I believe the last time i updated the blog was in cappadocia, a good three weeks ago, so i'd like to appologise for the lack of news on my journey.
it has however been a pretty mental 3 weeks. i don't have time now to tell you all about the adventurous things that ollie and i have been up to but i would like to briefly tell you about one event in particular, so that i might justify the lack of blogging and the inevitable delay that there is going to be in telling you about the remainder of our trip.
Whilst in syria, on our way from hamma to lebenon, ollie and i found ourselves caught in the middle of a shoot out between Syrian security forces and what were later described to us as 'terrorists'. to cut a long story short (and i promise to give a full account of this episode when i have time) we were used as a human shield by the 'terrorists' as they escaped from their car which had had its tyres shot out by the security forces. the bullets were flying all around us and not really knowing what was going on i genuinely thought that the gun toting badies were getting out of their car to kill us. we peddalled as fast as we could past the car, bullets still whizzing by, and whilst heading for cover i crashed my bike into the 6ft steel upright of a sign post. the adrenalin pumping i did not initially feel the pain and ollie and i were able to firstly crawl and then leg it to relative safety without being shot. the gun battle raged for 15 minutes and it was whilst hiding in a school that i realised that my back was totally screwed. again to cut a long story short, i was rushed to hospital in an ambulance and after x-rays i was diagnosed luckily, not with a broken back, but a compressed spine.
i have been in a lot of pain since and was forced to take a 100 mile bus ride to damascus where i rested for 5 days. having to take the bus was really tough to do as i felt it compromised the 'purity' of my ride. i felt pretty low about it.
we are now back on the bikes and having gotten out of syria we have made it to petra via jerash and the dead sea.
we will hopefully make it to cairo and the pyramids in time to get our scheduled flights home but it was the delay in damascus (where government controlls on the internet meant i couldnt use facebook or blog) that means i am going to have very little time to keep blogging over th next two weeks. i do however promise to finish the blog as soon as i can as things have been getting very intesting lately, with the ride becoming more of a mental challenge than a physical one.
Saturday, 12 December 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
Istanbul to Cappadocia. 3000 miles!
Day 56
Riding into to istanbul was probably one of the most insane things that i have ever done! All of Europe's Asia bound truckers get funnelled into a six lane bottleneck of mayhem that flies towards the bosphorus at around 70 miles an hour. i had been warned by several people that riding into istanbul wasn't advisable. the cycle touring handbook reccomends getting a bus into town and my dads cousin, who knows the city reasonably well, suggested skipping istanbul alltogether on account of the headcase drivers roaming the streets. desperately trying to remember everything from our cycling preficiancies and clenching our buttocks tight we persevered and made it through by the skin of our teeth. i particularly enjoyed it when our 2 lane B road merged with a motorway and came out the otherside of it thus obliging us to cross 3 lanes of high speed traffic. such was the intensity and stress of our 2 hour battle that by the end of it i felt like i'd sat my finals again!
That evening we found ourselves in istanbuls oldest nargile (water pipe) smoking joint. the people watching was sublime and as the nicotine coursed through my veins i could feel the previous weeks hardships slowly trickling away. a turkish art dealer named hasan made his way past moustached pipe smoking gents and through the smokey haze to take a seat next to us. we talked about turkish art and premier league football (he couldn't believe that turkish footballer Tuncay had left turkey to live in the north of england). Hasan was also the first of many turks to point out to me that he felt european. "look around" he said, "we're in europe". he couldn't believe that turkey was not in the EU but (supprisingly for me) i didn't want to engage in a political discussion after the day i had so i quickly steered the conversation back to football.
Days 57 and 58
the next two days ollie and i spent marvelling at sights such as the marble cladded aya sofia and stupendous blue mosque. we indulged ourselves. i think i might have eaten my own body weight in turkish delight. we embarked on a tedious hunt to find a decent turkish road map, which we finally found in an art gallery of all places! i gained the assistance of a turkish speaking sweede named Eylem who helped me track down a new sleeping mat (my previous one had given up in Bulgaria which probably contributed to my dislike of the country). i ate some more turkish delight. from the wonderfull galata bridge, which had hundreds of fisherman standing shoulder to shoulder on it, i looked out across the bosphorus at asia. i made several trips to 'The Pudding Shop'. we strolled through the spice markets and spent a small fortune on getting our clothes washed.
Day 59
ollie and i rushed to catch the ferry that was to take us from europe to asia. we sailed to a town called Yalova where we were going to meet a freind of mine called Fulya. Fulya was great fun. she bought us lunch in a fantastic little cafe where the enthusiatic german speaking hosts kept giving us sugared milk which was meant to power us over the anatolian plateau. they commented that we were hansom enough but could really bennefit from a shave. having thought that we were both looking a little scruffy we plucked up the courage and threw ourselves at the mercy of a turkish barber. and what an experience it was!
under strict instructions that i wanted a turkish style moustach my barber, named yusseff, first used some clippers to remove the wort of my beard. he then massaged a balm into my face before lathering me up with some shaving cream. he then begun very skillfully passing a razor over my face, pinching my face, chin and neck to get as close a shave as he could. once the worrying bit was over he covered my entire face in an alcoholic balm (to make me "look like a baby") which made my eyes run everytime i breathed in. "are you crying?" asked fulya. this balm was blow dried onto my face turning it white and then removed with a coarse horse hair brush. i was then bent over a sink and my face was washed and shampoo massaged into my hair. yusseff then cut my hair and used a flaming rod of meths to singe whatever fluff there was left that he didn't like. He then sculpted my turkish mustache (in Cappadocia i have been mistaken for a turk such is the authenticity of my new facial hair). i was then passed to his assistant who gave me a massage!!! never have i been so pampered and all of this cost less than a fiver! as we said goodbye to our barbers and fulya in yalova i thought that Ollie looked particularly sharpe with his new goate.
that night we were discovered in our campsite. a motorbike came down the track we had put our tent by and dissapeaerd without a word. the driver (we assume) then returned later with five other men who wanted to know what we were up to! my heart pounded as they approached us in the dark and started looking ar all of our stuff. fortunately we had gotten fulya to translate a letter explaining who we were and that combined with our new clean cut looks seemed to satisfy our assailants. as they departed one ran back to give ollie a torch - very bizzare!
Days 60 - 65
The next day was great. we rode along lake iznik where the olive harvest was in full swing. we then began our climb up onto the anatolian plateau where, later that afternoon, we were to recieve out first taste of the anatolian generosity. passing through a remote village we stpped to ask for directions and were quickly invited into a cafe for chy (tea). Rahim, the cafe owner, then laid on some food for us and gave us bread to take away. we had only just eaten our lunch but could hardly say no to this kindly man who wanted to give us everything he could. we departed with a hug which was so good i went in for a second!
it is the cheery generosity of the turkish people that has really defined our experience travelling across the plateau. the following day the weather was filthy and we were invited into another cafe for free chy, they let us eat the food we had just bought in a shop and they dried our cloths and even my sleeping bag. in another village we were trying to find some fresh vegetables, of which there were none, so a shop keeper jumped on his motorbike and went to his house to bring us back some from his own larder. people come running from their houses like mad men in the hope of inviting you in for chy. we've had to get good a politely saying no as we'd never get anywhere if these exceptionally generous people had it all their way!
with the exception of that one wet day the weather has been good. clear sunny days to help emphasise the rolling yellow beauty of the plateau. we've had a tail wind which has been great but at night the temperatures plummit bellow zero. our water freezes and so do we! it takes us longer to get going in the morning as our bodies wont function properly in the early cold hours but as the sun rises we thaw out and our spirits pick up. we've covered around 400 miles in six days which has felt like a real achievement as daylight is becoming sparse as the nights draw in. the villages we pass are all fascinating and worlds apart fro istanbul. the agricultural scenery has been very interesting too. shepards on donkeys and wierd contraptions that lift whole tractors and trailers 30ft in the air to help them tip their loads! we even met a spanish cyclist called silvestor who had been riding around the world for 10 years. the only thing that ive not enjoyed about the plateau has been the dogs! they chase and bark at you at every opportunity and we are now in rabbies land so there's twice the reason to be worried.
Day 66
we met a fascinating character called Burant (or Jimmy as he wished us to call him) on top of a hill where we had stopped to take in the view and brew some coffee. his friend had passed us in his van and rung him to say "there are some tourists coming your way, see if they need any help". obligingly he had left the cattle that he had been watching over and came to see if we needed anything.
Jimmy had spent 7 years working illegally in the uk and with two sets of intesrestd ears to appease he unravelled the twists and turns that had brought him to that hill watching over the cattle he had bought with the money he'd made there. apparently hundreds of people had left his village, now full of modern buildings, for the uk in the late 90's as immigration controll was non existent. he had worked in kebab houses from newquay to dundee. he'd run a coffe shop and even smuggled in cannabis hidden inside of red cabbages. he had a spell in prison in scotland. he had both a turkish wife and children and an english gilfriend and children. he told us about the mafia, people trafficking, the pkk's cocaine growing, his love of the uk and how he dreams of being back there every night, his gambling and finally how he was caught and deported back to turkey. despite his colourfull background he was a genuinely nice bloke! he'd been on dartmoor and ollie and he hit it off talking about cows as they both breed simintiles. he took us to see his two year old bull which he was particularly proud of and wanted to sell it to ollie for 3000 pounds. he gave us his number and offered his assistance should we need it anywhere. he also warned us that there is no garlic sauce in cappadocia! After we left him i thought to myself that there is a very good chance that he might have served me a kebab in newquay! small world.
That evening we finally made it to cappadocia and laid our heads to rest in the flintstones cave pension, both excited about the day of exploration to come.
