The rain continues to pour down, a neverending stream of bucket after bucket, we have become quite accustomed to the feeling of 'not being dry' which I used to refer to as 'being wet'. Still, it's Sunday, and we have only 30km to cover from Berlin Mitte out to the historic city of Potsdam. After we visited the Topography of Terror in Berlin I discovered that last week's Oranienberg was not quite the 'non-place' as previously described, but the site of a former concentration camp. I don't know why this should bother me, but somehow it gave me an uneasy feeling. I feel ignorant for not knowing, and for there being no warning, and yet did I expect the lovely tourist information assistant there to tell me as an aside?! Berlin and surrounds, to me, has an uneasy relationship with its history, not wanting to turn terror into tourism, and yet feeling the need to be seen to acknowledge and document thoroughly the events of the past. The leaflets for 'Concentration Camp Tours in English' in the Hostel foyer left me a little queasy positioned between the 'Alternative Pub Crawl!!!' and 'Segway Tours of Historic Berlin'. History commodified. I found Berlin fascinating, vibrant, full of life, and art, but I felt weighed down by it's history. It felt a heavy place upon me. I wonder how it affects the people who live here, in particaular the younger generation, who perhaps have no living relatives from the Second World War. We move on, the blows softened by time. I do not feel the burden of Englands shameful colonial past, as I have no relatives who were involved in it I suppose. It predates my immediate family and my connection to it is therefore null. I felt unable to take any photographs in Berlin, after being overwhelmed by imagery in the museums, my shots would have seemed meaningless. The countless tourists snapping away at the wall irritated me and I was quite glad to leave on that rainy day.
Potsdam, the site of the agreement of the Big Three, the division of Germany between the superpowers, I felt armed with my A Level History knowledge and the town was much much older than the difficulties of the twentieth century, my unease lessened and I settled into the cycle. We lost Hazel in a downpour at an intersection and awaited her under 'the massive archway through the tower' as I described on the telephone. Half an hour later and my mind begins to spiral into worry, visions of Hazel missing the tower and disappearing off into the Black Forest never to be seen again. Of course she arrives eventually, sodden, after having visited all corners of Potsdam. It is, unfortunately for us, a town of many massive archways and towers. After finding our perfect fusion cafe which serves coffee, cake and curry, we head off to the omnipresent Tourist Information Centre. We locate a hostel and roll on over the river to check in. Hazel and I head off to the nearby Fluxus Museum (disappointing curation and a lack of video) and Philippa indulges in her favourite activity, laundry. On returning to the hostel sans key, Hazel and I attempt to locate our dormitory. Unfortunately as Philippa is the organised one we have no idea of our room number. We try a number of doors to no success and settle into the corridor to await Colby collection. We try Colby Calling (ie shouting) but she appears not. There's a mere two hours to go on the washing machine (we are following her trail....) so she must turn up sooner or later. And then, a ghostly singing drifts down the corridor....Colby is close! In true detective style I press my ear to all the doors until I locate her, and bang on the door excitedly. Allowed in and we of course consume more food and then sleep.
Tuesday 31 August 2010
Day 38 - Berlin rest day....Phil Saturday 28th August
Waking up late, heads still spinning from the massive historical information intake from last night, we head down for a fairly decent breakfast in the hostel. We decide some art may help to calm things a little, and after a quick coffee stop, and a little more Checkpoint Charlie sidewalk info, we hit the Berlinische Gallerie...after enjoying the variety of film, photography, architecture, along with a few paintings, we head to Alexanderplatz thinking we may find a little more life in the centre square...as per usual, we find ourselves quickly fed up with the throng of tourists and frustrated by their aimless wandering.... a quick stop for some new brake pads, as we've worn ours to nothing, we are slowed by a torrential shower (we should learn that this is a standard weather pattern and stop being surprised) and take shelter in another delightful asian restaurant...
For the first time on our trip we take public transport, and delight in being on a train!! We have also found that Germany seems to be moving to a new, non mastercard/visa system, and have been caught out on numerous occasions short of cash...slow learners.... we are learning though and make our way to the Neue National Gallerie with cash in hand, where we enjoy a coffee and cake before I head back to the hostel while the girls take in just a little more art....
In a slightly frustarting turn of events, we had to check out of our room this morning, and so return to a new 6bed dorm, with a massive roller suitcase sitting in between the bunks.... there appears to be no sign of life in the room and we set about making ourselves at home...the mobile beauty salon is in full operation - hair styling, waxing, tweezers and creams are spread about the room... no saying what the reaction might be if our mystery room-mate suddenly reappeared!!! We try a few local beers as we get ready, and then Hazel procures a small bottle of what we interpret to be 'cabbage' liqueur.... it tasted like jagermeister, and lasted two sips!! Needless to say, by this point we were quite the giggly trio, and headed out in our dresses, to a recommended locale in the east. It was to be a day of double asian, as we enjoyed yet another tasty stirfry - confirming our notion that we're onto a good thing with the oriental food! Another beer later, and we head for the club for dancing... feeling a little sleepy, we stop at a nearby 'Einstein's' cafe for a 'wakeup coffee'. It's been transformed at this late hour, in a SoHo type district, into a coffee-cocktail club, complete with DJ. We order our coffees, the girls wrap-up in the requisite fleece blankets, and begin to critique the music, as Hazel continues to develop her plans to dominate the London club scene on completion of our tour. Ali's latte machiatto arrives to much laughter - it appears that someone has decided it's past bedtime and has instead brought her a huge glass of warm milk!!! It seems the coffee won't be enough tonight and there is a mutual decision to enjoy our train ride home and hit the hay.... Imagine our surprise, when we return to our hotel room, Hazel cautiously peeking around the door to find a young man asleep in one of the bunks!! Trying to stifle the laughter, we change into suitable sleeping attire and fall into bed, still shaking with the giggles.....
For the first time on our trip we take public transport, and delight in being on a train!! We have also found that Germany seems to be moving to a new, non mastercard/visa system, and have been caught out on numerous occasions short of cash...slow learners.... we are learning though and make our way to the Neue National Gallerie with cash in hand, where we enjoy a coffee and cake before I head back to the hostel while the girls take in just a little more art....
In a slightly frustarting turn of events, we had to check out of our room this morning, and so return to a new 6bed dorm, with a massive roller suitcase sitting in between the bunks.... there appears to be no sign of life in the room and we set about making ourselves at home...the mobile beauty salon is in full operation - hair styling, waxing, tweezers and creams are spread about the room... no saying what the reaction might be if our mystery room-mate suddenly reappeared!!! We try a few local beers as we get ready, and then Hazel procures a small bottle of what we interpret to be 'cabbage' liqueur.... it tasted like jagermeister, and lasted two sips!! Needless to say, by this point we were quite the giggly trio, and headed out in our dresses, to a recommended locale in the east. It was to be a day of double asian, as we enjoyed yet another tasty stirfry - confirming our notion that we're onto a good thing with the oriental food! Another beer later, and we head for the club for dancing... feeling a little sleepy, we stop at a nearby 'Einstein's' cafe for a 'wakeup coffee'. It's been transformed at this late hour, in a SoHo type district, into a coffee-cocktail club, complete with DJ. We order our coffees, the girls wrap-up in the requisite fleece blankets, and begin to critique the music, as Hazel continues to develop her plans to dominate the London club scene on completion of our tour. Ali's latte machiatto arrives to much laughter - it appears that someone has decided it's past bedtime and has instead brought her a huge glass of warm milk!!! It seems the coffee won't be enough tonight and there is a mutual decision to enjoy our train ride home and hit the hay.... Imagine our surprise, when we return to our hotel room, Hazel cautiously peeking around the door to find a young man asleep in one of the bunks!! Trying to stifle the laughter, we change into suitable sleeping attire and fall into bed, still shaking with the giggles.....
Day 37 Oranienburg to Berlin.... Hazel
Friday 27th August
50.15km in 2hr40
Grey drizzle
Breakfast in Oraninenburg Gast haus is portion controlled. Which is quite a nice change. No stress of what to eat. No ratio dilemas of fruit to cereal to salad to bread to meat to cheese to yoghurt.
Instead two bread rolls one sweet one savoury and a large pot of coffee. Since arriving in Germany Fiona* and Alice routinely critique the coffee pots at breakfast. Too long and slim, to unbalanced, not ergonomic, why that spout? Today's stout plastic blue plastic pot they both approve of...
Cash is King in Germany. The ladies with multiple credit and debit cards are penniless. Mastercard nor Visa are accepted. None of us have american express or Dinners' club to complete the trial. And so this morning we are twenty euros short. Alice nips back into town on her steed while Phil and I pack up. Unfortunately we lock ourselves out, and feeling quite sheepish about the lack of cash feel disinclined to trouble the Haus to let us back in. Instead we decide to clean the chains after the sand bath yesterday. However the oil is inside. But as rowers faffing comes quite easily, so the discovery of our lock out, lack of oil or any useful item occupies us until Ali's red face return.
So through the town, passing the cinema, under the Berlin ring and into the suburbs. Our route meanders around the motorway and the river. 15km in and hunger hits early, bus stop break, we wave past a quadruple of middleaged cycle tourists adorned in red anoraks.
We pass them soon after, only for them to recapture us at a costume change. Irritated by their speed- which I later deduce is a direct relation to their reckless road crossing technique we again pass them (I believe them to be giggling). Heads down as we pedal away from them, breaking peloton procession to adopt an agressive defensive cross path stance. However oncoming cycling/pedestrian traffic doesn't permit, so back in Peloton with Colby leading. We whizz past a couple walking their dog. The man shouts something to us. We wonder what he could have meant. On to a wooden bridge over the canal. Phillipa muses "Did he say achtung? There's a sign on the bridge saying that... Maybe it's Slippery?" Offering physical answer to her wonderings I promplty skid and hit the deck. It is very slippy. "Documentation!" I squeal, clearly not very badly injured. "Document!" whilst Phillipa fumbles for her camera and Alice looks on bemused. Unlike Colby my skin is more akin to an Alligator than a Peach so no battle wounds to show for the drama. Back on the bike and cycle.
Berlin and it's rivers lacks the embrace which London holds the Thames. The cycle along the canal/river winds around the edges of suburbs and the backs of houses. But after some while we see some flags fluttering and head towards them. So this is Berlin.... Past the Reichstag, where a group of tourists on segways are being led aroundc...slowly. Then straight to tourist information by Brandenburg gate where hostel booked and Berlin stickers acquired.
Starbucks in the shadow of Checkpoint Charlie.
We delve through the information. Gallery's circled ready for tomorrow, plans of the evening's activities arranged, we decide to use the afternoon for historical culture. So to Topography of Terror. Which isn't the sensalistionalistic exhibition one would expect from the title, but a detailed and graphic account of the Nazi regime. Overwhelmed, tired and hungry with a night on the tiles not as appealing we start our new obsesseion. Asian cusine: Fresh vegetables, flavour and not a sandwich insight.
Coffee and Strudel** in a German coffee house then to bed. En route Alice stands in what she belives is either chocolate ice cream or Dog diarrhoea. We decide it's the latter. She shrieks. I We shriek with laughter. I shriek as I realise she is wearing my new shoes. She wipes her foot on the floor as if it's got worms, I search her out a puddle. The shoes are discarded.
Bed in the hostel sat over Germany's busiest street with the noisest of guests.
* Fiona or Phillipa as she is more regularly known. In a tired moment yesterday, for an unknown reason, I accidentally referred to Phillipa as such. She responds (appropriately), and occasionally the name is expanded to Princess Fiona. Which I had intended as reference to her pristine presentation on the bike, however herself and Alice inferred a Shrek reference. They have now made me the donkey character, which makes Alice by default Shrek... Or altenitivelly that Gingerbread man?
**I am known to become fixated on food items and crave for weeks on end before either achieving, moving on or replacing. Sometime ago when Alice still Elle Presidente and myself still a student I salivated over an imaginary apple strudel which never materialised.
50.15km in 2hr40
Grey drizzle
Breakfast in Oraninenburg Gast haus is portion controlled. Which is quite a nice change. No stress of what to eat. No ratio dilemas of fruit to cereal to salad to bread to meat to cheese to yoghurt.
Instead two bread rolls one sweet one savoury and a large pot of coffee. Since arriving in Germany Fiona* and Alice routinely critique the coffee pots at breakfast. Too long and slim, to unbalanced, not ergonomic, why that spout? Today's stout plastic blue plastic pot they both approve of...
Cash is King in Germany. The ladies with multiple credit and debit cards are penniless. Mastercard nor Visa are accepted. None of us have american express or Dinners' club to complete the trial. And so this morning we are twenty euros short. Alice nips back into town on her steed while Phil and I pack up. Unfortunately we lock ourselves out, and feeling quite sheepish about the lack of cash feel disinclined to trouble the Haus to let us back in. Instead we decide to clean the chains after the sand bath yesterday. However the oil is inside. But as rowers faffing comes quite easily, so the discovery of our lock out, lack of oil or any useful item occupies us until Ali's red face return.
So through the town, passing the cinema, under the Berlin ring and into the suburbs. Our route meanders around the motorway and the river. 15km in and hunger hits early, bus stop break, we wave past a quadruple of middleaged cycle tourists adorned in red anoraks.
We pass them soon after, only for them to recapture us at a costume change. Irritated by their speed- which I later deduce is a direct relation to their reckless road crossing technique we again pass them (I believe them to be giggling). Heads down as we pedal away from them, breaking peloton procession to adopt an agressive defensive cross path stance. However oncoming cycling/pedestrian traffic doesn't permit, so back in Peloton with Colby leading. We whizz past a couple walking their dog. The man shouts something to us. We wonder what he could have meant. On to a wooden bridge over the canal. Phillipa muses "Did he say achtung? There's a sign on the bridge saying that... Maybe it's Slippery?" Offering physical answer to her wonderings I promplty skid and hit the deck. It is very slippy. "Documentation!" I squeal, clearly not very badly injured. "Document!" whilst Phillipa fumbles for her camera and Alice looks on bemused. Unlike Colby my skin is more akin to an Alligator than a Peach so no battle wounds to show for the drama. Back on the bike and cycle.
Berlin and it's rivers lacks the embrace which London holds the Thames. The cycle along the canal/river winds around the edges of suburbs and the backs of houses. But after some while we see some flags fluttering and head towards them. So this is Berlin.... Past the Reichstag, where a group of tourists on segways are being led aroundc...slowly. Then straight to tourist information by Brandenburg gate where hostel booked and Berlin stickers acquired.
Starbucks in the shadow of Checkpoint Charlie.
We delve through the information. Gallery's circled ready for tomorrow, plans of the evening's activities arranged, we decide to use the afternoon for historical culture. So to Topography of Terror. Which isn't the sensalistionalistic exhibition one would expect from the title, but a detailed and graphic account of the Nazi regime. Overwhelmed, tired and hungry with a night on the tiles not as appealing we start our new obsesseion. Asian cusine: Fresh vegetables, flavour and not a sandwich insight.
Coffee and Strudel** in a German coffee house then to bed. En route Alice stands in what she belives is either chocolate ice cream or Dog diarrhoea. We decide it's the latter. She shrieks. I We shriek with laughter. I shriek as I realise she is wearing my new shoes. She wipes her foot on the floor as if it's got worms, I search her out a puddle. The shoes are discarded.
Bed in the hostel sat over Germany's busiest street with the noisest of guests.
