The Tour in Numbers

We are back home and reflecting on what has been a wonderful if slightly damp trip. Here are some of the figures from our ride-

0
Number of punctures we got doing the 4900+ kms from Greece to Bilbao

94
Games of Bongomania played on the trip. we finished at 47 each

81
Average distance in kms completed each day

2422
Hardest ride in terms of metres climbed on a day that we covered 142km

8813
Altitude in metres climbed each week. As Everest is 8848m we were very nearly doing the equivalent of an Everest climb (from sea level) each week.

Gernika (Guernica) 8/6/8

If there is a theme to our trip it must be a study of conflict in Europe and hopefully with our visit to the Basque town of Gernika its resolution as well. In 1937 during the Spanish Civil War on the orders of General Franco the town was bombed for several hours by German and Italian planes. Hundreds were killed and the significance of the attack was that for the first time civilians were targeted in an air raid using a 'blitzkrieg' strategy which was to become common in WW2. Few buildings were left standing among which were the arms factory and the Renteria Bridge, the supposed target for the attack. Outrage at the carnage was felt around the world and inspired Pablo Picasso to paint 'Guernica' which has become a symbol to the peace movement.

We visited the excellent Peace Museum which explores concepts of peace such as what it is, how to transform conflict and achieving resolution. Evocative displays give a graphic illustration of life in the Civil War and the terror and panic created by the air raid. Material is also used from the intertwined Basque Conflict to further develop the themes of the museum.

Why? 8/6/8

It´s a good question. After all camping day after day, enduring snow and rain, cycling whatever the conditions and seeking out the mountainous routes amounts to some fairly serious physical endeavour. But the answer lies with simple escapism. Yes there are other attractions like the physical beauty we encounter, the interest in other people´s lives, our daily shot of adrenaline and the sense of achievement at getting so far by bike.
Despite the daily exertion it´s an amazingly simple lifestyle once the vital decision to depart has been made and all the organisational details attended to. Apart from route planning (which Wendy does) daily life is pretty routine and without the complexities of a 'normal' lifestyle. While cycling my thoughts of home extend only to people and all the irritations of modern life are left far behind.

Photo shows Wendy with an enthusiastic French couple who apparently wait at the top of cols to congratulate cyclists on their achievements (and to relive some of his past glories). One of many examples of random moments which add to the joy travelling brings us.

Le Tourmalet 3/6/8

At 2115m it´s usually the highest Pyrenean col featured on the Tour de France and a magnet for cyclists. The climb starts at 840m and continues for 17km at an average gradient of 8%. We came close to Marco Pantani's record time but there were differences. His ride was in ideal conditions while we had a head wind, he did not have to suffer sleet and snow, he had a lightweight racer and most significantly he was going uphill while we just about matched him descending carefully in poor conditions. 2 & 1/2 hours for our ascent which I was quite pleased with as the Belgian racers we met at the top had taken 1 & 3/4 hours with a support vehicle. But we were the first cyclists of the day to reach the col and I would have done it non-stop but the conditions were so bitter that my hands were becoming frozen to the bars in fingerless mitts so, with 3km to go, I had to change gloves. Spent over an hour hugging a radiator in the summit cafe waiting in vain for the rain/sleet/snow to disperse before making the unpleasant descent.

Cyclist´s Remarks 7/6/8

"Tell me you´re not going over the Tourmalet with all that". It´s music to our ears. Spoken to us by a fellow cyclist at the top of the Col d'Aspin. He had overtaken us on the way up on his lightweight racer but his elation at having reached the top and the prospect of attempting the Tourmalet, knowing we were following the same route, rather dimmed his sense of achievement while inflating ours by a similar amount.

Having been unsuccessful in keeping dry in the increasingly wet conditions I enquired of a German tourer if his 'breathable' over-trousers kept out the rain. "Yes" he said proudly, before adding "but I'm swimming inside". Nice!

On our last full day´s ride before Bilbao we headed for Gernika (Guernica) across the rolling Basque Country. After 12 hours, having ridden 135km over a succession of 2000ft passes we became lost in the hills on a narrow concrete track. Luckily a mountain biker appeared and said we were going in the right direction but queried why we came by such an arduous road. He assured us that the route to Gernika was straightforward but just before we depart says "...but the mountain is very easy". What bloody mountain we wonder to each other. We have 15km to go, are at the top of a hill 400m and have envisaged an easy freewheel down into town. Luckily for our tired bodies we managed to avoid "the mountain" but it has become a much repeated phrase.

