This blog was created to send some "virtual postcards" during a European cycling tour from June to September 2005. You can read the blog entries by following the archive links on the left of this page. Use the links below to view a map of the journey and a selection of photographs from the trip.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Take the long way round
I've been back home for a couple of weeks now, so I thought I should post a brief message to round this off. I wasn't sure how it would work, but several people have told me they enjoyed reading the blog. Thanks very much to everyone who had a look and thanks also for the comments that were posted.
The trip wasn't a life changing experience, and I haven't come out of it with any deep personal insights, but I didn't expect that anyway. I enjoy cycling, seeing new places and eating lots of interesting food, so a 3 month cycle touring holiday through unknown territory that required a large energy input ticked all the boxes, and it was just as much fun as I hoped it would be.
I skimmed through most places fairly quickly, and I could have spent 3 months in any one of the 17 countries I passed through. Even as a superficial tourist, I feel like I've learnt a wee bit more about the history and geography of some places that I previously lumped together under the fuzzy heading of 'Eastern Europe'.
A lot of people asked me if I had any trouble travelling alone in places that have a bit of a 'reputation'(usually undeserved and based on hearsay). I can honestly say that everyone I met on the trip was really friendly and helpful, and I never had any hassle or felt threatened. Well, almost; I'm sorry to say that I was on the receiving end of a lengthy and vicious expletive-filled tirade in my own home town of Lochmaben, when I politely asked someone to stop messing around with my bike. Who says that Scotland is not the most violent nation in the developed world?
Getting back into my old routine now, and thinking about seeking gainful employment again (ouch). If you have any tips on Java contract development work (or other interesting work ideas) feel free to drop me an email at ken@krussell.co.uk.
And finally, I've posted a selection of photographs taken during the trip on my website.
Cheers!
The trip wasn't a life changing experience, and I haven't come out of it with any deep personal insights, but I didn't expect that anyway. I enjoy cycling, seeing new places and eating lots of interesting food, so a 3 month cycle touring holiday through unknown territory that required a large energy input ticked all the boxes, and it was just as much fun as I hoped it would be.
I skimmed through most places fairly quickly, and I could have spent 3 months in any one of the 17 countries I passed through. Even as a superficial tourist, I feel like I've learnt a wee bit more about the history and geography of some places that I previously lumped together under the fuzzy heading of 'Eastern Europe'.
A lot of people asked me if I had any trouble travelling alone in places that have a bit of a 'reputation'(usually undeserved and based on hearsay). I can honestly say that everyone I met on the trip was really friendly and helpful, and I never had any hassle or felt threatened. Well, almost; I'm sorry to say that I was on the receiving end of a lengthy and vicious expletive-filled tirade in my own home town of Lochmaben, when I politely asked someone to stop messing around with my bike. Who says that Scotland is not the most violent nation in the developed world?
Getting back into my old routine now, and thinking about seeking gainful employment again (ouch). If you have any tips on Java contract development work (or other interesting work ideas) feel free to drop me an email at ken@krussell.co.uk.
And finally, I've posted a selection of photographs taken during the trip on my website.
Cheers!
Monday, September 12, 2005
Lochmaben, Scotland
Back in the UK, swapping artisan boulangeries for Greggs the Bakers, the right of the road for the left (mostly) and balmy Continental weather for gale force winds, rain and a landslide.
It was a pleasant run up the coast to Cherbourg, despite catching a local racer and becoming embroiled in a “Duo Normand” two up time trial for about 30km. I had a day to kill before catching the ferry to Poole, and it turned out that there wasn’t too much happening on Cherbourg on a Sunday. One of the few attractions open was “La Cite de la Mer”, which features a tour around the decommissioned nuclear submarine Redoubtable. The day before I had been reading some of the personal accounts of the desperate hand to hand fighting following the D-Day landing. It was a striking contrast to stand in the missile compartment of Redoubtable and contrast these stories with late 20th century warfare, where the 16 ballistic missiles on one submarine could deliver a greater explosive payload than the total ordnance deployed in WWI and WWII combined.
The crossing to Poole next day was uneventful, but slightly slower than expected due to engine trouble on the ferry, and the afternoon found me pedalling north into the Downs on roads made unpleasant by fast, heavy traffic. My destination was Bristol, a mini Coventry CC reunion (2 former members) with my friend Gez, and the first curry I had eaten for several months (excellent).
Heading up the Avon gorge under Brunel’s superb suspension bridge I stumbled upon a Sustrans route leading over the Severn Bridge into Wales, which I ended up following the for the next couple of days. This turned out to be a fantastic route through south and mid Wales, following obscure (and frequently steep) single track roads on which one rarely saw a car. One of the highlights was the view across the Wye valley from the top of Gospel Pass.