* Fiona or Phillipa as she is more regularly known. In a tired moment yesterday, for an unknown reason, I accidentally referred to Phillipa as such. She responds (appropriately), and occasionally the name is expanded to Princess Fiona. Which I had intended as reference to her pristine presentation on the bike, however herself and Alice inferred a Shrek reference. They have now made me the donkey character, which makes Alice by default Shrek... Or altenitivelly that Gingerbread man?
**I am known to become fixated on food items and crave for weeks on end before either achieving, moving on or replacing. Sometime ago when Alice still Elle Presidente and myself still a student I salivated over an imaginary apple strudel which never materialised.
Day 36 - Wesenburg to Oranienburg - Thursday 26th August by Alice
Distance covered 97km
Trip total odometer 3264km
We awake to the pitter patter of rain on our canvas roof, sardines packed into our tenty tin, sold to us as "luxurious for two, space for three". This basically translates as two man tent, with room for a small terrier or other housetrained pet at the foot of the "bed". We have no pet unfortunately so I find myself sandwiched between a 5"11 human with night terrors and a medium sized Australian with the compulsion to arise and crawl out every three hours for nocturnal urination. We lie in semi slumber, falling in and out of strange cycling related dreams and wait for the rain to stop. As we are in a forest, we later realise that we are simply listening to the drip drip of the drops from the trees falling softly to the ground, amplified to torrential status from the inside of our drum skin home. After dousing ourselves nervously in timed three minute showers (the rules of the campsite, not our military time keeping to stay on schedule), we brew our own coffee, to the obvious distaste of the onsite cafe owners. When I say we brew our own coffee, please dont be imagining me on my knees grinding fresh beans between two rocks and carefully filling a cafetiere with the finest flavoursome Kenyan. Of course for us its Scandinavian Nescafe and coffee mate, with almost boiling water from our solitary jerry can which tastes as ever, a little like the last meal we consumed from its metallic mouth.
It's gratefully drained however, and breakfast tastes all the better for being taken outside. Or so I try to convince myself. Its getting colder, and darker, the further we progress into Germany. I'm unsure as to whether it's the changing of the seasons, or because we are moving further away from the arctic circle, day by day. Perhaps it is just the thick dank forest that carpets this part of the country. Always a little darker, a little colder, for me, a little more forbidding. I long for an open land, a view, a way through, anything to see a little beyond the next straight and orderly pine. Never before has the phrase 'the wood for the trees' been so apt.
Its another day, and so for us, of course, more cycling. The days are starting to blend into one now, it's more difficult to discern any particular incidents or places from the journey. Particularly now as I write this some days after, and I cant recall what has happened in the past few hours, let alone days or weeks. All I have is my statistics, recorded for me, so I know that I am somewhere, and I got here by bicycle, x distance travelled over y time. The blog from now could read, forest, pedal, torrential rain, coffee, pedal, lunch, pedal, lake, pedal, small town stares, pedal, another bread roll, pedal, rain, destination, stop, roof, dinner, bed.
Anyway, I'm not in anyway suggesting that I am ungrateful to be having this experience, for it is still what I want to be doing. Cycling in a straight line, progressing toward a goal, rather than endlessly circling around and around as I have been for the past two years. The girls have helpfully written some notes down about the actual events of this day which I will attempt to structure into a meaningful narrative for your avid reading pleasure.
After a slim breakfast by cycle touring standards, we roll back into town and in stilted German, purchase baked goods from the bakery and fruit from the grocers. I feel somewhat like I am in a language class aural exercise at school. Except school children can no doubt speak better Deutsch than I. I get by on a combination of looking like a nice German girl and smiling and nodding at whatever I'm being told, executing a well pronounced 'Tchuss!' and exiting without having to actually say anything. We cruise along at a great pace, the keen cycling nation of Deutschland may have sand for roads, but they've built a beautiful tarmac road through the forest, just for cycletourists like ourselves. We try however to be too clever, and on one of our many 'shortcuts' we find ourselves on the wrong side of a canal. Over on the other side we can see smooth paths, and old ladies gently rolling along barely pedalling. We however are stuck in a sand pit. We resort to walking (the shame) which is the preferred method of travel for many other elder cycletourists we have seen. We come to a bridge across the water and hope for safe passage to the radweg on the other side. Alas it is a railway bridge, and despite there being steps upto it (an encouragement for small children to play on the track perhaps?!) we decide we are probably not going to be quick enough to jump out of the way of oncoming rail traffic whilst dragging a fully loaded touring bike.
Eventually we arrive in our destination of Oranienberg, something of a non-place, about 50km from Berlin where intend to stop the night. We navigate out of the sand and into a Jugendherberge, where although we can wander freely, are unable to secure any beds as the reception shuts at 3pm! This has been an ongoing saga throughout our travels, and the hostel hours seem to be growing shorter as we move towards autumn. So we scoot down to our trusted friend, the Mighty Tourist Information Centre, and seek help. There's five minutes before close and one assistant remains, who does not speak English. She's obviously impressed by my feeble 'Ich mochte ein gasthaus' and gets straight on the blower to the local B and B. There's some confusion between drei and trei but we get booked in, and she gives us a full ten minute monologue in German, whilst Philippa and I gaze at her, smiling vacantly. We consume a most strange meal at an 'Italian' restaurant where although they speak to us in quasi Italian, fail to understand when we speak back fluently! The Gasthaus is perfect for these Gasts and after a brewing a quick camp coffee on our gas stove in the room (why don't they just provide a kettle?!) we rest.
Colby Caffeinates
Trip total odometer 3264km
We awake to the pitter patter of rain on our canvas roof, sardines packed into our tenty tin, sold to us as "luxurious for two, space for three". This basically translates as two man tent, with room for a small terrier or other housetrained pet at the foot of the "bed". We have no pet unfortunately so I find myself sandwiched between a 5"11 human with night terrors and a medium sized Australian with the compulsion to arise and crawl out every three hours for nocturnal urination. We lie in semi slumber, falling in and out of strange cycling related dreams and wait for the rain to stop. As we are in a forest, we later realise that we are simply listening to the drip drip of the drops from the trees falling softly to the ground, amplified to torrential status from the inside of our drum skin home. After dousing ourselves nervously in timed three minute showers (the rules of the campsite, not our military time keeping to stay on schedule), we brew our own coffee, to the obvious distaste of the onsite cafe owners. When I say we brew our own coffee, please dont be imagining me on my knees grinding fresh beans between two rocks and carefully filling a cafetiere with the finest flavoursome Kenyan. Of course for us its Scandinavian Nescafe and coffee mate, with almost boiling water from our solitary jerry can which tastes as ever, a little like the last meal we consumed from its metallic mouth.
It's gratefully drained however, and breakfast tastes all the better for being taken outside. Or so I try to convince myself. Its getting colder, and darker, the further we progress into Germany. I'm unsure as to whether it's the changing of the seasons, or because we are moving further away from the arctic circle, day by day. Perhaps it is just the thick dank forest that carpets this part of the country. Always a little darker, a little colder, for me, a little more forbidding. I long for an open land, a view, a way through, anything to see a little beyond the next straight and orderly pine. Never before has the phrase 'the wood for the trees' been so apt.
Its another day, and so for us, of course, more cycling. The days are starting to blend into one now, it's more difficult to discern any particular incidents or places from the journey. Particularly now as I write this some days after, and I cant recall what has happened in the past few hours, let alone days or weeks. All I have is my statistics, recorded for me, so I know that I am somewhere, and I got here by bicycle, x distance travelled over y time. The blog from now could read, forest, pedal, torrential rain, coffee, pedal, lunch, pedal, lake, pedal, small town stares, pedal, another bread roll, pedal, rain, destination, stop, roof, dinner, bed.
Anyway, I'm not in anyway suggesting that I am ungrateful to be having this experience, for it is still what I want to be doing. Cycling in a straight line, progressing toward a goal, rather than endlessly circling around and around as I have been for the past two years. The girls have helpfully written some notes down about the actual events of this day which I will attempt to structure into a meaningful narrative for your avid reading pleasure.
After a slim breakfast by cycle touring standards, we roll back into town and in stilted German, purchase baked goods from the bakery and fruit from the grocers. I feel somewhat like I am in a language class aural exercise at school. Except school children can no doubt speak better Deutsch than I. I get by on a combination of looking like a nice German girl and smiling and nodding at whatever I'm being told, executing a well pronounced 'Tchuss!' and exiting without having to actually say anything. We cruise along at a great pace, the keen cycling nation of Deutschland may have sand for roads, but they've built a beautiful tarmac road through the forest, just for cycletourists like ourselves. We try however to be too clever, and on one of our many 'shortcuts' we find ourselves on the wrong side of a canal. Over on the other side we can see smooth paths, and old ladies gently rolling along barely pedalling. We however are stuck in a sand pit. We resort to walking (the shame) which is the preferred method of travel for many other elder cycletourists we have seen. We come to a bridge across the water and hope for safe passage to the radweg on the other side. Alas it is a railway bridge, and despite there being steps upto it (an encouragement for small children to play on the track perhaps?!) we decide we are probably not going to be quick enough to jump out of the way of oncoming rail traffic whilst dragging a fully loaded touring bike.
Eventually we arrive in our destination of Oranienberg, something of a non-place, about 50km from Berlin where intend to stop the night. We navigate out of the sand and into a Jugendherberge, where although we can wander freely, are unable to secure any beds as the reception shuts at 3pm! This has been an ongoing saga throughout our travels, and the hostel hours seem to be growing shorter as we move towards autumn. So we scoot down to our trusted friend, the Mighty Tourist Information Centre, and seek help. There's five minutes before close and one assistant remains, who does not speak English. She's obviously impressed by my feeble 'Ich mochte ein gasthaus' and gets straight on the blower to the local B and B. There's some confusion between drei and trei but we get booked in, and she gives us a full ten minute monologue in German, whilst Philippa and I gaze at her, smiling vacantly. We consume a most strange meal at an 'Italian' restaurant where although they speak to us in quasi Italian, fail to understand when we speak back fluently! The Gasthaus is perfect for these Gasts and after a brewing a quick camp coffee on our gas stove in the room (why don't they just provide a kettle?!) we rest.
Day 35 - Gustrow to Wesenburg, Phil
Stats... 133km covered in 6hours 35min
average 20kmph, max speed 48.5kmph
odometer reads 3164km
Waking up to the knock of the girls at my door, I roll out of bed and we head down to breakfast, where we make the most of the buffet and walk away with the pantry well-stocked for our journey. Its only on returning to the breakfast room for a last minute toilet stop, that Ali notices the sign strictly forbidding removal of "food or other items"...ah well, we think we've been fairly subtle this morning!! It's a sad sign of things to come though, as we soon realise the "bett & bike" concept that is widely publicised in this nation of cycle-tourers, does not encourage stealing from the breakfast table to support hungry cyclists....hmmmm....
We head off into blustery winds, and my knees are aching before we hit the bike path (which is on the doorstep of the gasthaus...). Still not accustomed to the German terrain, which can alternate between asphalt to gravel, to pavers to concrete, to sand to cobblestones in a matter of meters, we find ourselves pottering along at true cycletouring pace.... The cobblestones and sand become my worst nightmare - sand sees you grind to a halt on the loaded tourers whilst swerving dangerously into the path of the others, whilst cobblestones seem to clearly delineate the entry/exit to every small town we come across (at a regular distance of two km...). Bear in mind that these are no ordinary, neatly laid and maintained cobblestones but massive, coarsely hewn lumps of rock which are laid in any which manner so as to cleverly trap your wheel no matter how quickly or slowly you approach them.... I am finding this rocky terrain particularly distressing as, after one section of intense jolting, I find my entire right hand and forearm in spasm, the recently reattached nerve ending going into sensory overload.....
We are encountering cycle tourists around every turn (no more straight road, we are twisting and turning constantly so as to take in every tiny village possible)... Still having no luck with the German drivers either - Hazel comes to close calls with a convoy of tractors who seem to refuse to slow on taking a right angle corner, and is then accosted by a carload of "piggie" types...we are sure if they are exuberantly encouraging us, or perhaps just want to eat her....
We are making difficult headway into the wind but save ourselves 8km with a detour along road to the next town, only to become somewhat misdirected by the map of the 'radweg' which puts us at a different point to our actual location....we head off confidently, to realise that the compass is in completely the wrong direction and correct, using our Berlin-Kobenhavn map purchased in Rostock, to follow what we think is a small road in our intended direction.... somehow we find ourselves at a 'see' (lake) where we are directed to take the left fork of the road... this seems to lead directly into a wheatfield, and so we take the right fork.... litttle difference, and we find ourselves cycling through a field of knee high grasses waving in the breeze... finally back on asphalt and we join up eventually with the cycle route....
A roadside picnic in the sunshine, Ali (now often mistaken as our german tour leader) offers directions to a very confused German couple who seem to have left their hotel with no map or idea where they were headed, we cycle on skirting the national park. I seem to picked up a small gremlin, which has taken up residence somewhere in my back wheel, and is squealing with excitement with every turn of the wheel...perhaps it is time for a service....
Another detour (unsure as to why we persist in this manner, as our map clearly gives inaccurate depictions of roads vs. sand tracks) and we end up on said sand track with no clear idea where we will end up! Miraculously, we suddenly join up with the cycle route, and are ridiculously pleased when we realise we've saved another 6km!!
We have also turned and begun heading west, and for the first time any of us can remember we have a tail wind!!! We pass our first fellow under-30, female cycle tourists (Ali manages to restrain herself from taking a photo) and find ourselves nodding in empathy as all those cycletourists heading to Copenhagen battle on into the wind.... Stopping frequently for snacks, we finally roll into Wesenburg as the evening descends, and with lack of a better option pitch our tent for the first time in Germany. We take a spin into town on our unloaded bikes (fast, light and very wobbly!!) for a delicious shish kebab, before we squeeze into our little tent (refusing to pay the €5 extra to put up the second tent) for a much needed sleep, sheltered from the wind and rain by the towering pine forest....
late night thermos action
average 20kmph, max speed 48.5kmph
odometer reads 3164km
Waking up to the knock of the girls at my door, I roll out of bed and we head down to breakfast, where we make the most of the buffet and walk away with the pantry well-stocked for our journey. Its only on returning to the breakfast room for a last minute toilet stop, that Ali notices the sign strictly forbidding removal of "food or other items"...ah well, we think we've been fairly subtle this morning!! It's a sad sign of things to come though, as we soon realise the "bett & bike" concept that is widely publicised in this nation of cycle-tourers, does not encourage stealing from the breakfast table to support hungry cyclists....hmmmm....
We head off into blustery winds, and my knees are aching before we hit the bike path (which is on the doorstep of the gasthaus...). Still not accustomed to the German terrain, which can alternate between asphalt to gravel, to pavers to concrete, to sand to cobblestones in a matter of meters, we find ourselves pottering along at true cycletouring pace.... The cobblestones and sand become my worst nightmare - sand sees you grind to a halt on the loaded tourers whilst swerving dangerously into the path of the others, whilst cobblestones seem to clearly delineate the entry/exit to every small town we come across (at a regular distance of two km...). Bear in mind that these are no ordinary, neatly laid and maintained cobblestones but massive, coarsely hewn lumps of rock which are laid in any which manner so as to cleverly trap your wheel no matter how quickly or slowly you approach them.... I am finding this rocky terrain particularly distressing as, after one section of intense jolting, I find my entire right hand and forearm in spasm, the recently reattached nerve ending going into sensory overload.....
