snaps outside the Museum of Natural History, I pedal across to my hotel, check in and look forward to a long weekend discovering all Vienna has to offer.
Free breakfast in the hostel? The dorm cost €11! Surely not?
Ok, so the breakfast consisted of white bread rolls, jam and black coffee – but really, do you need anything else to ride a bike? I had planned on heading into Salzburg and having a relaxed morning and full breakfast, but the promise of instant convenience and a fast getaway proved too tempting. Salzburg absolutely deserves a return visit.
No one said this tour was glamourous!
Before departing I decide to check out a local viewpoint said to provide a stunning vista across the city. The gradient is far too steep to peddle, so I scramble up the wet cobblestones, judiciously applying the brakes to keep the bike in step. Despite the overcast morning subduing the tones, the view was well worth the climb. The plan now is to find a suitable cycle path and get out of town.
Overcast Salzburg PanoramaAnatine photobomb alert
Salzburg is the fourth largest city in Austria, and the initial escape is consequently congested. Once you’re finally out of the very heart of the city you’re treated to fantastically scenic, rolling trails calving through plush green hillsides. This continues for a solid 30 miles until you’re on the edge of the Salzburg municipal area, at which point it goes downhill (figuratively) fast.
When the path is good, it’s really goodSupermarket lunch on the road. As I said, this is no glamour tour
Reminiscent of Toad’s Turnpike, Google Maps throws a metaphorical blue shell in the form of 50 miles of joyless busy highway before returning to blissful segregated cycle paths as the route approaches Linz. It’s this dissonance that makes Google Maps so infuriating to use. For every Dr Jekyll there’s a Mr. Hyde. Surely in crossing between Salzburg and Linz there must be hundreds of kilometers of picturesque and quiet rural roads. I pledge to precisely plan my path for prospective projects, but for now, the course suits my purpose and I continue to make excellent progress.
Excitable introduction to The Danube
The initial plan was to bed for the night in Linz, requiring a substantial 220km effort to reach Vienna the following day. Seeing as the weather is so pleasant, it seems logical to continue and trim the distance required tomorrow. I book a homestay some 50km down the road and enjoy a magnificent evening session alongside the Danube.
Further excitable introduction to the Danube
Akin to crossing a border, there’s something satisfying about joining a river of note. We’ve thus far seen the: Meuse (Belgium/France), Mosel (Luxembourg, France, Germany), Saar (Germany, France), Rhine (Germany, France, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria), in addition to numerous tributaries such as the Salzach and Isar. Joining the Danube feels particularly momentous, as this will be our final fluvial accompaniment and remain by our side for the rest of the trip. It also means we’re re-joining EuroVelo 6. This section is as close to cycle path perfection as you’re likely to find, pan flat, great surface and with numerous bike friendly restaurants and bars along the water’s edge.
The salad was a side order… I guess there are vitamins in ketchup right?
The kilometres sail by, I find a (truly) gigantic schnitzel (this is Austria after all) and settle in for a comfortable night at the well-equipped accommodation. 107 miles today yet feeling fresh. Will need to do the same again to reach Vienna. Can hardly wait.
An early morning call from reception set the tone for what was a wonderful day. The part has arrived. Aware of the full context, they’re as excited about this development as I am as they smilingly hand over the parcel and watch as I depart with alacrity.
Freedom
A gruff Scottish accent welcomes me as I flusteredly rack the bike and launch into the umpteenth retelling of ‘shiftergate’, explain that I’d spoken to Viktor and he’d agreed to see my bike. “Oh yeah, he’s expecting you”. Thank god!
The best cycle shops are those where you walk in and feel as though you’re catching up with friends. Despite being in the middle of Bavaria, there’s a Scotsman, Irishman and Welshman in the workshop, so with my arrival we form an unlikely quadrumvirate covering the British Isles. Viktor, hailing from Bulgaria, further contributes to the cross-European feel as we trade stories about our exploits on two wheels, including the glamorous “Munich to Milton Keynes” trip one of the mechanics completed last year. It also transpires that Viktor is a former Bulgarian downhill champion. These guys are pure bikers through and through.
Trek Cycles Munich North
It goes without saying that Viktor’s work on the bike was exemplary, but what really elevated Trek Cycles Munich North was the manner at which they extended a familial feel. Top blokes, great store and I’d urge anyone requiring any bike related works completing to drop by. Great coffee too.
It’s 90 miles to Salzburg: city of Mozart, The Sound of Music and UNESCO world heritage. The day has marched on and it’s gone 14:00 by the time I finally depart Munich. Despite knowing it’s going to be a late arrival I’m ecstatic to be touring again, a feeling which lingers despite the series of red lights accompanying the escape from the city.
The cycling is a mixture of average cycle paths and busy, yet perfectly tarmacked, roads. Conscious of the mileage outstanding and keen to see the sights, I opt predominantly to dice with the traffic and make excellent progress with a stiff tailwind.
Of course, we’re now in deepest, darkest Bavaria and the occasional cycle paths reflect that. Those with a nervous disposition should prepare themselves for extended periods pedalling alone through their very own Grimm fairy-tale. Thankfully this too had a happy ending and before too long I find myself back out in the sunshine – the trail of breadcrumbs modernised to a GPS track on my phone.
If you go down to the woods today…
Lakes, Alps and working gears – what more could you want?
As one approaches Salzburg the topography changes. Peaks frame the horizon and lakes glisten as the sun lowers in the sky. It’s evenings like this where it’s a privilege to be on the bike. The novelty of seamless gear changes hasn’t worn off and I feel deeply contented clipping off the final few kilometres.
Enjoying the evening session
Having overspent on accommodation in Munich, I’ve opted to stay in a hostel tonight, repeating an experience I’ve not had since being a backpacker some years ago. I assume I’ll be so tired from exploits on the bike that sleep will come easily. I needn’t have worried. Sharing bathrooms was a faff and it was a pain not being able to splay out all my kit, but on balance I enjoyed the company. They’ve modernised substantially in recent years with clean rooms, key card operated lockers and importantly safe bike storage.
All the glamour on this tour
Despite the late hour, I head into town to find dinner and explore. Sat astride the river Salzach, Salzburg is a picture perfect town of bridges, churches and palaces.
Salzburg by night
Rich with history, it’s not long before I chance across Mozart’s Geburtshaus. A strikingly yellow building, presumably it’s a tremendous place to reflect on Mozart’s legacy and observe the authentically recreated 18th century apartment of his youth. It’s also a fabulous place to pick up bread and a pint of milk as for some baffling reason, the planners have allowed a Spar supermarket to open on the ground floor. Joking aside, Salzburg is remarkably scenic and I look forward to a day of peddling through the famously melodically mortal hills in the morning.