I knew the fine weather that had followed me across the channel couldn’t last, and the cloud and rain rolled in as I cycled out of Langollen over the Horseshoe Pass and down to the Wirral. I wasn’t looking forward to this part of the trip, as the roads on my map looked like a nest of coiling snakes, and there was no easy way of getting through the Mersey conurbation. Birkenhead and Liverpool didn’t impress me as being very cycle-friendly, and I was stopped at the entrance to the Wallasey Tunnel by the police and turned back (apparently there are “byelaws” and the “fumes are so bad they would kill you”). I fell back on the Mersey ferry, which was actually a nice wee sail past some of the city’s landmarks (even if they do play Gerry and the Pacemakers on the tannoy system as you dock in Liverpool).
The journey north from Liverpool didn’t have much to recommend it (apologies to to Ormskirk and Preston) from a cycling point of view. My useless map basically told me that Scotland was to the north of England, and didn’t have enough detail to allow me to investigate alternative routes off the main roads.
My last campsite was just off the A6 south of Lancaster, and the pitch was under a huge electricity pylon whose cables buzzed ominously in the damp air. The next morning Radio 4 were predicting “more autumnal” weather with some rain and isolated thunderstorms. They didn’t have time to devote any more detail to the weather in “the north” because most of the weather forecast appeared to be centred on a small patch of grass in the south of England where some blokes were apparently playing cricket. I could see the autumnal zephyrs bending the side of my tent as I ate breakfast with the rain lashing down outside. Things didn’t improve as I headed for the border-lands through gusting gale force winds (I came across the aftermath of two car accidents before lunchtime) culminating in a landslide blocking the road just south of Tebay. Fortunately, although this stopped various fat SUVs and 4WDs in their tracks, it was no obstacle to the bike, and I was able to continue on my way with only slightly muddy feet.
By now I was just forging on in an attempt to get across the high moors around Shap and out of the wind and rain. Stopping only briefly for food, I churned north, fuelled by a dangerous mixture of cheap sugars, refined flour and hydrogenated vegetable fat.
The wind finally swung behind me a bit as I passed through rush-hour Carlisle and crossed the border at Gretna, back into my home patch of Annandale and Eskdale.
I’ve now had a relaxing few days at my parents’ in Lochmaben, eating too much, watching TV and enjoying the luxury of not having to pack everything within the confines of a one-man tent. Last day tomorrow, back up the road to (sunny, surely?) East Calder.
It was a pleasant run up the coast to Cherbourg, despite catching a local racer and becoming embroiled in a “Duo Normand” two up time trial for about 30km. I had a day to kill before catching the ferry to Poole, and it turned out that there wasn’t too much happening on Cherbourg on a Sunday. One of the few attractions open was “La Cite de la Mer”, which features a tour around the decommissioned nuclear submarine Redoubtable. The day before I had been reading some of the personal accounts of the desperate hand to hand fighting following the D-Day landing. It was a striking contrast to stand in the missile compartment of Redoubtable and contrast these stories with late 20th century warfare, where the 16 ballistic missiles on one submarine could deliver a greater explosive payload than the total ordnance deployed in WWI and WWII combined.
The crossing to Poole next day was uneventful, but slightly slower than expected due to engine trouble on the ferry, and the afternoon found me pedalling north into the Downs on roads made unpleasant by fast, heavy traffic. My destination was Bristol, a mini Coventry CC reunion (2 former members) with my friend Gez, and the first curry I had eaten for several months (excellent).
Heading up the Avon gorge under Brunel’s superb suspension bridge I stumbled upon a Sustrans route leading over the Severn Bridge into Wales, which I ended up following the for the next couple of days. This turned out to be a fantastic route through south and mid Wales, following obscure (and frequently steep) single track roads on which one rarely saw a car. One of the highlights was the view across the Wye valley from the top of Gospel Pass.
I knew the fine weather that had followed me across the channel couldn’t last, and the cloud and rain rolled in as I cycled out of Langollen over the Horseshoe Pass and down to the Wirral. I wasn’t looking forward to this part of the trip, as the roads on my map looked like a nest of coiling snakes, and there was no easy way of getting through the Mersey conurbation. Birkenhead and Liverpool didn’t impress me as being very cycle-friendly, and I was stopped at the entrance to the Wallasey Tunnel by the police and turned back (apparently there are “byelaws” and the “fumes are so bad they would kill you”). I fell back on the Mersey ferry, which was actually a nice wee sail past some of the city’s landmarks (even if they do play Gerry and the Pacemakers on the tannoy system as you dock in Liverpool).
The journey north from Liverpool didn’t have much to recommend it (apologies to to Ormskirk and Preston) from a cycling point of view. My useless map basically told me that Scotland was to the north of England, and didn’t have enough detail to allow me to investigate alternative routes off the main roads.