We are encountering cycle tourists around every turn (no more straight road, we are twisting and turning constantly so as to take in every tiny village possible)... Still having no luck with the German drivers either - Hazel comes to close calls with a convoy of tractors who seem to refuse to slow on taking a right angle corner, and is then accosted by a carload of "piggie" types...we are sure if they are exuberantly encouraging us, or perhaps just want to eat her....
We are making difficult headway into the wind but save ourselves 8km with a detour along road to the next town, only to become somewhat misdirected by the map of the 'radweg' which puts us at a different point to our actual location....we head off confidently, to realise that the compass is in completely the wrong direction and correct, using our Berlin-Kobenhavn map purchased in Rostock, to follow what we think is a small road in our intended direction.... somehow we find ourselves at a 'see' (lake) where we are directed to take the left fork of the road... this seems to lead directly into a wheatfield, and so we take the right fork.... litttle difference, and we find ourselves cycling through a field of knee high grasses waving in the breeze... finally back on asphalt and we join up eventually with the cycle route....
A roadside picnic in the sunshine, Ali (now often mistaken as our german tour leader) offers directions to a very confused German couple who seem to have left their hotel with no map or idea where they were headed, we cycle on skirting the national park. I seem to picked up a small gremlin, which has taken up residence somewhere in my back wheel, and is squealing with excitement with every turn of the wheel...perhaps it is time for a service....
Another detour (unsure as to why we persist in this manner, as our map clearly gives inaccurate depictions of roads vs. sand tracks) and we end up on said sand track with no clear idea where we will end up! Miraculously, we suddenly join up with the cycle route, and are ridiculously pleased when we realise we've saved another 6km!!
We have also turned and begun heading west, and for the first time any of us can remember we have a tail wind!!! We pass our first fellow under-30, female cycle tourists (Ali manages to restrain herself from taking a photo) and find ourselves nodding in empathy as all those cycletourists heading to Copenhagen battle on into the wind.... Stopping frequently for snacks, we finally roll into Wesenburg as the evening descends, and with lack of a better option pitch our tent for the first time in Germany. We take a spin into town on our unloaded bikes (fast, light and very wobbly!!) for a delicious shish kebab, before we squeeze into our little tent (refusing to pay the €5 extra to put up the second tent) for a much needed sleep, sheltered from the wind and rain by the towering pine forest....
obligatory coffee break in Krakow (unfortunately not the Polish Krakow, but smaller German version
where has our road gone?!
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Day 34 Rostock to Gustrow... Hazel
Walking to the bikes in the morning must be quite a sight as we waddle along, bowing from the strain of carrying four pannier bags. Our Ortleib bags are excellant panniers, and completely waterproof. They are how ever a pain to carry. This morning our waddle is greeted by Alice's bike's flat rear tyre.
So pit stop time and we've not done any km yet!
Still at least we're inside (the four star hotel's underground parking) and fed. Breakfast the best spread we've seen; and finally the proper sausages that Alice has been craving. Not only sausages but raw sausgae meat to eat (a delicacy?) . It tasted like nicely seasoned sausage meat, so I'm not convinced by the blue serving.
Wheels rolling, quick stop to Tourist info to see where the bike shops are... It doesn't open till ten, nor does the bike shop we find! At least I have the oppertunity to buy some new pants. It is most tiring hanging your washing out to dry on your pannier rack awaiting a cycle breeze dry only for monsoon after monsoon.
At ten o'clock we discover the inner tube vending machine outside the bike shop... Tubes gathered, we roll back to tourist informaiton with quite a formidable middle aged German lady- certainly no little girl blonde swede. A smile was gifted when we accidentally thanked her in Swedish!
Finally we leave the city... attempt to leave the city, oh suburbs with your winding cycle paths and poor signange.
Now into the counry side. There are lot's of wind farms happily spinning away. We on the otherhand are slowing moving, forcing ourselves into the headwind . Scores of fellow cycle tourists whizz the other way with their tail wind. "Hej Hej" we cry not wanting them to see our envy. Actually they are not whzzing or enjoying a tail wind because they are cycling at touring pace- a steady 5mph on flat or descents. They walk up the hills.
We reach our first town. Coffee is called for. A Butchers sells coffee and meat but no cakes so is vetoed for Lidl. Now out of Scnadinavia (where everyone speaks English) we are forced to try our German. I sound quite welsh, which is odd as I don't sound welsh normally. But we sit down with three coffees and three cakes so it can't be that bad.
Alice has started muttering about germans. It would seem Fawlty towers and Dad's Army have served as post war propaganda indoctrination programme. Alice and I are behaving a little like Basil Fawlity and Coporal Jones respectively.
On and on, our hopes of a 100+km day diminsh as our slow progress continues. Plus we really need to do washing.
A little German lady is blown off her bike infront of us. We rush to help her, remarkably she is utterly unscathed. Alice trys to talk of the 'Luft' and how bad it is, she does not understand, but thanks us before cycling away.
Lunchtime (we are only 15km away- that's how slow our day has been: breaks every 15km!)
The last bit is next to a canal lovely flat and taramc. We race along sheltered from the wind overtaking the locals who look quite confused by speedy tourists!
We are staying tonight at a "Gasthaus". This is inbetween a hostel and a hotel. But seems to only incoporate the best bits of both: towels, linen, ensuite, bike garage, internet, laundry, kitchenette.
The only difficulty is that "z" is in a strange location on the keyboard. So Phil and Alice are a little slower with the blog catch up. As I only write my name once I'm not really affected.
So pit stop time and we've not done any km yet!
Still at least we're inside (the four star hotel's underground parking) and fed. Breakfast the best spread we've seen; and finally the proper sausages that Alice has been craving. Not only sausages but raw sausgae meat to eat (a delicacy?) . It tasted like nicely seasoned sausage meat, so I'm not convinced by the blue serving.
Wheels rolling, quick stop to Tourist info to see where the bike shops are... It doesn't open till ten, nor does the bike shop we find! At least I have the oppertunity to buy some new pants. It is most tiring hanging your washing out to dry on your pannier rack awaiting a cycle breeze dry only for monsoon after monsoon.
At ten o'clock we discover the inner tube vending machine outside the bike shop... Tubes gathered, we roll back to tourist informaiton with quite a formidable middle aged German lady- certainly no little girl blonde swede. A smile was gifted when we accidentally thanked her in Swedish!
Finally we leave the city... attempt to leave the city, oh suburbs with your winding cycle paths and poor signange.
Now into the counry side. There are lot's of wind farms happily spinning away. We on the otherhand are slowing moving, forcing ourselves into the headwind . Scores of fellow cycle tourists whizz the other way with their tail wind. "Hej Hej" we cry not wanting them to see our envy. Actually they are not whzzing or enjoying a tail wind because they are cycling at touring pace- a steady 5mph on flat or descents. They walk up the hills.
We reach our first town. Coffee is called for. A Butchers sells coffee and meat but no cakes so is vetoed for Lidl. Now out of Scnadinavia (where everyone speaks English) we are forced to try our German. I sound quite welsh, which is odd as I don't sound welsh normally. But we sit down with three coffees and three cakes so it can't be that bad.
Alice has started muttering about germans. It would seem Fawlty towers and Dad's Army have served as post war propaganda indoctrination programme. Alice and I are behaving a little like Basil Fawlity and Coporal Jones respectively.
On and on, our hopes of a 100+km day diminsh as our slow progress continues. Plus we really need to do washing.
A little German lady is blown off her bike infront of us. We rush to help her, remarkably she is utterly unscathed. Alice trys to talk of the 'Luft' and how bad it is, she does not understand, but thanks us before cycling away.
Lunchtime (we are only 15km away- that's how slow our day has been: breaks every 15km!)
The last bit is next to a canal lovely flat and taramc. We race along sheltered from the wind overtaking the locals who look quite confused by speedy tourists!
We are staying tonight at a "Gasthaus". This is inbetween a hostel and a hotel. But seems to only incoporate the best bits of both: towels, linen, ensuite, bike garage, internet, laundry, kitchenette.
The only difficulty is that "z" is in a strange location on the keyboard. So Phil and Alice are a little slower with the blog catch up. As I only write my name once I'm not really affected.
Day 33 Monday 23rd August - Vordingborg to Rostock by Alice
Sadly after such a short time, our time in lovely Denmark is soon to finish and we enjoy Lurpak at our last ever Scandinavian breakfast, ready to cycle to Gedser, and the ferry to Germany. We give the bikes a long overdue service, pumping up the tyres, cleaning and oiling the chains, and as a special treat, wiping down the rims and frame. Unfortunately we rather over polish our rims and the brakes no longer function, meaning the peloton must be more widely spaced than normal! We decided not to wait for the bike shop to open, despite needing more spare tubes, and head out confidently, over another grand bridge onto the next island in Denmark's glorious archipelago. After 15km Hazel of course sustains yet another puncture. Our gaffer tape job on her back tyre has given up the ghost. We sling in another tube and limp slowly to the next town of Nykobing where fortunately theres a most well stocked and helpful bike shop. We opt for new tyres for everyone, seeing as we are nearly at 2000 miles and the boys are looking a little worse for wear. The wheels are also buckled but nonetheless we clothe them in shiny new Schwalbe Marathons, in a firm nod to two years puncture free joy at Darwins Deli. The bike shop is equipped with an automated tyre pump, much like you'd find at a petrol station. Somewhat over zealously I force as much air as possible into my beleagured back wheel and despite snapping off the presta valve, it stays inflated and on we roll.
It's now time of course, for our daily downpour. Yesterday was as wet as I thought it was possible to get, but this one really takes the biscuit. Torrential and other such words do nothing by way of explanation. Shock and Awe is how I would describe it, a complete bombardment. All 'waterproof' items throw in the towel, no more fight left in them after yesterday, we are cycling swimming pools. After emptying our socks outside the ferry terminal, we board the good ship Prins Joachim, albeit through the wrong gate, and end up at the back of the car deck behind the ferries.
The ferry smells, nay reeks, of vomit and despite being run by the same company as the lovely Helsingborg ferry, is far far grottier. There's a smoking room, with a smoked glass door. I somewhat wish the journey was less than half an hour this time but its 2hours to Germany. We eat a german sausage accompanied by a Danish pastry in honour of the occasion and disembark whilst trying not to get crushed by lorries. There's confusion amongst the German port staff as to what to do with us, so we make our own way off the motorway and search for the 'berlin to copenhagen bike path'. After a bit of guess work and 20 rather than 10km later, we arrive in Rostock, and just outside the city centre my bike starts to feel a bit funny. I stop and inspect the back wheel, at just the moment the inner tube decides to blow up. There's a gunshot, and a large gust of wind in my face, but myself, and the Schwalbe marathon survive intact. We complete another roadside change much to the confusion/disapproval of passing locals. We search around town for a while, and like Mary and Joseph there's no room at the inn. We end up in the only available beds. In a four star hotel. Fortunately its not actually that expensive, and we retire to our chamber, with a dinner of bread rolls, and begin to reek out the entire hotel with the smell of our sopping wet shoes, gently rotting in the corner. Welcome to Germany.
It's now time of course, for our daily downpour. Yesterday was as wet as I thought it was possible to get, but this one really takes the biscuit. Torrential and other such words do nothing by way of explanation. Shock and Awe is how I would describe it, a complete bombardment. All 'waterproof' items throw in the towel, no more fight left in them after yesterday, we are cycling swimming pools. After emptying our socks outside the ferry terminal, we board the good ship Prins Joachim, albeit through the wrong gate, and end up at the back of the car deck behind the ferries.
The ferry smells, nay reeks, of vomit and despite being run by the same company as the lovely Helsingborg ferry, is far far grottier. There's a smoking room, with a smoked glass door. I somewhat wish the journey was less than half an hour this time but its 2hours to Germany. We eat a german sausage accompanied by a Danish pastry in honour of the occasion and disembark whilst trying not to get crushed by lorries. There's confusion amongst the German port staff as to what to do with us, so we make our own way off the motorway and search for the 'berlin to copenhagen bike path'. After a bit of guess work and 20 rather than 10km later, we arrive in Rostock, and just outside the city centre my bike starts to feel a bit funny. I stop and inspect the back wheel, at just the moment the inner tube decides to blow up. There's a gunshot, and a large gust of wind in my face, but myself, and the Schwalbe marathon survive intact. We complete another roadside change much to the confusion/disapproval of passing locals. We search around town for a while, and like Mary and Joseph there's no room at the inn. We end up in the only available beds. In a four star hotel. Fortunately its not actually that expensive, and we retire to our chamber, with a dinner of bread rolls, and begin to reek out the entire hotel with the smell of our sopping wet shoes, gently rotting in the corner. Welcome to Germany.
Day 32 - Sunday 22nd August -Kobenhavn to Vordingborg
We think we've got the map situation sorted between bike map and Europe... Torrential rain as we leave the city centre slows us down both physically and by visually obscuring the bike route signs!! We find ourselves eventually back on National route 9, after overtaking a women's trialthon to Ali and Hazel's excitement, however we soon abandon the cycle route for a lovely straight road all the way to Koge, where Ali is eagerly awaiting a visit to the Arken contemporary art gallery. Strangely we arrive in Koge without seeing any signs for Arken, so Ali hurries in to the Konst Museum for Public art, only to be informed that we had missed Arken some 50km back on the outskirts of Copehangen!!!!
I enjoy some good coffee time, while the girls check out the gallery that we've stumbled across in Koge. A few postcards, make friends with the cafe owner, who regretfully informs us that the rain shows no sign of easing today or tomorrow... not really seeing an alternative, we put our near-dry waterproofs back on and head back into the downpour, as the delightful staff at the Public Art museum wave us on our way...
Imagine our surprise, when some 15km later, the rain begins to ease and we see a bit of sunshine for our trip into Vordingborg. Hazel is ecstatic with our road choice, as we seem to be on some ancient roman or viking road, which literally means that we are travelling as the crow flies!!! Rolling hills see Ali and Hazel racing away as my knees struggle with the combination of strong winds and ascents, but we are slowed by another puncture - this time Hazel's front tyre seems to have deflated for no reason... replaced, we head on to the town of Vordingborg, where the only accomodation is at the Kong Waldemar Hotel... we check in and rush through the showers, before heading across the road for a lovely meal, with all you can eat salad bar, giant glasses of orange fizzy drink and excellent pommes frites, all served by a very sweet Danish boy, who delighted in practising his english with us! No internet at the hotel so no pressure to blog, and we head to bed after coffee on the stove in hotel room, looking forward to breakfast in the morning!!
I enjoy some good coffee time, while the girls check out the gallery that we've stumbled across in Koge. A few postcards, make friends with the cafe owner, who regretfully informs us that the rain shows no sign of easing today or tomorrow... not really seeing an alternative, we put our near-dry waterproofs back on and head back into the downpour, as the delightful staff at the Public Art museum wave us on our way...
Imagine our surprise, when some 15km later, the rain begins to ease and we see a bit of sunshine for our trip into Vordingborg. Hazel is ecstatic with our road choice, as we seem to be on some ancient roman or viking road, which literally means that we are travelling as the crow flies!!! Rolling hills see Ali and Hazel racing away as my knees struggle with the combination of strong winds and ascents, but we are slowed by another puncture - this time Hazel's front tyre seems to have deflated for no reason... replaced, we head on to the town of Vordingborg, where the only accomodation is at the Kong Waldemar Hotel... we check in and rush through the showers, before heading across the road for a lovely meal, with all you can eat salad bar, giant glasses of orange fizzy drink and excellent pommes frites, all served by a very sweet Danish boy, who delighted in practising his english with us! No internet at the hotel so no pressure to blog, and we head to bed after coffee on the stove in hotel room, looking forward to breakfast in the morning!!
