Well quite a last few days. Now in Thessaloniki with still a fair bit of the Country to cycle, but this seemed an appropriate pause to update. Stayed in Patras for 2 nights, it was the end of a heatwave so felt it sensible to see that out before hitting the trail. Decided to leave the hostel in Patras at 3am since that would give me time to cover some mileage before the sun rose and get across the bridge before the lorries off the morning ferry. My plans were partially stopped in their tracks by a rather charming Finnish lady whom I met on the hostel steps as I was loading the bike. It transpired that she had come down from Helsinki to try and help her daughter who livesin Patras and is a heroin addict. Its gets further complicated since the daughter has a 3 year old who lives with this lady in Finland. Trying to straighten out a teenager or 20 year old can be difficult at the best of times without the additional problems associated with this relationship. We chatted on the steps, well I listened; there is very little advice one can give in these circumstances but the lady was clearly approaching a crossroads as to whether to give all her attention to her grand-daughter and effectively disown her daughter.
I left at 4am and made reasonable time across the bridge and onto Itea which is a decent sized resort, very attractive, by late afternoon. I found a campsite at the end of the town which was family owned and having said I would rather spend my euros with them, they cooked up a superb mousaka with salad. I didn't realise beforehand that this was part of the family meal I was eating and felt awful at having done so. Such was the kindness I met along the way in Greece. The following day, I cycled to Lamia. This I knew was the hard part of the trip, across two mountain ranges. I had to push Cynthia the best part of 5 kilometers up the first one which was worse, and by chance, a pick up pulled in and offered me a lift of 8 kms to where he was turrning off. That 8kms took me over the summit and I reckon saved me the best part of 2 plus hours in the day, such is the way we cyclists think when attempting to get from A to B. The scenery was quite something, the first range opening up to a plateau, quite a vista and great to cycle around. Made Lamia around 2pm and having stopped for an hour, skirted around the right hand side of the city to a campsite, about 20 kms further on by the sea. Between the city and the site I rode through the industrial area which extended for about 5 kms. There were alot of factories and warehouses, all fairly recently built and with the exception of about 10% were either mothballed or left. Such is the obvious reminder as to the difficulties this country is facing, and was a scene that repeated itself through the towns and cities. Passing through villages, the cafes and tavernas are frequented by men with nothing to do, smoking (the national pastime) and playing cards; making a coffee and water last as long as possible.
The roads in Greece are not great in terms of getting from A to B. Well they are if you are not a cyclist. For much of my route it was necessary for me to use the motorway since it was the only game in town so to speak. All the locals said go ahead its ok, so armed with this local knowledge, I did. I picked up the main route between Athens and Thessaloniki and to be honest it was a joy to ride. Dual carriageway with a side apron of almost 8 feet which I kept within. No way would I have done this in Italy but here, there was virtually no traffic during the day, few cars and lorries and I wasn't getting in anyones way. I have seem more traffic on the M5 at Cullompton at 2am than during the day on this road; again perhaps another pointer as to whats happening in this country. Apart from the lack of freight; there are no tourists on the mainland, non at all. Between Patras and Thess I counted a couple of German plates and a handful of Dutch, thats it. It seems that most of the tourists head for the Islands for two weeks sex, sand and sea which sounds ok to me, but I really couldn't believe how few foreign tourists I have seen in Greece so far. So all quiet on the motorway; I'm humming a Coldplay song when a toll station hones into view. I wave and get called over. Well they charge 1.80 euros for a motorbike, what would they charge me for Cynth and I! Ah, by the tone of this operative he sounds like a traffic warden. Yep, a couple of sentences later my worst fears were confirmed, a jobsworth. He was in a mild panic since I dont think he had ever seen a bike on a motorway before, and gesticulated quite clearly that I was to get off. 'But where' I asked. He was confused, meanwhile a young Greek (30ish) with bimbo greek in tow put the horn on me. Not a good call on his behalf. I turned slowly and pointed my finger and waggled it at him, requesting him to be patient. Back to the jobsworth, he told me to leave the motorway a kilometer distant; he wasnt interested where the road went to, or where I had to get to, he just wanted me out the way. The horn sounded again, this time accompanied by an arm movement, translated as get on with it! I got off Cynthia and having taken something of a dislike to this person in the car, started walking towards him giving him the look. Jobsworth then shouted and waved me through. I remounted Cynth (not easy on a full load!) and set off though the barrier. Unfortunately, he hadnt lifted the barrier and I whipped around the side, setting off all the alams; I just kept going picking up on where I had got to with my Coldplay song.