Bagneres de Luchon 2/6/8

We are sat on a bench looking back down the narrow cave which curves away from us for over 150m. There is subtle lighting running alongside the walkway. The bare rock walls glisten with water and drips constantly fall from the low roof. We are both soaking wet. Sitting still is bearable for short periods but while walking the intensity of the heat and humidity becomes oppressive. I look for the heaters but am aware this is a natural phenomena, with the spa water permeating the rock and heating the cave to around 40C with 95% humidity. We are spending the afternoon at the Baths of the elegant spa town Bagneres de Luchon, 15 minutes in the cave is followed by 20 mins floating in the circular relaxation pool and then a spell on the recliners wrapped in white toga towels before repeating the process. After around 1200kms in 12 days its probably time we had a rest although all this relaxing is dangerous - I wake up the next morning feeling physically and mentally drained...

The Resistance and Vercors

Not having watched 'Allo 'Allo, my knowledge of the Resistance is limited but we were educated and given food for thought while traveling through The Vercors. This region, at the southwest tip of the Alps, was where the French Resistance first became organised, and is dotted with memorials to their courage. Cycling behind a screen of trees, the dramatic scenery only occasionally presents itself, but clearings reveal densely wooded slopes dropping to valleys hundreds of feet below. A landscape where many Resistance camps existed and their activity culminated in an attack on the Germans to coincide with the D-Day landings in July 1944. Promises of reinforcements from the Allies never materialised and despite their bravery many died due to the Germans superior equipment and air attacks. 15,000 German troops which would have otherwise been used on the Normandy front were deployed but the destroyed villages are evidence of the brutal retribution in the aftermath of the attack.
The most difficult decisions I have recently faced have been involved in the planning of this tour. Yet for those living under Nazi occupation, which occurred not so long before I was born, the decisions people faced were of a life and death nature. To collaborate or resist to face exile or extermination or to stand by while sections of society are eliminated?

Yellow Line Tour - Typical Day

6am
Alarm goes of and I emerge from the tent to prepare breakfast while Wendy packs away the sleeping bags and tent.

7am
On a good day we are cycling by this time and the sun is on our backs. With luck we have a pass to climb to get the adrenaline pumping.

Mid-morning
Stop to pick up food for lunch and probably a snack to keep us going.

12.30ish
With luck we find a stupendous view away from the road where we can eat too much bread and cheese before dozing in the warm sun. Or we seek shelter from the rain and get going quickly to avoid getting cold.

4-6
Hopefully, after completing 80-120km, we find a glorious isolated spot to camp, but lately, around Aosta this is difficult so may have to settle for a campsite.

Evening
Write blogs/diaries, prepare and eat our meal then have a game of cards before retiring to the tent at around 10, when Wendy sleeps and I read for a bit.

Events in the Shadow of Mt. Blanc 18/5

Approaching Aosta and heading towards Mt. Blanc, we decided to have a Saturday night hotel as the rain was increasing and we have become a little sodden lately. Our room had a full size mannequin on the balcony, a charming girl dressed as a chef. My initial attempt to manipulate her resulted in a dislocated arm (hers). After showering I tried to hang some washing on her hand which fell off, bounced on the balcony and dropped into the alleyway outside the hotel entrance. Obviously not being dressed I sent Wendy out to retrieve it. A dangerous woman , I kept clear of her (the mannequin) after that.
Next day cycled the 35km to Courmayer from where we have to take the bus through the Mt. Blanc tunnel as no passes are open. Unfortunately it doesn't run on a Sunday so, having missed my first F.A. cup final since 1968, I retired to a bar to watch the climax of the Italian season. When Inter score to seal the title the guy sat next to me jumps up, hugs his mate then, in a state of high excitement, slaps his hand against a door, shattering a clip frame and sending glass flying everywhere. Drama indeed.
Later, cooking our meal on the balcony, I become aware of undue interest from the hotel owner standing outside below. There's plenty of sizzling and spicy mushroom aroma so I turn the stove off and wave nonchalantly before withdrawing into our room. Later, after relocating the cooker around the corner, she emerges again and stands chatting in a position to see both halves of our balcony. Aware that the rice is about to boil over I have to pretend to hang washing out before bending down to switch the cooker off. Eventually she looses interest but for discretion we decide to eat indoors.
And all the while the slab of Mont Blanc rears over us and provides a backdrop to our activities. Well it would if it wasn't wreathed in cloud...

1 Day - 3 Breaks 17/5

Proceeding happily on smooth tarmac the back of my bike started swinging about alarmingly. I assumed it was my second puncture in 4500 km but the tyre was fine and the wheel was not buckled. Eventually discovered the frame had snapped where the chain stay meets the rear drop-out. Although we are in sight of shops it was Saturday morning and everything closes at midday until Monday.

The first break occurred during breakfast. Wendy crunched into her muesli and discovered what she at first thought was a stone but was half of one of her front teeth. Soon after I break the plastic pump on the petrol stove. Its not critical as it will still work but makes life a little tedious.