Day 67
Cappadocia is amazing! ollie and i spent the day seperately exploring this wonderous landscape which i think is best done in solitude. i started in the open air museum in gorome and was amazed by the 12th and 13th century churches that had been carved in to the sandstone. i really enjoyed climbing in and out of the various rooms and imagining the lives of the monks that would have lived in them. i then rode and carried the bike through some seemingly impassable valleys. the shapes that had formed in the stone around me were simply phenomenal.
kemal seemed just as surprised to see me as i was to see him when i stumbled across his juice shack in the remote corner of one valley. i bought a pomegramete juice and he gave me a chy and my first ever lesson in backgammon. begginners luck saw me victorious but i still dont really understand how to play! i then rolled on down the hill to see to wonder at anthropormorphic rock forms and the rose valley at sunset. i highly reccomend a trip to cappadocia!
that evening ollie and i started planning the next leg of our trip. we're going to be going higher and getting colder on our exit from turkey but hopefully we'll warm up in syria!
i'll keep you posted!
Riding into to istanbul was probably one of the most insane things that i have ever done! All of Europe's Asia bound truckers get funnelled into a six lane bottleneck of mayhem that flies towards the bosphorus at around 70 miles an hour. i had been warned by several people that riding into istanbul wasn't advisable. the cycle touring handbook reccomends getting a bus into town and my dads cousin, who knows the city reasonably well, suggested skipping istanbul alltogether on account of the headcase drivers roaming the streets. desperately trying to remember everything from our cycling preficiancies and clenching our buttocks tight we persevered and made it through by the skin of our teeth. i particularly enjoyed it when our 2 lane B road merged with a motorway and came out the otherside of it thus obliging us to cross 3 lanes of high speed traffic. such was the intensity and stress of our 2 hour battle that by the end of it i felt like i'd sat my finals again!
That evening we found ourselves in istanbuls oldest nargile (water pipe) smoking joint. the people watching was sublime and as the nicotine coursed through my veins i could feel the previous weeks hardships slowly trickling away. a turkish art dealer named hasan made his way past moustached pipe smoking gents and through the smokey haze to take a seat next to us. we talked about turkish art and premier league football (he couldn't believe that turkish footballer Tuncay had left turkey to live in the north of england). Hasan was also the first of many turks to point out to me that he felt european. "look around" he said, "we're in europe". he couldn't believe that turkey was not in the EU but (supprisingly for me) i didn't want to engage in a political discussion after the day i had so i quickly steered the conversation back to football.
Days 57 and 58
the next two days ollie and i spent marvelling at sights such as the marble cladded aya sofia and stupendous blue mosque. we indulged ourselves. i think i might have eaten my own body weight in turkish delight. we embarked on a tedious hunt to find a decent turkish road map, which we finally found in an art gallery of all places! i gained the assistance of a turkish speaking sweede named Eylem who helped me track down a new sleeping mat (my previous one had given up in Bulgaria which probably contributed to my dislike of the country). i ate some more turkish delight. from the wonderfull galata bridge, which had hundreds of fisherman standing shoulder to shoulder on it, i looked out across the bosphorus at asia. i made several trips to 'The Pudding Shop'. we strolled through the spice markets and spent a small fortune on getting our clothes washed.
Day 59
ollie and i rushed to catch the ferry that was to take us from europe to asia. we sailed to a town called Yalova where we were going to meet a freind of mine called Fulya. Fulya was great fun. she bought us lunch in a fantastic little cafe where the enthusiatic german speaking hosts kept giving us sugared milk which was meant to power us over the anatolian plateau. they commented that we were hansom enough but could really bennefit from a shave. having thought that we were both looking a little scruffy we plucked up the courage and threw ourselves at the mercy of a turkish barber. and what an experience it was!
under strict instructions that i wanted a turkish style moustach my barber, named yusseff, first used some clippers to remove the wort of my beard. he then massaged a balm into my face before lathering me up with some shaving cream. he then begun very skillfully passing a razor over my face, pinching my face, chin and neck to get as close a shave as he could. once the worrying bit was over he covered my entire face in an alcoholic balm (to make me "look like a baby") which made my eyes run everytime i breathed in. "are you crying?" asked fulya. this balm was blow dried onto my face turning it white and then removed with a coarse horse hair brush. i was then bent over a sink and my face was washed and shampoo massaged into my hair. yusseff then cut my hair and used a flaming rod of meths to singe whatever fluff there was left that he didn't like. He then sculpted my turkish mustache (in Cappadocia i have been mistaken for a turk such is the authenticity of my new facial hair). i was then passed to his assistant who gave me a massage!!! never have i been so pampered and all of this cost less than a fiver! as we said goodbye to our barbers and fulya in yalova i thought that Ollie looked particularly sharpe with his new goate.
that night we were discovered in our campsite. a motorbike came down the track we had put our tent by and dissapeaerd without a word. the driver (we assume) then returned later with five other men who wanted to know what we were up to! my heart pounded as they approached us in the dark and started looking ar all of our stuff. fortunately we had gotten fulya to translate a letter explaining who we were and that combined with our new clean cut looks seemed to satisfy our assailants. as they departed one ran back to give ollie a torch - very bizzare!
Days 60 - 65
The next day was great. we rode along lake iznik where the olive harvest was in full swing. we then began our climb up onto the anatolian plateau where, later that afternoon, we were to recieve out first taste of the anatolian generosity. passing through a remote village we stpped to ask for directions and were quickly invited into a cafe for chy (tea). Rahim, the cafe owner, then laid on some food for us and gave us bread to take away. we had only just eaten our lunch but could hardly say no to this kindly man who wanted to give us everything he could. we departed with a hug which was so good i went in for a second!
it is the cheery generosity of the turkish people that has really defined our experience travelling across the plateau. the following day the weather was filthy and we were invited into another cafe for free chy, they let us eat the food we had just bought in a shop and they dried our cloths and even my sleeping bag. in another village we were trying to find some fresh vegetables, of which there were none, so a shop keeper jumped on his motorbike and went to his house to bring us back some from his own larder. people come running from their houses like mad men in the hope of inviting you in for chy. we've had to get good a politely saying no as we'd never get anywhere if these exceptionally generous people had it all their way!
with the exception of that one wet day the weather has been good. clear sunny days to help emphasise the rolling yellow beauty of the plateau. we've had a tail wind which has been great but at night the temperatures plummit bellow zero. our water freezes and so do we! it takes us longer to get going in the morning as our bodies wont function properly in the early cold hours but as the sun rises we thaw out and our spirits pick up. we've covered around 400 miles in six days which has felt like a real achievement as daylight is becoming sparse as the nights draw in. the villages we pass are all fascinating and worlds apart fro istanbul. the agricultural scenery has been very interesting too. shepards on donkeys and wierd contraptions that lift whole tractors and trailers 30ft in the air to help them tip their loads! we even met a spanish cyclist called silvestor who had been riding around the world for 10 years. the only thing that ive not enjoyed about the plateau has been the dogs! they chase and bark at you at every opportunity and we are now in rabbies land so there's twice the reason to be worried.
Day 66
we met a fascinating character called Burant (or Jimmy as he wished us to call him) on top of a hill where we had stopped to take in the view and brew some coffee. his friend had passed us in his van and rung him to say "there are some tourists coming your way, see if they need any help". obligingly he had left the cattle that he had been watching over and came to see if we needed anything.
Jimmy had spent 7 years working illegally in the uk and with two sets of intesrestd ears to appease he unravelled the twists and turns that had brought him to that hill watching over the cattle he had bought with the money he'd made there. apparently hundreds of people had left his village, now full of modern buildings, for the uk in the late 90's as immigration controll was non existent. he had worked in kebab houses from newquay to dundee. he'd run a coffe shop and even smuggled in cannabis hidden inside of red cabbages. he had a spell in prison in scotland. he had both a turkish wife and children and an english gilfriend and children. he told us about the mafia, people trafficking, the pkk's cocaine growing, his love of the uk and how he dreams of being back there every night, his gambling and finally how he was caught and deported back to turkey. despite his colourfull background he was a genuinely nice bloke! he'd been on dartmoor and ollie and he hit it off talking about cows as they both breed simintiles. he took us to see his two year old bull which he was particularly proud of and wanted to sell it to ollie for 3000 pounds. he gave us his number and offered his assistance should we need it anywhere. he also warned us that there is no garlic sauce in cappadocia! After we left him i thought to myself that there is a very good chance that he might have served me a kebab in newquay! small world.
That evening we finally made it to cappadocia and laid our heads to rest in the flintstones cave pension, both excited about the day of exploration to come.
Day 67
Cappadocia is amazing! ollie and i spent the day seperately exploring this wonderous landscape which i think is best done in solitude. i started in the open air museum in gorome and was amazed by the 12th and 13th century churches that had been carved in to the sandstone. i really enjoyed climbing in and out of the various rooms and imagining the lives of the monks that would have lived in them. i then rode and carried the bike through some seemingly impassable valleys. the shapes that had formed in the stone around me were simply phenomenal.
kemal seemed just as surprised to see me as i was to see him when i stumbled across his juice shack in the remote corner of one valley. i bought a pomegramete juice and he gave me a chy and my first ever lesson in backgammon. begginners luck saw me victorious but i still dont really understand how to play! i then rolled on down the hill to see to wonder at anthropormorphic rock forms and the rose valley at sunset. i highly reccomend a trip to cappadocia!
that evening ollie and i started planning the next leg of our trip. we're going to be going higher and getting colder on our exit from turkey but hopefully we'll warm up in syria!
i'll keep you posted!
Saturday, 14 November 2009
riding with rob continued
days 49 -51
i can't say that i massively enjoyed macedonia after the wonderous experiences i had had in albania and kosovo. the people were nice enough but the scenery less attractive. it was great no longer having to worry about mines and we even managed a campfire in lovely orchard one night.
on day 50 we crossed into bulgaria and had a nightmare trying to refuel my stove - we stuck liquid parafin in it at one stage - this certainly doesnt burn and is meant for stomach upsets!
day 51 was a sad day as we had to say goodbye to dad. he had been great company and had really enjoyed the experience. he was quite emotional as we said our goodbyes in a cafe in dupnica. i was really proud that he had managed so well. i think he had ridden around 450 miles with us over some tough passes and through some terrible weather. i hope i'm ticking along as well as he is at 55! what a great experience to have shared together i thought.