My last campsite was just off the A6 south of Lancaster, and the pitch was under a huge electricity pylon whose cables buzzed ominously in the damp air. The next morning Radio 4 were predicting “more autumnal” weather with some rain and isolated thunderstorms. They didn’t have time to devote any more detail to the weather in “the north” because most of the weather forecast appeared to be centred on a small patch of grass in the south of England where some blokes were apparently playing cricket. I could see the autumnal zephyrs bending the side of my tent as I ate breakfast with the rain lashing down outside. Things didn’t improve as I headed for the border-lands through gusting gale force winds (I came across the aftermath of two car accidents before lunchtime) culminating in a landslide blocking the road just south of Tebay. Fortunately, although this stopped various fat SUVs and 4WDs in their tracks, it was no obstacle to the bike, and I was able to continue on my way with only slightly muddy feet.
By now I was just forging on in an attempt to get across the high moors around Shap and out of the wind and rain. Stopping only briefly for food, I churned north, fuelled by a dangerous mixture of cheap sugars, refined flour and hydrogenated vegetable fat.
The wind finally swung behind me a bit as I passed through rush-hour Carlisle and crossed the border at Gretna, back into my home patch of Annandale and Eskdale.
I’ve now had a relaxing few days at my parents’ in Lochmaben, eating too much, watching TV and enjoying the luxury of not having to pack everything within the confines of a one-man tent. Last day tomorrow, back up the road to (sunny, surely?) East Calder.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Utah Beach, France
I'm on the Normandy coach at Utah Beach, where 836 000 Allied troops came ashore in the D-Day landings, and making a special effort to type legibly today.
It has been an enjoyable run across Normandy under blue skies on quiet roads through a rolling landscape of low hills covered in fields and forest. The hedgerows are groaning with brambles, which have provided a tasty dessert for the last couple of evening meals. I've covered some big distances, and have sometimes felt tempted to slow down and take my time more, but when the riding is as good as this it's a shame not to make the most of it.
There is a huge D-Day industry along the coast here, with lots of historical sites and museums. This morning I stopped to visit Dead Man's Corner museum, scene of some key fighting to establish the route inland from the beach. It gained it's name when one of the leading US tanks was destroyed by German anti-tank fire. The body of the tank commander was left sitting in the turret for several days, and the location became known as the "corner with the dead guy in the tank".
On to Cherbourg this afternoon, and hopefully a ferry across the channel tomorrow.
It has been an enjoyable run across Normandy under blue skies on quiet roads through a rolling landscape of low hills covered in fields and forest. The hedgerows are groaning with brambles, which have provided a tasty dessert for the last couple of evening meals. I've covered some big distances, and have sometimes felt tempted to slow down and take my time more, but when the riding is as good as this it's a shame not to make the most of it.
There is a huge D-Day industry along the coast here, with lots of historical sites and museums. This morning I stopped to visit Dead Man's Corner museum, scene of some key fighting to establish the route inland from the beach. It gained it's name when one of the leading US tanks was destroyed by German anti-tank fire. The body of the tank commander was left sitting in the turret for several days, and the location became known as the "corner with the dead guy in the tank".
On to Cherbourg this afternoon, and hopefully a ferry across the channel tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Preuilly-sur-Claise, France
Qpologies for the typing: In q fit of culturql independence; the French hqve shuffled qll the keys qround on their keyboqrds; qnd it tqkes forever if I hqve to go bqck qnd correct my touch typing every fez keystrokes; so I'm just going to touch type qnd be dqmned:
Since my lqst post I hqve trqvelled deeper into the heqrt of Frqnce through q fqscinqting rqnge of chqnging scenery:
Descending out of the high Qlps qnd pqssing through Grenoble; I cli,bed up into the Vercors; a bequtiful high plqteou incised with huge river gorges; From Villard de Lans it was q tough ride through the gorges qnd over the Col de lq Machine, where the road contours through q series of rock qrches qbove q precipitous cliff fqce: The huge cliffs qnd flqt forested plqtequ tops hqve q reql "Conqn Doyle's Lost World" feel, which was enhqnced by the low cloud hqnging over the peqks.
Qfter crossing the Col de Lq Bqttqile; qt 1300m, I hqd a long descent to cross the Rhone qt Valance, watching huge cqrgo bqrges being shunted up river.
West of the Rhone I hqd q long; grqduql climb into the Ardeche; qffording q final viez of the Alps to the eqst; The countryside was q bit reminiscent of Scotlqnd qs I heqded into the Haute Loire; This was partly becquse of the brqcken qnd broom covering the hillside, but mqinly becquse of the blqnk grey horizon qnd the icy rqin thqt begqn to fqll qs I heqded for Le Puy en Velay. Empty legs qnd long drqgging climbs contributed to q pretty miserqble days riding: However, by the time I reqched Le Puy, the sun wqs out qgqin; Le Puy is dominqted by q couple of huge volcqnic plugs, the smqller of which hqs q smqll church perched precqriously on top of it; the lqrger hill contqins the old town qnd the unusual cathedrql: Begun in the 11th century, it was extended in the 12th by cantilevering a huge new entrqnce out from the hillside over q 17m drop. The cqthedrql qnd town gqined q lot of weqlth when the locql bishop creqted the 1600km pilgrimqge route from Le Puy to Compostello in Spqin.