Brush up on your history and pick up a pint of milk. Mozart’s Geburtshaus has it all
A long weekend in Munich: city of beer halls, sprawling parks, great coffee shops, rich history and striking architecture. While mostly an opportunity to sightsee and relax, repairs need to be arranged for my limping machine. So, 4 days are spent phoning local bike shops trying to source both the necessary part and labour required to fit it. Easier said than done. Technology moves quickly, and my antiquated 10-speed system isn’t stocked by any of the (many) local stores I call. Thankfully I’m able to locate the component online (via the excellent https://www.bike-components.de/), leaving only labour to arrange. It transpires that Covid has caused a city-wide backlog for bike servicing. Countless store owners interestedly listen to my tale “that I’ve cycled from the UK, am headed to Budapest and need their help”, before darkly quoting an affectless 5 week wait to see the bike.
As I’m starting to consider the workability of continuing without repairing the gears, I secure a slot across the other side of the city for Tuesday morning. The difference? The guy (Viktor) on the other end of the phone is a pure biker, has toured before and understands my plight. He’s willing to move things around to get me back on the road. Legend. More on Viktor and the incredible team at Trek Bicycle Munich North in the coming days.
Running through the English Garden
Home to the English Garden, one of the world’s largest urban parks with 75km of internal roads footpaths and bridle paths, Munich is a fantastic city for running. Starting out from the Holiday Inn Munich City Centre, I follow the bends of the River Isar before completing a wide loop of the park and returning through the historic city centre.
When working or travelling I make a point of getting out for a decent run, taking recommendations as to where to head. The English Garden is right up there with other bucket list city runs such as the Tiergarten – Berlin, Hyde Park – London and Central Park – New York. Plus, it has a surfable wave which is a fabulous novelty.
Gnarly waves dude
Another highlight comes on Sunday in the form of visiting Annika in Augsburg, a short train ride from Munich and one of Germany’s oldest cities. Annika has adopted a Romanian street dog (Finn) who arrives today after a 1400km journey of his own! A scruffy, nervous but cute little thing, it’s remarkable to see how his confidence grows hour by hour as he adapts to his new home. Finn’s a fine companion, drawing plenty of attention as we stroll the local parks, catch up and see the sights.
Augsburg
The extended stay allows me to address the administration I’ve been neglecting on the road. As you tour, the range of kit you utilise tends to distil to a few core items. Despite carrying a set of camping gear I’m yet to camp due to the abundance of well-priced (and roofed) accommodation. Extrapolating this trend, and with reluctance, the camping equipment is posted home. Carrying the tent was welcome insurance against not finding a bed, but the weight penalty of this policy (which seems highly unlikely to be redeemed) makes it a risk I’m willing to accept hereon in. I am aware, of course, of the utter ludicrousness of lugging: a tent, camping mat and sleeping bag over The Alps, just to send them back unused but have every confidence they’ll be used extensively on future adventures. I also take the opportunity to send home my road bike cleats in favour of the recessed (and consequently endlessly more practical) mountain bike alternative.
Munich is a wonderful city, but somewhat alienating during a pandemic. Social distancing has a particularly profound effect on place famed for its bonhomie. The usually packed and social benches of Hofbräuhaus are half empty, with interaction beyond your group discouraged. I’ve had some excellent meals, spent time with wonderful people and enjoyed taking in the sights but for now I’m quite looking forward to getting back on the road. I will return, in force and sans-bike, for the full hop-fuelled Bavarian experience in the near future!
The Velominati, self-elected “keepers of the cog” and all round authority on cycling etiquette suggest that should you draw race number 13, you should “turn the number upside down to counter-act its negative energy”. I am not a superstitious man, but in prospect it seems fitting that the day fraught with the most potential peril falls on Day 13 of the trip.
Starting the day in the bike shop
Anne’s bike shop is a convenient 2 minute downhill spin from the hotel, so I freewheel my way to arrive for opening. This is the middle of rural Bavaria, and I’m greeted by a pair of friendly local mechanics. Owing to my shameful lack of German, we’re able to communicate through our shared language of all-things bike. The diagnosis is quick (brandishing the shorn shifter probably helped), but sadly the prognosis is grim – this is an outdated and rare component. Not only do they not have it in stock, but they suspect it’ll be tricky to find anywhere in Germany. They are able, however, to ‘lock’ the chain in the middle of the rear cassette – to provide a single more manageable gear than the ‘top-gear’ it currently sits in. Ladies and gentlemen, the tour will have to continue on a fixie!
Despite spending 20 minutes working on my bike, re-lubing the chain and inflating the tyres, the mechanics refuse any payment. It’s occasions like this that you’re reminded of the fraternal nature of the cycling community. Thank you to Anne’s Bike Shop – Ottobeuren.
So with that, the task at hand becomes clear. With no local resolution possible, I’m going to cycle to Munich, in the hope of locating the labour and parts required to restore my bike to full functionality. The kicker? This 70 mile journey will be in a single gear. A quick check of the map reveals I’m in luck – Bavaria is rolling, but certainly not overly hilly.
Status update from the banks of Ammersee
It’s a pleasant route, winding through farms on minor open roads. Again, there’s a simplicity to the task at hand. With just the single gear, it’s not possible to push the pace so I soak up the sunshine and enjoy the rustic views. The road ramps to 10% every now and then, forcing me to hammer away at the pedals to stay upright, but for the most part it’s uneventful, methodical and dare I say rather enjoyable.
So far so good
When Lake Ammersee rolls into sight, just 25km from Munich City Centre, I know that success is within reach and it’s not long before a series of red lights, divergent cycle paths and traffic signal the approach of a major city. It’s a sound strategy in these situations to shadow a local, for they will know when to gamble and when to be patient. Following this approach I follow a top-knotted chap (on a rather splendid steel city bike) right into the Neo-Gothic heart of Marienplatz.
Mission accomplished – Marienplatz
Mission accomplished. Now to check into the Holiday Inn Munich City Centre, get changed and head out to celebrate. Serendipitously, it transpires that a friend I first met in the Whitsunday Islands four years ago also happens to be in Munich for the evening and kindly extends the offer to join them for pizza and vino. Fabulous company, great to catch up and we plan to meet in Augsburg (one of the oldest Cities in Germany I’m reliably informed) on Sunday.
Check in get changed and head out!
In retrospect, it was fortunate the shifter snapped when it did. While cycling 150km in a single gear was inconvenient, it would have been truly catastrophic had it failed 3 days ago while slogging up an Alp. It introduced a degree of intrigue and challenge into today’s potentially humdrum route and will force me to spend a few more days in Munich, catching up with friends and experiencing a marvellous city. Perhaps the number 13 isn’t so unlucky after all.
Countries: Austria, Switzerland and Germany. Distance: 120km
If, for some bizarre reason, you had to rank the best breakfasts for cycling, ham salad wouldn’t make it anywhere near the list. This likely set the tone for what proved to be an incredibly testing day in the saddle. Again, I’m undecided on where to head today (can you see a theme developing here?), so will cycle to Lake Constance and commit from there.
After a fleeting foray onto Austrian soil I’m back in Switzerland and again have The Rhine for company. The skies are ominously grey and soon launch the opening salvo in what will prove to be a day long deluge. Eventually a drenched, disillusioned and grumpy Sam arrives in Bregenz, on the banks of Lake Constance. If Lake Lucerne was fifty shades of blue, today we’re dealing with a single shade of grey.
