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
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.
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.
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.
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!
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?)
Cycling Across Europe 