Later, after buying superglue I carry out emergency roadside dental repairs. With Wendy lying flat on her back I am kneeling over her superglue in one hand, tooth in the other when a van pulls up to ask if everything is ok!

We wheeled the bike to 4 auto repair shops before we found a willing mechanic who spent the best part of an hour with his assistant filing, welding and grinding to fix the frame. Initially I thought it would be a time consuming problem but we were away again in less than 2 hours. And Wendy's tooth is still in place...

Balkan Reflections 13/5

From the high heeled Saturday night of Bitola, Macedonia, through intriguing Albania, to the awesome beauty of Slovenia, the Balkans has been a memorable journey. But what shall remain imprinted most firmly on my brain is the recent suffering of Croatia and especially Bosnia as well as the warmth and helpfulness of the people.

Its remarkable that 10 years ago, although the conflict had officially finished, Bosnia was a lawless land of random and organised violence. Yet now, although the scars of war are all too visible we felt as safe free camping there as anywhere. Although the warnings about land mine caused some concern...

With Macedonia, Albania and Bosnia having majority Muslim populations it is surprising that, apart from the rocket shaped minarets attached to mosques, the call to prayer, headscarves, beards and prayer mats are absent, while alcohol is drunk with vigour and betting is a national pastime.

Slovenia, with its high standard of living, pristine mountains and quaint alpine villages was like moving into a comfort zone before we tackled those high alps ahead.

Italian Alps 10/5

Now we are back in the big hills and once again doing classic mountain passes. Stopped in Cortina yesterday which seems inhabited by ultra thin over made up 50-60 year old women. From there started up the Passo di Giau until we stopped to camp in the woods among patches of snow. Up early to continue our climb and we reached the top at 2232m before 9. These roads are tough, not the easy gradients of the Pyrenees with slopes which go up to 15% forcing me down through the gears. But what a treat we received on the way up. A blue and white pristine world with awesome peaks all around. The sort of snow filled, high altitude, isolated mountain world which is only usually experienced skiing before the crowds arrive. And the 29 hairpins on the downhill were a thrill.
In the afternoon we tackled the Passo di Fedaia, a mere 2057m but adjacent to the Marmolada ski area. This was probably our hardest road climb yet, coming as our second of the day, but we did pass a group of mountain bikers who were walking up which gave us some satisfaction...

5 Simple Things We Should Have Brought 7/5

OK we can't bring everything with us but there are a few things which would have been helpful, taken up very little space and weighed virtually nothing.

1) Needle and Cotton. We did bring a needle but it broke early on so a few of these would have been a good idea. Eventually found a shop selling them but ended up with 30...

2) Aerial Lead. A top tip is using a 1 metre length of wire and crocodile clip to extend the radio aerial. This increases the chances of getting the world service by about 50% but I failed to bring one.

3) Latex Gloves. Great for servicing the bikes and the petrol stove so that you stay away from the indelible blackness. I did try some plastic gloves from a petrol station but they quickly disintegrate.

4) Small Jubilee Clips. Fantastic for running repairs. Wendy has now got a broken front and rear rack and we could have done a permanent job instead of a tape and cable tie lash-up.

5) Bank Card Pin Code. What sort of idiot leaves home without remembering what his pin code is..?

I do realise that all of the above (except 5) could be bought given the time and inclination. But cycling intervenes and we will not get to Bilbao by June 11th if we start trawling around shops.

Winking Man 6/5

The blog has been necessarily a bit dark lately so I include this photo of a wooden statue outside a house in the north of Slovenia to lighten things. We have seen many similar carvings but usually are of giants pulling up trees.
This one is a little different in that he appears to be winking, or he could just have something in his eye...

Upsetting the Border Police 2/5 (Bosnia-Croatia)

Shortly after crossing into Croatia we headed north along a track which followed a railway and river up a narrow, beautiful, wooded valley. Warning signs alerted us that this was a restricted area as the road crossed the border several times. But after taking advice from some locals who said that it was only 18km and the border police had recently passed through we decided to risk it.
It was a fantastic ride up a remote unpopulated track. After leaving the main track and crossing the river into Croatia over a narrow bridge we found the condition of the track deteriorate before it crossed back into Bosnia. We emerged into a farm yard where we caused great astonishment to a potbellied Bosnian farmer who saw us emerge from nowhere.
What we hadn't been told was that further up was a customs post. The Bosnian guy was fine but the Croatian border guard was unhappy that we had travelled along the track. Luckily he had no English so although he was using 'illegal entry' in his stream of words we just pretended that we didn't understand. Eventually when he realised we had cycled from Greece he forgot not only about our indiscretion but also to check our passports.
Soon after we camped down a side road on a hairpin bend as there was little flat ground. No traffic came through before 6.30 in the morning when a border patrol came past. We were up and having breakfast and after checking our passports he was only satisfied after we assured him that we had no intention of going to Bosnia.