One shade of grey
I take the opportunity to chain drink coffee and FaceTime my parents. They’re pretty good at contextualising the situation and taking their advice I opt to strike out for Munich. Many of my fondest memories involve cycling with my Dad, who has patiently changed my punctures and designed tours together from a young age (from my first ‘proper’ 4-mile bike ride as a toddler to trail laps of Menorca). Spirits lifted, it’s time to push on – with a clear plan and destination.
It’s a lot easier when someone else designs the route!
Come mid-morning it’s time for another blissfully uneventful border crossing, this time into Germany. The route to Munich doesn’t follow a Eurovelo path, so again I’ll be relying on Google Maps and my wits (ha.) to navigate a course. Despite my marginally sunnier disposition post pep-talk, today’s adversary, the weather, has also taken the opportunity to strengthen her resolve and is launching a full-scale aquatic assault. Positively (and thankfully) my bikepacking bags (Ortlieb Handlebar Bag,Alpkit Analoko Frame Bag, Tailfin ‘Panniers’) withstand the deluge admirably. The forecast suggests the weather isn’t going to improve so I push on.
Little pomp accompanies the border crossings
You need to experience the downs to fully appreciate the ups. I must confess, by mid-afternoon my temperament is as dark as the storm clouds as I peel off the road to take shelter in a deserted children’s play area. This is not how one imagines a cycle tour, but it’s all part of the experience. I’d urge anyone planning a trip to prepare for such an eventuality.
A cycle touring reality check – LIVE from a play area!
Little did I know the cycling gods had saved a final coup de grâce to crown a historically hellacious day. German cycle paths take in a series of minor roads and gritty trail. As I’m riding one of the trail sections, flitting through the gears to find a more manageable option, I hear a crack and feel the gear change lever snap cleanly into my glove. I bring the bike to a stop and stare dumbfounded at this now useless length of carbon fibre. I’m in the middle of nowhere, it’s pissing it down, and I’ve just lost the ability to change gear. To compound the problem, the bike has failed in the smallest (read hardest) cog, so any further movement will require me laying down the watts! Hastily re-planning, I find an open hotel some 30 kilometres down the road and have no option but to ride in my one remaining gear. While rainy, thankfully the gradients are gentle and I grind out the distance without further drama.
Problem.
Never, in all my life, have I been so pleased to arrive at a destination. I’ve ended up at the Hotel St Ulrich in the Bavarian town of Ottobeuren. As luck would have it, it’s an attractive spa town and enjoyable place to spend an evening. The hotel owners, reading the stress written across my face, are fabulously warm and kind, offering to assist in drying my many bags and finding safe bicycle storage for the night.
Basic but comfortable
Some days, you just need a beer. I find a Chinese restaurant in town, order a mountain of comforting warm food and unwind. There isn’t much a warm meal and cold beer can’t fix. As luck would have it I see there’s a bike shop in Ottobeuren opening at 8am the following day. I’ll be there. The bill comes and I’m amused to see that pro-rata beer is cheaper than water. Welcome to Germany.
By the end of the meal I’m feeling relaxed and ready for my bed. Even without the mechanical, today required resilience to push through. I figure that tough times make tough people and one day I’ll laugh about a day from hell spent battling through Bavaria.
Countries: Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria – 114km
A day on The Rhine
Today promises an intriguing day in prospect as we reverse direction to follow The Rhine downriver from its source in the Swiss Alps through Liechtenstein and towards Lake Constance in the North East. This means reacquainting with Eurovelo 15 (The Rhine Route), which we previously followed upriver from Strasbourg to Basle.
Breakfast for one?!
Fabulous night’s sleep. To keep costs down I’ve been booking the most reasonable accommodation available and enjoyed the cosy single bed on offer in this traditional family run guesthouse. The restaurant was closed last night (I suspect I’m the only visitor), so I made do with the assorted protein bars, fruit and snacks I had stashed in my bag. Consequently I’m ravenous come the morning and am cheered to hear that the third generation family owner used to work as a chef with Gordon Ramsey. While boiled eggs fall a long way short of his gastronomic ability, it’s a good spread with thoughtful touches such as homemade jam and granola.
It’s a day for the rain jacket as continue the long descent towards Chur. After an unremarkable start the cycle path soon peels away from the main road and winds back up into the mountains, bringing further spectacular landscapes.
Don’t look down!
While harder, I’ve always found that it is elevation that makes any form of exercise (be it a hike, cycle or otherwise) interesting. Without exception a view is always more enjoyable when it has been earned. This road is remarkable and climbs a thousand feet before trading back the height through a series of switchbacks.
Stunning views (and still climbing!)
As has been the case throughout Switzerland, the cycle paths have been excellent today and amid darkening skies soon lead back to the riverside. Along this section The Rhine forms the border between Switzerland and Liechtenstein and I, a country-counting obsessed Millennial, cross the river to explore the Liechtensteinian countryside and capital Vaduz.
Cross the river and see a new country or stick to this excellent path…? An easy decision!
Sadly the weather doesn’t allow for this diminutive country to shine, and I spend the majority of the time taking cover under bridges, trees or wherever else I can escape the torrent. I am able, however, to pass Rheinpark Stadium, a place that commentators never tire of pointing can host nearly 20% of Liechtenstein’s population (despite having a capacity of just 7,500).
A very wet Liechtenstein 🇱🇮
Having now pedalled through the whole country (it runs just 25km from South to North), I make a quick roadside supermarket pit-stop for dinner and cross the border into Austria to find my Airbnb. Time to dry off and rest before journeying into Germany tomorrow.
With hindsight I can look back and confidently assert that this was the most spectacular day I’ve ever had riding a bike.
Of course life isn’t lived in hindsight and setting out early from Lucerne I’m uncertain as to what the day holds in store. Sticking with the ongoing theme of route planning on the fly, I’m going to climb to the Alpine town of Andermatt, where I’ll be forced to make an irreversible decision as to the future direction of the tour. Irreversible, as to backtrack would mean re-crossing The Alps.
There are two options, each with their respective merits:
Head South over the Gotthard Pass, towards Lugano, Como and Northern Italy. I have no doubt this will be stunningly picturesque but arguably less challenging than;
Heading East over Oberalppass – towards Liechtenstein, Bavaria and Eastern Europe.
A fundamental decision!
However, to even be in a position to make this decision I first need to get to Andermatt which means leaving Lucerne! The day starts wonderfully, the Swiss cycling infrastructure is excellent and the views exceptional. Lake Lucerne is glittering to my left while imposing mountains punch skywards in all directions. I suspect, without hyperbole, that this may be the most paradisiac stretch of road I’ve ever cycled.
Cycling doesn’t get better than this50 shades of blue
I’m keen to push on this morning. Despite blue skies the forecast suggests potential storms later in the day. Alpine environments are famously changeable and I’d rather not find myself overexposed to the elements should the weather turn. With a gentle tailwind and flat lakeside topography I initially make excellent progress until the road disappears, quite literally, into the lake. To continue, one must wait for the ferry, which isn’t due for another 40 minutes. While nervous about the ever narrowing weather window, being forced to take a break is often a blessing in disguise, so I find a local café, enjoy a latte and watch the world go by until the ferry reappears.