I hope to put more detail up on the following days (52-55) that led ollie and me through bulgaria, greece, and turkey to istanbul, needless to say that they were the toughest yet. more head winds. borring scenery (landscape decemated through intensive agariculture) and hard hard miles! both of us were relieved to make it into istanbul, although getting into town wasn't without its own hardships (more to come on that). but since our time here the city has really lived up to its reputation!
i can't say that i massively enjoyed macedonia after the wonderous experiences i had had in albania and kosovo. the people were nice enough but the scenery less attractive. it was great no longer having to worry about mines and we even managed a campfire in lovely orchard one night.
on day 50 we crossed into bulgaria and had a nightmare trying to refuel my stove - we stuck liquid parafin in it at one stage - this certainly doesnt burn and is meant for stomach upsets!
day 51 was a sad day as we had to say goodbye to dad. he had been great company and had really enjoyed the experience. he was quite emotional as we said our goodbyes in a cafe in dupnica. i was really proud that he had managed so well. i think he had ridden around 450 miles with us over some tough passes and through some terrible weather. i hope i'm ticking along as well as he is at 55! what a great experience to have shared together i thought.
I hope to put more detail up on the following days (52-55) that led ollie and me through bulgaria, greece, and turkey to istanbul, needless to say that they were the toughest yet. more head winds. borring scenery (landscape decemated through intensive agariculture) and hard hard miles! both of us were relieved to make it into istanbul, although getting into town wasn't without its own hardships (more to come on that). but since our time here the city has really lived up to its reputation!
Friday, 13 November 2009
Riding with Rob: Croatia - Bulgaria via Montenegro, Albania, Kosovo and Macedonia.
Day 41
I woke early and set off alone to squeeze in some final sightseeing and joined with gave later to see whether we could get our bikes to a mechanic (mine was feeling a little out of sorts after riding on the track out of Podbuce). unfortunately though, it seems that you can buy a cheap chinese made bike in Dubrovnic but if/when something goes wrong with it you're screwed as no bicycle mechanics exist in southern croatia!
on my way out of town i was accosted by a wild eyed man who had the appearance and alcoholic aroama of rab c nesbit and the agenda of an english herritage warden. "This is a padestrian area" he exclaimed "get off now!". i had no problem with this at first but when he grabbed my handle bars and started shaking the bike i took exception to his less desiarble qualities. a stand off ensued with him blocking my path and me refusing to get off my bike. seeing the fury welling in my eyes he let go of the bars and i promptly got to my feet. "tsankyou" he shouted. "no, tssssankyou" i replied.
Yan was sailing to italy that afternoon where he would begin his ride home. so we said goodbye over lunch and then dad ollie and i set off with the scots to montenegro.
the croatian border guards joked with all of us about not having papers for our bikes - dad's face was a picture when he thought he might be in some sort of trouble. - this changed to nervous smile when he realised it was a joke.
our first night in montenegro was spent in a dodgy looking park where we put our tents up in the shaddows and hoped that no trouble would come our way.
Day 42
Day 42 was a perfect cycle toring day with sublime scenery, a pefect host and an explosion!
It started disasterously when i found myself squating over a cafe toilet short of loo roll . my judgement over loo roll quantities is usually pretty good and i would have been fine if it hadn't been for a 'secondary movement'. not wishing to soil my cycling shorts i thought to myself what would bear grills do in this situation - and so i begun unravelling the loo roll tube as finely as i could and made do with that. it was rough as hell but got me out of a...sticky situation.
After this incident we said goodbye to the scotts who wanted to save themselves 20km by sailing across the kotor fjord. MISTAKE! the 20km ride around the fjord was undoubtably the most scenic riding of the trip so far. spectacular 1500m cliffs plunged into turqouise water, the roads were flat as a pancake and we refreshed ourselves with pomegramets that were growing alongside blooming purple flowers at the waters edge.
We then rode into Kotor town where i was met with a Bianca-esque RICKYYYYYYY from across the harbour. the scots hadn't got very far and it seemed that we were destined to spend another night with them. they set off up the 900m hill towards Montenegro's capital, Podgorica, agreeing to let us know if they found a decent campsite.
Dad Ollie and i then set about exploring the wonderful medievil citadel. Whilst in the main square ollie and i got talking to an american film maker. what happened next was riddiculous. i remember subconsciously registering that someone had come over and said "ok we're gonna do the explosion now" but i didn't take much notice. the next thing i knew there was an almighty bang and i was struck in the back by something. indeed i had been hit by shrapnel from a plant pot that had just been blown up from a 1st storey window. i genuinely felt shaken and all the film maker could say was "that was really f#cking dangerous!" we promptly left kotor and climbed the pass in evening sunlight. the fjord looked fantastic and the views only got better as the sun began to set over the adriatic.
We camped that night in the garden of a montenegran named alex. Alex was a fascinating character. he invited us inside for some grappa telling us that he was normally a drinking man but was on medication due to a recent car crash. the crash was a blessing in disguise for us as he was a big man and i wouldn't have wanted to feel obliged to keep up with him! he regailed us with tails of his life in the merchant navy, his time in britain where he fled as war broke out in his country and where he became montenegro's first rugby player after having a stint at london welsh. He was quite the wheeler dealer too with a real estate business, a hunting business and a gun importation business called barretta (i got a bit worried at this point) which he had had to set up after 9/11 when his hunter tourists could no longer bring their weapons with them. His sister, Svetlana Drugovic, is montenegros top artist and her work can be seen in the offices of the countries top officials. she even met the queen of england after winning a competition in london! he told us about the history of his country and talked frankly about "bullshit" wars and dodgy politicians. he warned us about bears, wolves and albanian bandits. it was an informative and entertaing evening, he'd been the perfect host!
Day 43
the next morning alex invited us in for eggs and more grappa. one to warm us and one for the road! an old girlfriend of his appeared on the morning news, "what the fuck, she was with me in london" he exclaimed.
we rode through deep autum colours towards Podgorica. the capital was unimpressive. an ugly soviet block type town so we left.
we had our final final night with the scots on the border with albania and dad put on feast of chocolate for us - which he had bought with euro coins he didn't wish to lug over albanian mountains.
Day 44
Day 44 was stressfull. we had planned a few days of big rides that would hopefully get us through the landmine infested north eastern albania unharmed. we all felt a little apprehensive before going to albania and the pressure was on dad who's fitness was inevitably not up to mine and ollies (as he hadnt just ridden 1800 miles), so tensions were high.
the morning started well though. after fixing dads 1st puncture of the day we crossed the border into albania and the culture shock was incredible. i couldn't believe that i was in still europe! hosre and carts were everywhere. children rode motorbikes. concrete bunkers dominated the landscape (known as mushrooms the defence obsessed former dictator had thousands of them built in every strategic position immaginable, there is one bunker for every 4 albanians!) the 'A' road we were on was as rough as a badgers arse, some tarmac, some track. the train tracks were used as sheparding highways. there was rubbish everywhere (it was like riding through a beautiful rubbish dump). the dogs were out of control and half of them lay dead by the road. livestock roamed free. it was absolute mayhem and i loved it. the people were exceptionally freindly and seemed just as fascinated by us as we were by them.
We weaved and dodged our way to Shkoda where the road to Kosovo turned away from the road to Tirrana. Shkoda was lively too. East met west and where churches sat next to mosques and call's to prayer could be heard over the top of dance tunes booming from boy racer cars.
We followed the road towards kosovo and people began to look more and more surprised that we were there. chow! they would yell. and ollie raced kids who were on scooters and on bicycles.
lunch however was very stressfull and set the tone for the rest of the day. we found a quiet spot in a provincial town and ollie went off to find a toilett. he returned having failed to find one, followed by a dozen boys who he left with dad and me whilst dissapearing to find a different loo. dad got another puncture and started dealing with that. slowly the boys surrounded us getting closer and closer until they were in my face and all over the gear. it was all i could do to make sure that nothing went missing form and my 2 eyes were not enough to watch over all of ollies, dads and my things. more boys arrived and i could feel myself getting panicky. dad wanted me to help him with his bike but i simply couldnt stop watching the bikes. ollie returned and we left quickly. dad thought that i had somehow had a relaxing lunch stop compared to his punture repairing 'ordeal' and made a sarky comment accordingly. i exploded at this and all the tensions i had felt in being surrounded flowed from my lips in a verbal tirade.
we were riding over tough mountain passes battered by winds that threated to blow us off our bikes and struggling to find somewhere to camp. we had been warned not to be on the roads after dark and after a long physically demanding day dad was struggling up a final set of switchbacks . i strapped one of his panniers over the top of mine and ollie sped off up a pass and fortunately found us somewhere out of sight to camp. unfortunately we had camped well short of where we had planned. This made it likely that we were not going to make it to the safety of a hotel the following evening, leaving us with the possibilty of having to camp in the Kukes region, a particularly iffy frontier area on the border with kosovo.
Day 45
we got up in the dark and were riding by the time the sun rose. the unrellenting winds continued to batter us and the pressure of needing somewhere safe to camp meant that tensions continued to run high. chilled by the wind we stopped in a cafe for a drink. the charming manager fixed us up some great coffee and we communicated by drawing little pictures on his note pad. he asked how much my bike was and not wishing to disclose the actual price i told him a conservative 100 euros. he quickly said that he would love to buy it at that price! we said goodbyes with hugs and hand shakes and pointed our bikes into the head wind once more. we began to feel optomistic about reaching kosovo and the hotel until we realised the maps we had (both of them) were wrong and that the hotel was actually about 15km further on than expected. with this we resigned ourselves to fate - which was just as well as dad said he was at his physical limit.
as the night began to close in on us shepherd boys walked their flocks home and lorry drivers gestured to their watches suggesting that this was no time for cyclists to be on the road! again there was no where that we could see that looked safe enough to camp and irrational fears about bandits began to kick in. i kept thinking about the foriegn office warning "we advise against all travel to the north east border areas (ie the district of kukes) between albania and kosovo because of the risk of unexploded ordnance...avoid traveling at night". we were in the district of kukes and traveling at night.