Some 40-50kms further up the motorway (of course I didn't turn off) I noted the motorway patrol behind me, they followed for a bit and so I pulled in and they drew alongside. The traditional good day greetings in Greek were expressed and fortunately the guy could speak perfect English. He explained that cyclists shouldn't use the motorway and I replied that this was the only route to get where I needed to go and that if there was an alternative I would take it. The road running parallel, the old road was fine except where the new motorway cut across it and effectively truncated any further progress. He took this on board. He rang his mate and then basically told me to get off at the next turn since his boss was 20kms behind and that if I didn't get off the road, his arse would be on the line. I was fully seized of this dilemma and he was great, in fact he recognised that common sense should prevail and that I should continue but as he said, 'Rules are rules'. He guided me off and sent me 30 kms to Volos suggesting I stay there for the night. We parted in a very friendly manner, but of course he recognised that where I needed to go the following day I would have to get back onto the motorway. How Greek is this! Volos was the highlight of the places passed through in Greece so far. Fabulous waterfront, lovely city definately worth a stay.
The following day, true to form, I was back on the motorway, this time no problems. It is definately safer to cycle on the motorway for reasons outlined above and because the A roads near towns are more busy; bus drivers are a nightmare as are women who suddenly open there door not looking or expecting to see a cyclist on their bow! The road surfaces are also badly maintained; pot holes, uneven surfaces and tarmac mounds everywhere with only about a couple of feet to cycle in, the leeway compared with the motorway isn't enough. I have not seen a single cyclist since being in Greece. Well that's not quite correct, I've seen fellers around 20 wearing designer gear promenading along the sea fronts on a bike and a few mature ladies doing the shopping who look to have melons in their basket; well either that or gravity has been very cruel to them and a basket is the only container that will hold them!! But the real problem cycling is dogs. They are a major problem from just about every angle. This is the first European country where I have experienced the number of dogs that chase you either leaping out of the side road, or from wherever. This has happened to me on a daily basis, fortunately, where I felt a real risk of being bitten (and they do) I was on a downslope and fresh so could outrun them. One car overtook me, saw a dog and looked like it deliberately swerved to get it out the way to allow me safe passage. On the way into Thess, in a village one dog chased me forgot it was on a lead and was physically pulled back in the air when the lead ran out. A Dutch family told me they had been harrassed by a dog, well therir youngest daughter had and that they would think carefully about returning to Greece again. Now lets get this thing into perspective; Greece faces many acute financial and economic challenges that way surpass anything else; but there is no doubt that the dog issue is important if they want tourism to grow; or at least sustain what the have. I hold a few stones in my pocket and have a cycle security steel rope with padlock on the end which I take out and whirl something like a mace. I do not and would not hesitate to use any method to protect myself and would unhesitatingly do serious damage to any mut that tried it on. I expect to get bitten but believe me given half a chance I will beat the crap out of any dog that attacks me. I have spoken to a few locals as to what the best ploy is in this situation; they are unanimous: Stop the bike, don't swerve into the road where you might get hit by a car, take the bite if you have to (they will bite) and 'kick the shit out of them'. Apart from wrap around glasses to prevent dust going into my eyes, I wish I had a taser, as I think 50,000 volts up a dogs arse would pull them up a bit lively. It is a problem, I've not faced this anywhere in Europe before (you expect it further east) and its one tourists will not put up with. They are dangerous and cause accidents, I've cycled passed quite a few dead ones at the roadside. What to do about the problem: Cull the lot, and also to those who belong to people who don't look after them. hit them also with a heavy fine if they cause an accident!
Right, rant out the way, when you are constantly looking around you for dogs, it does take away the enjoyment of travelling through a country. The situation is bad though.
Well I thought I had had my fill of jobsworth's earlier in the day, but while parked up in a garage about 20 kms from Volos the following incident beat all. Relaxing in the shade, all of a sudden this policeman walks by, discharges a bag on the adjoining table and turns around to inspect Cynth. I said nothing, expecting the ususal ;where are you from?' etc., but no, this guy looked at me and pointed saying 'rear light'. 'Yes and',
'You have one and its not on" came the reply in an accusational tone that suggested I was about to heist the garage. I sensed that this chap had either been the subject of bullying at school or had never been appointed milk monitor!
'Well if you look I have 3 rear lights', getting up to point them out,'plus a front light and 8 reflectors on the panniers. I havent got them on as I'm parked and its 3.30pm with a full on sun'.