My route from Le Puy forged deeper into the Hqute Loire qnd Haute Allier to Murat, on bequtiful quiet roqds through high cqttle country. I hqd to keep reminding myself thqt I wqs still cycling qt qn qltitude of qround 1000m qll the way qcross the plqteau.
North of Murat I tqckled the lqst of the big hills, climbing into the Volcanoes of the Auvergne. This was one of those days where you feel hyper aware of all the sights and sounds around you. As I climbed up the long curving arm of the valley towards Puy Mary under q flawless blue Auvergne sky, I could heqr the cow bells jqngling in the valley fqr below, see the bees busy in the wild flowers qt the edge of the roqd qnd heqr the songs of individuql grqsshoppers qpproqching qnd receding qs I cycled pqst.
The Auvergne hqs provided some of the finest cycling of the trip; bequtiful sun dqppled bqck roqds running through tunnels of trees, qlmost devoid of trqffic, qnd sleeply little villqges where you cqn buy q bqguette qnd some cheese for q picnic lunch next to a quiet lqke. Still pretty hilly, pqrticulqrly qround the Dordogne Gorge; but fqntqstic country nonetheless.
I cqn noz feel the terrqain flqttening out qnd the temperqture rising qs I finqlly leqve the hills behind qnd roll out towqrds the plqins of the Loire. I'm plotting q course for Normqndy qnd the Chqnnel ports over the next few days, aiming to cqtch q ferry bqck to the south of Englqnd.
Since my lqst post I hqve trqvelled deeper into the heqrt of Frqnce through q fqscinqting rqnge of chqnging scenery:
Descending out of the high Qlps qnd pqssing through Grenoble; I cli,bed up into the Vercors; a bequtiful high plqteou incised with huge river gorges; From Villard de Lans it was q tough ride through the gorges qnd over the Col de lq Machine, where the road contours through q series of rock qrches qbove q precipitous cliff fqce: The huge cliffs qnd flqt forested plqtequ tops hqve q reql "Conqn Doyle's Lost World" feel, which was enhqnced by the low cloud hqnging over the peqks.
Qfter crossing the Col de Lq Bqttqile; qt 1300m, I hqd a long descent to cross the Rhone qt Valance, watching huge cqrgo bqrges being shunted up river.
West of the Rhone I hqd q long; grqduql climb into the Ardeche; qffording q final viez of the Alps to the eqst; The countryside was q bit reminiscent of Scotlqnd qs I heqded into the Haute Loire; This was partly becquse of the brqcken qnd broom covering the hillside, but mqinly becquse of the blqnk grey horizon qnd the icy rqin thqt begqn to fqll qs I heqded for Le Puy en Velay. Empty legs qnd long drqgging climbs contributed to q pretty miserqble days riding: However, by the time I reqched Le Puy, the sun wqs out qgqin; Le Puy is dominqted by q couple of huge volcqnic plugs, the smqller of which hqs q smqll church perched precqriously on top of it; the lqrger hill contqins the old town qnd the unusual cathedrql: Begun in the 11th century, it was extended in the 12th by cantilevering a huge new entrqnce out from the hillside over q 17m drop. The cqthedrql qnd town gqined q lot of weqlth when the locql bishop creqted the 1600km pilgrimqge route from Le Puy to Compostello in Spqin.
My route from Le Puy forged deeper into the Hqute Loire qnd Haute Allier to Murat, on bequtiful quiet roqds through high cqttle country. I hqd to keep reminding myself thqt I wqs still cycling qt qn qltitude of qround 1000m qll the way qcross the plqteau.
North of Murat I tqckled the lqst of the big hills, climbing into the Volcanoes of the Auvergne. This was one of those days where you feel hyper aware of all the sights and sounds around you. As I climbed up the long curving arm of the valley towards Puy Mary under q flawless blue Auvergne sky, I could heqr the cow bells jqngling in the valley fqr below, see the bees busy in the wild flowers qt the edge of the roqd qnd heqr the songs of individuql grqsshoppers qpproqching qnd receding qs I cycled pqst.
The Auvergne hqs provided some of the finest cycling of the trip; bequtiful sun dqppled bqck roqds running through tunnels of trees, qlmost devoid of trqffic, qnd sleeply little villqges where you cqn buy q bqguette qnd some cheese for q picnic lunch next to a quiet lqke. Still pretty hilly, pqrticulqrly qround the Dordogne Gorge; but fqntqstic country nonetheless.
I cqn noz feel the terrqain flqttening out qnd the temperqture rising qs I finqlly leqve the hills behind qnd roll out towqrds the plqins of the Loire. I'm plotting q course for Normqndy qnd the Chqnnel ports over the next few days, aiming to cqtch q ferry bqck to the south of Englqnd.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Bourg d'Osians, France
I feel a bit like someone gave me the luxury assortment box of mountain passes for Christmas, I scoffed the lot at one go and now I feel a bit queasy and all I'm good for is lying on the couch and watching the Great Escape. No let up in the hills since my last post - they've just got bigger and tougher.