Day 31 Saturday 21st August - Kobenhavn, rest day... Hazel
Wonderful Wonderful Copehagen
Rest day: km cycled zero
Breakfast in Euroglobe Hotel consists of a bread roll and salami and cheese slice laid out on little plates in an unattended hotel room. Most of the plates are now half eaten with marmalade smeared over the table clothes. We find some untouched offerings, the later arrivals are not as lucky.
Non lycra clothes on, and then out into the best cycling ciy in the world, sans bikes.
The bicycle in Copenhagen is king, everyone owns and rides one, and parks it anywhere on the street thanks to the ubiquotus kick stand and wheel lock. The bike paths run alongside the road with raised curves, traffic lighting systems, cycle right of way at junctions... all quite marvellous.
So on foot we trot through town off to the National Gallerey. Awesome Lindsay Seers exhibition, which Ali and I are quite enrapped by and misplace Phil who nips off to the hit the shopping/coffee.
Our next intended destination is the Kobenhavn's contempoary art gallery which we have carefully marked on our map.
We find the circled city square and traipze around looking for the gallery. Minimal signage; which on reflection Kobenghavn isn't very good at- budget blown on all the cycling provisions!
so around around we go. The people in the resturant must belive us quite peculiar (but this is nothing new). Confusion calls for a coffee stop. Refreshed we deduce the gallery is in fact the Church sat inside the square. Around the square again twice with all closed doors promising entrances around the other side and stating opening hours (and yes it should be open). Unsure if the gallery is actually a large conceptual piece then Alice's Flip flop snaps so we scuttle away to the safety of consumerism for a replacement.
It is our one month anniversary away from London and we have designated Traditional Danish as our celebratory supper, we await Philllipa at our preordained dinner meeting point.
Phil has been to a lovely coffee shop and been fed and watered for free so isn't actually that hungry...
Traditional Danish dinner is Smorbrod: the open sandwich. It's regrettably a little underwhelming after a month of sandwiches for cycling sandwich ladies. Nevermind I am convinced their Pastries will make up for this which we have yet to sample... soon.
Evening's closing in on the Saturdaz night and we have cycling and more art tomorrow so back to bed it is.
Rest day: km cycled zero
Breakfast in Euroglobe Hotel consists of a bread roll and salami and cheese slice laid out on little plates in an unattended hotel room. Most of the plates are now half eaten with marmalade smeared over the table clothes. We find some untouched offerings, the later arrivals are not as lucky.
Non lycra clothes on, and then out into the best cycling ciy in the world, sans bikes.
The bicycle in Copenhagen is king, everyone owns and rides one, and parks it anywhere on the street thanks to the ubiquotus kick stand and wheel lock. The bike paths run alongside the road with raised curves, traffic lighting systems, cycle right of way at junctions... all quite marvellous.
So on foot we trot through town off to the National Gallerey. Awesome Lindsay Seers exhibition, which Ali and I are quite enrapped by and misplace Phil who nips off to the hit the shopping/coffee.
Our next intended destination is the Kobenhavn's contempoary art gallery which we have carefully marked on our map.
We find the circled city square and traipze around looking for the gallery. Minimal signage; which on reflection Kobenghavn isn't very good at- budget blown on all the cycling provisions!
so around around we go. The people in the resturant must belive us quite peculiar (but this is nothing new). Confusion calls for a coffee stop. Refreshed we deduce the gallery is in fact the Church sat inside the square. Around the square again twice with all closed doors promising entrances around the other side and stating opening hours (and yes it should be open). Unsure if the gallery is actually a large conceptual piece then Alice's Flip flop snaps so we scuttle away to the safety of consumerism for a replacement.
It is our one month anniversary away from London and we have designated Traditional Danish as our celebratory supper, we await Philllipa at our preordained dinner meeting point.
Phil has been to a lovely coffee shop and been fed and watered for free so isn't actually that hungry...
Traditional Danish dinner is Smorbrod: the open sandwich. It's regrettably a little underwhelming after a month of sandwiches for cycling sandwich ladies. Nevermind I am convinced their Pastries will make up for this which we have yet to sample... soon.
Evening's closing in on the Saturdaz night and we have cycling and more art tomorrow so back to bed it is.
Day 30 - Friday 20th August - Helsingborg to Copenhagen
Distance travelled 53.98km in 3hours 15min
Average 16.5kmph
max 36.5
odometer 2791km
Up with the larks, for once after a good nights sleep on a perfect mattress and down we trot for a hearty breakfast. Worryingly, although we had all agreed prior to the meal that we did not need many more supplies, we found on our return to our room that we had 'liberated' a total of 18 bread rolls from the establishment. We check out and Im surprised to see the same receptionist whom checked us in with a smile at 10.45pm last night, despite a our tramp like appearance. She's still as cheerful as ever and perfectly turned out. Remarkable. We are quite the opposite, if anything we look more dishevelled after shower and sleep. We have to hand it to the Hotel Karnan, they are the nicest hotel staff we've come across, including Florence in Kautokeino. So if you are ever in Helsingborg (also a lovely town) then do check in to the Karnan, its a cooperative, owned by the staff, who will do anything for you, even if you do as ever want to fit three people in a double room!
We bowl over to the ferry port over the road, ready to wave goodbye to Sweden and are checked in by a delightful Swede who gives us free haribo after hearing of our adventure! We are ushered to a lane just for two wheels, and are delighted to be the first to drive onto the car deck. Disappointingly the journey lasts less than half an hour so there's time only for a few snaps and a dirty coffee and before we know it we are back in the saddle. The ferry is basically part of the European motorway so as soon as we drive off we are on a three lane highway. This being Denmark however, we are swiftly directed to the nearest cycle path, which already shows our destination of Kobenhavn, some 45 km away! It's disgustingly easy, a singular signposted route will take us all the way there, Cykelsparet and Sverigeledens tortuous lanes are a distant but fond memory. There's sea to our left, civilazation (ie coffee shops) all around and delightful thatched cottages on our right. We may as well be in England to be honest. But with better cycle provisions. There's a definite European rather than Scandinavian feel in the air, pines are replaced by oaks, lakes by seaside harbours and isolation by suburbanisation. We basically cycle through 20miles of commuter belt all the way to the capital. It's pleasant enough, but after the wilds of the arctic it all feels, well, a bit too easy. Perhaps owing to this we begin to see a great deal more cycletourists on the road.
Before we now it we are in Wonderful Kobenhavn as they call it, and wonderful it is. The little mermaid has been shipped off to China for the summer, but theres bike paths and bikes everywhere! The cyclist is king of the roads, and cars stop, wait and part in waves so we can ride through blissfully. We are the ubiquitous lost tourists, getting in everyone's way, and beautifully stylish women on dutch bikes (sorry danish bikes) are soon over taking us in tight skirts and high heels. Alas our 'hotel' for the night is not quite so glamourous. Euro Globe is not nice enough to be a hostel so its provided towels and sheets and somehow qualifies as a Hotel. Its only redeeming feature, should you wish to take opportunity of it, is that you can smoke absolutely anwywhere within its walls. This includes the undesirable toilet, where an ashtray is positioned for your convenience next to the throne. We dine on bread rolls and head straight out to sample the nightlife which has been somewhat lacking in our Scandinavian experience so far. Often in Sweden we wondered if everybody was under some sort of secret curfew, as restaurants were closed by nine and streets deserted. Maybe they were just sleeping, in order to look so fresh for the next day. They are very healthy looking after all.
Anyway we sample an array of drinking spots and end up in Nyhavn, drinking Carlsberg, at probably the most expensive pub in the city. We manage to seat ourselves betwixt two Sicilian gentlemen and two Danish nurses. Understandably the Sicilians are initally more interested in the glamourous Danes than some slightly dishevelled looking cycle tourists, but imagine their delight when they realise our Philippa can act as a translator! Before we know it she's in full I talien flow, and we've invites to beach houses in Sicily. Hopefully we will make it there! The Danes were also most impressed with our trip. After a final trip into an Irish bar, where to our delight, the live musicians play peloton favourite 'the chirpy chirpy cheep cheep song' we retire to Euro Globe, our latest night ever.
Average 16.5kmph
max 36.5
odometer 2791km
Up with the larks, for once after a good nights sleep on a perfect mattress and down we trot for a hearty breakfast. Worryingly, although we had all agreed prior to the meal that we did not need many more supplies, we found on our return to our room that we had 'liberated' a total of 18 bread rolls from the establishment. We check out and Im surprised to see the same receptionist whom checked us in with a smile at 10.45pm last night, despite a our tramp like appearance. She's still as cheerful as ever and perfectly turned out. Remarkable. We are quite the opposite, if anything we look more dishevelled after shower and sleep. We have to hand it to the Hotel Karnan, they are the nicest hotel staff we've come across, including Florence in Kautokeino. So if you are ever in Helsingborg (also a lovely town) then do check in to the Karnan, its a cooperative, owned by the staff, who will do anything for you, even if you do as ever want to fit three people in a double room!
We bowl over to the ferry port over the road, ready to wave goodbye to Sweden and are checked in by a delightful Swede who gives us free haribo after hearing of our adventure! We are ushered to a lane just for two wheels, and are delighted to be the first to drive onto the car deck. Disappointingly the journey lasts less than half an hour so there's time only for a few snaps and a dirty coffee and before we know it we are back in the saddle. The ferry is basically part of the European motorway so as soon as we drive off we are on a three lane highway. This being Denmark however, we are swiftly directed to the nearest cycle path, which already shows our destination of Kobenhavn, some 45 km away! It's disgustingly easy, a singular signposted route will take us all the way there, Cykelsparet and Sverigeledens tortuous lanes are a distant but fond memory. There's sea to our left, civilazation (ie coffee shops) all around and delightful thatched cottages on our right. We may as well be in England to be honest. But with better cycle provisions. There's a definite European rather than Scandinavian feel in the air, pines are replaced by oaks, lakes by seaside harbours and isolation by suburbanisation. We basically cycle through 20miles of commuter belt all the way to the capital. It's pleasant enough, but after the wilds of the arctic it all feels, well, a bit too easy. Perhaps owing to this we begin to see a great deal more cycletourists on the road.
Before we now it we are in Wonderful Kobenhavn as they call it, and wonderful it is. The little mermaid has been shipped off to China for the summer, but theres bike paths and bikes everywhere! The cyclist is king of the roads, and cars stop, wait and part in waves so we can ride through blissfully. We are the ubiquitous lost tourists, getting in everyone's way, and beautifully stylish women on dutch bikes (sorry danish bikes) are soon over taking us in tight skirts and high heels. Alas our 'hotel' for the night is not quite so glamourous. Euro Globe is not nice enough to be a hostel so its provided towels and sheets and somehow qualifies as a Hotel. Its only redeeming feature, should you wish to take opportunity of it, is that you can smoke absolutely anwywhere within its walls. This includes the undesirable toilet, where an ashtray is positioned for your convenience next to the throne. We dine on bread rolls and head straight out to sample the nightlife which has been somewhat lacking in our Scandinavian experience so far. Often in Sweden we wondered if everybody was under some sort of secret curfew, as restaurants were closed by nine and streets deserted. Maybe they were just sleeping, in order to look so fresh for the next day. They are very healthy looking after all.
Anyway we sample an array of drinking spots and end up in Nyhavn, drinking Carlsberg, at probably the most expensive pub in the city. We manage to seat ourselves betwixt two Sicilian gentlemen and two Danish nurses. Understandably the Sicilians are initally more interested in the glamourous Danes than some slightly dishevelled looking cycle tourists, but imagine their delight when they realise our Philippa can act as a translator! Before we know it she's in full I talien flow, and we've invites to beach houses in Sicily. Hopefully we will make it there! The Danes were also most impressed with our trip. After a final trip into an Irish bar, where to our delight, the live musicians play peloton favourite 'the chirpy chirpy cheep cheep song' we retire to Euro Globe, our latest night ever.
Day 29 - Thursday, Hamlstad to Helsingborg, Phil
After the typical 2.5hr Quality hotel breakfast, where we undertake intense tag-team blogging, we have patched Hazel's tyre with duct tape, and are hoping we'll make it in one piece to our final destination in Sweden - Helsingborg, where we'll catch the ferry to Denmark!! We finally set off late morning into blustery winds, but buoyed by views of the ocean that we glimpsed after catching a joyride in the elevator to the 12th floor of the hotel!
We have decided that we'll stick to Sparet today, as bible tells us that he'll lead us straight into Helsingborg. All seems to be going well - we're cruising along a lovely coatal path (albeit with a gusty headwind, but we're starting to expect that), ducking in and out of woods, and pretty much following the motorway - heaven!! Finally we reach the seaside, and Alice gleefully skips across the sand in full cycle kit (helmet included) to taste the salty sea!! We enjoy a picnic on the coast just before Bastad, and then wend our way through the town. Switching down to granny-gear, we decide to challenge ourselves to see how slowly we can cover the next 30 odd km, as we have a lot of time before our planned ferry trip to Denmark, and begin heading south to Angelholm...at least we think we're heading south but Sparet has once again fooled us, and all of a sudden we're on our way up a steep headland, towards the west!! Alas, there's no alternative route unless we double back to Bastad (which we all refuse to do unless there's no other option) and so, on and up the hill, thinking at least we may get a speccy viewpoint for all our hard work...it is not to be however, and after cycling through a golf course, we find ourselves on a short descent back to the coast. Luckily, after some 20km of winding sandy tracks, we manage to lose Sparet and are back on the main road into Angelholm. After food and coffee, I stock up on information on Helsinborg/Helsingor (marketed as one city in two countries - exciting!!) and we get a few more bread rolls from a local bakery for the evening, and we're on our way again.... At this point I guess I should mention that our plan in Helsingborg is to set up camp in the ferry terminal, catch the ferry across at 4am (they run every 20min, 24/7), then scoot down to Copenhagen for breakfast. Hazel has pointed out that neither Ali nor I do well without sleep, but we've both done it before...what's the big deal?!?
Approaching Helsinborg, and we've lost Sparet again (having somehow met up with him on the main road out of Angelholm)....we're also approaching a motorway intersection with numerous roadworks being carried out around the newly constructed Ikea and maxi-shopping centre... At this point I'm in the lead and pedalling confidently, but begin to hear shrieking and bells ringing (our signal that someone needs to stop)... seeing the nearing motorway signs, Ali is beginnning to go into melt-down, and by the time we stop, having turned into a side road, she is no longer able to communicate her intense disagreement with our route. Hazel and I take up the map (thankfully!!) obtained at our coffee stop, and we navigate into town, arriving at the ferry port not long before sunset... Helsingborg is a beautiful city, but the ferry terminal is somewhat disappointing and so we settle in to a nearby pub, where we can keep an ever watchful eye on our bikes, whilst enjoying a delightful English pub meal and a few pints. We had a lovely chat with some Swedes who were recently returned from Copenhagen, and stocked up on food for our night long vigil (luckily the pub stayed open til midnight so we could hang out there for a while...). At some time around 10pm, Ali and I began to realise that maybe cycletouring and sleeping in terminals weren't a viable combination, and this was confirmed when I fell asleep in the pub!! Ali and Hazel nipped out to scout around, and despite our best intentions to save money, we find our selves checking in to the delightful Hotel Karan at about 11.30pm. Our bikes safely locked inside, we crash for a good 7hrs sleep...Denmark can wait another few hours!!!