No answer, but he walked around the bike. I appraised him, about 5'8' , 30ish and developing a pot belly. I felt that I could probably beat him over a 150 yard dash as I couldn't see him lasting much more, and he stood no chance against an 18 year old so it was a good job he had a gun, as that seemed the only conceivable way any robber would be apprehended. I began to panic at his rapier like grasp as to my explaination of the lights. His ability to sum up a situation and demonstrate a complete lack of credible thought reminded me of a Labour politician; this was a frightening situation since I had no idea how he might react. Lets not think, lets just do it seemed to be an appropriate mantra! Certainly one out of the Gordon Brown/Ed Balls school of governance. His mate then rolled up in the squad car, and without any acknowledgement got in and drove off. Surreal!
Thessaloniki is the 2nd city in Greece; a major tourist hub and link with many of the islands having a commercial port. I arrived at 4pm found the cetre which is always where I head for in a large city. A star of a policeman directed me to the Tourist Information Office which I found was closed. Ok, so its the middle of the afternoon, that's fine. Closer observation confirmed that being a Saturday, the office shut at 3pm and would remain so until 9am Monday. Great, just dandy, but I'm extremely fortunate, I have a Liz. Every traveller wants and needs a Liz. Liz is my sister, a real gem in every way, she is a 100% star. I texted her, and within minutes she had replied with a list of places to stay in budget. No worries. I took a walk along the seafront last evening, very nice but its no Portofino, Nice or Cannes though from the pricing structure of beer it has pretentions to be so. From the very brief snapshot I have had so far of this country, the people are superb, lovely, but you do get the sense that the Country needs to pull its socks up and get organised. The roadsides are dirty and there just seems a lack of pride somehow. Understandable I suppose given their acute problems, they cannot be expected to solve everything at once. But I hope whatever steps they take they work; the people deserve that.
Still have a fair bit of cycling to do in Greece, but the shine has gone a bit and I am now looking towards Istanbul. Dont think I will be making a return visit to Greece anytime soon, not with France, Italy and Spain as immediate options.
Sunday 22 July 2012
Monday 16 July 2012
The Italian Leg
My apologies to start with for the delay in this latest leg of the blog; anyway no worries, its here.
My dilemma, well more of a mild decision really was to continue along the Danube and either into Romania or cross over the Balkans. Neither option appeared ideal and from a selfish perspective decided to add a couple of hundred kilometers and backtrack to Italy and across to Greece and into Istanbul. Well, having achieved half that leg I'm so glad I took that option, Italy was sensational.
The train departed from Budapest and headed to Vienna then Salzburg and Innsbuck where I had to change to catch the connection to Verona. It was an evening departure and loading the bikes onto the train (always an effort since the carriages are about three feet higher than the platform and Cynthia isn't exactly user friendly in that regard. Assistance came in the form of a feller called Harith who lived in London and who had himself cycled out to Budapest, in about a quarter of the time it took me. He had a road bike with two panniers, total weight 10 kilos and being a fit 21 year old used to the cycling rigours of London was averaging 200 kms a day!!!!!! Some feat and were I wearing a corbine I would take it off to him. Really good bloke, spent an excellent few hours in his company; he was heading to Zurich and back to London.
Arrived in Innsbruck at 4am ish and had a five hour wait. Had a brief nap in the waiting room before chatting to a security guy who very kindly opened the lost and found office so that I could store the bike and watch the sun rise over the Alps. For those who havent visited Innsbruck, it is something, surrounded by jagged peaks and a clear view of the ski jump from the station. Well worth the walk. The journey through the Alps was something, beautiful, very glad I didn't have to cycle them though. Arrived in Verona early afternoon.