From Livigno, I climbed over the Forcula and Bernina, taking a brief detour into Switzerland via St Moritz before a long downhill ride back into Italy and Lake Como. I thought I had found a nice quiet campsite with great views of the mountains at the head of the lake. Unfortunately it was entertainment night in the campsite over the fence, and I was forced to endure alternate Italian pop ballads and English language covers, all done Bontempi organ style. By 1 am, we'd had "Walk of Life", "Cocaine", "People Are Strange", "No Woman, No Cry", "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For", "Barbara Ann", "Jonny B Good" and "YMCA". I finally put on the headphones and blotted it out with some Boards of Canada, so I missed the big finale, but I'd put money on "Take My Breath Away".
From Como I headed north again via Lugano and Locarno, via some busy and forgettable roads, to climb the Simplon pass back into Switzerland. The Simplon was a long grind which I started late in the day, and it started to rain as I plodded to the top. With about 7km to go I came across a cyclist sheltering inside one of the long avalanche shelters that line the road for several km. He grinned and shouted "Chapeu" as I passed, then muttered something about "telephoner a taxi". Sure enough, a few km later, a taxi passed me with a bike in the back. I crested the pass at 7:30 and descended to a wet campsite at Brig.
By coincidence, I was in Switzerland just at the right time for the Grand Raid Cristalp, a mountainbike marathon of 130km that takes in 4500m of climbing. I cycled down the Sion valley and climbed up to the start at Verbier, where I met up with Edinburgh RC team mate Rob Waller, who was riding the event. It was good to catch up on his news, but unfortunately the rain started to fall torrentially on the eve of the event and continued for much of the next day, confining me to the tent, and leading to a truncated race due to fresh snow on the highest part of the course.
Saying farewell to Rob the next day, I headed over the Grand St Bernard pass in the pouring rain and low cloud, into France. I can tell you it is all hype, and there are no cuddly big dogs waiting to dispense reviving beverages or give a toiling cyclist a push. The only consolation was that things dried out a bit the next day, giving fine views of the Mont Blanc massif as I climbed the wee St Bernard into France, passing a couple of people skiing up the hill on nordic road skis.
The day wasn't over, however, and after lunch I had a 36km hike up and over the Col de L'Iseran. The mountains here are on a scale unlike anything else I've encountered on the trip - huge bare peaks capped with snow and glaciers.
I'm almost out of the high Alps, but I've finished in style today with the classic Tour de France doulbe climb of the Col de Telegraphe and Col de Galibier. This is certainly the toughest climb I have tackled, and a magnet for cyclists. The summit lives up to the climb, with incredible frost shattered fluted pillars and views across endless mountains and the glacier above the Col de Lauteret.
There is still plenty climbing to come, but my legs are a good couple of cm shorter than they were before I entered Italy, so I'm ready for a rest from the big stuff.
From Livigno, I climbed over the Forcula and Bernina, taking a brief detour into Switzerland via St Moritz before a long downhill ride back into Italy and Lake Como. I thought I had found a nice quiet campsite with great views of the mountains at the head of the lake. Unfortunately it was entertainment night in the campsite over the fence, and I was forced to endure alternate Italian pop ballads and English language covers, all done Bontempi organ style. By 1 am, we'd had "Walk of Life", "Cocaine", "People Are Strange", "No Woman, No Cry", "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For", "Barbara Ann", "Jonny B Good" and "YMCA". I finally put on the headphones and blotted it out with some Boards of Canada, so I missed the big finale, but I'd put money on "Take My Breath Away".
From Como I headed north again via Lugano and Locarno, via some busy and forgettable roads, to climb the Simplon pass back into Switzerland. The Simplon was a long grind which I started late in the day, and it started to rain as I plodded to the top. With about 7km to go I came across a cyclist sheltering inside one of the long avalanche shelters that line the road for several km. He grinned and shouted "Chapeu" as I passed, then muttered something about "telephoner a taxi". Sure enough, a few km later, a taxi passed me with a bike in the back. I crested the pass at 7:30 and descended to a wet campsite at Brig.
By coincidence, I was in Switzerland just at the right time for the Grand Raid Cristalp, a mountainbike marathon of 130km that takes in 4500m of climbing. I cycled down the Sion valley and climbed up to the start at Verbier, where I met up with Edinburgh RC team mate Rob Waller, who was riding the event. It was good to catch up on his news, but unfortunately the rain started to fall torrentially on the eve of the event and continued for much of the next day, confining me to the tent, and leading to a truncated race due to fresh snow on the highest part of the course.