The fear got me in a praying mood and salvation came in the form of the Dedas family. as we began descending from the pass we stopped at a small farmstead, tentatively walked through two gates and knocked on their door. they were only too happy to let us put our tents up in their farm yard and they promptly set about bringing a light out so that we could see what we were doing. we then began cooking our supper but before the pasta was done we were invited insde for coffee and racki! Nicole senior, 75 years old and a former general in albania's communist army, was the patriarch of the family. he had six sons including Nestor who i spoke in broken spanish with, christian who helped us put up our tent and edward who made the coffee, 3 daughters were present, one son in law, Nicoles wife and his charming 4 year old grandson nicole junior. we spoke about his time in the communist army and the livestock he had on his farm. ollie and i made the mistake of accepting a ciggerette which meant that they were continually forced (in the nicest way possible) upon us the rest of the evening. they gave us the best seats right by the fire and bent over backwards to make sure we were comfortable. for example when dad sat on the floor to take his shoes off before entering the living room, edward was quick to give him a stool to do it from.
we dissapointed our hosts by returning to cook our supper but when we went outside we found that the dog had eaten all our food. "no problem" the Dedas said! they quickly set about putting together a grand albanian feast for us. Tirrana beer flowed and the women ate in a different room to the men. prime cuts of mutton were presented to us and i was utterly humbled by the whole experience. i went to bed that night knowing i had just had one of the best experiences of my life and feeling very privilaged to have seen the dynamics of such a tight albanian family in full hospitality mode.
Day 46
i felt like i had been on a heavy night out when dawn broke. my head pounded from the racki and my lungs felt like a chimney. the moment i emerged from my tent i was presented with a glass of warm milk. it seemed that the dedas were as un-relenting in their hospitality as the albanian wind had been in blowing in our faces for the previous two days! they gave us eggs and a tour of their lovely farm. the real highlight being nicoles homemade distillary where the racki was made!
sad as it was we had to leave and cross into Kosovo we promised to send them the photos that had been taken of the evening and the whole family posed for one fianl shot.
on the way to kosovo we stopped for lunch in a field beyond the town of kukes. i almost shat myself when a self loading shotgun went off above my head. unbeknown to us a man had spotted a pigeon in the field we were in, stopped his car, crept on to the bank above our heads and blown the thing away. i thought a mine might have gone off and felt edgy until the gun wielding gent strode across the field and picked up the pigeon. he walked back towards us said something to dad before dissappearing again. ollie noticed that the pigeon was still winking and this put me off my lunch more than the fright of gun shots!
we crossed the border and made it to Prizren in southern Kosovo. i got talking to some German Officers who there working for KOFOR, the UN force providing security in the country. "what do your parents thinks of you making a crazy tour all over the balkans?" he asked. i told him i had brought one of them with me!
That night we were privilaged to some fine kosovan hospitality in Besinis family resteraunt and then went to bed in a bed. which was great!
Day 47
Riding out of Prizren the following day it was a shock to see the burnt out buildings riddled with bullet holes and churches heavily guarded by KFOR troops. it brought home the reality of war and made me conscious of the instabilty in the region. we rode over another attractive pass and ended up staying in a hotel in strpce. Strpce was unusual as it was a serbian enclave and the serbian flag flew everywhere not the kosovan. we were welcomed into the hotel though and once again the hospitality shown to us was fantastic.
Day 48
Our hosts provided us with omlettes and racki for breakfast and i noticed that a group of truckers were already well tucked into the beer (this was at 8 am).
The weather got bleaker and bleaker until we were riding head on into snow and sleet. everything became wet and my hands and feet were frozen stiff! every garage we passed invited us in so that we might warm ourselves. at one garage we stopped and a man wound down his window and handed us three alcoholic energy drinks called 'dracula'. this powererd us on towards the macedonia. we stopped at a resteraunt on the border for one final dose of kosovan hospitality. they hung our wet things by the fire and made us as comfortable as we could be. drinks were on the house and the manager made it clear that he loved the british and americans for helping kosovo gain its independance. i told him that i was happy that he was happy about this and cheers errupted around the resteraunt!
we then crossed the border into macedonia and whizzed through skopje during rush hour.
so this is as far as im going to get with the blog tonight. sorry for the delay in letting you all know where i am. its currently day 58 and ollie and i are in istanbul. 2600 miles on the clock. hopefully i'll be able to fill in the blanks for you before setting off tomorrow.
best wishes!
I woke early and set off alone to squeeze in some final sightseeing and joined with gave later to see whether we could get our bikes to a mechanic (mine was feeling a little out of sorts after riding on the track out of Podbuce). unfortunately though, it seems that you can buy a cheap chinese made bike in Dubrovnic but if/when something goes wrong with it you're screwed as no bicycle mechanics exist in southern croatia!
on my way out of town i was accosted by a wild eyed man who had the appearance and alcoholic aroama of rab c nesbit and the agenda of an english herritage warden. "This is a padestrian area" he exclaimed "get off now!". i had no problem with this at first but when he grabbed my handle bars and started shaking the bike i took exception to his less desiarble qualities. a stand off ensued with him blocking my path and me refusing to get off my bike. seeing the fury welling in my eyes he let go of the bars and i promptly got to my feet. "tsankyou" he shouted. "no, tssssankyou" i replied.
Yan was sailing to italy that afternoon where he would begin his ride home. so we said goodbye over lunch and then dad ollie and i set off with the scots to montenegro.
the croatian border guards joked with all of us about not having papers for our bikes - dad's face was a picture when he thought he might be in some sort of trouble. - this changed to nervous smile when he realised it was a joke.
our first night in montenegro was spent in a dodgy looking park where we put our tents up in the shaddows and hoped that no trouble would come our way.
Day 42
Day 42 was a perfect cycle toring day with sublime scenery, a pefect host and an explosion!
It started disasterously when i found myself squating over a cafe toilet short of loo roll . my judgement over loo roll quantities is usually pretty good and i would have been fine if it hadn't been for a 'secondary movement'. not wishing to soil my cycling shorts i thought to myself what would bear grills do in this situation - and so i begun unravelling the loo roll tube as finely as i could and made do with that. it was rough as hell but got me out of a...sticky situation.
After this incident we said goodbye to the scotts who wanted to save themselves 20km by sailing across the kotor fjord. MISTAKE! the 20km ride around the fjord was undoubtably the most scenic riding of the trip so far. spectacular 1500m cliffs plunged into turqouise water, the roads were flat as a pancake and we refreshed ourselves with pomegramets that were growing alongside blooming purple flowers at the waters edge.
We then rode into Kotor town where i was met with a Bianca-esque RICKYYYYYYY from across the harbour. the scots hadn't got very far and it seemed that we were destined to spend another night with them. they set off up the 900m hill towards Montenegro's capital, Podgorica, agreeing to let us know if they found a decent campsite.
Dad Ollie and i then set about exploring the wonderful medievil citadel. Whilst in the main square ollie and i got talking to an american film maker. what happened next was riddiculous. i remember subconsciously registering that someone had come over and said "ok we're gonna do the explosion now" but i didn't take much notice. the next thing i knew there was an almighty bang and i was struck in the back by something. indeed i had been hit by shrapnel from a plant pot that had just been blown up from a 1st storey window. i genuinely felt shaken and all the film maker could say was "that was really f#cking dangerous!" we promptly left kotor and climbed the pass in evening sunlight. the fjord looked fantastic and the views only got better as the sun began to set over the adriatic.
We camped that night in the garden of a montenegran named alex. Alex was a fascinating character. he invited us inside for some grappa telling us that he was normally a drinking man but was on medication due to a recent car crash. the crash was a blessing in disguise for us as he was a big man and i wouldn't have wanted to feel obliged to keep up with him! he regailed us with tails of his life in the merchant navy, his time in britain where he fled as war broke out in his country and where he became montenegro's first rugby player after having a stint at london welsh. He was quite the wheeler dealer too with a real estate business, a hunting business and a gun importation business called barretta (i got a bit worried at this point) which he had had to set up after 9/11 when his hunter tourists could no longer bring their weapons with them. His sister, Svetlana Drugovic, is montenegros top artist and her work can be seen in the offices of the countries top officials. she even met the queen of england after winning a competition in london! he told us about the history of his country and talked frankly about "bullshit" wars and dodgy politicians. he warned us about bears, wolves and albanian bandits. it was an informative and entertaing evening, he'd been the perfect host!
Day 43
the next morning alex invited us in for eggs and more grappa. one to warm us and one for the road! an old girlfriend of his appeared on the morning news, "what the fuck, she was with me in london" he exclaimed.
we rode through deep autum colours towards Podgorica. the capital was unimpressive. an ugly soviet block type town so we left.
we had our final final night with the scots on the border with albania and dad put on feast of chocolate for us - which he had bought with euro coins he didn't wish to lug over albanian mountains.
Day 44
Day 44 was stressfull. we had planned a few days of big rides that would hopefully get us through the landmine infested north eastern albania unharmed. we all felt a little apprehensive before going to albania and the pressure was on dad who's fitness was inevitably not up to mine and ollies (as he hadnt just ridden 1800 miles), so tensions were high.
the morning started well though. after fixing dads 1st puncture of the day we crossed the border into albania and the culture shock was incredible. i couldn't believe that i was in still europe! hosre and carts were everywhere. children rode motorbikes. concrete bunkers dominated the landscape (known as mushrooms the defence obsessed former dictator had thousands of them built in every strategic position immaginable, there is one bunker for every 4 albanians!) the 'A' road we were on was as rough as a badgers arse, some tarmac, some track. the train tracks were used as sheparding highways. there was rubbish everywhere (it was like riding through a beautiful rubbish dump). the dogs were out of control and half of them lay dead by the road. livestock roamed free. it was absolute mayhem and i loved it. the people were exceptionally freindly and seemed just as fascinated by us as we were by them.