Verona
Not enough adjectives for this magnificent city. Even if you don't appreciate opera, which I don't, it still has that something that grabs you. The focal point is the Arena, fronted at one point by three sphinx covered in hyroglyphics. But more of the Arena later. Close by was the tourist information centre which is invariably the first port of call. I queued in the accommodation line to be addressed by a lady who, when I asked if there was a hostel for around 20 euros in the vicinity, was met by a full-on Italian glare. 'We only deal with hotels here', came the curt reply, as her eyes cast bolts of fire at the image of oil stained shorts, a sweat stained T shirt and a scarf around my neck. Not exactly dressed to kill, I will conceed but, there I was, and if she could have driven me out of the city limits then and there, I think she would have. 'So I take it, that's a no then' I replied. Fortunately, a young assistant was watching this who spoke perfect English. She invited me over and producing a street map directed me to the one hostel and a campsite as an alternative. She even knew what they all charged; there is a lot to be said for finding the right queue first time. The hostel was about 20 minutes away, ideal, and was a former Villa. Architecturally magnificent, I have never stayed in a 36 bed dorm before, it wasn't full. The ablutions were neolithic, built of stone, incredible. I have never stayed in a hostel where the rules were so many, even what you could eat for breakfast. Still, it didn't bother me. That evening I walked around the city; afflent doesn't begin to describe it. The restaurants surrounding one half of the Arena were doing a brisk trade with diners of all languages waiting for the gates to open and the opera to begin. I quickly realised that in Italy, never sit down at a table with a cloth, especially if laid: it's expensive; also, if you observe the waiter dressed in waistcoat, avoid for the same reason. It is a real pleasure walking around the narrow streets with all the branded shop names (Primark, Poundstretcher etc) I jest, and people watch. The most gorgeous girls on scooters mingling with the crowds; just wonderful.
Venice
The following day I took the train to Venice for the day. I set off early and arrived mid morning. I cannot think of any view more stunning when exiting Venice SL (Santa Louisa) Station. Certainly not the dive that is Liverpool Street in London. Quite simply surreal; the station opened up to a vista of canals and stunning architecture, it was almost surreal. Carefully avoiding the tour operators, I walked through the streets to the Rialto bridge, St Marks Square, and kept going. Every corner, every turn was just wonderful; narrow streets, restaurants, shops. I spent a few minutes watching cargo boats being unloaded; the water equivalent of Parcel Force, with goods loaded onto large trollies. Even saw I boat decked out in its international livery of yellow and orange. Fortunately, it wasn't overcrowded so you could keep moving easily. I decided on lunch, well it was that or a gondola ride, and as I was on my own it didn't seem quite the thing.I was on the look out for a shirt, not cotton, as the sweat stays heavy, but a football type polyester which is quick drying and keeps more in shape. As most will know I am the proud possesser of an Argyle shirt, which gets an airing. The choice of shirts was pretty good; quickly discounted those with Rooney and Gerrard on the back; considered Messi. I bypassed the array of Italian shirts and thankfully there were no French shirts. Strangely, they didn't have an Argyle shirt, so settled eventually on a tasteful Chelsea home shirt with Torres on the back!! So much to see and enjoy what a place.
I stayed in Verona for two nights, planning my route and taking in the City. If I had the readies, I could spend quite a bit of time there. Real class. The lady at the hostel, who hitherto had appeared somewhat direct, was extremely sweet when I asked for directions out of town! Well she was. One thing a cyclist needs to know about Italy, is where you can cycle (I won't say safely, not the way the Italians drive) and where you have to avoid. Clearly, only someone not of this planet would contemplate trying to cycle on the autostrada; definately off limits. Also entering and exiting cities, dual carriageways are off limits as well, and this presented me with a constant problem in these areas. However, this lady knew her stuff and put me right on to a minor road. Being full of ice cream and raring to go, enjoying perfect weather conditions, I made the Adriatic Coast by early evening, a total of 183 kilometers, my best yet. I found a campsite, staggered into the tent and slept. I would have paid anything, on this occassion 22 euros. Italy is not cheap, and all the way through this beautiful country, the thing that really bugged was that I had to pay the same as a motor home, or a 6 man tent, invariably squashed into an area that wasn't that big. A lot of the sites were jam packed, like sardines, but like anywhere, the summer is where these places make their money. I tried the old soldier routine, but never met with success.
The following morning I headed down the coast to a city called Ravenna. Now for cyclists, this place was as close to a black hole as you could get; once in never out!Throughout Italy I cycled on, or by the SS16, essentially the coast road. No chance of cycling on this route out of Ravenna though, dual carriageway. While people try and help with directions, I quickly realised that I was going nowhere, so ended up on a minor road to Bologna, and ending up doing a very large circle to Cervia on the coast. As well as I had travelled the day befor, it was that bad that day, such are the joys and frustrations of cycling.
From Cervia to Rimini. Now I have seen hideous pictures of Rimini in the 70's when it matched Benedorm as the grot resort of Europe. No longer, I was impressed with the city. Yes its what it is, but so much better than I had envisaged; new hotels, reminded me of a big Bournemouth. It was great cycling along part of the coast, looking at the Adriatic. In that heat I was consuming 10-12 litres of liquid, hardly anything touched the sides, straight down. The water in my bottles became warm in 10 minutes, literally, so it was cafes or supermarkets where I tanked up.