Conflict Aftermath, N. Bosnia 1/5

A flat Bosnian plain, around 1km wide bordered on our left by a dark ridge and further away to our right, mountains which disappear into the clouds. It´s mainly pasture with few trees but houses are randomly scattered around both close to the road and towards the ridge.

We are heading north towards the Croatian border and are seeing for the first time the wide scale devastation which has occurred in rural Bosnia as a result of the ethnic conflict. The houses are simple brick structures of varying sizes but all have been damaged in the war. Many are reduced to brick shells, roofs and windows missing while others have been patched up to provide shelter.

There is an EU "Program for Return" in operation but what a place to go back to. The worst sight was a house where the upstairs had been burnt out and the windows once sealed with polythene with people downstairs. In the distance to our right, all that is left of a village is the tightly packed crumbling gable ends pointing towards the sky. And this goes on for mile after mile, hundreds of properties all with the scars of war.

With no escape it´s a mentally gruelling ride. Those that survived the 'ethnic cleansing' that occurred have had to endure destruction, displacement and dispossession. And this was a war fought between neighbours, a conflict setting groups of people against each other who one lived peacefully.

Very similar to the chaos we have created in Iraq.

Bosnian Snow 30/5

We hit the snow at what I thought was the summit at around 1400m. However 3km later when we were still dragging the bikes across the long pass I realised how wrong I had been. And this was supposed to be a simple day. Up and over a pass, then another lower one before we hit the tarmac and put in some distance before finding a bar to watch the football in.
There was no easy way to get through the snow. It was fairly old and had melted and frozen again and we could see that no vehicle had passed this way for some time. It was a remote spot. Riding on the flat or uphill sections was impossible and pushing the bikes involved either finding a ridge to avoid the front wheel slipping sideways on the frozen sections, or where the snow was softer, trudging through ankle deep. The slightly downhill sections I did develop a technique for which involved keeping the front wheel absolutely straight which is not as easy as it sounds.
Eventually the snow ended and we decided against the second pass and were rewarded with 10s of kms of tailwind which zoomed us towards Livno in time for kickoff and gave us a record mileage of 118km.

Mostar, Bosnia 29/4

We visited the bridge, the symbol of conflict and renewal and strolled around the quaint rebuilt area of the old town. But it was the shattered homes which brought home some of the realities of the conflict that had taken place. Blocks of flats battered by gunfire and artillery which are still occupied. Windows bricked up except for small holes at the top to reduce blast damage. A road junction where the intensity of the fighting had left walls crazed with bullet holes.
I can hardly begin to imagine what it must have been like to have lived through this mayhem and it makes me realise how hard we must strive to avoid conflict and promote tolerance.
The previous day we had been in the village of Stolac where a young man approached, proud to show off his place to tourists. He told us that camping was safe as they were all good people there. And I'm sure he is right but the evidence of the derelict houses and pockmarked walls demonstrated what terrible forces within us can be unleashed when conflict starts.

Avoiding the Exploding Rim 28/4

I didn't see the pothole. I was concentrating on cars coming around blind bends on the single track Montenegran mountain road. But I certainly felt it. And my front wheel developed a distortion which increased through the day. Close inspection later revealed a small split in the braking surface of the rim.
What to do? The nearest town was 25km away and I have experienced exploding rims before which sound like gunfire and rip the tube to shreds. We set off early in the morning with deflated tyre and reduced weight. After 5km, while stopping to photograph frogs, an empty van pulled up and we accepted the offer of the ride to Bileca, crossing into Bosnia on the way.
No bike shop in town but after many enquiries we found a man with a van full off stuff who was quickly on his mobile and first a back and eventually a front wheel arrived. With free fitting and a spanner thrown in I am now the proud owner of a heavyweight Bosnian front wheel which should survive the Balkan road system. And we were off cycling again by 10.30...

Into Montenegro - An Unusual Entry

I struggled to keep up with Wendy as she chased our guide in what was the first of two car chases that day. Our destination was Montenegro on the far side of the River Bune. We had already spent a frustrating morning trying to find the nonexistent bridge marked on our map which now meant a 60km round trip. "I will get you across" said our lovely Albanian saviour, so we followed down an increasingly muddy track, in which his car got stuck, to the bank of a wide river where a small boat was waiting. Having come out of his way to help us he then insisted on paying the ferryman, who appeared from nowhere, to get us across.
Our second pursuit ended at a water mill, to which the proud owner was insistent we visited and photographed. So with leaky wellies on, I walked up the mill race to snap the spray of water emerging from the mechanism. Over coffee we heard stories of places he had worked all over the world but until we produced photographic evidence the mill owner refused to believe that we had arrived in Montenegro by boat.