We weaved and dodged our way to Shkoda where the road to Kosovo turned away from the road to Tirrana. Shkoda was lively too. East met west and where churches sat next to mosques and call's to prayer could be heard over the top of dance tunes booming from boy racer cars.
We followed the road towards kosovo and people began to look more and more surprised that we were there. chow! they would yell. and ollie raced kids who were on scooters and on bicycles.
lunch however was very stressfull and set the tone for the rest of the day. we found a quiet spot in a provincial town and ollie went off to find a toilett. he returned having failed to find one, followed by a dozen boys who he left with dad and me whilst dissapearing to find a different loo. dad got another puncture and started dealing with that. slowly the boys surrounded us getting closer and closer until they were in my face and all over the gear. it was all i could do to make sure that nothing went missing form and my 2 eyes were not enough to watch over all of ollies, dads and my things. more boys arrived and i could feel myself getting panicky. dad wanted me to help him with his bike but i simply couldnt stop watching the bikes. ollie returned and we left quickly. dad thought that i had somehow had a relaxing lunch stop compared to his punture repairing 'ordeal' and made a sarky comment accordingly. i exploded at this and all the tensions i had felt in being surrounded flowed from my lips in a verbal tirade.
we were riding over tough mountain passes battered by winds that threated to blow us off our bikes and struggling to find somewhere to camp. we had been warned not to be on the roads after dark and after a long physically demanding day dad was struggling up a final set of switchbacks . i strapped one of his panniers over the top of mine and ollie sped off up a pass and fortunately found us somewhere out of sight to camp. unfortunately we had camped well short of where we had planned. This made it likely that we were not going to make it to the safety of a hotel the following evening, leaving us with the possibilty of having to camp in the Kukes region, a particularly iffy frontier area on the border with kosovo.
Day 45
we got up in the dark and were riding by the time the sun rose. the unrellenting winds continued to batter us and the pressure of needing somewhere safe to camp meant that tensions continued to run high. chilled by the wind we stopped in a cafe for a drink. the charming manager fixed us up some great coffee and we communicated by drawing little pictures on his note pad. he asked how much my bike was and not wishing to disclose the actual price i told him a conservative 100 euros. he quickly said that he would love to buy it at that price! we said goodbyes with hugs and hand shakes and pointed our bikes into the head wind once more. we began to feel optomistic about reaching kosovo and the hotel until we realised the maps we had (both of them) were wrong and that the hotel was actually about 15km further on than expected. with this we resigned ourselves to fate - which was just as well as dad said he was at his physical limit.
as the night began to close in on us shepherd boys walked their flocks home and lorry drivers gestured to their watches suggesting that this was no time for cyclists to be on the road! again there was no where that we could see that looked safe enough to camp and irrational fears about bandits began to kick in. i kept thinking about the foriegn office warning "we advise against all travel to the north east border areas (ie the district of kukes) between albania and kosovo because of the risk of unexploded ordnance...avoid traveling at night". we were in the district of kukes and traveling at night.
The fear got me in a praying mood and salvation came in the form of the Dedas family. as we began descending from the pass we stopped at a small farmstead, tentatively walked through two gates and knocked on their door. they were only too happy to let us put our tents up in their farm yard and they promptly set about bringing a light out so that we could see what we were doing. we then began cooking our supper but before the pasta was done we were invited insde for coffee and racki! Nicole senior, 75 years old and a former general in albania's communist army, was the patriarch of the family. he had six sons including Nestor who i spoke in broken spanish with, christian who helped us put up our tent and edward who made the coffee, 3 daughters were present, one son in law, Nicoles wife and his charming 4 year old grandson nicole junior. we spoke about his time in the communist army and the livestock he had on his farm. ollie and i made the mistake of accepting a ciggerette which meant that they were continually forced (in the nicest way possible) upon us the rest of the evening. they gave us the best seats right by the fire and bent over backwards to make sure we were comfortable. for example when dad sat on the floor to take his shoes off before entering the living room, edward was quick to give him a stool to do it from.
we dissapointed our hosts by returning to cook our supper but when we went outside we found that the dog had eaten all our food. "no problem" the Dedas said! they quickly set about putting together a grand albanian feast for us. Tirrana beer flowed and the women ate in a different room to the men. prime cuts of mutton were presented to us and i was utterly humbled by the whole experience. i went to bed that night knowing i had just had one of the best experiences of my life and feeling very privilaged to have seen the dynamics of such a tight albanian family in full hospitality mode.
Day 46
i felt like i had been on a heavy night out when dawn broke. my head pounded from the racki and my lungs felt like a chimney. the moment i emerged from my tent i was presented with a glass of warm milk. it seemed that the dedas were as un-relenting in their hospitality as the albanian wind had been in blowing in our faces for the previous two days! they gave us eggs and a tour of their lovely farm. the real highlight being nicoles homemade distillary where the racki was made!
sad as it was we had to leave and cross into Kosovo we promised to send them the photos that had been taken of the evening and the whole family posed for one fianl shot.
on the way to kosovo we stopped for lunch in a field beyond the town of kukes. i almost shat myself when a self loading shotgun went off above my head. unbeknown to us a man had spotted a pigeon in the field we were in, stopped his car, crept on to the bank above our heads and blown the thing away. i thought a mine might have gone off and felt edgy until the gun wielding gent strode across the field and picked up the pigeon. he walked back towards us said something to dad before dissappearing again. ollie noticed that the pigeon was still winking and this put me off my lunch more than the fright of gun shots!
we crossed the border and made it to Prizren in southern Kosovo. i got talking to some German Officers who there working for KOFOR, the UN force providing security in the country. "what do your parents thinks of you making a crazy tour all over the balkans?" he asked. i told him i had brought one of them with me!
That night we were privilaged to some fine kosovan hospitality in Besinis family resteraunt and then went to bed in a bed. which was great!
Day 47
Riding out of Prizren the following day it was a shock to see the burnt out buildings riddled with bullet holes and churches heavily guarded by KFOR troops. it brought home the reality of war and made me conscious of the instabilty in the region. we rode over another attractive pass and ended up staying in a hotel in strpce. Strpce was unusual as it was a serbian enclave and the serbian flag flew everywhere not the kosovan. we were welcomed into the hotel though and once again the hospitality shown to us was fantastic.
Day 48
Our hosts provided us with omlettes and racki for breakfast and i noticed that a group of truckers were already well tucked into the beer (this was at 8 am).
The weather got bleaker and bleaker until we were riding head on into snow and sleet. everything became wet and my hands and feet were frozen stiff! every garage we passed invited us in so that we might warm ourselves. at one garage we stopped and a man wound down his window and handed us three alcoholic energy drinks called 'dracula'. this powererd us on towards the macedonia. we stopped at a resteraunt on the border for one final dose of kosovan hospitality. they hung our wet things by the fire and made us as comfortable as we could be. drinks were on the house and the manager made it clear that he loved the british and americans for helping kosovo gain its independance. i told him that i was happy that he was happy about this and cheers errupted around the resteraunt!
we then crossed the border into macedonia and whizzed through skopje during rush hour.
so this is as far as im going to get with the blog tonight. sorry for the delay in letting you all know where i am. its currently day 58 and ollie and i are in istanbul. 2600 miles on the clock. hopefully i'll be able to fill in the blanks for you before setting off tomorrow.
best wishes!
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
split to dubrovnic.
Day 37
we woke to HEAVY rain and a thunderstorm. not wishing to venture out before we had to we had a lazy morning in our appartment, that was until our pesky host turned up to boot us out ten minutes early. ollie was still in the shower and was virtually chased out. we had various supplies to pick up before our boat sailed to vela luka, on the island of korcula. We got soaked in the process but whilst ollie was fetching food i was invited to take shelter in the tent of a market seller. from behind the counter of her place mat stall i watched the hustle and bustle of the market. it was dominated by women selling everything from pigs heads to succulent figues and their rauccaus shouting across the rainy street amused me as much as the cackles they gave off to the jokes i assumed they were telling. one old woman in particular caught my eye. she was dressed in a plastic bag and addidas football shoes that looked 10 sizes too big for her. i suspect that rather than being on her way to the local park for a kick about she had decided in good sense to wear her grandsons shoes to get soaked in.
our 3 hour sailing was rough as hell! i speak for myself in saying i didnt chunder and the other 4 guys claimed not to have thrown up but i did notice they all spent rather alot of time tooing and throwing from the vomit stenched toilet area. we arrived in the dark and the rain and with no one to ask where was free of landmines and safe to camp we (perhaps foolishly) put our tents down on the nearest bit of flat ground we could find.
Day 38
the tent flapped in my face all night as a storm raged outside but by the time morning arrived the weather had cleared enough to take breakfast outside. we rode on through the beautiful island, which was lush and green, and arrived in good time to catch our ferry from korcula to the mainland. apparrently marco polo was born in korcula so it felt right that our roaming adventure should pass through his home town.
Once back on the mainland we followed a scenic coastal road that petered out into a path that led to a tiny fishing village, called podbuce, where the route through seemed to stop on the harbour beach. Mr Villach was fishing from the tiny harbour walls and offered his assistance. he was an officer in the croatian navy and knew and loved devon from his days at dartmouth naval college. Of course i immediately took a liking to him! he found us a cracking place to put our tents. penned in by pine trees it was the only bit of flat ground for miles and had a cracking view over the sea. he told me the village was typically adriatic in its appearance and that many of the building had not changed for centurys. he then pointed to a series of smuggerlers caves in the cliffs behind the village in which he said the villagers used to hide their valubles from roaming pirates. it was certainly a special place.