Over the next few days I visited Pesaro, Ancona, Pescara, and a beautiful town Termoli. I was struck down with a bug so on two occassions frog hopped on the train where the topography was steep or decidedly uninteresting as around the peninsula close to Foggia. I suppose in all I lost around 120-140 kms. The one thing I will say about Italian trains is that they are cheap. They also allow you to get off and continue your journery the following day on different trains if you can. Cannot imagine the jobsworths on our railways being so accommodating. I love the sheer abandonment Italians display when they either see each other or say goodbye. Where on earth would you get the conductor walking down half the platform to invite a couple in passioate embrace (one on the train, the other on the platform) to separate so that he can close the doors and get the train moving! With a cycle you are restricted to local services, but that'sok. There is still the problem of lifting Cynthia 3 feet into the air onto the train, and reversing the process getting off. Invariably someone will help you, even the driver! The Italians are great, so friendly and will try and help whenever possible. I find there expressive ways so amusing, why say something that only your friends will hear when you can tell the whole street! And the hand and arm expressions to go with the vocalisation works a treat. Like the central Europeans and the Greeks; the Italians smoke like chimneys. Now I have no problem with this, I don't mind having a beer and the waft of smoke coming across. It may make medical sense not to smoke and treat people who do like a pariah as the nanny state do in the UK, but I'm for freedom of choice.
The night before arriving in Bari I stayed on a site in Bisceglie. What another gem of a place. Orening the tent flap and the Adriatic right by you. I couldn't figure why this site was half empty given the facilities (UK style loos) unlike some of the old French type 'stand and crap' that were prevalent in the 60's when I went to France and were common in the sites on the way down through Italy. Well I found out, since next door was a night club and opposite a hotel, and clearly a battle raged in decibel count as to which venue could make the most noise. Think the club did it, finishing at a very respectable 5.30am! Of course you are up at 7am anyway as the tent becomes a sauna. So I and others trooped out the following morning (I had intended to anyway) and I felt really sorry for the owners daughter who was somewhat upset and invited me to stay for the extra night at the same rate. I assume she had met with little success with those who preceeded me since nobody did a 'U' turn.
I cycled into Bari, again being prevented from continuing along the dreaded SS16 and having to drag Cynthia across scrubland and along a dirt track (sounds like the things she used to get up to in her old Harborough days!)and dry river bed to get to a road that would eventually take me to the port.
The ferry departed at 8pm and after stops in Corfu and Ignoumista arrived in Patras to 41 degrees at 1pm. So now I am sitting here in this terrific internet cafe compiling this. I found a hostel where there was only one other chap there. Need to call in on a superb bike shop I passed. Think I might invest in a saddle cover, since although my Brookes id well worn in, when I go over any bumps (a frequent occurrence) up to 6 rivits do there best to embed themselves in my arse! Also invest in a decent pair of cycling gloves to help the grip change.
So from Patras, its onto Delfi, Lamia,Larrissa, Thessalonika, and on to Istanbul. Already I have noted, things in Greece are cheaper than Italy which is good news. Early morning starts to avoid the sun, we have apparently been promised temperatures with a 4 in front all week. Looking forward to this leg, I think progress will be slower due to the topography but thats the way it is and it should be worth it. Cheers.
My dilemma, well more of a mild decision really was to continue along the Danube and either into Romania or cross over the Balkans. Neither option appeared ideal and from a selfish perspective decided to add a couple of hundred kilometers and backtrack to Italy and across to Greece and into Istanbul. Well, having achieved half that leg I'm so glad I took that option, Italy was sensational.
The train departed from Budapest and headed to Vienna then Salzburg and Innsbuck where I had to change to catch the connection to Verona. It was an evening departure and loading the bikes onto the train (always an effort since the carriages are about three feet higher than the platform and Cynthia isn't exactly user friendly in that regard. Assistance came in the form of a feller called Harith who lived in London and who had himself cycled out to Budapest, in about a quarter of the time it took me. He had a road bike with two panniers, total weight 10 kilos and being a fit 21 year old used to the cycling rigours of London was averaging 200 kms a day!!!!!! Some feat and were I wearing a corbine I would take it off to him. Really good bloke, spent an excellent few hours in his company; he was heading to Zurich and back to London.