Saying farewell to Rob the next day, I headed over the Grand St Bernard pass in the pouring rain and low cloud, into France. I can tell you it is all hype, and there are no cuddly big dogs waiting to dispense reviving beverages or give a toiling cyclist a push. The only consolation was that things dried out a bit the next day, giving fine views of the Mont Blanc massif as I climbed the wee St Bernard into France, passing a couple of people skiing up the hill on nordic road skis.
The day wasn't over, however, and after lunch I had a 36km hike up and over the Col de L'Iseran. The mountains here are on a scale unlike anything else I've encountered on the trip - huge bare peaks capped with snow and glaciers.
I'm almost out of the high Alps, but I've finished in style today with the classic Tour de France doulbe climb of the Col de Telegraphe and Col de Galibier. This is certainly the toughest climb I have tackled, and a magnet for cyclists. The summit lives up to the climb, with incredible frost shattered fluted pillars and views across endless mountains and the glacier above the Col de Lauteret.
There is still plenty climbing to come, but my legs are a good couple of cm shorter than they were before I entered Italy, so I'm ready for a rest from the big stuff.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Livigno, Italy
Today's headlines:
Slovenia, Slovenia, the wettest place I've ever been, yeah.
Italy - one damn pass after another.
I had a nice run from Ljubljana to the Bohinj valley, with the sun shining, and a lovely wee pass through the hills with fine views of the Sava valley. The route passed through Bled, which looks like it was designed by Walt Disney, with a dinky castle perched above a lake on a jutting promontory of rock, and a little church on an island in the middle of the lake.
I camped next to Lake Bohinj, with views of the mountains around Mount Triglav, Slovenia's highest peak. Unfortunately it was raining next morning, but when things cleared up I did a wee hike up to one of the mountain cabins and across to the Crno Jezera (Black Lake). When you've been brought up on Scottish hillwalking, and are used to stumbling about in the mist following a compass and eating soggy sandwiches while sheltering from the rain behind a boulder, continental hill walking takes a bit of getting used to. However, neatly maintained tracks with little signposts and waymarkers, and multi-storey mountain huts with sleeping accommodation and nice restaurants serving tasty hot food at the top of the climb does have it's advantages.
Upon descending to the valley, the rain started again, and continued through to the middle of the next day. confined to the tent next morning I realised to my horror that I was pitched next to the camp guitar strummer. Every campsite seems to have one of these guys noodling away at random riffs all day. As he launched into the intro to "Stairway to Heaven" I decided it was time to pack up and leave.
I cycled out of Bohinj in pouring rain, but things dried up a bit on the other side of the hills, and the sun was out as I tackled the Vrsic pass, a sustained 11km climb with sections of 14%. I pressed on through spectacular scenery, descending into a narrow valley with an incredible milky-green mountain river, and climbing another big pass to the Italian border. I just made it into Italy as the legs started to bend and a nice wild camping spot next to Lake Predil.
Since then, I have been taking a slightly circuitous route through the Italian mountains. The Dolomites have really amazed me, with the most amazing scenery that I have encountered on the trip. There has hardly been a kilometre where I haven't been cycling beneath huge pinnacled ridges or climbing a pass with spectacular views of the endless mountains. The passes have just been continous - Sella Nevea, Sappada, Kreuzberg, Hohlenstein, Falzarego, Grodner Joch, Stelvio, Foscago, and probably some minor ones that I haven't noted. The roads have been very busy with holiday traffic, with traffic jams on a couple of the climbs.
Today I climbed the Stelvio, which was an absolute brute. I had been climbing hard for half an hour before I reached the first of the 48 (count em) marked hairpins leading to the summit. I saw more cyclists on the climb than on any other road on the trip, proving we're all masochists at heart. The road climbed up beneath forbidding rock filled cols with the crevassed snouts of glaciers hanging over the lips, and the tops of the peaks lost in the cloud. The Italians really do build some fine roads, and the descent on the other side was a masterpiece of fast downhill and beautifully cambered hairpins that the bike slipped round as if on rails. Possibly the finest descent I've ever come across.
I am now camped in Livigno, which is exempted from EU tax, and has border checkpoints, although it is part of Italy. It gained its odd status in 1910, because it was unreachable for 6 months of the year due to snow. They are currently gearing up to host the MTB world championships in a couple of weeks.
Tomorrow I am planning a brief detour into Switzerland, and then heading south towards Lake Como, but there's plenty of painful leg bashing to come in the Alps.
Slovenia, Slovenia, the wettest place I've ever been, yeah.
Italy - one damn pass after another.
I had a nice run from Ljubljana to the Bohinj valley, with the sun shining, and a lovely wee pass through the hills with fine views of the Sava valley. The route passed through Bled, which looks like it was designed by Walt Disney, with a dinky castle perched above a lake on a jutting promontory of rock, and a little church on an island in the middle of the lake.