Coffee, is there a better way to pass the time?
This is a popular cycling route and before long I’m among a group of cyclists. We chat, compare kit (including a family towing a splendid poodle in a specially designed trailer), and exchange stories. Yesterday my friend mentioned that to really experience Lake Lucerne, one must get out on the water. It’s not until I glance over the side of the boat revealing: a peaceful, shimmering, electric blue utopia that I appreciate how right he was.
What a splendid chap
It’s not all plain sailing, however, as before long the Ticket Inspector arrives. He won’t accept card payment, which I guess is reasonable, nor will he accept coins (huh?). We’re dealing here, ladies and gentlemen, with a real jobsworth dullard. Observing the absurdity of the situation, one of the lovely women (and proud owner of the trailered poodle) I had previously been chatting with insisted on covering my ticket, and wouldn’t allow me to repay her. Apparently her daughter recently cycled the West Coast of the USA and people were hugely supportive of the trip. This is her way of paying forward that kindness. It made an impression. What a wonderful gesture. Thank you.
“When in Lucerne, get out on the water”
Arrival on the far side of the lake signals the end of the flatlands and gateway to The Alps. Of course there are hundreds of ways one could traverse the range, but Eurovelo 5’s initial approach is to utilise a good quality cycle path adjacent to a busy road. Despite the segregation, the extended tunnels and hauliers make for an intimidating start as the engine noise reverberates and echoes through the dark.
A better way, half the tunnels have an external escape – which is far more enjoyable than peddling next to lorries in the dark!
Thankfully, these are only the foothills, and are soon a distant memory as the road quietens and the views open. Time for a quick bite before the climb starts properly. It’s while I’m sat here by the river, watching the grey clouds rolling high up among the peaks that I meet a Swiss couple who are walking from Lugano in the far South all the way North to their home in Basle. Equipped with bivvy bags and dry rations, they invite me to join them and share their meal. In normal circumstances I absolutely would, but the time pressure is severe so we say our goodbyes, wish each other luck and head off in opposite directions.
You asked for this mate!
Gulp. The sign say it all. 1560m (5100ft) of climb over the next 34km. A quick bit of mental arithmetic reveals that those 34km will average an approximate 5% incline. Achievable right? In this moment I’ll do whatever mental gymnastics required to contextualise the task ahead.
However in reality, I like the grind. I like mountains. Despite the heat I’m having a lovely time. There’s a blissful simplicity to the task at hand. Keep toiling, enjoy the views and appreciate how lucky you are to be here. I promise myself that I’ll return to The Alps on a slick, lightweight roadie to experience these climbs unencumbered, but even with ballast I’m in my element, and stay there for the hour or so it takes to arrive in Andermatt.
Grateful for the temporary respite, I refuel, hydrate (alcohol free beer is my new go-to drink of choice) and decide I’m going to head East over Oberalppass rather than South towards Gotthard. In typical Alpine fashion, the weather closes in the ten minutes I’m in the store and I find myself looking up towards the heavens wondering if it’s safe (or wise) to complete the Alpine crossing today. I’m 75% of the way up the mountain, but it is in those final 25%, towards the summit where you’re most exposed and at risk to the elements. It’s still largely dry but dark cumulus are drifting across the skyline and I’m aware the situation could change in an instant. Before long, however, a couple start the climb, and I riskily shift my position and follow their tracks, they wouldn’t attempt it if it wasn’t safe right?
The final push
Another sign outlines the new task at hand: 600m of climb in 10 kilometres. Well at least the maths is easy. The scenery is immediately distinct from the preceding section of the climb. Long gone are the straight roads and riverside views. This section is a series of exposed switchbacks chiselled into the mountainside with a superb green panorama across the valley. Jacket on, jacket off, too hot, too cold – the conditions are all over the place. Soon enough though, I settle into a rhythm and catch the couple whose decision to tackle the climb confirmed mine. It transpires they’re doing a 3 day tour of Switzerland and we decide to ride to the summit together.
Verdant valleys
It not until now, some 500m from the summit that the significance of the situation registers. Since departing Dover some 9 days ago, I’ve been consumed by a sole goal, to cycle to The Alps. With so much daily uncertainty that very concept has seemed far-off, ethereal and hypothetical. Now, with the summit so clearly attainable a mixture of pride and relief catch me completely off-guard and I can feel tears pricking my eyes. Thankfully my shades are just dark enough to hide the emotion from my new friends, and we contemplatively cover the final meters together. A wonderful moment and fitting finale to the first section of this trip.
A wonderful moment, but those grey clouds tell me it’s time to go!
Of course, what goes up must come down and after the obligatory summit photos comes our reward, tens of kilometres of: fast, flowing and filmic descent. Despite being the middle of summer, it’s chilly at the peak, so we jacket up, say our goodbyes and I watch as they kamikaze down the switchbacks in a way surely only locals can. My descent is far more leisurely, stopping every 2 minutes to capture the incredible views. Despite my uncertainty, the bike handles fabulously. I am not a religious man, but the feeling of sweeping down the mountain, taking in the scenery and feeling as the warmth returns to my body is borderline transcendental. Akin to looking up and observing the stars, there is a permanence about mountains which contextualises the everyday problems we face.
The reward Alpine scalextric
Before I know it, 20km have passed (I’m not sure whether I even had to peddle), and I’ve arrived at my accommodation. The Alps have been crossed. Tomorrow promises a host of new possibilities as we head East and further into the unknown.
What a delight it is to wake up at a leisurely hour and not worry about riding a bike. The goal today is fabulously simple: relax, recharge and enjoy yourself. This initially consists of FaceTiming friends, enjoying an unhurried coffee and heading down for breakfast.
An absolute joy of the cycle touring experience is the sheer quantity of food you’re able (and frankly required) to eat. Better still, due to your exertions, even the most humble meals and snacks are elevated to ambrosiac heights. This is particularly true in relation to high sugar, carbohydrate rich options, so I have a splendid time sampling unreasonable quantities of: granola, jam, bircher muesli and whatever else I can lay my hands on. Of course it is now, amid this orgy of excess, that I bump into a work colleague who is holidaying in Lucerne with his mother. Having been so focussed on my goal of summiting The Alps, I’ve not thought about work for the last week. It’s great to catch up and hear his perspective. He’s also incredibly knowledgeable about Lucerne and provides excellent recommendations for how to spend the day.
Round 1
Lucerne and the eponymous lake upon which it sits is magnificently picturesque. With an attractive Old Town, easy access to mountains and full Alpine encirclement it is a marvellous base for the adventurous and lovers of the great outdoors.
Views of Lake Lucerne
Starbucks, top option if you want to sit by the lake, enjoy a coffee and relax without committing to a full meal
I take the opportunity to procure a dry bag and additional bungee cord, (colour coordinated of course) so I can finally cover my unsightly running trainers which, until now, had been unceremoniously tied to the panniers. Marginal (aesthetic) gains. Let’s hope that by the end of the trip I’ll have a fully optimised set-up for future escapades.