Day 39
having packed up the tents ollie and i legged it down to the beach for a swim. the villagers looked at us like we were nutters but the water was beautifully warm. mr villach turned up in a camoflage wetsuit with the biggest spear gun ive ever seen (he was trully a creature of the sea i thought). he explained that to get out of the village and avoid retracing our steps we would have to push the bikes up an incredibally steep path to a track, which would remain a track for a few miles before becoming a road again! i might have been annoyed with yan's gps for leading us on this route but Podbuce is not a place i would have wanted to miss. ollie and i were joined in the water by bill and yan who both took great pleasure in diving off the habour walls. yan was particularly ellegent with his perfectly formed swan dives.
the riding was hard to start and sweat stung my eyes. The warm weather and vistas over the glistening sea towards the islands more than made up for the hard graft though. we hit the main road again which was a relief as my buttocks and bike wouldn't have taken much more of the tracks we were on.
we passed through Ston. a medievil with impressive walls that rolled on back into the hills like the great wall of china.
i came the closest ive been to a serious accident that afternoon. caught out by nasty pot hole the back end of my bike was thrown into the air. i stayed on but the pannier containg my tent went flying across the road towards oncoming traffic. Noble bill was quick to come to my assistance and grabbed the pannier but almost got hit by a bus in the process. the incident has shaken my confidence on the roads and i dare'nt travel too fast anymore.
That night we camped on the out skirts of Dubrovnick where our party of five gained a new member. MY DAD! he had come for adventure and was to be riding with ollie and me for the next 12 days.
Day 40
Rode early into dubrovnic. i felt strangely paternal watching dad. i was very worried about him on the exceptionaly hectic road. i told him to keep tighter to the side but he said he needed "wobble space". this concerned me. a lot!
Dubrovnic was increddible. the baroque buildings and marble streets had been all but completely destroyed by Yugolsav bombing but the city's inhabitants have painstakingly rebuilt it to former glory.
we rented another appartment which was refreshingly easy to do and russian free. we took our lunch down to the town beach and i was quick to get into the water. after swimming 20 meteres from the shore i turned and was shocked at what i saw. Now, i consider mysely almost too old to get embarrased by my parents but as dad strut down the beach in his y-fronts i couldn't help but begin to blush. in a rage a yelled at him to get at least waist deep immediately! then i just had to deal with him getting back out of the water.
That night our family of cyclists sat down to a feast complete with apple crumble, walnut lecure and a dad. afterwards, half cut, we wandered the streets of dubrovnic which were virtually tourist free. good times!
we woke to HEAVY rain and a thunderstorm. not wishing to venture out before we had to we had a lazy morning in our appartment, that was until our pesky host turned up to boot us out ten minutes early. ollie was still in the shower and was virtually chased out. we had various supplies to pick up before our boat sailed to vela luka, on the island of korcula. We got soaked in the process but whilst ollie was fetching food i was invited to take shelter in the tent of a market seller. from behind the counter of her place mat stall i watched the hustle and bustle of the market. it was dominated by women selling everything from pigs heads to succulent figues and their rauccaus shouting across the rainy street amused me as much as the cackles they gave off to the jokes i assumed they were telling. one old woman in particular caught my eye. she was dressed in a plastic bag and addidas football shoes that looked 10 sizes too big for her. i suspect that rather than being on her way to the local park for a kick about she had decided in good sense to wear her grandsons shoes to get soaked in.
our 3 hour sailing was rough as hell! i speak for myself in saying i didnt chunder and the other 4 guys claimed not to have thrown up but i did notice they all spent rather alot of time tooing and throwing from the vomit stenched toilet area. we arrived in the dark and the rain and with no one to ask where was free of landmines and safe to camp we (perhaps foolishly) put our tents down on the nearest bit of flat ground we could find.
Day 38
the tent flapped in my face all night as a storm raged outside but by the time morning arrived the weather had cleared enough to take breakfast outside. we rode on through the beautiful island, which was lush and green, and arrived in good time to catch our ferry from korcula to the mainland. apparrently marco polo was born in korcula so it felt right that our roaming adventure should pass through his home town.
Once back on the mainland we followed a scenic coastal road that petered out into a path that led to a tiny fishing village, called podbuce, where the route through seemed to stop on the harbour beach. Mr Villach was fishing from the tiny harbour walls and offered his assistance. he was an officer in the croatian navy and knew and loved devon from his days at dartmouth naval college. Of course i immediately took a liking to him! he found us a cracking place to put our tents. penned in by pine trees it was the only bit of flat ground for miles and had a cracking view over the sea. he told me the village was typically adriatic in its appearance and that many of the building had not changed for centurys. he then pointed to a series of smuggerlers caves in the cliffs behind the village in which he said the villagers used to hide their valubles from roaming pirates. it was certainly a special place.
Day 39
having packed up the tents ollie and i legged it down to the beach for a swim. the villagers looked at us like we were nutters but the water was beautifully warm. mr villach turned up in a camoflage wetsuit with the biggest spear gun ive ever seen (he was trully a creature of the sea i thought). he explained that to get out of the village and avoid retracing our steps we would have to push the bikes up an incredibally steep path to a track, which would remain a track for a few miles before becoming a road again! i might have been annoyed with yan's gps for leading us on this route but Podbuce is not a place i would have wanted to miss. ollie and i were joined in the water by bill and yan who both took great pleasure in diving off the habour walls. yan was particularly ellegent with his perfectly formed swan dives.
the riding was hard to start and sweat stung my eyes. The warm weather and vistas over the glistening sea towards the islands more than made up for the hard graft though. we hit the main road again which was a relief as my buttocks and bike wouldn't have taken much more of the tracks we were on.
we passed through Ston. a medievil with impressive walls that rolled on back into the hills like the great wall of china.
i came the closest ive been to a serious accident that afternoon. caught out by nasty pot hole the back end of my bike was thrown into the air. i stayed on but the pannier containg my tent went flying across the road towards oncoming traffic. Noble bill was quick to come to my assistance and grabbed the pannier but almost got hit by a bus in the process. the incident has shaken my confidence on the roads and i dare'nt travel too fast anymore.
That night we camped on the out skirts of Dubrovnick where our party of five gained a new member. MY DAD! he had come for adventure and was to be riding with ollie and me for the next 12 days.
Day 40
Rode early into dubrovnic. i felt strangely paternal watching dad. i was very worried about him on the exceptionaly hectic road. i told him to keep tighter to the side but he said he needed "wobble space". this concerned me. a lot!
Dubrovnic was increddible. the baroque buildings and marble streets had been all but completely destroyed by Yugolsav bombing but the city's inhabitants have painstakingly rebuilt it to former glory.
we rented another appartment which was refreshingly easy to do and russian free. we took our lunch down to the town beach and i was quick to get into the water. after swimming 20 meteres from the shore i turned and was shocked at what i saw. Now, i consider mysely almost too old to get embarrased by my parents but as dad strut down the beach in his y-fronts i couldn't help but begin to blush. in a rage a yelled at him to get at least waist deep immediately! then i just had to deal with him getting back out of the water.
That night our family of cyclists sat down to a feast complete with apple crumble, walnut lecure and a dad. afterwards, half cut, we wandered the streets of dubrovnic which were virtually tourist free. good times!
Friday, 23 October 2009
slovenia - split. 1700 miles
Day 30
We woke early in the slovenian vineyard we had pitched our tent and headed for the croatian border and the istrian peninsula. i noticed that the croatian border guard was looking at a photo of the national football team celebrating and i asked whether they had qualified for the world cup. he frowned at me and asked if i was from northern ireland. i told him i was english. he then muttered something to the other guards which im sure included an expletive and then told me that croatians had not qualified because of "f#cking rio ferdinand". i wasnt sure what this meant at the time but was glad to get my passport back in one piece. i later found out that croatia were out because england had lost to the ukraine, apparently due to a ferdinand mistake.
had a funny incident with a croatian man who had been a sailor and knew many british ports. he was trying to remember the name of the island next to britain. i suggested it might be ireland and he said "yes and island". i tried once more "do you mean ireland?" "i know its and island". after a while he was litterally shaking with confusion. he never quite worked it out but assured me he preffered wine to the black beer they drink there.
that afternoon we cut our lunch break short as we realised we had to race to catch a ferry to our first croatian island, cress. the port was over 25 miles away and beyond a big hill but feeling strong on the bikes after our alpine experience we nailed the distance in just over an hour and a half - just in time to see the ferry come in.
cres was amazing. the sun was setting beautifully over the peninsula beyond and we stopped early to camp and marvel at the skyline over a cup of camomile tea.
we were disturbed an hour later by another gun toting hunter. i had seen him coming but he looked rather shocked as he stuck his head over the wall of the field we were camped in.
Day 31
the next day we felt lothargic and slowly covered the miles we needed to get done on cress. we hit another port in the afternoon where the local fisherman were entertaining the people waiting for the ferry to krk by catching huge fish from the harbour walls.
we headed to krk to catch another ferry down to lopar on rab. whilst in the harbour our paths crossed with bill and gav, two lads from scotland who are riding their bikes down to athens. gav had just finished studdying in edinburgh and between that and cycle touring chat we struck up a firm friendship over beer on the hour long ferry south.
we arrived in lopar in the dark and were forced into our first stretch of night riding. all 4 of us camped together that night and we set off to our tent with a warning from the scots that they seem to attract alot of troble from cats.
at around 2am i was woken by the sound of a feline intruder attacking a rubbish bag which the scots had conveniently left at the foot of my tent. i got up and brought the rubbish into my tent.
at around 2.15am i was disturbed again and flashed my light into the porch of the tent to discover the shaddow of a cat trying to climb the outside of my EXPENSIVE tent. not wanting the cat to pierce the waterproof outer i got up and took the rubbish to the other end of the field.
2.30am. i was woken by the cat crawling into the porch.
2.31am. i hit a cat and as it scarpered i returned to my sleeping bag feeling fairly satisfied that it wouldnt be back.
at around 3am i woke to the smell of what i tought was cat poo. i lay there for a while and thought to myself that if that cat has done a shit in my porch then i will kill it. i got up to investigate the the stench that had invaded my nostrills and soon went back to bed concluding that ollie must have farted.