We have decided that we'll stick to Sparet today, as bible tells us that he'll lead us straight into Helsingborg. All seems to be going well - we're cruising along a lovely coatal path (albeit with a gusty headwind, but we're starting to expect that), ducking in and out of woods, and pretty much following the motorway - heaven!! Finally we reach the seaside, and Alice gleefully skips across the sand in full cycle kit (helmet included) to taste the salty sea!! We enjoy a picnic on the coast just before Bastad, and then wend our way through the town. Switching down to granny-gear, we decide to challenge ourselves to see how slowly we can cover the next 30 odd km, as we have a lot of time before our planned ferry trip to Denmark, and begin heading south to Angelholm...at least we think we're heading south but Sparet has once again fooled us, and all of a sudden we're on our way up a steep headland, towards the west!! Alas, there's no alternative route unless we double back to Bastad (which we all refuse to do unless there's no other option) and so, on and up the hill, thinking at least we may get a speccy viewpoint for all our hard work...it is not to be however, and after cycling through a golf course, we find ourselves on a short descent back to the coast. Luckily, after some 20km of winding sandy tracks, we manage to lose Sparet and are back on the main road into Angelholm. After food and coffee, I stock up on information on Helsinborg/Helsingor (marketed as one city in two countries - exciting!!) and we get a few more bread rolls from a local bakery for the evening, and we're on our way again.... At this point I guess I should mention that our plan in Helsingborg is to set up camp in the ferry terminal, catch the ferry across at 4am (they run every 20min, 24/7), then scoot down to Copenhagen for breakfast. Hazel has pointed out that neither Ali nor I do well without sleep, but we've both done it before...what's the big deal?!?Approaching Helsinborg, and we've lost Sparet again (having somehow met up with him on the main road out of Angelholm)....we're also approaching a motorway intersection with numerous roadworks being carried out around the newly constructed Ikea and maxi-shopping centre... At this point I'm in the lead and pedalling confidently, but begin to hear shrieking and bells ringing (our signal that someone needs to stop)... seeing the nearing motorway signs, Ali is beginnning to go into melt-down, and by the time we stop, having turned into a side road, she is no longer able to communicate her intense disagreement with our route. Hazel and I take up the map (thankfully!!) obtained at our coffee stop, and we navigate into town, arriving at the ferry port not long before sunset... Helsingborg is a beautiful city, but the ferry terminal is somewhat disappointing and so we settle in to a nearby pub, where we can keep an ever watchful eye on our bikes, whilst enjoying a delightful English pub meal and a few pints. We had a lovely chat with some Swedes who were recently returned from Copenhagen, and stocked up on food for our night long vigil (luckily the pub stayed open til midnight so we could hang out there for a while...). At some time around 10pm, Ali and I began to realise that maybe cycletouring and sleeping in terminals weren't a viable combination, and this was confirmed when I fell asleep in the pub!! Ali and Hazel nipped out to scout around, and despite our best intentions to save money, we find our selves checking in to the delightful Hotel Karan at about 11.30pm. Our bikes safely locked inside, we crash for a good 7hrs sleep...Denmark can wait another few hours!!!
Thursday 19 August 2010
Day 28 Tranemo to Halmstad... Hazel
Wednesday the 18th August
Awaken in cheap and cheerful Tranemo. Blue skies flirt through the window and we hope that our railway will extend further south, to Helsingborg perhaps?
Breakfast in the "Hotell" isn't all we'd hoped for... Curled cheese, grey salami and a small basket of bread. Our fellow breakfasteers gesticulate and chat disgruntled swedish, I shrug my shoulders- it is too early for the "I'm sorry I can't speak swedish conversation", and they seem happy with my apathetic acceptance of the breakfast spread.
We instead fill our hungry bellies with multiple bowls of cereal; last night's pizza crimes forgiven and forgotten.
We roll out, a swedish mile at the head of the peloton at a time. With much delight as we are reacquainted with our railway friend and he grants us another 7km to enjoy on his silken tarmac tongue before he regresses back to his abdandoned tracks for old people and children ride special railway track bike and side cars along.
Today takes us through farmlands and small villages, with no supermarkets for Phillipa to spot and log down. A quick stop in Fegen and my propostition of Ice cream and chips is wisely over ruled. Instead we have pretzels and muffin.
60km in and now the blue sky has faded to grey, the clouds are closing in and the wind is picking up. We wait for the rain, which sure enough arrives as we sit munching our cheese rolls on our tarp in a field. We continue eating regardless.
The weather throughout Sweden has been... difficult. Whether it is that we are cycling through weather systems, racing the clouds, or that the weather is just changeable , the days are a blur of costume changes. Windproof on, off. Waterproof (at the bottom of the pannier) on... off... on. Where are my sunglasses? Time for more sunscreen for Alice's nose. The rules of Shepard's delightful sky, and enough blue sky for a pair of trousers by 11 hold no weight in Sweden.
The last couple of days I have noticed more and more leaves on the paths, it would seem the Swedish autumn is beckoning- better make haste for late mainland europe summer!
The afternoon and kilometers are dragging. We are stuck on a road perpetually heading south but getting no further to our destination. With much stuggle we finally reach Oskarström and we realise over coffee that our intended destination (estimated 140km day) is looking a lot further away than planned).
So instead to the nearby city of Halmstad. I am delighted to find oursleves nipping along on a straight smooth road with large shoulder/ cycle path rather than winding country lanes, and it is on this road we encounter our first traffic jam in Scandinavia.
A tailback of one kilometer behind a large slow lorry repainting the dashed white line. Gleefully we undertake and then cycle another kilometer before a loud pop and hiss and flat tyre number two this trip for me. We dart over the road to the near layby and pitstop. With much amusement the line painting lorry re overtakes. On close inspection of my tyre it is looking much the worse for wear after off road Sweden and has a large gash. The tailback of traffic are laughing or waving sympathetically we quickly pump up so we can undertake them all, particualry the orange delorean who had a particularly unpleasant laugh. We catch the lorry but not the delorean.
Halmstad is lovely, all pleased but weary to be here we locate the city hostel- which has just closed for the summer... Hotel it is then. Phil spots a City Art walk map which Alice flicks through feverently and announces that already on our cycle around town looking for a hotel within budget (all of them were four stars!) we'd passed most of them. Pleased we'd got some culture in, all be it unawares, we set off for the "Quality" hotel (see Luleå) 4km out of town towards Helsingborg.
After a couple of Km there's another ominous hiss. A deflated but not flat rear wheel, which on inner tube inspection shows that the aforementioned slit is wearing away the innertube.
Ali and I continue to take wrong turns under and over the motorway (on bike paths) much to Phil's annoyance as she knows exactly where she is going. But eventually we arrive at Eurostop Halmstad. Our long awaited service station and the uber out of town experince. A plethora of white plastic and glass consumerism behemoths greet us. So many supermarkets to spin Phil's head, and Quality hotel slap bang in the middle in a tall ivory tower.
Shower and dinner at McDonalds- in full embrace and tribute to our home for the night. To bed in our fold down bunks (Phil in the double).
We need to find a bike shop in the morning.
Awaken in cheap and cheerful Tranemo. Blue skies flirt through the window and we hope that our railway will extend further south, to Helsingborg perhaps?
Breakfast in the "Hotell" isn't all we'd hoped for... Curled cheese, grey salami and a small basket of bread. Our fellow breakfasteers gesticulate and chat disgruntled swedish, I shrug my shoulders- it is too early for the "I'm sorry I can't speak swedish conversation", and they seem happy with my apathetic acceptance of the breakfast spread.
We instead fill our hungry bellies with multiple bowls of cereal; last night's pizza crimes forgiven and forgotten.
We roll out, a swedish mile at the head of the peloton at a time. With much delight as we are reacquainted with our railway friend and he grants us another 7km to enjoy on his silken tarmac tongue before he regresses back to his abdandoned tracks for old people and children ride special railway track bike and side cars along.
Today takes us through farmlands and small villages, with no supermarkets for Phillipa to spot and log down. A quick stop in Fegen and my propostition of Ice cream and chips is wisely over ruled. Instead we have pretzels and muffin.
60km in and now the blue sky has faded to grey, the clouds are closing in and the wind is picking up. We wait for the rain, which sure enough arrives as we sit munching our cheese rolls on our tarp in a field. We continue eating regardless.
The weather throughout Sweden has been... difficult. Whether it is that we are cycling through weather systems, racing the clouds, or that the weather is just changeable , the days are a blur of costume changes. Windproof on, off. Waterproof (at the bottom of the pannier) on... off... on. Where are my sunglasses? Time for more sunscreen for Alice's nose. The rules of Shepard's delightful sky, and enough blue sky for a pair of trousers by 11 hold no weight in Sweden.The last couple of days I have noticed more and more leaves on the paths, it would seem the Swedish autumn is beckoning- better make haste for late mainland europe summer!
The afternoon and kilometers are dragging. We are stuck on a road perpetually heading south but getting no further to our destination. With much stuggle we finally reach Oskarström and we realise over coffee that our intended destination (estimated 140km day) is looking a lot further away than planned).
So instead to the nearby city of Halmstad. I am delighted to find oursleves nipping along on a straight smooth road with large shoulder/ cycle path rather than winding country lanes, and it is on this road we encounter our first traffic jam in Scandinavia.
A tailback of one kilometer behind a large slow lorry repainting the dashed white line. Gleefully we undertake and then cycle another kilometer before a loud pop and hiss and flat tyre number two this trip for me. We dart over the road to the near layby and pitstop. With much amusement the line painting lorry re overtakes. On close inspection of my tyre it is looking much the worse for wear after off road Sweden and has a large gash. The tailback of traffic are laughing or waving sympathetically we quickly pump up so we can undertake them all, particualry the orange delorean who had a particularly unpleasant laugh. We catch the lorry but not the delorean.
Halmstad is lovely, all pleased but weary to be here we locate the city hostel- which has just closed for the summer... Hotel it is then. Phil spots a City Art walk map which Alice flicks through feverently and announces that already on our cycle around town looking for a hotel within budget (all of them were four stars!) we'd passed most of them. Pleased we'd got some culture in, all be it unawares, we set off for the "Quality" hotel (see Luleå) 4km out of town towards Helsingborg.
After a couple of Km there's another ominous hiss. A deflated but not flat rear wheel, which on inner tube inspection shows that the aforementioned slit is wearing away the innertube.
Ali and I continue to take wrong turns under and over the motorway (on bike paths) much to Phil's annoyance as she knows exactly where she is going. But eventually we arrive at Eurostop Halmstad. Our long awaited service station and the uber out of town experince. A plethora of white plastic and glass consumerism behemoths greet us. So many supermarkets to spin Phil's head, and Quality hotel slap bang in the middle in a tall ivory tower. Shower and dinner at McDonalds- in full embrace and tribute to our home for the night. To bed in our fold down bunks (Phil in the double).
We need to find a bike shop in the morning.
Day 27 - Tuesday 17th August - Skovde to Tranemo
Up with the larks yet again we envisage a long day in the saddle, our intended destination is Tranemo. I've no idea why this is our intended destination, it shows nothing but a dot on our 1:800,000 Europe Road Atlas. I imagine Colby has simply picked a spot roughly 140km due south of where we are now. Which is fine by me, seeing as we no longer have any local maps, navigation is very much a trial and error affair of moving toward Italy in a southbound motion and trying to avoid motorways, which are pretty much the only roads marked on our atlas. Anyway, first off we have to complete 30km to Falkoping which was our intended stopping point for yesterday. Its an overcast but fine day and we are rolling along perfectly by 9am, on the major road 46, which is lovely and smooth much to Tina Turner (Hazel Learner)'s delight. At Falkoping we have a vague notion there is another abandoned railway we can cycle south on and as such, we head to Tourist Information ready to be informed touristically. Alas we are once again, too early, so we must retire for coffee to while away some time. Suitably refreshed Colby and I eagerly break down the door to knowledge, as usual the only customers these girls will see all week. There is an unbelievable wealth of tourist information centres in Sweden, and a dearth of actual tourists. This does mean however, that the little girls are always delightfully helpful. And blonde. Always blonde.
I have been chastised by Tina for calling the little girls, 'little girls' within earshot, as they are mostly aged over 21. It is however a habit I acquired from my grandmother, who at restaurants, always insisted to my Grandfather that he should covertly press a fiver into the palm of the 'little girl' waitress, rather than let it fall into the clutches of the greedy landlord. Of course, the little girl to whom she was referring was inevitably always about 45 years old, and probably the owner of the whole establishment. Anyway, I digress, back we go to the little girl in Falkoping Tourist Byra. Delightfully there is a paved cycle path across country all the way Ulricehamm, 40km south! Little girl even tries to give away a detailed cycle map to us which clearly should cost 300kr as marked, but not wanting to add to our mountain of paper information we refuse and press on with vague directions out of town. I confidently stride out, to be informed by little girl that I am going the wrong way. So much for my inner compass, I was myself once a little girl working in a Tourist Information Centre, but I believe my navigation skills are only active in the West Dorset area.
We roll out and on, and on, and on. It's the most unbelievably smooth and straight stretch of path, completely empty, and since trains dont really climb hills, totally flat! our journey is only interrupted by the occasional thermos break on conveniently situated benches. Before we know it we are in Ulricehamm, sitting by the lake whilst it chucks it down. It's really another lovely town, but the only sights we see are the Tourist Byra, theres more ground to be covered today. To our surprise and delight, we discover the smooth railway path continues on south, to our plucked from the air destination, Tranemo. We learn from another little girl that there is a hostel in Limmared, just before Tranemo. After another lovely spin along the track, passing a lake on our right (what else), we reach the town of Limmared. Nay, not town, factory, with added supermarket and sprawl of squat ugly houses. Touristville this is not. Some children are hanging out by the railway tracks, smoking. Although this is a nice reminder of the UK, it gives me a bad feeling about the place. This is Sweden! Usually the children are cycling, and eating grass whilst helping old ladies across the road. We search around for the elusive hostel and come across a damp looking building on the edge of town, darkened by trees. A group of fat old men stand smoking in the doorway and stare at us as we crawl up the hill. I squeeze past them to get to the front door, which is locked. Its 5.30pm. 'It's closed' one old man helpfully tells me in Swedish. There's a number to call, but with bad vibes hanging in the air like the smell of their tobacco and damp woodland, we press on to Tranemo. Back on the track, and Hazel inadvertantly cycles onto the real working railway track. Those attitudinal kids have obviously stolen the bike path signs! They attempt to block our way out of town, but then squeal and jump when they realise Hazel's fully loaded tourer is not going to slow down before impact! 8km later, and everything feels much better, the sun is out, and Tranemo is....well, not lovely, but a vast improvement.