Much better no?
Come the evening I can’t think of a better way to spend the last few hours here than to grab Pad Thai from a street vendor and soak in the lakeside views. Without the distraction of the bike, I find these rest days lonely, but it’s been a refreshing and welcome pause.
You know you’re exhausted when you ride 99.1 miles and can’t face the idea of adding the extra mile required to make it to triple figures!
After back to back 200km epics, I wake up, figuratively, on the wrong side of bed. Today offers a host of potential highlights: border crossings, mountains, and (all going well – for nothing is ever guaranteed when cycle touring) a destination famed for its lacustrine beauty.
However, heading out, I’m not aware of this as beyond Basle as I’ve not decided on destination. The combination of fatigue and uncertainty is weighing heavily as I depart the hotel and set upon locating the cycle path. This is punctuated briefly by a man yelling “ALLEZ, ALLEZ, ALLEZ” as I leave the saddle to crest a tiny bridge, which has me smiling until I happen upon Eurovelo 6, “The Route of The Rivers” for the first time.
Hello EV6!
Eurovelo 6 is the most popular of the Eurovelo routes, and in its entirety would take you from the Atlantic coast of France along flatlands and rivers all the way to the Black Sea in Romania. This initial foray will be brief, a cool 30km to Basle, but we’ll be picking it up again in the not-too-distant future as we negotiate the gentle bends of the Danube.
Initial impressions are excellent. Eurovelo paths are always passable, but certain sections are undoubtably better than others. This is one of the finest thus far as regular signposts accompany an easy approach towards Basle. While not in Switzerland, yet, it’s a positive harbinger of what’s waiting on the other side of the fast approaching border. And what’s better than crossing a border between two countries I hear you ask? Crossing a border between three – for to finally arrive in Switzerland one must cross the Three Countries Bridge, a civilised, unmarshalled triumph of open-bordered cooperation between France, Switzerland and Germany.
The Three Countries Bridge
While signs and flags are all well and good, you can equally deduce you’ve arrived in Switzerland by spotting the brightly coloured drybags being dragged by locals taking a dip in the river. It’s an incongruous sight, as The Rhine is both wide and powerful and we’re in the middle of a major city. Can you imagine the equivalent in London?! As I’m sat watching this, I decide upon Lucerne as my next destination – it’s a town I’m keen to visit, a good spot for a rest day, and most importantly a well-located base from which to tackle an assault on the Alps.
The first few miles leaving Basle aren’t quite what you’d expect when imagining Switzerland, a place which evokes images of great Alpine summits (home to the historic Matterhorn, Jungfrau and Eiger peaks), expansive lakes (Lac Léman, Zürichsee, Lucerne) and rolling plush green meadows. The surroundings of Basle, being an international powerhouse in the pharmaceutical and chemical industries, are correspondingly industrial. The day is scorching, my Achilles is starting to creak and to complete the triumvirate, my road-cleats have finally given up. The most pleasurable days touring are those where the distances are comfortably achievable, which allows you to “look up and smell the roses”. Today isn’t one of those days. Lucerne is still 110km away, so every moment lost to unforeseen issues compounds the time pressure, but you have to keep you chin up, deal with each occurrence as it arises and get on with it. Thankfully, there’s now a new set of signs to follow and I’ll be taking Swiss Route 3 all the way to The Alps.
The issue with route planning on the fly is that it can lead you to overlook key details. In Northern Europe, you often get away with this as the topography is flat. Once you reach Switzerland, I would urge you to do your homework. The good news is that the Switzerland I had imagined has arrived, it’s every bit as green, plush and picturesque as one would envisage. The roads are smooth, drivers respectful and vistas stunning. The slightly more challenging news is that it’s also utterly vertiginous. Now I’m not adverse to a good climb, in fact in normal circumstances, ascending on a bike is probably my favourite part of cycling. Climbing with a full set of bags is altogether a different beast. It strips you of your ego, and leaves you hoping you have a gear small enough to crawl up the mountainside – which is how you find me now, huffing and puffing my way up the Schafmatt Pass. If I had done my due diligence, I would have known that this climb is over 2,000ft and takes you to the highest part of the canton. I haven’t, so after each switchback I glance up the serpentine ribbon of tarmac and wonder when (and frankly if) it’ll ever finally relent. Of course, eventually the tree cover thins, the views open and the road flattens. Exhausted and ravenous, I take the opportunity to pull off the road, inhale whatever snacks I have remaining and engage in a lovely chat with a German family who have driven down from Hamburg. Feeling spent after this morning (and frankly the whole week’s) exploits, it’s cheering to share details of our respective journeys and forget about the daunting distance that lays ahead.
Up, up and away
The first law of thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed but converted from one form to another. In my case, this is largely in the form of heat as I transfer that hard-earned gravitational potential energy into the brake blocks. This is my first meaningful descent (over 500ft) and I’m still adapting to how the bike handles under load. Regardless, the views are open, surface smooth and I’m grateful to enjoy cover the next 5km without having to turn the pedals.
2000ft later…What goes up must come down
Beyond floating dry bags, another sure-fire way to establish you’re in Switzerland is by observing the impact on your wallet. The day has marched on, and by 6pm, with 60km to cover, I realise I’m out of snacks and water and pull into Subway. A foot-long sub, plus drinks to refill the bidons runs to £25. A real-world example of Switzerland’s proud position at the top of The Economist’s Big Mac Index!
Switzerland… need I say more?
Mercifully, the final 60km is flat and with the roads largely to myself I FaceTime my parents to while away the distance. It’s now, while enjoying the warm evening sun that I catch my first glimpse of The Alps, framed against the blue sky far on the horizon. No longer conceptual, the goal I’ve been striving towards is now very real, and within striking distance. This provides all the motivation required and before too long I arrive at the hotel, ready for a hot shower, cold beer and a long, comfortable sleep.
Say hello to The Alps
Fabulous modern hotel room – Holiday Inn Express Lucerne – Kriens
Strava tells me I’ve cycled 961 kilometres (597 miles) this week and I’m utterly exhausted. My plan for the next couple of days? Eat donuts, explore Lucerne and recharge. Good night
Despite my protestations, I lucked out last night, and the hotel was comfortable – unquestionably an improvement on the uninspiring budget option I had selected on the road.
This morning my usual plan of sorting lunch at breakfast has been thwarted by a raft of measures designed to enforce social distancing over breakfast. Picking up a pre-bagged continental breakfast leaves little scope for gratuitous pocket loading, but it’s pleasant sitting on the terrace soaking up the early morning sunshine. The plan today is a fairly simple one, cycle towards Strasbourg and then decide on a preferred route South towards Basle.
Packed lunch breakfast anyone?
Option A – stick to Eurovelo 5, which winds its way through French wine country and D-roads. Probably more picturesque but some 80 kilometers further than;
Option B – join Eurovelo 15 from Strasbourg and blitzkrieg directly down The Rhine on riverside cycle paths
After an incredibly brief daily dose of Google Maps trail roulette, (it’s a wonder the wheels are still in true) I pick up Eurovelo 5 and find it to be an absolutely stunning section of route. Well signposted, silky smooth and fully segregated tarmac running through woodland and along the riverside.