I camped next to Lake Bohinj, with views of the mountains around Mount Triglav, Slovenia's highest peak. Unfortunately it was raining next morning, but when things cleared up I did a wee hike up to one of the mountain cabins and across to the Crno Jezera (Black Lake). When you've been brought up on Scottish hillwalking, and are used to stumbling about in the mist following a compass and eating soggy sandwiches while sheltering from the rain behind a boulder, continental hill walking takes a bit of getting used to. However, neatly maintained tracks with little signposts and waymarkers, and multi-storey mountain huts with sleeping accommodation and nice restaurants serving tasty hot food at the top of the climb does have it's advantages.
Upon descending to the valley, the rain started again, and continued through to the middle of the next day. confined to the tent next morning I realised to my horror that I was pitched next to the camp guitar strummer. Every campsite seems to have one of these guys noodling away at random riffs all day. As he launched into the intro to "Stairway to Heaven" I decided it was time to pack up and leave.
I cycled out of Bohinj in pouring rain, but things dried up a bit on the other side of the hills, and the sun was out as I tackled the Vrsic pass, a sustained 11km climb with sections of 14%. I pressed on through spectacular scenery, descending into a narrow valley with an incredible milky-green mountain river, and climbing another big pass to the Italian border. I just made it into Italy as the legs started to bend and a nice wild camping spot next to Lake Predil.
Since then, I have been taking a slightly circuitous route through the Italian mountains. The Dolomites have really amazed me, with the most amazing scenery that I have encountered on the trip. There has hardly been a kilometre where I haven't been cycling beneath huge pinnacled ridges or climbing a pass with spectacular views of the endless mountains. The passes have just been continous - Sella Nevea, Sappada, Kreuzberg, Hohlenstein, Falzarego, Grodner Joch, Stelvio, Foscago, and probably some minor ones that I haven't noted. The roads have been very busy with holiday traffic, with traffic jams on a couple of the climbs.
Today I climbed the Stelvio, which was an absolute brute. I had been climbing hard for half an hour before I reached the first of the 48 (count em) marked hairpins leading to the summit. I saw more cyclists on the climb than on any other road on the trip, proving we're all masochists at heart. The road climbed up beneath forbidding rock filled cols with the crevassed snouts of glaciers hanging over the lips, and the tops of the peaks lost in the cloud. The Italians really do build some fine roads, and the descent on the other side was a masterpiece of fast downhill and beautifully cambered hairpins that the bike slipped round as if on rails. Possibly the finest descent I've ever come across.
I am now camped in Livigno, which is exempted from EU tax, and has border checkpoints, although it is part of Italy. It gained its odd status in 1910, because it was unreachable for 6 months of the year due to snow. They are currently gearing up to host the MTB world championships in a couple of weeks.
Tomorrow I am planning a brief detour into Switzerland, and then heading south towards Lake Como, but there's plenty of painful leg bashing to come in the Alps.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Ljubljana 2, Slovenia
The comments about the fantastic Orikaso folding cup got me thinking that I´ve been missing a trick with this blog; product placement. So if any manufacturers of the products I mention want to bung me some freebies or sponsorship, that would be lovely. Obviously product placement has to be done subtly, or this blog could just become a tawdry commercial website.
The torrential rain that started on my arrival in Ljubljana continued unabated all night and well into the following day. My pitch was bare earth, and the force of the rain spattered mud 6 inches up the inside of the tent flysheet across the inner tent, but luckily my Terra Nova Laserlite tent stood up to the conditions, and I only got a bit damp round the edges. The people in the pitch next to me were not so lucky, and floated away in the night under a couple of inches of water. I had a cosy night in my Marmot Hydrogen sleeping bag. While I waited for the rain to stop, I reflected that the one thing missing from my breakfast supplies was some tasty Andy Sim and Colin Russell (no relation) Portobello Honey. Eventually a watery sun made a reappearance, and I donned my packable Rohan trousers secure in the knowledge that if it got really warm I could easily unzip the legs and convert them into shorts.
My initial impressions of Ljubljana weren´t too great. With everything shut for the weekend on Saturday afternoon, Ljubljana in the rain had all the exotic allure of a wet Stornoway. After the 24 hour action of places like Prague and Sofia, a city where most things still close at 5:30pm and on Sunday (remember the old days?) took a bit of adjusting to, but the place actually has a really quiet, laid back atmosphere. With the sun out, and trench foot narrowly averted by my trainers finally drying out properly for the first time since Plitvicka Lakes, I started to warm to the place. After a couple of day wandering and sight seeing, I would now say that it is one of the most attractive cities I have visited. The centre is very compact, and everything is within walking distance. There are cycle lanes everywhere, lots of people biking around town, and a distinct lack of speeding aggressive drivers. To the west of the city centre is the Tivoli park and a huge wooded hill criss-crossed by several km of pleasant walks, and the entire city is surrounded by beautiful alpine scenery.
There´s a lively arts scene and several summer festivals are currently underway. I´ve managed to catch a concert of Russian spiritual music by the St Petersburg Cappella (an amazing set of heavyweight voices) and an evening of experimental electronic music by Octex. Not sure about the live performance aspect of a speccy bloke twiddling the knobs on banks of electronic equipment (he did nod a bit at one point, and there was an exciting moment when he took off his woolly pullover half way through) but the music was pretty good in a dark, dense electronica kind of way.