There's only one accommodation provider, a 'hotell' which smells like an old person's home, but is cheaper than a hostel so we check in. To a twin room. Halfway through my shower, an employee comes in to bring a third bed. Unfortunately, Hazel, who has just finished showering, is trotting around naked as a baby. There are squeals and hysterics which I listen to, confused from inside my safe shower cupboard. Im not sure who's more embarrassed, and the poor lady flees, only to return a few minutes later, knocking hesitantly. She pulls out the bed from under the other bed (we could have done this ourselves had we known!) and cant leave quick enough. We do it seems, make an unusual sight, three young hip girls (ahem) with technical clothing helmets and panniers. People are quite unsure what to make of us, as we really dont fit the cycletourist demographic! We've also strayed quite far from conventional tourist routes! After a dinner of Kebab Pizza (don't ask) we retire to our three little beds and watch an awful film on the television. We enjoy it immensely nonetheless and learn some good Swedish from the subtitles. That'll be useful, as we plan to be in Denmark in two days!
I have been chastised by Tina for calling the little girls, 'little girls' within earshot, as they are mostly aged over 21. It is however a habit I acquired from my grandmother, who at restaurants, always insisted to my Grandfather that he should covertly press a fiver into the palm of the 'little girl' waitress, rather than let it fall into the clutches of the greedy landlord. Of course, the little girl to whom she was referring was inevitably always about 45 years old, and probably the owner of the whole establishment. Anyway, I digress, back we go to the little girl in Falkoping Tourist Byra. Delightfully there is a paved cycle path across country all the way Ulricehamm, 40km south! Little girl even tries to give away a detailed cycle map to us which clearly should cost 300kr as marked, but not wanting to add to our mountain of paper information we refuse and press on with vague directions out of town. I confidently stride out, to be informed by little girl that I am going the wrong way. So much for my inner compass, I was myself once a little girl working in a Tourist Information Centre, but I believe my navigation skills are only active in the West Dorset area.
We roll out and on, and on, and on. It's the most unbelievably smooth and straight stretch of path, completely empty, and since trains dont really climb hills, totally flat! our journey is only interrupted by the occasional thermos break on conveniently situated benches. Before we know it we are in Ulricehamm, sitting by the lake whilst it chucks it down. It's really another lovely town, but the only sights we see are the Tourist Byra, theres more ground to be covered today. To our surprise and delight, we discover the smooth railway path continues on south, to our plucked from the air destination, Tranemo. We learn from another little girl that there is a hostel in Limmared, just before Tranemo. After another lovely spin along the track, passing a lake on our right (what else), we reach the town of Limmared. Nay, not town, factory, with added supermarket and sprawl of squat ugly houses. Touristville this is not. Some children are hanging out by the railway tracks, smoking. Although this is a nice reminder of the UK, it gives me a bad feeling about the place. This is Sweden! Usually the children are cycling, and eating grass whilst helping old ladies across the road. We search around for the elusive hostel and come across a damp looking building on the edge of town, darkened by trees. A group of fat old men stand smoking in the doorway and stare at us as we crawl up the hill. I squeeze past them to get to the front door, which is locked. Its 5.30pm. 'It's closed' one old man helpfully tells me in Swedish. There's a number to call, but with bad vibes hanging in the air like the smell of their tobacco and damp woodland, we press on to Tranemo. Back on the track, and Hazel inadvertantly cycles onto the real working railway track. Those attitudinal kids have obviously stolen the bike path signs! They attempt to block our way out of town, but then squeal and jump when they realise Hazel's fully loaded tourer is not going to slow down before impact! 8km later, and everything feels much better, the sun is out, and Tranemo is....well, not lovely, but a vast improvement.
There's only one accommodation provider, a 'hotell' which smells like an old person's home, but is cheaper than a hostel so we check in. To a twin room. Halfway through my shower, an employee comes in to bring a third bed. Unfortunately, Hazel, who has just finished showering, is trotting around naked as a baby. There are squeals and hysterics which I listen to, confused from inside my safe shower cupboard. Im not sure who's more embarrassed, and the poor lady flees, only to return a few minutes later, knocking hesitantly. She pulls out the bed from under the other bed (we could have done this ourselves had we known!) and cant leave quick enough. We do it seems, make an unusual sight, three young hip girls (ahem) with technical clothing helmets and panniers. People are quite unsure what to make of us, as we really dont fit the cycletourist demographic! We've also strayed quite far from conventional tourist routes! After a dinner of Kebab Pizza (don't ask) we retire to our three little beds and watch an awful film on the television. We enjoy it immensely nonetheless and learn some good Swedish from the subtitles. That'll be useful, as we plan to be in Denmark in two days!
Day 26 - Monday: Karlskoga to Skövde...Phillipa
140.4km
Avg 24kmph
Awaking bleary eyed, after few hours sleep due to intensive art blogging, we head out into sunshine and blustery winds with a vague idea of making it to Falkoping, some 170km away. The countryside has changed from dairy farms to fields of oats and wheat, interspersed with the occasional wind farm!! Ticking along nicely, Hazel narrowly avoids a head on collision with the bucket of a farmer's tractor who gives way to us at a crossing as she smiles, waves and bats her eyelids as she wizzes past at the front of the peloton. And then.... we cross paths with another peloton!!! It does appear to possibly be a division of the girl guides group we observed earlier, with She-wolf and Daddy-bear keeping a close eye on the cubs... they do seem suitably impressed with us, much to our delight!
We reach the town of Gullspang after 50km and no break....sadly its still too early for coffee shops (honestly, who doesn't need coffee before 11!!) so we head out of town with our thermos and make a picnic - lovely!
There are a few hills en route but nothing too difficult, and our legs are starting to get a bit quicker and the gears a bit lower...we're maintaining good pace and Ali is beginning to plan her international cycling career....
We're also moving towards regular food breaks, rather than waiting til one of us crashes, and this seems to be working in our favour, as we've reached the town of Skövde, by 2:30pm!! However, the lack of sleep is starting to mess with our heads a bit and we decide to call it a day and find the hostel - we'll make up the 30km to Falkoping tomorrow. A quick trip to the Tourist bureau and hostel is sorted - we have a quick bite to eat and cup of tea then head out to do a shop, new supermarket - Willy's - but I'm too tired to get excited...the girls get into it though and can quite believe the size of the sausages in Sweden....dinner is wonderful - baked potatoes with mince and vegetables, and a kilo of peas on the side!!! I'm falling asleep at the table, and after a few laughs over Hazel and Ali's "Chirpy chirpy" dance-off, we have a new singing peloton favourite and are more than ready for bed - lights are out well before 10pm much to my delight!
Avg 24kmph
Awaking bleary eyed, after few hours sleep due to intensive art blogging, we head out into sunshine and blustery winds with a vague idea of making it to Falkoping, some 170km away. The countryside has changed from dairy farms to fields of oats and wheat, interspersed with the occasional wind farm!! Ticking along nicely, Hazel narrowly avoids a head on collision with the bucket of a farmer's tractor who gives way to us at a crossing as she smiles, waves and bats her eyelids as she wizzes past at the front of the peloton. And then.... we cross paths with another peloton!!! It does appear to possibly be a division of the girl guides group we observed earlier, with She-wolf and Daddy-bear keeping a close eye on the cubs... they do seem suitably impressed with us, much to our delight!We reach the town of Gullspang after 50km and no break....sadly its still too early for coffee shops (honestly, who doesn't need coffee before 11!!) so we head out of town with our thermos and make a picnic - lovely!
There are a few hills en route but nothing too difficult, and our legs are starting to get a bit quicker and the gears a bit lower...we're maintaining good pace and Ali is beginning to plan her international cycling career....
We're also moving towards regular food breaks, rather than waiting til one of us crashes, and this seems to be working in our favour, as we've reached the town of Skövde, by 2:30pm!! However, the lack of sleep is starting to mess with our heads a bit and we decide to call it a day and find the hostel - we'll make up the 30km to Falkoping tomorrow. A quick trip to the Tourist bureau and hostel is sorted - we have a quick bite to eat and cup of tea then head out to do a shop, new supermarket - Willy's - but I'm too tired to get excited...the girls get into it though and can quite believe the size of the sausages in Sweden....dinner is wonderful - baked potatoes with mince and vegetables, and a kilo of peas on the side!!! I'm falling asleep at the table, and after a few laughs over Hazel and Ali's "Chirpy chirpy" dance-off, we have a new singing peloton favourite and are more than ready for bed - lights are out well before 10pm much to my delight!
Day 25 Nora to Karlskoga...Hazel
Sunday the 15th of August
48.17km in 2hours 1min
Averaging 23.8kmph
Max 57kmph
I never feel that rested after a night's sleep in the tent. Colby claims she get's her best night's sleep in one. Dubious statement considering her eyes are as bleary as the rest these past two morning's.
So it's Sunday. It's a sunday lie in. Followed by porridge. Some deliberation on where and which route to take. We all decide that as it's Sunday we should behave in a manner that fits and not do very much.
We have breakfast- I insist this is eaten on the nice warm dry tarmac rather than the cold damp grass which I had to sleep on. It's all about the tarmac carpet this tour for me.
Tent's packed we decided not to take Sverigleden's off road trip down an abandoned railway line which presumably they envision cyclists rolling down at 3mph cooing at old sleepers and other such artefact. No it's a nice tarmaced cycle, pedaled as fast as our heavily loaded and Sunday bodies can manage.
I enjoy the road immensely, no gravel, not too much traffic, no pot holes and some nice hills to climb and bomb down.
So everyone get's a decent bit of exercise and we arrive at Karlskoga in time for lunch. Bread and squeesy cheese are produced. I suggest a chip butty for a change and nip off to get some fries. Double carb sarnie- can you beat that as a cycle tourist?
So hotel it is as the hostel has no computer and all of us are behind electronically. Keyboards are tapped and unfortunately it's rather a late night.
Dinner is a dilemma. Our emergency suppiles carefully stowed away since Norwayare starting to disintergrate. But with no kitchen the idea of finding a park to Camp Colby Citchen is mooted. Unfortunately our motorway side choice of hotel has no nearby parks and evening is ebbing away into the night. Phillipa suggests the park benches outside the hotel entrance which is met with a chorus of groans. Colby Camping Citchen therefore gets it's first indoor cook off in our hotel bedroon. Alice is safely downstairs tapping away, whilst I am the kitchen porter with strict instructions no to go within 1m of the stove.
Then sweet slumbers in the kitchen/dinning area.
48.17km in 2hours 1min
Averaging 23.8kmph
Max 57kmph
I never feel that rested after a night's sleep in the tent. Colby claims she get's her best night's sleep in one. Dubious statement considering her eyes are as bleary as the rest these past two morning's.
So it's Sunday. It's a sunday lie in. Followed by porridge. Some deliberation on where and which route to take. We all decide that as it's Sunday we should behave in a manner that fits and not do very much.
We have breakfast- I insist this is eaten on the nice warm dry tarmac rather than the cold damp grass which I had to sleep on. It's all about the tarmac carpet this tour for me.
Tent's packed we decided not to take Sverigleden's off road trip down an abandoned railway line which presumably they envision cyclists rolling down at 3mph cooing at old sleepers and other such artefact. No it's a nice tarmaced cycle, pedaled as fast as our heavily loaded and Sunday bodies can manage.
I enjoy the road immensely, no gravel, not too much traffic, no pot holes and some nice hills to climb and bomb down.
So everyone get's a decent bit of exercise and we arrive at Karlskoga in time for lunch. Bread and squeesy cheese are produced. I suggest a chip butty for a change and nip off to get some fries. Double carb sarnie- can you beat that as a cycle tourist?
So hotel it is as the hostel has no computer and all of us are behind electronically. Keyboards are tapped and unfortunately it's rather a late night.
Dinner is a dilemma. Our emergency suppiles carefully stowed away since Norwayare starting to disintergrate. But with no kitchen the idea of finding a park to Camp Colby Citchen is mooted. Unfortunately our motorway side choice of hotel has no nearby parks and evening is ebbing away into the night. Phillipa suggests the park benches outside the hotel entrance which is met with a chorus of groans. Colby Camping Citchen therefore gets it's first indoor cook off in our hotel bedroon. Alice is safely downstairs tapping away, whilst I am the kitchen porter with strict instructions no to go within 1m of the stove.
Then sweet slumbers in the kitchen/dinning area.
Sunday 15 August 2010
Day 24 - Saturday 14th August - Soderbacke to Nora
Distance covered 88km in 4 hours
average 21kmph
I awake after a restless night in the wild, camped on the hinterlands between the edge of an empty road and the edge of a dark forest, unsure as to which is more comforting or forbidding. Feet in the forest, hands clinging to the edge of our trusted road. Up we get, transforming from beast to woman, and onto our bikes, the very pinnacle of human evolution. Fog enshrouds us, a carpet of cotton wall has fallen, muffling all sounds. Dead silence surrounds and we press on, into the unknown. The morning fog is clammy, it sticks to my skin, not just a visual disturbance but a physical one also, clinging to my glasses, rendering them useless. I take them off, we can't see further than a few feet anyway, the distance is white, horizon and destination unknown. I would guess that, as ever, there are pines to our right, and a lake to our left. This is Sweden after all!
After around 25km we stop for second breakfast, and 'brew' our own coffee by the lakeside. Still no cafes, to coffeestop Colby's sadness. The fog gradually lifts and we enjoy another sunny ride through, you guessed it, pine forests and lakesides. The hills are evening out and we manage to enjoy some good and fast peloton time, maintaining a good speed. We are taken by brother Sverigeleden bike path onto our worst 'road' yet, a sand and gravel monstrosity, making uphills virtually impossible and downhills somewhat dangerous, what with the slipping around on the sand! We complete the 20km section and roll downhill into Stora. Still no cafe and we enjoy some coke outside our favourite supermarket ICA. Alas Ive bought fizzy water by accident and our refilled bike bottles are spurting a refreshing sprinkler system over our legs as we enjoy our final 30km into the idyllic town of Nora, a destination we have been excited about for weeks, due to its hostel which is housed in a disused train!
average 21kmph
I awake after a restless night in the wild, camped on the hinterlands between the edge of an empty road and the edge of a dark forest, unsure as to which is more comforting or forbidding. Feet in the forest, hands clinging to the edge of our trusted road. Up we get, transforming from beast to woman, and onto our bikes, the very pinnacle of human evolution. Fog enshrouds us, a carpet of cotton wall has fallen, muffling all sounds. Dead silence surrounds and we press on, into the unknown. The morning fog is clammy, it sticks to my skin, not just a visual disturbance but a physical one also, clinging to my glasses, rendering them useless. I take them off, we can't see further than a few feet anyway, the distance is white, horizon and destination unknown. I would guess that, as ever, there are pines to our right, and a lake to our left. This is Sweden after all!
Alas we once again have poor timing, Nora is today hosting the world powerboat championships and the tranquil lake is being ripped up by some noisy monsters whilst fat bikers look on and coo appreciatively. booooooo to the engines. Therefore the hostel is booked up and we go to one of the towns two campsites. The other campsite is marked as 'naturist' and unsure as to whether this means full of nature or full of naked people we decided not to check it out. Despite being marked on Sverigeleden map and on the actual tourist building as a stamping point for the cycle route, the woman in the Tourist Byra has never heard of our dear Sverigeleden route, and cant/wont sell us a map to continue our journey on its wending way. So we are back to our concise road map of Europe and will be going it alone on the roads tomorrow! Probably we will find this a lot faster than turning left and right every 500 metres as Sverigeleden wants to show us yet another lovely church.