Eurovelo 5 – near Sarrebourg
After a pleasant morning listening to albums I’ve neglected for years and clipping off the kilometres I arrive in Strasbourg – a grand and impressive city. Home to: florid hanging baskets, Amsterdam-esque bridges and waterways, the former EU parliament, and the jewel in the crown: Cathédrale Notre Dame de Strasbourg. Unbeknownst to me, I learn that this stunning Gothic cathedral was in fact the world’s tallest building for over 200 years (and even now remains the sixth tallest church in the world). To shameless quote Wikipedia, it has been “described by Victor Hugo as a “gigantic and delicate marvel”, and by Goethe as a “sublimely towering, wide-spreading tree of God””. Suffice to say, it’s an impressive and imposing spot!
Cathedrals and Rivers
As I’m struggling to fit it’s impressive spires, domes and towers into a half decent photograph (I’m no David Bailey), I end up in conversation with Joeri and his wife, a charming couple living in London who recognised the Tailfin pannier system on my bike. Joeri supported the original Kickstarter campaign a few years back, and with an eye for adventure of his own, is considering adding it to his set up (incidentally – I would heartily recommend the kit, and will write up a full review in the coming days). It’s heartening to me that the three of us are in Strasbourg, discussing a Bristol based start-up, but I guess liked minded-folk will tend to find one another, particularly if it offers the opportunity to discuss cycling kit!
Strasbourg’s hanging basket excellence
So Option A or Option B. It wasn’t really ever a question was it? While I appreciate cycle touring is about the journey, an 80 kilometre detour wasn’t ever going to fly. This afternoon we’ll be picking up Eurovelo 15 for a blitz down The Rhine. Eurovelo 15, I understand, has recently been re-certified as “a high quality route”, so hopefully there will be minimal opportunity to either get lost or end up on undesirable surfaces.
The banks of The Rhine
I find it to be: beautiful, pan flat, slightly rough under wheel, but easily navigable on a road bike. Plenty of nature on show – a couple of kingfishers and hundreds of herons. With the predictable nature of the route and complete lack of traffic, I spend the afternoon accompanied by Yuval Noah Harari’s Homo Deus audiobook, which is both enlightening and depressing in equal manner.
Imagine this x 100km
Before long the water bottles are empty and I divert inland to find snacks and work out where to lay my head this evening. A quick check of booking.com reveals a complete lack of hotels in the immediate vicinity, so I open my trusty IHG app and commit to the Holiday Inn Mulhouse, a further 75 kilometres almost due South. It’s going to be a latey!
With a gentle tailwind and perfect evening sunshine the miles pass uneventfully and before long I’m pulling into the lobby. Smiling staff, a decent meal and another 123 miles in the bag. All in all an excellent day.
Holiday Inn Mulhouse
All going well, I should arrive in Switzerland mid-morning tomorrow, which I’ve been looking forward to since Day 1. The Alps are drawing ominously ever closer.
200 kilometers, 3 countries: Luxembourg, France and Germany
Yuuuuuuuuuuge day!
Big day! I did not expect to be writing this 200km down the road from Luxembourg City, but sometimes everything comes together.
Anna’s (Airbnb) flat was warm, so I found myself waking up super early. As opposed trying to get more sleep, I start riding in the hope of finishing early. I’ve pre-booked accommodation in Saarbrucken, just 100km down the road from Luxembourg in anticipation of easing back into this touring lark. The planned route sweeps through Luxembourgian vineyards to Schengen, past the Schengen monument (memorialising the signing of the Schengen open borders agreement some 30 years ago), before flowing through a hilly series of French towns and into Germany. The conditions are superb, with a fierce tailwind blowing me East, and it seems to be shaping up to be an easy day.
Luxembourg Bike Wash (didn’t see another one all trip!)
A final note on Luxembourg and her wonderful cycling infrastructure – some 10km outside Luxembourg City I happen upon a bike washing station adjacent to the Eurovelo. It’s this kind of thoughtful touch that really allows Luxembourg to stand out as an incredibly cycle friendly country. I make use of the facilities, ignoring the fact that I spent a good hour the day before wiping the bike down with stacks of baby wipes – Doh!
A very sleepy looking hello from the border
Before long, the vineyards are behind me and I’m at Schengen. I snap a few photos, record a few videos and am on my way. Of course, in each of these videos I mistakenly identify the river separating Luxembourg from Germany as The Rhine, so all the videos are useless. However, if this question ever arises in a pub quiz, I will confidently reply that it’s, in fact, The Mosel that separates the two! (The Rhine is in fact a long way East from here, with the Saar coming before The Rhine). Don’t you worry, we’ll be seeing plenty of The Rhine over the coming days.
Schengen 🇪🇺
The topography changes sharply across The Mosel, with the hills coming thick and fast. However, it’s not hard for long and this graft is rewarded with a wonderful descent down to the Saar valley. Now a problem (a welcome problem!) – the morning’s progress has been sensational and by 1pm I’m already in the industrial town of Saarbrucken. As opposed to calling it a day and hanging up my shoes, I decide to make the most of the favourable conditions and pedal on. Who knows where I’ll end up.
50 shades of beige
Lunch is fabulously, Germanically beige (Wurst and potato salad). The hours tick by and come 5pm I’ve not chosen any accommodation. I still feel fresh but there’s no reasonable accommodation for miles. I opt for a branded budget hotel, despite the fact it’ll require a 200km day to reach and pedal on. At least this shortens the next day! Upon arrival, maddeningly and with 200km in the legs, there’s a sign on the door saying it’s closed due to Coronavirus and that I should head into town (5km) to stay in their sister hotel. Character building stuff.
Upon arrival it’s rather nice, I’m proud of a 200km day and am pleased to see progress on the map. That blue line is slowly closing in on The Alps!
A 14km run, followed by a day of eating, strolling around in the sunshine and enjoying the Old Town
Running on very stiff legs!
My idea at the outset of this journey was to mix cycling and running, so this morning (despite the tired legs), I’m keen to get out for a run. I knock out an uninspiring 8.5 miles and am surprised by the feel of my legs. Super tight initially, but I eventually relax into it and find the pace returning. I don’t think there will be many chances to run this trip, so it’s important to take the opportunity
@Grupetto Cafe, Luxembourg – surrounded by like minded folk!
Rest days when touring solo are strange. I find the joy in exploring a place is hugely increased when sharing it with someone. Consequently it’s a somewhat lonely experience but I find time to dutifully service the bike, restock CLIF bars and see the sights (fabulous views to be had looking out over the Old Town)
A couple of thoughts
You’ve made it to Luxembourg! So, give yourself some credit
The Eurovelo paths, while meandering, always take you to where you want to go. The surfaces are all passable. Every time you try to take your own path unnecessarily, you invariably end up worse off. STICK TO THE PATH.
(I fully suspect I’ll break this covenant at the first given opportunity.)