Day 32
all 4 of us rode south to the ferry port at the southern end of rab but as we hit the very bottom of the isalnd we were struck by winds that were so strong that we had to peddle hard downhill. the port was full of cars and coaches and when we went to buy our tickets we were told that no ships would be sailing today and that the road was closed on the mainland due to 150km per hour winds.
so trapped on the island we returned to the town of rab where we rented a very cheap appartment from a lovel family. in rab the sun shone and we were hidden from the wind so enjoyed a lovely afterrnoon walking around the old citadel and then sat down with a beer to watch a local football match. i really enjoyed the game and at the point at which we sat down the local team NK RAB were 2-0 down to Torbinna. they quickly stuck two in to bring things level and a third was added by the substitute striker with only ten minutes to go. he soon found himself burried beneath all 10 of his team mates which the 100 or so fans watching with delight. a fourth was added to finnish things at 4-2 to the local team and the shell suit wearing ciggerete smoking manager stepped on to the pitch to take his applause as the final whistle blew. it should be noted that this is the only place in croatia that ive not felt intimidated by tracksuit wearing men - indeed shellsuits in particular appear to be the uniform of local hard men.
day 33
we headed off again to the ferry port, although no one in town knew if it was sailing or felt optomistic that it would be. our efforts were not in vein though as the boat sailed much to our relief. we felt compelled to sneak on behind a lorry and out of sight from the police who we figured might be there to prevent cyclists using the roads on the mainland.
when on the mainland we were faced with exceptionally strong but also sporradic wind. the road was closed to buses and motorcylists but we pushed on undetected by the authorities. it felt pretty dangerous riding along and wind would often push us to the edge of the road where there were cliffs fell fatally bellow us.
we arrived at our next ferry port feeling a certain sense of achievement at having made it alive and on our way to Pag we met Yan, a german cycle tourist who was to join us for a while, building our ranks to 5.
Just off the ferry we startled 3 huge sea eagles who were eating something by the road. there wing span was huge!
Day 34
With the winds ebbing and 5 of us in the party the riding became fun again. we worked like a team in the tour de france switching lead riders, peddaling hard towards Zadar. on the way we passed our first minefields. the city of Zadar seemed to buyy though with plenty of students filling the bars and coffee houses at lunchtime.
The pace was too fast for me in the afternoon. a bit of a macho vibe struck us all and no one wanted to b e the one to slow the pace from the front. we did however cover 67 miles in four hours of riding that day!
We stopped that night to camp in a gorgeous olive grove. the owner was busy harvesting his olive. i tried one - it tasted terrible so i gave it a squeeze to see if oil would come out and it jettisoned into my eye! The floor of the olive grove was covered in wild rosemary and we spent the evening consumed by the scent.
Day 35
we took an inland road towards split that morning and found the interior to be less developed and full of more eastern european character.
we camped that night in an out of season campsite which was only 10m from the sea. Ollie, Yan and I took a dip and were pleased to find that the water was at least as warm as the brittish sea in summer.
Day 36
Day 36 was one that i am now glad that i can luagh about. the 5 of us rented an appartment on the black market only to find that it was riddled with hidden costs and a russian who had barricaded himself into the kitchen. we drove an exceptionally hard bargain to start with but after shaking on 100kn we set off to the appartment with our moustached host (he looked like wilson from home improvement). he stopped outside to tell us that to store the bike was going to cost an extra 100kn. we said no way and after pretending to walk off he let us in. we went upstairs to find that the appartment was to be unexpectedly shared with a paying austrailien and an unpaying russian who simply locked himself into the kitchen come bedroom. our host failed to reveal this issue until he had taken our money and charged us an extra 20kn for photocopying our passports. "it is a problem". he then both asked us and told us which time we would like to leave at the next morning - which was at 9am. i said that the only way we would be gone by then was if the russian was gone in 10 minutes. he said "ok ok, you leave at 11".
i began communicating with the russian in french and a freindship was struck. he let us in to cook some lunch. whilst enjoying our soup yan, ollie and i were confronted by the appartment owner who has just returned. "what" he raged. "You use kitchen, for 100kn this is not normall". feeling myself begin to boil i assured him that nothing was bloody normal about his flat.
Finally at 8 pm the russian left and we were left to enjoy our dinner that should "not normally" have been cooked in the kitchen.
off to vela luka now.
follow the scotts twitter on
www.twitter.com/a2acycle
We woke early in the slovenian vineyard we had pitched our tent and headed for the croatian border and the istrian peninsula. i noticed that the croatian border guard was looking at a photo of the national football team celebrating and i asked whether they had qualified for the world cup. he frowned at me and asked if i was from northern ireland. i told him i was english. he then muttered something to the other guards which im sure included an expletive and then told me that croatians had not qualified because of "f#cking rio ferdinand". i wasnt sure what this meant at the time but was glad to get my passport back in one piece. i later found out that croatia were out because england had lost to the ukraine, apparently due to a ferdinand mistake.
had a funny incident with a croatian man who had been a sailor and knew many british ports. he was trying to remember the name of the island next to britain. i suggested it might be ireland and he said "yes and island". i tried once more "do you mean ireland?" "i know its and island". after a while he was litterally shaking with confusion. he never quite worked it out but assured me he preffered wine to the black beer they drink there.
that afternoon we cut our lunch break short as we realised we had to race to catch a ferry to our first croatian island, cress. the port was over 25 miles away and beyond a big hill but feeling strong on the bikes after our alpine experience we nailed the distance in just over an hour and a half - just in time to see the ferry come in.
cres was amazing. the sun was setting beautifully over the peninsula beyond and we stopped early to camp and marvel at the skyline over a cup of camomile tea.
we were disturbed an hour later by another gun toting hunter. i had seen him coming but he looked rather shocked as he stuck his head over the wall of the field we were camped in.
Day 31
the next day we felt lothargic and slowly covered the miles we needed to get done on cress. we hit another port in the afternoon where the local fisherman were entertaining the people waiting for the ferry to krk by catching huge fish from the harbour walls.
we headed to krk to catch another ferry down to lopar on rab. whilst in the harbour our paths crossed with bill and gav, two lads from scotland who are riding their bikes down to athens. gav had just finished studdying in edinburgh and between that and cycle touring chat we struck up a firm friendship over beer on the hour long ferry south.
we arrived in lopar in the dark and were forced into our first stretch of night riding. all 4 of us camped together that night and we set off to our tent with a warning from the scots that they seem to attract alot of troble from cats.
at around 2am i was woken by the sound of a feline intruder attacking a rubbish bag which the scots had conveniently left at the foot of my tent. i got up and brought the rubbish into my tent.
at around 2.15am i was disturbed again and flashed my light into the porch of the tent to discover the shaddow of a cat trying to climb the outside of my EXPENSIVE tent. not wanting the cat to pierce the waterproof outer i got up and took the rubbish to the other end of the field.
2.30am. i was woken by the cat crawling into the porch.
2.31am. i hit a cat and as it scarpered i returned to my sleeping bag feeling fairly satisfied that it wouldnt be back.
at around 3am i woke to the smell of what i tought was cat poo. i lay there for a while and thought to myself that if that cat has done a shit in my porch then i will kill it. i got up to investigate the the stench that had invaded my nostrills and soon went back to bed concluding that ollie must have farted.
Day 32
all 4 of us rode south to the ferry port at the southern end of rab but as we hit the very bottom of the isalnd we were struck by winds that were so strong that we had to peddle hard downhill. the port was full of cars and coaches and when we went to buy our tickets we were told that no ships would be sailing today and that the road was closed on the mainland due to 150km per hour winds.
so trapped on the island we returned to the town of rab where we rented a very cheap appartment from a lovel family. in rab the sun shone and we were hidden from the wind so enjoyed a lovely afterrnoon walking around the old citadel and then sat down with a beer to watch a local football match. i really enjoyed the game and at the point at which we sat down the local team NK RAB were 2-0 down to Torbinna. they quickly stuck two in to bring things level and a third was added by the substitute striker with only ten minutes to go. he soon found himself burried beneath all 10 of his team mates which the 100 or so fans watching with delight. a fourth was added to finnish things at 4-2 to the local team and the shell suit wearing ciggerete smoking manager stepped on to the pitch to take his applause as the final whistle blew. it should be noted that this is the only place in croatia that ive not felt intimidated by tracksuit wearing men - indeed shellsuits in particular appear to be the uniform of local hard men.
day 33
we headed off again to the ferry port, although no one in town knew if it was sailing or felt optomistic that it would be. our efforts were not in vein though as the boat sailed much to our relief. we felt compelled to sneak on behind a lorry and out of sight from the police who we figured might be there to prevent cyclists using the roads on the mainland.
when on the mainland we were faced with exceptionally strong but also sporradic wind. the road was closed to buses and motorcylists but we pushed on undetected by the authorities. it felt pretty dangerous riding along and wind would often push us to the edge of the road where there were cliffs fell fatally bellow us.
we arrived at our next ferry port feeling a certain sense of achievement at having made it alive and on our way to Pag we met Yan, a german cycle tourist who was to join us for a while, building our ranks to 5.
Just off the ferry we startled 3 huge sea eagles who were eating something by the road. there wing span was huge!
Day 34
With the winds ebbing and 5 of us in the party the riding became fun again. we worked like a team in the tour de france switching lead riders, peddaling hard towards Zadar. on the way we passed our first minefields. the city of Zadar seemed to buyy though with plenty of students filling the bars and coffee houses at lunchtime.
The pace was too fast for me in the afternoon. a bit of a macho vibe struck us all and no one wanted to b e the one to slow the pace from the front. we did however cover 67 miles in four hours of riding that day!
We stopped that night to camp in a gorgeous olive grove. the owner was busy harvesting his olive. i tried one - it tasted terrible so i gave it a squeeze to see if oil would come out and it jettisoned into my eye! The floor of the olive grove was covered in wild rosemary and we spent the evening consumed by the scent.
Day 35
we took an inland road towards split that morning and found the interior to be less developed and full of more eastern european character.
we camped that night in an out of season campsite which was only 10m from the sea. Ollie, Yan and I took a dip and were pleased to find that the water was at least as warm as the brittish sea in summer.