We take a lovely dip in the lake, which is sadly not salty, but enjoyable all the same. We trot into town for a well deserved coffee and ice cream and I then once again crash after all the sugar. After some water and a nice shady sit down we shower and hit the town. Yet another Greek restaurant serving Turkish food and beer (?!) and we are beginning to wonder if its actual a turkish restaurant with a facade which perhaps appeals more to the Swedes? Most strange. Delicious plates of multiple unknown meats and carbs and we return to camp, for another ice cream. Wanting to experience some Swedish cuisine, I opt for a licorice ice cream. Its of course, salty. Unlike the lake where we sit and enjoy our dessert. There's a beautiful sunset, so perfect that after taking a picture of it, I have to delete it, because its so pink it looks like a stock screen saver and is unbearably tacky. I instead opt to take a photo of Philippa taking a photo of the sunset, which you can see in the screen of her camera. Much happier with this self referential shot, we retire to tents and sleep. 
Day 23 - Friday 13th Aug Sundborn to Söderbärke...Phillipa
93.8km covered in 4hr2min cycling
Avg 23.1kmph
Max speed 58.3kmph
Avg 23.1kmph
Max speed 58.3kmph
Bonus Kms: 8.15km in 28min, avg 17.1kmph (cautios nighttime crawl to campsite...)
After a lovely nights' sleep, we wake to enjoy a relaxed breakfast before setting off into the sunshine. We cruise into the lovely village of Torsång, where Hazel is delighted to have finally arrived at the Swedish riveria!! Best cafe yet, we consume two rounds of coffee and cake (the selection is enormous, and we justify be telling ourselves we will push through 50km before lunch at our final destination of Söderbärke...). The kayakers are out, and Hazel and I begin to wonder why we haven't seen any rowing boats out on the lovely lakes....
We are making good time and having a lovely day of cycling in the rolling hills, past some magnificent lakes. Of course, there's little chance of us cycling for more than a few hours without a refuel, and we pull up for an early lunch and some time in the shade. Ali is shocked at the sight of fresh blood on the ground at our chosen picnic spot, before she realises she's managed to cut her shin on the pedal again, and Dr L comes to the rescue with Field Hospital. Our latest favourite snack of polar bread, salty peanuts and Bob-bob squeezy raspberry jam is going down well, and the sugar levels are rising....out comes the gun show!! Ali is well in the lead at this stage, bordering on bodybuilder status, I still look relatively normal and Hazel looks scarily like a human skeleton...not sure what's going on there.... we have a few laughs and its back on the bikes...for about 2mins, when Hazel descends into hysterics at the sight of a bumblebee hitching a ride on Ali's lime green bike pants, her shrieks echoing through the valley as the bee crawls closer and closer to Ali's seat as she stands out of the saddle to zoom down the hill.....
Onwards we pedal, to the town of Smedjebacken where we stop for an ICA re-stock before heading for the town of Söderbärke where we're planning to make use of the guest-harbour and engage in some semi-wilderness camping.... Ali is flaking though, so before we leave to town we stop for more coffee and cream cake, then deciding this was not a good idea, have a cheese roll to try and even out the incredible blood sugar count...
Finally we arrive in Söderbärke, where we enjoy our best swim yet in a beautiful lake in the late afternoon sun. I'm keen to set up camp on the grassy hillside picnic area above the lake, but the girls are convinced there'll be gangs of youths visiting the area to terrorise us during the night.... we compromise by holding out on putting up tents, and cook up a storm on the picnic table, enjoying a two course pasta meal followed by cake.... It's getting close to 9pm and I'm getting tired....yawning away, I try to convince the girls to put up the tents but they're refusing to budge until dark - this exactly the kind of location they would have hung out as teenagers!!! I shrug, and turn to put the water on to boil for our cup of tea, when lo and behold, a group of three youngsters appear with their disposable barbeque!!! Dissolving into fits of laughter, we can only watch in hysterics as they slowly appear in one's and two's over the hilltop, until there is a group of about 10 "youths" enjoying the bbq.... I try to convince the girls we'll be safe to set up in the corner but they're not buying it... "you know they'll go skinny-dipping later....i would have!!".... So we pack up the bikes, much to the amused glances of the teenagers, and pedal off out of town...after all, there's another swimming place a couple of kms away...we'll just set up there, and be up early tomorrow..... Enjoying the evening cycle in the dusk, we pedal along happily, until we realise we've past the town of proposed swimming place. Not only have we almost done 8km but it's starting to get dark, and we seem to be climbing into the hills again - no more nice fields or lakes to camp by!! We pull over into a layby near some woods, and after scoping out the area and deeming it to be the best (and only option), hurriedly put the tent up (all happy to squash into one tonight!). Hazel's imagination is working overtime and its going to be a long night....who's idea was it to wilderness camp?!?! A tiny red ant has manged to accompany me into the tent, and nine bites later its all over for mister ant and i'm scouting around for the Germoline...sadly its still in Hazel's panniers so its out with the head torch and i venture into the wild to fetch the goods from Field hospital...further laughter ensues as I administer the required medicines with torch in situ before we attempt to settle in...again.....oh dear..... free camping in Sweden isn't all it's cracked up to be!!!!
Day 22 Bollnas to Sundborn.. . Hazel
Thursday the 12th of August
116.8km traveled in 5hours 21min
Averaging 21.8kmph max speed 66.7
Morning, alarm 0600. Wake up, pack up. Get to breakfast for the 0630 start.
Breakfast is again a relay between eating, blogging and redistribution of sandwich items (i.e. from the hotel buffet into our bags).
The relay practise also has the bonus of generating much interest at it's later verbal disseciton whereby at an afternoon refreshment stop we recount each individuals breakfast, detailing order, quantity and quality. From this post mortem I have deduced Alice is best at eating, I'm too distracted with gathering breadrolls and Phil is good at packing.
Replete, bikes are loaded and we head out of town, with standard meander, detour, u-turns etc.
Once enroute the serious pedaling starts. Each leading the peloton for a mile at a time... A swedish mile, aka 10km.
With my speedo set to continental kilometres (Alice rigidly, conservatively and true blue, sticks to imperial) I am responsible for calling the switches and counting down to change over. I thus spend much of my day calculating and recalulating distance done, distance left, how far to coffee, what proportion of this is that etc.
The distance to coffee stop this morning is a sore point. Today we do not pass any form of civilisation for some 70km. Whereby civilsation is a coffee shop/cafe as opposed to your more standard measures of housing/electricity/running water.
At 40km some squinting at the map and we suppose that a dwelling on the map may have a cafe.
116.8km traveled in 5hours 21min
Averaging 21.8kmph max speed 66.7
Morning, alarm 0600. Wake up, pack up. Get to breakfast for the 0630 start.
Breakfast is again a relay between eating, blogging and redistribution of sandwich items (i.e. from the hotel buffet into our bags).
Third breakfast outside hotel
The relay practise also has the bonus of generating much interest at it's later verbal disseciton whereby at an afternoon refreshment stop we recount each individuals breakfast, detailing order, quantity and quality. From this post mortem I have deduced Alice is best at eating, I'm too distracted with gathering breadrolls and Phil is good at packing.
Phillipa is better at packing
Replete, bikes are loaded and we head out of town, with standard meander, detour, u-turns etc.
Once enroute the serious pedaling starts. Each leading the peloton for a mile at a time... A swedish mile, aka 10km.
With my speedo set to continental kilometres (Alice rigidly, conservatively and true blue, sticks to imperial) I am responsible for calling the switches and counting down to change over. I thus spend much of my day calculating and recalulating distance done, distance left, how far to coffee, what proportion of this is that etc.
The distance to coffee stop this morning is a sore point. Today we do not pass any form of civilisation for some 70km. Whereby civilsation is a coffee shop/cafe as opposed to your more standard measures of housing/electricity/running water.
At 40km some squinting at the map and we suppose that a dwelling on the map may have a cafe.
With my poor geography skills I have been appointed official map carrier
We press on, a little slower, to the inevitable discovery that there is just a few houses.
Instead we pull up in a lay by pull out the tarp and get the stove a lit for a batch of coffeemate nescafe in our adorable plastic mugs.
Instead we pull up in a lay by pull out the tarp and get the stove a lit for a batch of coffeemate nescafe in our adorable plastic mugs.
Happily we drain our coffee and decide to crack on with lunch as it's now 1230. Not appreciating that we are sat in the shadow of quite a hill. Rolls cheese and ham consumed. There is realisation that we have now got 21 days of use out of the zip lock bags light-fingered at airport securuity and perhapws it was time to replace them.
Lunch over the pedaling recommences. Today is one of our hottest and I spend much of the cycle confused as to how raindrops are falling from a clear blue sky before realising it's my sweat.
The hill continues to unwind as we further ascend the hill's corners until finally the summit and a gravel track for a good 20km and then maybe a cafe?
Pleased to be at summit
Lunch over the pedaling recommences. Today is one of our hottest and I spend much of the cycle confused as to how raindrops are falling from a clear blue sky before realising it's my sweat.
The hill continues to unwind as we further ascend the hill's corners until finally the summit and a gravel track for a good 20km and then maybe a cafe?
Pleased to be at summit
At the bottom of the track is a lake and "beach" but no cafe. Phillipa checks out the information board, Alice documents and I stretch. I want to go for a swim but the clouds are not inclining me to dipping in. So we press on and on. Hills up up up and down. We decide to avoid the large town of Falun for the night's rest in attempt to avoid the morning's struggle to leave the surburbs. A quick ice cream and coke break before a final 20km around the lake to Sundborn.
At this point the lack of coffee stops, early lunch and low GI index coke ice cream snack catches up with Philipa and we stop for a more starchy snack.
For the last week Alice and I have become quite amused with the alliteration potential of Colby...
Colby come back... Phillipa takes up lead of the peloton again
Colby continues... Phillipa gets back on her bike after ICA or coffee stop
Colby concerned... Phillipa expresses doubt at Alice's and my actions
Colby camps... Phillipa is accredited with being the best camper of the trio
Colby corrects... My poor navigation skills
Colby crashes... Phillipa's blood sugar after insufficient fueling
Colby communicates... Indicates loudly when she is intending to turn or stop
Colby consumes... the food she has just Colby cooked
And so on......
We whizz through sundborn, home of artist Carl Larsson. His house is now a gallery but we miss it at our lightning pace. We take a windy road until we eventually find our hostel. Situated on the river in farmland. The cows mooing much to Phillipa's excitement. A swim in the river. Then Alice and I cook for Colby and it's lights out heads asleep on pillows and all before 10pm. Wild times...
At this point the lack of coffee stops, early lunch and low GI index coke ice cream snack catches up with Philipa and we stop for a more starchy snack.
For the last week Alice and I have become quite amused with the alliteration potential of Colby...
Colby come back... Phillipa takes up lead of the peloton again
Colby continues... Phillipa gets back on her bike after ICA or coffee stop
Colby concerned... Phillipa expresses doubt at Alice's and my actions
Colby camps... Phillipa is accredited with being the best camper of the trio
Colby corrects... My poor navigation skills
Colby crashes... Phillipa's blood sugar after insufficient fueling
Colby communicates... Indicates loudly when she is intending to turn or stop
Colby consumes... the food she has just Colby cooked
And so on......
We whizz through sundborn, home of artist Carl Larsson. His house is now a gallery but we miss it at our lightning pace. We take a windy road until we eventually find our hostel. Situated on the river in farmland. The cows mooing much to Phillipa's excitement. A swim in the river. Then Alice and I cook for Colby and it's lights out heads asleep on pillows and all before 10pm. Wild times...
Thursday 12 August 2010
Day 21 - Wednesday 11th August - Sundsvall to Bollnas
Distance covered 104 MILES!!!! or 168km
in 7hr 48min
average speed 21.5kmph
max speed 60.4kmph
odometer reads 1884km
Up with the larks we felt just as knackered as usual, depiste our rest day and super early night. After a breakfast of bircher muesli (how continental!) we were quick sharp out the door and in the saddles by 7am!
Very impressive for us leisurely diners. Legs felt very tired and progress was initially very slow across the High Coast hills. Heading west we gradually moved away from 'the coast' towards more beautiful lakes and rivers. Pine tree followed pine tree and before we knew it it was coffee time, in the small ski town of Hassela, 50km down and only 10.30am! Of course we put ourselves a little behind schedule by making coffee break last over an hour, outside a bus station cafe, what with the fresh Danish pastries (sorry Swedish pastries), double coffee, triple toilet breaks and hysterical laughing fits. Much to our fellow German diners bemusement.
We pressed on, and after some confusion over which way to head on the road 305 we decided south was probably the best option, seeing as we were headed for Italy. We by now, have left dear friend Cykelsparet and his buddy the e4 behind, and are following rival bike path 'Sverigeleden', roughly translating as *sweden road*. Meaning, it attempts to not only take the most scenic (hilly and winding) route possible but also attempts to travel down as many different 'Sweden road' as possible, when one would suffice. We ignored many deviations and ploughed on in a roughly straight line. Gradually the High Coast disappeared and we began to spin along nicely over the rolling landscapes, as ever lake on one side, forest on the other.
We pushed on hard, despite Hazel's complaints of stomach ache after supplementing her Danish pastry with a jam cracker with peanuts on top. Before we knew it we were in Delsbol, our intended lunch destination, 100km by 1.30pm! Outside the supermarket we spotted some familiar bikes and faces, the 'DIY cycle tourists'. Two young Swedes on single speed granny bikes, whom we initially passed on the way into Sundsvall in the pouring rain. Spotting their bikes, and basket luggage strapped on, carrier bags hanging off every part of the bike, I dubbed them the DIY cycle tourists, despite Hazel and Phil insisting they were daytrippers! Sure enough, true to my prediction, they turned up at the hostel in Sundsvall, not long after us!
They set off for Hassela yesterday, during our rest day, so once again we were level pegging! Not that it is a race you understand.
We had a picnic by a railway museum and after an hour we were back on the road, rolling along nicely. After 10km we spotted DIY's again, taking a dip in the lake. We will probably bump into them again no doubt, the hare and the tortoise and all that. On and on we went, determined to achieve our first 100 mile day. An awesome downhill section is caught on video, as we overtake each other at 37 miles per hour! makes all the uphills worthwhile. After initial plans to wilderness camp, with another big day on the cards tomorrow we decide to find cheap accommodation in Bollnas, and get a good nights sleep. As we pick up the pace the last ten miles or so fly past in perfect peloton formation, at around 20mph we cruise down to Bollnas. Celebrating our 100 miles with a nice Greek meal (where confusingly I ate the national dish of Turkey) we retired to bed by 9.30 and slept soundly. A good day behind us, and hopefully another ahead tomorrow.
Day 20 (10th August) - Sundsvall, blogged by Phillipa
Stats:
0km cycled, maybe 5-10km walked
Max speed: very slow
Terrain: cobbled streets and shiny tiled shopping malls
Weather: overcast but not raining (probably would have been great for cycling...)