A short update today. This is a cycling blog and I didn’t do any cycling. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow. I’m quite looking forward to it
Countries: Belgium and Luxembourg (and a border crossing!) – 122km
Part 1: Rain and despair! Part 2: Delightful riding on wonderful cycle paths
The great hospitality resumed today with a fantastic breakfast. Also, Rhubarb Jam – have you ever tried it? No, nor had I until this morning. Life changing.
Pretty great start to the day
Now after the heights of breakfast, spirits fell quickly. It’s wet outside. We’re talking Belgian Grand Prix 1998 wet (seriously, YouTube, I promise you won’t be disappointed), or if you prefer a biblical/literary reference Noah’s Arc wet. I’m sure Jay from The Inbetweeners would find another way to describe just how wet it was. It’s 20km to re-discover the Eurovelo following yesterday’s diversion, with 600ft of climbing in the first 3 miles. Perfect, a good opportunity to warm up right? Absolutely, but what goes up must come down and before I know it, I’m throwing on a merino base layer from the bag and trying the breathe life into my freezing fingers – it’s June!
Now, picking up on the meandering Eurovelo theme, and in recognition of the conditions, I again play Google Maps roulette to trim down the distance in the rain. A gamble too far and before I know it, I’m on such a rough surface that I’ve damage the fancy new pannier set on my bike – having to stop in the rain to perform a bush-repair with rubber puncture repair kit and gaffer tape. It holds so I can return to the task of mentally cursing Sundar Pichai and berating myself for not bloody learning from previous experience. With all the delays, poor route selection and general dithering I cover just 28 miles before lunch. However, the day is about to pick up and a wonderful afternoon is in store. Why you ask? We’re about to cross the border into Luxembourg!
Left: loads of fun on a Gravel Bike, not so much on a roadie. Right: Metal on metal wearing away the paint
I’m still at the stage where crossing any border excites me (does the novelty ever truly pass?) particularly under my own steam. Last year, following a classic Maid of the Mist/Hornblower mix up (one leaves from the Canadian side, the other from the US) , Jo and I crossed the mighty Niagara river over Rainbow Bridge from Canada into the US and recall the quiet satisfaction in crossing that invisible divisive line (shortly followed by the very visible immigration and customs offices at the end of the bridge!).
Flashback – 🇨🇦 to 🇺🇸
Again, a year earlier, the same feeling as I crossed Israeli/Jordanian border with a couple of good mates, (in altogether sterner conditions!). Thankfully in Europe, the borders are porous, but this doesn’t detract from the enjoyment.
Flashback – 🇮🇱 to 🇯🇴
So, a new frontier, an unvisited country and another tick in the ongoing game to check off as many countries as possible. Initial impressions are fantastic – Luxembourg’s cycle paths are wide, tarmacked and impeccably signed. The views are good, and I’m enjoying the array of friendly bovine livestock grazing alongside the track.
Luxembourg Border!
🐂🐄
When the going is good, you don’t really feel the kilometres clip by, but before I know it, I’ve been in Luxembourg for 80km and am in the capital – ready for my first rest day and keen to explore! Drop the bags, shower and head out for beer, dinner and vino. All in all, a memorable day.
So today is the day I’m due to finally pick up the fabled Eurovelo. If you’ve got this far with the blog, you’re probably aware of the incredible Eurovelo scheme, a set of cross-continental cycle paths covering every conceivable direction and route in Europe. Today I plan on linking up with Eurovelo 5, a route which in its entirety would whip you from Canterbury in UK and all the way to Rome (along the historic Via Romea Francigena pilgrimage route). I plan on loosely following its curves south towards Basle, and then making a solo dash for The Alps.
An unexpected silver (or ahem, plastic) lining of this whole Covid situation is that each item of this morning’s hotel breakfast has been painstakingly wrapped in cellophane. While undoubtedly a complete ball ache of a chore for whomever the task fell upon, it has saved me the task of wrapping up a jersey lunch, fabulous.
All plastic…there must be a better way
Let’s talk about Google Maps. Google Maps is a fantastic tool, a simple interface, intuitive, it’ll broadly get you wherever you need to go. For driving, it’s difficult to beat. For cycling, however, it tends to deliver its unwitting rider on surfaces ranging from a freshly resurfaced Hermann Tilke (Turn 8, Turkish GP anyone?) motor racing circuit through to the gnarliest single-track. This morning Google has thrown the latter in my direction, resulting in the frame-mounted Kryptonite lock slipping from it’s harness and making a bid for freedom through the spokes. Thankfully no harm done, but I spend a good twenty minutes cursing: Kryptonite, Google and ultimately my poor decision making as I reattach it firmly to it’s proper position. Hours pass and patience exhausted I eventually elect to take a major road to Namur – I’d rather risk the odd close pass than spend another moment being beaten up on these trails. As the speed increases, the mood improves and before I know it, I’ve reached Namur, in the heart of the Belgian Ardennes. Time to gobble down the pre-wrapped lunch and pick up the Eurovelo! Early impressions are pretty good, it’s smooth, well signed and largely segregated to traffic.
Oh hello Eurovelo 🇪🇺
Now I’m aware cycle touring is about the journey and not, necessarily, the destination, but I must confess, I start to find the Eurovelo path a tad meandering. It picturesquely snakes along the banks of the Meuse, but progress is slow, and I soon decide to make a B-line for the Airbnb (and back into the unpredictable arms of Google Maps). This afternoon, however, it behaves admirably, leading me up interesting and attractive minor roads. After an initial couple of days without so much as a sniff of a gradient, I’m shocked to realise that The Ardennes is bloody hilly, and I’ve managed to choose accommodation the wrong side of an unnecessary chain of climbs! Despite the challenge of climbing with a laden bike, I enjoy the work, soak in the arborific views and arrive in the tiny village of Nassogne early evening to be greeted by JP, whose Airbnb room I’ll be staying in tonight. Simplistic, incredibly clean and well-priced, this is exactly the welcome I had hoped for.
Magnificent views
Just time to nip across the road for a hard-earned local beer and dinner before turning to bed. I’m ashamed to say I’m not a French speaker, and (wrongly) assumed Filet Americain would be a Fillet Steak. How wrong I was – out comes an intimidating mountain of raw Steak Tartare. Quickly dispatched (think of the gains) and time for bed. A good day’s touring and I’m excited at the prospect of crossing another border tomorrow – this time Luxembourg!
Battlefields, cobbles, and canal paths the order of the day
A key part of a cycle tourist’s day is using the breakfast buffet to create a jersey pocket lunchtime feast. Top marks awarded for packable, proteinous options that give you something to look forward to down the road. Together with the host positively pushing all manner of bars and snacks my way I’m pretty sure I’ve nailed it. Taking his advice, I’ll be taking the canal path back past Menin Gate, south to the border village of Comines before veering East towards Mons, the capital of Belgium’s Hainaut province.