Day 36
Day 36 was one that i am now glad that i can luagh about. the 5 of us rented an appartment on the black market only to find that it was riddled with hidden costs and a russian who had barricaded himself into the kitchen. we drove an exceptionally hard bargain to start with but after shaking on 100kn we set off to the appartment with our moustached host (he looked like wilson from home improvement). he stopped outside to tell us that to store the bike was going to cost an extra 100kn. we said no way and after pretending to walk off he let us in. we went upstairs to find that the appartment was to be unexpectedly shared with a paying austrailien and an unpaying russian who simply locked himself into the kitchen come bedroom. our host failed to reveal this issue until he had taken our money and charged us an extra 20kn for photocopying our passports. "it is a problem". he then both asked us and told us which time we would like to leave at the next morning - which was at 9am. i said that the only way we would be gone by then was if the russian was gone in 10 minutes. he said "ok ok, you leave at 11".
i began communicating with the russian in french and a freindship was struck. he let us in to cook some lunch. whilst enjoying our soup yan, ollie and i were confronted by the appartment owner who has just returned. "what" he raged. "You use kitchen, for 100kn this is not normall". feeling myself begin to boil i assured him that nothing was bloody normal about his flat.
Finally at 8 pm the russian left and we were left to enjoy our dinner that should "not normally" have been cooked in the kitchen.
off to vela luka now.
follow the scotts twitter on
www.twitter.com/a2acycle
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Day 27
Day 27 was one of those funny days where not much riding was done - i wrote the blog in viento vittoro whilst wearing nothing but a body warmer and skin tight trousers - i would normally opt for more formal attire but ollie and i had just had a diet coke moment stripping off all our cloths in a laundrette. the washing and blogging took around 5 hours and by the time we went to get food from a supermarket it was getting dark and we were both feeling anxious about finding somewhere to hide ourselves for the night. whilst ollie found our our supper inside i was approached by two very enthusisatic italiens called luccio and alberto, who took one look at our bikes and wanted to know everything. where were we going? where had we been? how much does it weigh? "complimente"! and crucially - where do you stay? It turned out that luccio had done some cycle touring and had been lucky enough to experience a strangers hosptality, and ollie and i in our helpless state represented his opportunity to live up to all that he had recieved before. he imediately threw himself into pulling strings and sorting us out with somewhrere "flat and green" to camp. before we knew it he had convinced alberto to put our bikes into his station waggon and given him instructions to follow him to the private tennis club! luccio then lepped into his fiat panda and sped off like he was in a warrio cart. we followed with alberto. after 5 minutes of winding back into viento vittoro and out the other side, we found ourselves somewhere that was indeed flat and green. luccio pointed to a sign saying no bikes and said "but for you is ok" and then pointed to where we could put our tent. he left with a promise to return in an hour where upon he would cook us a pasta shoota typical to the region!
when he returned he took us into the private members club where he sometimes helps out. some of the gentlemen, fresh from their games of tennis, looked shocked to see two dishevvled british cyclists in their midst. but luccio soon gained our acceptance - proudly telling them where we were going and that we would be camping opposite court one. he sat us down and a female waitress approached us. she told us what was available to eat and drink in italien and not wishing to feel anymore awkward than i already did i just repeated some of the words that i vaguely recognised and 10 minutes later i had some pasta ragu and a heineken in front of me! i looked in admirration at all of the trophies in the room and studdied the photographs hanging on the wall. an old boy pointed to one of a young tennis impressario and then indicated with a laugh that it was the middle aged man sat to his left. luccios enthusiaism was overwhelming and he examined our maps and reccomended roads. he then leant over the table and under his breath asked if we would like to take a shower. we finished our dinner and followed him into the private members wash room where he whispered "tell no one" and left us to covertly wash in something that resembled the gym changing rooms from south dartmoor community college. as the evening came to an end luccio pulled out the spirits. the grappa was great but i drank the gruesome ginsea in the same manner bruce parry might drink clotted cows blood. as a parting gift he gave us a bottle of homemade proseco. half cut we set off for a deep sleep, once again amazed at a strangers generosity.
Day 28
After a good mornings ride we stopped for a coffee and a cake in a bakery. Had a good chat with two attractive female bakers and thought we did a good job in presenting our machismo - "but why the pyramids" (said in a fair italien accent) "why not" (masculine english voice) "But why!?", "but why not" (with a shrug of the shoulders), "you crazy!". i then decided we had better leave as an expensive bakery is a dangerous place for two poor and hungry cyclists to hang out. so feeling like a great cycling adventurer i got up and left the shop to a series of "chow chow chows" but as i sat upon my trustee steed i lost my balance, failed to release my feet from my foot traps and proceeded to fall flat onto my side from a stationary position. this was all done infront of the shop window and i didnt dare look back to see what the ladies had made of it so i rode on quick with a bruised head/hip/leg/ego!
lunch was was rounded off nicely with luccios prosecco and we rode on towards the seeting sun, camping in some woods by one of the many canals that lead on towards vennice.
Day 29
Had a hard morning fighting a head wind as we rode into Trieste. Had our first sight of the adriatic sea and brewed coffee on a pontoon in a marina full of grand yachts. had to use the internet for the rather sobering task of locatiing the position of minefileds in croatia. the nature of the camping that we do puts us at a higher risk of encountering these disgusting relics of war. we then had great difficulty finding our way into slovenia. we were funnelled onto a motorway and then escaped it as soon as we could - a kind italien man, who was the splitting image of my uncle phil, then offered us a motorcycle escort to the border!
got to go now - not quite up to date with the blog (now in split, day 36) but weve a rather strange accomodation situation, as a 50 year old russian who is meant to be leaving the appartment we have rented has locked himself in the kitchen. ill let you know how this pans out!
Day 27 was one of those funny days where not much riding was done - i wrote the blog in viento vittoro whilst wearing nothing but a body warmer and skin tight trousers - i would normally opt for more formal attire but ollie and i had just had a diet coke moment stripping off all our cloths in a laundrette. the washing and blogging took around 5 hours and by the time we went to get food from a supermarket it was getting dark and we were both feeling anxious about finding somewhere to hide ourselves for the night. whilst ollie found our our supper inside i was approached by two very enthusisatic italiens called luccio and alberto, who took one look at our bikes and wanted to know everything. where were we going? where had we been? how much does it weigh? "complimente"! and crucially - where do you stay? It turned out that luccio had done some cycle touring and had been lucky enough to experience a strangers hosptality, and ollie and i in our helpless state represented his opportunity to live up to all that he had recieved before. he imediately threw himself into pulling strings and sorting us out with somewhrere "flat and green" to camp. before we knew it he had convinced alberto to put our bikes into his station waggon and given him instructions to follow him to the private tennis club! luccio then lepped into his fiat panda and sped off like he was in a warrio cart. we followed with alberto. after 5 minutes of winding back into viento vittoro and out the other side, we found ourselves somewhere that was indeed flat and green. luccio pointed to a sign saying no bikes and said "but for you is ok" and then pointed to where we could put our tent. he left with a promise to return in an hour where upon he would cook us a pasta shoota typical to the region!
when he returned he took us into the private members club where he sometimes helps out. some of the gentlemen, fresh from their games of tennis, looked shocked to see two dishevvled british cyclists in their midst. but luccio soon gained our acceptance - proudly telling them where we were going and that we would be camping opposite court one. he sat us down and a female waitress approached us. she told us what was available to eat and drink in italien and not wishing to feel anymore awkward than i already did i just repeated some of the words that i vaguely recognised and 10 minutes later i had some pasta ragu and a heineken in front of me! i looked in admirration at all of the trophies in the room and studdied the photographs hanging on the wall. an old boy pointed to one of a young tennis impressario and then indicated with a laugh that it was the middle aged man sat to his left. luccios enthusiaism was overwhelming and he examined our maps and reccomended roads. he then leant over the table and under his breath asked if we would like to take a shower. we finished our dinner and followed him into the private members wash room where he whispered "tell no one" and left us to covertly wash in something that resembled the gym changing rooms from south dartmoor community college. as the evening came to an end luccio pulled out the spirits. the grappa was great but i drank the gruesome ginsea in the same manner bruce parry might drink clotted cows blood. as a parting gift he gave us a bottle of homemade proseco. half cut we set off for a deep sleep, once again amazed at a strangers generosity.
Day 28
After a good mornings ride we stopped for a coffee and a cake in a bakery. Had a good chat with two attractive female bakers and thought we did a good job in presenting our machismo - "but why the pyramids" (said in a fair italien accent) "why not" (masculine english voice) "But why!?", "but why not" (with a shrug of the shoulders), "you crazy!". i then decided we had better leave as an expensive bakery is a dangerous place for two poor and hungry cyclists to hang out. so feeling like a great cycling adventurer i got up and left the shop to a series of "chow chow chows" but as i sat upon my trustee steed i lost my balance, failed to release my feet from my foot traps and proceeded to fall flat onto my side from a stationary position. this was all done infront of the shop window and i didnt dare look back to see what the ladies had made of it so i rode on quick with a bruised head/hip/leg/ego!
lunch was was rounded off nicely with luccios prosecco and we rode on towards the seeting sun, camping in some woods by one of the many canals that lead on towards vennice.
Day 29
Had a hard morning fighting a head wind as we rode into Trieste. Had our first sight of the adriatic sea and brewed coffee on a pontoon in a marina full of grand yachts. had to use the internet for the rather sobering task of locatiing the position of minefileds in croatia. the nature of the camping that we do puts us at a higher risk of encountering these disgusting relics of war. we then had great difficulty finding our way into slovenia. we were funnelled onto a motorway and then escaped it as soon as we could - a kind italien man, who was the splitting image of my uncle phil, then offered us a motorcycle escort to the border!
got to go now - not quite up to date with the blog (now in split, day 36) but weve a rather strange accomodation situation, as a 50 year old russian who is meant to be leaving the appartment we have rented has locked himself in the kitchen. ill let you know how this pans out!
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