After a lazy sleep in, we roll out of bed enthused at the thought of cooked breakfast and tourist information, being that we've reached our current destination with no further maps to lead the way and only a vague idea of where we're headed. We check out of the hostel and put our panniers in the storage room but intend on making full use of the facilities at hand and decide to hang around for breakfast after check-out. Having decided to take the morning off before a late cycling start, I head to ICA and pick up a few goodies to create a take-off of Sassy's poached eggs on rye, complete with wilted spinach, mushrooms and tomatoes - the girls are suitably impressed! Ali is chomping at the bit to fill her brain with more Swedish info and, disappointed she couldn't get in before breakfast, rushes off after the first morning coffee. Hazel follows and I'm left to my own devices in the hostel!! After an hour long chat with Dad (much to the displeased look of the receptionist sitting 2m away) its pretty much lunchtime, and the girls return from the stroll about town complete with leggings, inner tubes and new Sverigeleden maps! Buzzing from the coffee, they've been comsuming there's a little indecision about lunch - should we go to McDonald's?? We settle for an all you can eat salad buffet and pizza, which serves as both lunch and dinenr as we fill up on salad, and take half the pizzas with us!!
A trip back to tourist information follows, and we then head to the library so that I can try and finally post some photos before stopping for coffee number three to re-evaluate.
By this time its 4pm and the thought of packing up the bikes to go wilderness camping after a couple of hours cycling is becoming less and less appealing....our bodies are in rest day mode and we conclude that another night in the hostel then a big day tomorrow is probably a better option (or you could just call us lazy!!) Decision made, we check back into the hostel, and leaving all our bags in storage, hit the shops again in an attempt to sate Ali's need to purchase new items...we strike gold with Natur kompaniet, an outdoor shop that stocks Fjällräven (with which Ali is strangley intrigued despite the fact that she still doesn't own any of their products!). A few more stops for sports clothes, water bottles (as Hazel has managed to leave hers in a bus stop) and food for tomorrow's journey, and we're back in the hostel enjoying our cold pizza. Ali and Hazel post a few things home, and Ali makes friends with the neighbouring corner storeman, who is from Chile, and practises her Spanish. We retire to our empty room, which we all thoroughly enjoy after the usual mess of panniers, food and damp clothes, and hit the hay with thoughts of completing 100miles tomorrow....
0km cycled, maybe 5-10km walked
Max speed: very slow
Terrain: cobbled streets and shiny tiled shopping malls
Weather: overcast but not raining (probably would have been great for cycling...)
After a lazy sleep in, we roll out of bed enthused at the thought of cooked breakfast and tourist information, being that we've reached our current destination with no further maps to lead the way and only a vague idea of where we're headed. We check out of the hostel and put our panniers in the storage room but intend on making full use of the facilities at hand and decide to hang around for breakfast after check-out. Having decided to take the morning off before a late cycling start, I head to ICA and pick up a few goodies to create a take-off of Sassy's poached eggs on rye, complete with wilted spinach, mushrooms and tomatoes - the girls are suitably impressed! Ali is chomping at the bit to fill her brain with more Swedish info and, disappointed she couldn't get in before breakfast, rushes off after the first morning coffee. Hazel follows and I'm left to my own devices in the hostel!! After an hour long chat with Dad (much to the displeased look of the receptionist sitting 2m away) its pretty much lunchtime, and the girls return from the stroll about town complete with leggings, inner tubes and new Sverigeleden maps! Buzzing from the coffee, they've been comsuming there's a little indecision about lunch - should we go to McDonald's?? We settle for an all you can eat salad buffet and pizza, which serves as both lunch and dinenr as we fill up on salad, and take half the pizzas with us!!
A trip back to tourist information follows, and we then head to the library so that I can try and finally post some photos before stopping for coffee number three to re-evaluate.
By this time its 4pm and the thought of packing up the bikes to go wilderness camping after a couple of hours cycling is becoming less and less appealing....our bodies are in rest day mode and we conclude that another night in the hostel then a big day tomorrow is probably a better option (or you could just call us lazy!!) Decision made, we check back into the hostel, and leaving all our bags in storage, hit the shops again in an attempt to sate Ali's need to purchase new items...we strike gold with Natur kompaniet, an outdoor shop that stocks Fjällräven (with which Ali is strangley intrigued despite the fact that she still doesn't own any of their products!). A few more stops for sports clothes, water bottles (as Hazel has managed to leave hers in a bus stop) and food for tomorrow's journey, and we're back in the hostel enjoying our cold pizza. Ali and Hazel post a few things home, and Ali makes friends with the neighbouring corner storeman, who is from Chile, and practises her Spanish. We retire to our empty room, which we all thoroughly enjoy after the usual mess of panniers, food and damp clothes, and hit the hay with thoughts of completing 100miles tomorrow....
Day 19 - 9th August Docksta to Sundsvall, blogged by Hazel
This blog entry is the first contribution from the three bikes themselves...
134.32km in 6hr40min. Pouring rain.
Averaging 20.1km, sppedo malfunction again: max 145.7!
We spend the night huddled together for warmth as the rain beats down on us, rinsing the dry lube Alice applys insists on applying to our chains daily- when will she buy wet lube!
The girls are safely ensconced inside the hostel, although the peace of the night is disrupted by Hazel nightmare screams.
We're unlocked and packed up suprisingly early for them. 10metres down the road though we stop for them to unpack their waterproofs- they are slowly learning. Maybe one morning they'll manage to emerge suitable attired and avoid these tedious costume changes!
Cykelsparet leads us on to the e4 and with Hazel in the lead we spin along quickly, the girls are already discussing coffee but cafes in Sweden don't open until 10 so we press on, kilometer after kilometer.
The rain is bearing down incessantly, Alice and Hazel have fashions cut offs from their waterproof trousers- amazingly the customisation makes them look more ridculous- Alice's rude boy baggy below knees and Hazels over knee drenched wet tight thigh look.
We the bicycles all agree Phillipa is the most stylish. We are also looking quite tidy now the girls have bought us some flash Sweden stickers fo our frames- wish they had thought of this from the start!
Our most exciting road section today is over the High Coast suspension bridge, we have overheard Philippa informing the girls that it is the biggest bridge in Scandinavia and the ninth biggest suspension bridge in the world! It was very high up, sadly it was quite foggy so the girls didn't take any snaps.
Over the bridge and the girls are devastated that there is no town or service station fo coffee. We don't know why they keep rambling about service stations- in the past 1000miles where has there been one?! And yes we are all very proud when we roll over th 1000mile mark today- happily on our favourite e4 timely.
We hit the Swede's track excuse for a road. Oh how our poor spokes long for the tarmac carpet of the E4- if only he girls weren't as wary of the traffic! The wet sands/grit is exceptionally difficult to cycle through and we are as relived as the girls when we chance upon a cafe in the village hall of Ro. The girls have waffle and ice cream while we cool down.
We now go inland, and on the high coast that means up hills. The first one is so steep we worry should the girls stop peddalling we'd fall down off the road! They don't, and Hazel's bike is most relieved that her knee is better as she whirls the pedals and nips up the hill.
Up and up the hills go with only small down hills, quite exhausted the girls chance apon a little wooden house bus stop where lunch is consumed. The village is named Sand, and it is remarked- "What do you call a witch eating smorgasbord in the village of sand? A swedish sandwich"- much hilarity... The girls now spot from their window an old lady wearing a red cloak walking her poodle. This sends them into hysterics as they discuss wolves and woods.
We hit the road again finally the toils of uphills pay off and we are soaring downhill with Alice's bike zooming away. But suddenly the clouds fully break open and we are screaming down hill in a monsoon, limited visbility and stinging rain. The bottom finallly comes and we are now on the main road into Sundsvall. A rest stop in a bus stop on the E4 interception, we ogle the motorway (category 1 E4 section which we are not allowed on) while the girls eat jam and peanut sandwiches.
The rain is wet rather than vicious now and we set off into the endless suburbs of Sundsvall. It is boring and lasts over an hour as the girls follow a windy route in. But eventually the city and a room for us inside the hostel reception for the night. Happy and tired we are locked up and sleep while the girls find a turkish pizzeria. When in Sweden...
134.32km in 6hr40min. Pouring rain.
Averaging 20.1km, sppedo malfunction again: max 145.7!
We spend the night huddled together for warmth as the rain beats down on us, rinsing the dry lube Alice applys insists on applying to our chains daily- when will she buy wet lube!
The girls are safely ensconced inside the hostel, although the peace of the night is disrupted by Hazel nightmare screams.
We're unlocked and packed up suprisingly early for them. 10metres down the road though we stop for them to unpack their waterproofs- they are slowly learning. Maybe one morning they'll manage to emerge suitable attired and avoid these tedious costume changes!
Cykelsparet leads us on to the e4 and with Hazel in the lead we spin along quickly, the girls are already discussing coffee but cafes in Sweden don't open until 10 so we press on, kilometer after kilometer.
The rain is bearing down incessantly, Alice and Hazel have fashions cut offs from their waterproof trousers- amazingly the customisation makes them look more ridculous- Alice's rude boy baggy below knees and Hazels over knee drenched wet tight thigh look.
We the bicycles all agree Phillipa is the most stylish. We are also looking quite tidy now the girls have bought us some flash Sweden stickers fo our frames- wish they had thought of this from the start!
Our most exciting road section today is over the High Coast suspension bridge, we have overheard Philippa informing the girls that it is the biggest bridge in Scandinavia and the ninth biggest suspension bridge in the world! It was very high up, sadly it was quite foggy so the girls didn't take any snaps.
Over the bridge and the girls are devastated that there is no town or service station fo coffee. We don't know why they keep rambling about service stations- in the past 1000miles where has there been one?! And yes we are all very proud when we roll over th 1000mile mark today- happily on our favourite e4 timely.
We hit the Swede's track excuse for a road. Oh how our poor spokes long for the tarmac carpet of the E4- if only he girls weren't as wary of the traffic! The wet sands/grit is exceptionally difficult to cycle through and we are as relived as the girls when we chance upon a cafe in the village hall of Ro. The girls have waffle and ice cream while we cool down.
We now go inland, and on the high coast that means up hills. The first one is so steep we worry should the girls stop peddalling we'd fall down off the road! They don't, and Hazel's bike is most relieved that her knee is better as she whirls the pedals and nips up the hill.
Up and up the hills go with only small down hills, quite exhausted the girls chance apon a little wooden house bus stop where lunch is consumed. The village is named Sand, and it is remarked- "What do you call a witch eating smorgasbord in the village of sand? A swedish sandwich"- much hilarity... The girls now spot from their window an old lady wearing a red cloak walking her poodle. This sends them into hysterics as they discuss wolves and woods.
We hit the road again finally the toils of uphills pay off and we are soaring downhill with Alice's bike zooming away. But suddenly the clouds fully break open and we are screaming down hill in a monsoon, limited visbility and stinging rain. The bottom finallly comes and we are now on the main road into Sundsvall. A rest stop in a bus stop on the E4 interception, we ogle the motorway (category 1 E4 section which we are not allowed on) while the girls eat jam and peanut sandwiches.
The rain is wet rather than vicious now and we set off into the endless suburbs of Sundsvall. It is boring and lasts over an hour as the girls follow a windy route in. But eventually the city and a room for us inside the hostel reception for the night. Happy and tired we are locked up and sleep while the girls find a turkish pizzeria. When in Sweden...
Tuesday 10 August 2010
Day 18 Ornskoldsvik to Docksta - Sunday 8th August - Ali
56.9km covered in 3hr 6min
average speed 18.3kmph
max 55.6kmph
odomoter reads 1570.8km
It's a slow start what with the three hour buffet breakfast and blogging to be caught up on. At 10.45 we slowly crawl away from the hotelbox perched on the motorwayside amongst supermarkets and edge of town furniture stores. Feeling very Sundayish we roll slowly down the hill into Ornskoldsvik, previously described to us as being "just like San Francisco". Since it is neither fabulously glamourously or gay, I can only assume that they were referring to the fact it is full of bloody hills. Although I immensely enjoy the descent, logic
always creeps in to remind me that with every downhill must come an up eventually! We are now on Sweden's "Huga Kusten" or High Coast. It's still not salty but ridiculously hilly. Not in the smooth rolling sense, but in the discrete round hill next to hill sense, as if cycling across a giant beach with millions of massive sandcastles plopped everywhere. Incredible descent followed by excruciating asent is the order of the day, often on sandy rubbly "roads" to avoid our arch nemesis/secret lover the E4 motorway. Before leaving SanFran of Sweden we decided to pump up our tyres properly at the petrol station. Eager to achieve the perfect pressure, I whack on the gauge and promptly blow up my tube! A tyre change later and it's midday, we slip into full granny gear and slog it up the hill out of town. We begin to behave like proper cycle tourists and trudge along chatting like grannies. Up hill and down dale and after ten miles the obligatory coffee stop in a charming little museum
staffed as ever, by old ladies. There's historical tableaux and I'm
in seventh heaven! We are once again engaged in conversation about our trip and after an hour we are back on the road, slowly progressing. After a bit of e4 action we decided that we are tired and will not make it the 150km to
Harnosand today. We decide to progress only 20 more miles to Docksta, as recommended by the lovely tourist information girl in LauraMarling/Nordmaling. Choosing a slow and safe 20 miles of Cykelsparet rather than e4, the Sunday ride is again interrupted by lunch break, for
once not on the motorwayside! We make it to Docksta and stock up at le supermarche whilst watching an enthusiastic local crowd cooing appreciatively as an old man throws shoes?! Some sort of variation on boules, I guess. Those Swedes! Hostel is a few km down the e4 but annoyingly the day ends on 996miles on my odometer! Leisure time is duly passed and we retire to bed, eager for an early start and long day.
average speed 18.3kmph
max 55.6kmph
odomoter reads 1570.8km
It's a slow start what with the three hour buffet breakfast and blogging to be caught up on. At 10.45 we slowly crawl away from the hotelbox perched on the motorwayside amongst supermarkets and edge of town furniture stores. Feeling very Sundayish we roll slowly down the hill into Ornskoldsvik, previously described to us as being "just like San Francisco". Since it is neither fabulously glamourously or gay, I can only assume that they were referring to the fact it is full of bloody hills. Although I immensely enjoy the descent, logic
always creeps in to remind me that with every downhill must come an up eventually! We are now on Sweden's "Huga Kusten" or High Coast. It's still not salty but ridiculously hilly. Not in the smooth rolling sense, but in the discrete round hill next to hill sense, as if cycling across a giant beach with millions of massive sandcastles plopped everywhere. Incredible descent followed by excruciating asent is the order of the day, often on sandy rubbly "roads" to avoid our arch nemesis/secret lover the E4 motorway. Before leaving SanFran of Sweden we decided to pump up our tyres properly at the petrol station. Eager to achieve the perfect pressure, I whack on the gauge and promptly blow up my tube! A tyre change later and it's midday, we slip into full granny gear and slog it up the hill out of town. We begin to behave like proper cycle tourists and trudge along chatting like grannies. Up hill and down dale and after ten miles the obligatory coffee stop in a charming little museum
staffed as ever, by old ladies. There's historical tableaux and I'm
in seventh heaven! We are once again engaged in conversation about our trip and after an hour we are back on the road, slowly progressing. After a bit of e4 action we decided that we are tired and will not make it the 150km to
Harnosand today. We decide to progress only 20 more miles to Docksta, as recommended by the lovely tourist information girl in LauraMarling/Nordmaling. Choosing a slow and safe 20 miles of Cykelsparet rather than e4, the Sunday ride is again interrupted by lunch break, for
once not on the motorwayside! We make it to Docksta and stock up at le supermarche whilst watching an enthusiastic local crowd cooing appreciatively as an old man throws shoes?! Some sort of variation on boules, I guess. Those Swedes! Hostel is a few km down the e4 but annoyingly the day ends on 996miles on my odometer! Leisure time is duly passed and we retire to bed, eager for an early start and long day.
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