Pretty hard to get lost, but I’m sure I’ll manage
As promised, and imagined back home, the first five kilometers are fabulous. A picturesque, smooth, segregated cycleway and the kilometers sail past easily. Before long however, the GPS indicates that I’m to turn off my lovely smooth surface and follow overgrown, bouldered single-track. Fun on a mountain bike, not so fun on an ancient, firm and repurposed roadie, which transmits every bump, root and pebble right through the frame. In my somewhat slapdash approach to navigational planning, I had assumed Google Maps would happily route me exclusively on tarmac until such a time as I reach the cross-European Eurovelo cycle paths in a few days’ time. As the coming pages will attest, it’ll get me there, but not quite in the manner I had hoped.
Before too long I’m back on the asphalt and heading towards Roubaix, a town baked into cycling folklore as the finish for the prestigious Paris – Roubaix classic – a race also known as ‘The Hell of the North’ due to the extended periods riding over “bone ratting cobbles”, or more innocuous sounding “pavé”. Next up, after lunch and an afternoon of Canalside cycle paths is Mons, with its stunning Grand Place, where I take the opportunity to caffeinate, FaceTime a few friends and find accommodation for the evening.
The Grand Place, Mons
An update from Mons
A cool 13 miles to cover. These turn out to be the most stunning thus far, passing the Strepy-Theiu boat lift (at a cool 240ft, and formally the tallest boat lift in the world) – a structure that appears taken directly from a James Bond novel
Strepy-Theiu boat lift
…And an altogether less glamorous dart into a roadside supermarket to resupply and find dinner (polished off ferally on the roadside – classy eh?)
Across the channel, French border and to Ypres. Pan flat, tailwind
There’s only so much research one can do into the relative advantages of one piece of gear over another, obsess over road surfaces thousands of kilometers from home or agonise over far off logistical arrangements. To go cycle touring, you simply need to leave home. Today is that day.
I’ve overspent on some gear, underinvested in others, but have ended up with a package I’m largely satisfied with. My 12-year old carbon road bike has saddled with bags and will be my companion and tourer for the next month or so. Should I have bought a steel tourer, should I have wider tyres? Will that fancy pannier system fail halfway up an Alp?! We’ll find out won’t we!
Waiting to board in Dover amid the lorries
I’m starting my trip in Folkestone, a nondescript town on England’s South Coast. From there it’s a hilly, but short hop across to Dover to board the ferry and start the trip proper. A brief test period to ensure everything is in working order before I’m an ocean away from the comforts of home. In the current Covid-climate I’m reticent and half expecting to be turned back. We’ve been told we’re OK to travel, but very few people are. With this in mind, I rock up to Dover, the only bike amid the haulers and take my position in the Ferry loading bay. Utterly out of place and baking in the hot sun.
Amid the current climate of mutual mistrust and virological fear, I’m surprised as an amiable man, either inspired by the sight of a solo man and loaded bike and the associated adventurous possibilities, or, more likely, taking pity on a sorry sight, crosses the busy lanes to hand me an apple and nectarine. From here, the positives continue to flow. A pair of chaps who, I later learn, are mountain biking to the Pyrenees in two weeks – an endeavour that’ll see them cover 200km a day, join me in my lane, and before we know it, we’re discussing kit, comparing gear and all having a rather merry time. We’re even handed free meal vouchers (lasagne – unexpectedly good) for the ferry and invited to board. The adventure begins!
Legitimately the only person in the whole cabin who didn’t opt for chips
The two-hour crossing passes quickly and we’re soon unlocking our bikes on French soil and rolling down the ramp. It’s a bluebird evening with the sun beating down. We say our goodbyes, wish each other luck, and I’m solo cycle touring!
Now I’d love to say I took to it like a duck to water, clipped off the kilometers and kicked back in Ypres. Isn’t this touring lark easy? The reality was that I was so nervous I couldn’t stop the handlebars from shaking. The reverberations were so strong I questioned my ability to make it to the next kilometer, the situation exacerbated by lorries constantly streaming past from the busy port of Dunkirk. Here I was – a man who has cycled, literally, tens of thousands of kilometers unable to handle this little bike. A quick system check revealed that the front quick release had flicked open and wasn’t securing the front wheel properly. The relief and horror came as a pair. Relieved that I had a fix for the uncontrollable vibration but horrified that I had just ridden down a 15% ramp with the QR open and probably shouldn’t have got away with it! I’ve still not booked accommodation and its 630PM so I should probably get a move on!
The joy of borderless travel
Anyone who is familiar with the region, (or has read Prisoners of Geography – excellent (Mason, I promise I’ll return your copy to you soon) will know that Northern France and Belgium is bloody flat. I’m also lucky to have a fantastic tailwind and make good progress to Ypres, enjoying the novelty of the border-free travel, quality cycle paths and smooth roads. I capture a couple of snaps of Ypres’ stunning Menin Gate, book the nearest (reasonably priced) hotel and call it a day.
Menin Gate, Ypres: Commemorating British and Commonwealth soldiers who were killed in the Ypres Salient of World War I
Day 1 down. So far so good, almost, I forgot to sort dinner in my haste to find accommodation and settle for (admittedly gargantuan) bowls of muesli. Hardly the frites and moules mariniére one would expect, but there will be plenty of time for that. Grateful to be on foreign soil and with a roof over my head, the tour has begun. Who know what adventures await?
Dinner of champions.. perhaps not, but it hit the spot!
I’d love to say the completion of this trip was a triumph of: meticulous preparation, mechanical self-sufficiency, and expert route planning, however the reality was rather different. This trip was an exercise in impromptu decision making, bicycle bush-repairs, luck, grit, compromise and pragmatism. Here’s my account of riding from the UK to Budapest, via The Alps. A journey which took me from the flatlands of Northern Europe, through the Ardennes, across Luxembourg’s vineyards, along the banks of the mighty Rhine, over The Alps, through Liechtenstein, past Salzburg, Bavarian beer halls, Habsburgian palaces, Prater Park (Eliud Kipchoge’s landmark sub2 hour marathon location), Slovakian castles, Danubian basilicas and finally to Budapest – jewel of the Ottoman Empire.
The initial goal of this trip was to ride to The Alps. I remember once being told that if you really want to do something (say run a marathon) you should tell as many people as possible. They’ll probably be supportive, and more importantly, in doing so, you create a community of people to prevent you later reneging! “Sam, I thought you were cycling to The Alps?”. I felt this had a snappy title, was suitably vague (The Alps span 1200km through eight countries) and was achievable in a relatively brief period of time should I decide I’m not enjoying myself.
They say the best touring bike is the one you already own…. right?
They say the best bike for touring is the one you already own. Stretching this adage to near breaking point, I’m tackling the journey on a 2010 Boardman Team Carbon, the budget carbon road bike I bought on Ride To Work as a placement student a decade ago. After 5 years collecting dust in the garage (relegated to the bench after I bought something shinier), she’s been serviced, fitted with 25 width tyres, saddled with bags, and will, like Lazarus, live again. As you can see, it’s far from a conventional arrangement – but as they say, “you dance with the girl you brought”. In the coming pages you’ll see how we fared together in tackling London to Budapest, via The Alps.
Cycling Across Europe 