There is a real variety of architecture in the city buildings, and even the houses in the residential areas outside the centre have all sorts of individual touches like unusual door detailing, odd windows and occasionally murals or mosaics on the external walls. There are lots of interesting galleries and museums to visit, and I´ve enjoyed browsing around the National Gallery, Modern Art Gallery, and the Museum of Contemporary History (currently showing a rather graphic exhibition from the Slovenian Police Museum which features numerous photos of decapitation, shooting, stabbing and dismemberment from the scene-of-crime archives).
Slovenia was the economic powerhouse of the Yugoslav federation, and engineered a relatively painless break from the union, fighting a 10 day war with Serbia and signing a truce, before moving forward at full steam by the looks of things. Ljubljana seems to be a very prosperous and sophisticated city (the first place on my trip where I´ve noticed a Ferrari dealership). I haven´t had much of a chance to try out my 4 words of Slovenian because most people clock me as a tourist straight off and greets me in perfect English.
I´ve met lots of cycle tourists at the campsite (easily more than the rest of the trip put together) from Denmark, France, Germany and the Netherlands, so Slovenia is clearly a popular biking destination.
Tomorrow I´m taking a short hop north west to a national park in the Julian Alps, and from there I´ll be heading over the border into Italy and some more pass climbing.
The torrential rain that started on my arrival in Ljubljana continued unabated all night and well into the following day. My pitch was bare earth, and the force of the rain spattered mud 6 inches up the inside of the tent flysheet across the inner tent, but luckily my Terra Nova Laserlite tent stood up to the conditions, and I only got a bit damp round the edges. The people in the pitch next to me were not so lucky, and floated away in the night under a couple of inches of water. I had a cosy night in my Marmot Hydrogen sleeping bag. While I waited for the rain to stop, I reflected that the one thing missing from my breakfast supplies was some tasty Andy Sim and Colin Russell (no relation) Portobello Honey. Eventually a watery sun made a reappearance, and I donned my packable Rohan trousers secure in the knowledge that if it got really warm I could easily unzip the legs and convert them into shorts.
My initial impressions of Ljubljana weren´t too great. With everything shut for the weekend on Saturday afternoon, Ljubljana in the rain had all the exotic allure of a wet Stornoway. After the 24 hour action of places like Prague and Sofia, a city where most things still close at 5:30pm and on Sunday (remember the old days?) took a bit of adjusting to, but the place actually has a really quiet, laid back atmosphere. With the sun out, and trench foot narrowly averted by my trainers finally drying out properly for the first time since Plitvicka Lakes, I started to warm to the place. After a couple of day wandering and sight seeing, I would now say that it is one of the most attractive cities I have visited. The centre is very compact, and everything is within walking distance. There are cycle lanes everywhere, lots of people biking around town, and a distinct lack of speeding aggressive drivers. To the west of the city centre is the Tivoli park and a huge wooded hill criss-crossed by several km of pleasant walks, and the entire city is surrounded by beautiful alpine scenery.
There´s a lively arts scene and several summer festivals are currently underway. I´ve managed to catch a concert of Russian spiritual music by the St Petersburg Cappella (an amazing set of heavyweight voices) and an evening of experimental electronic music by Octex. Not sure about the live performance aspect of a speccy bloke twiddling the knobs on banks of electronic equipment (he did nod a bit at one point, and there was an exciting moment when he took off his woolly pullover half way through) but the music was pretty good in a dark, dense electronica kind of way.
There is a real variety of architecture in the city buildings, and even the houses in the residential areas outside the centre have all sorts of individual touches like unusual door detailing, odd windows and occasionally murals or mosaics on the external walls. There are lots of interesting galleries and museums to visit, and I´ve enjoyed browsing around the National Gallery, Modern Art Gallery, and the Museum of Contemporary History (currently showing a rather graphic exhibition from the Slovenian Police Museum which features numerous photos of decapitation, shooting, stabbing and dismemberment from the scene-of-crime archives).
Slovenia was the economic powerhouse of the Yugoslav federation, and engineered a relatively painless break from the union, fighting a 10 day war with Serbia and signing a truce, before moving forward at full steam by the looks of things. Ljubljana seems to be a very prosperous and sophisticated city (the first place on my trip where I´ve noticed a Ferrari dealership). I haven´t had much of a chance to try out my 4 words of Slovenian because most people clock me as a tourist straight off and greets me in perfect English.
I´ve met lots of cycle tourists at the campsite (easily more than the rest of the trip put together) from Denmark, France, Germany and the Netherlands, so Slovenia is clearly a popular biking destination.
Tomorrow I´m taking a short hop north west to a national park in the Julian Alps, and from there I´ll be heading over the border into Italy and some more pass climbing.