Arrived in Innsbruck at 4am ish and had a five hour wait. Had a brief nap in the waiting room before chatting to a security guy who very kindly opened the lost and found office so that I could store the bike and watch the sun rise over the Alps. For those who havent visited Innsbruck, it is something, surrounded by jagged peaks and a clear view of the ski jump from the station. Well worth the walk. The journey through the Alps was something, beautiful, very glad I didn't have to cycle them though. Arrived in Verona early afternoon.
Verona
Not enough adjectives for this magnificent city. Even if you don't appreciate opera, which I don't, it still has that something that grabs you. The focal point is the Arena, fronted at one point by three sphinx covered in hyroglyphics. But more of the Arena later. Close by was the tourist information centre which is invariably the first port of call. I queued in the accommodation line to be addressed by a lady who, when I asked if there was a hostel for around 20 euros in the vicinity, was met by a full-on Italian glare. 'We only deal with hotels here', came the curt reply, as her eyes cast bolts of fire at the image of oil stained shorts, a sweat stained T shirt and a scarf around my neck. Not exactly dressed to kill, I will conceed but, there I was, and if she could have driven me out of the city limits then and there, I think she would have. 'So I take it, that's a no then' I replied. Fortunately, a young assistant was watching this who spoke perfect English. She invited me over and producing a street map directed me to the one hostel and a campsite as an alternative. She even knew what they all charged; there is a lot to be said for finding the right queue first time. The hostel was about 20 minutes away, ideal, and was a former Villa. Architecturally magnificent, I have never stayed in a 36 bed dorm before, it wasn't full. The ablutions were neolithic, built of stone, incredible. I have never stayed in a hostel where the rules were so many, even what you could eat for breakfast. Still, it didn't bother me. That evening I walked around the city; afflent doesn't begin to describe it. The restaurants surrounding one half of the Arena were doing a brisk trade with diners of all languages waiting for the gates to open and the opera to begin. I quickly realised that in Italy, never sit down at a table with a cloth, especially if laid: it's expensive; also, if you observe the waiter dressed in waistcoat, avoid for the same reason. It is a real pleasure walking around the narrow streets with all the branded shop names (Primark, Poundstretcher etc) I jest, and people watch. The most gorgeous girls on scooters mingling with the crowds; just wonderful.
Venice
The following day I took the train to Venice for the day. I set off early and arrived mid morning. I cannot think of any view more stunning when exiting Venice SL (Santa Louisa) Station. Certainly not the dive that is Liverpool Street in London. Quite simply surreal; the station opened up to a vista of canals and stunning architecture, it was almost surreal. Carefully avoiding the tour operators, I walked through the streets to the Rialto bridge, St Marks Square, and kept going. Every corner, every turn was just wonderful; narrow streets, restaurants, shops. I spent a few minutes watching cargo boats being unloaded; the water equivalent of Parcel Force, with goods loaded onto large trollies. Even saw I boat decked out in its international livery of yellow and orange. Fortunately, it wasn't overcrowded so you could keep moving easily. I decided on lunch, well it was that or a gondola ride, and as I was on my own it didn't seem quite the thing.I was on the look out for a shirt, not cotton, as the sweat stays heavy, but a football type polyester which is quick drying and keeps more in shape. As most will know I am the proud possesser of an Argyle shirt, which gets an airing. The choice of shirts was pretty good; quickly discounted those with Rooney and Gerrard on the back; considered Messi. I bypassed the array of Italian shirts and thankfully there were no French shirts. Strangely, they didn't have an Argyle shirt, so settled eventually on a tasteful Chelsea home shirt with Torres on the back!! So much to see and enjoy what a place.
I stayed in Verona for two nights, planning my route and taking in the City. If I had the readies, I could spend quite a bit of time there. Real class. The lady at the hostel, who hitherto had appeared somewhat direct, was extremely sweet when I asked for directions out of town! Well she was. One thing a cyclist needs to know about Italy, is where you can cycle (I won't say safely, not the way the Italians drive) and where you have to avoid. Clearly, only someone not of this planet would contemplate trying to cycle on the autostrada; definately off limits. Also entering and exiting cities, dual carriageways are off limits as well, and this presented me with a constant problem in these areas. However, this lady knew her stuff and put me right on to a minor road. Being full of ice cream and raring to go, enjoying perfect weather conditions, I made the Adriatic Coast by early evening, a total of 183 kilometers, my best yet. I found a campsite, staggered into the tent and slept. I would have paid anything, on this occassion 22 euros. Italy is not cheap, and all the way through this beautiful country, the thing that really bugged was that I had to pay the same as a motor home, or a 6 man tent, invariably squashed into an area that wasn't that big. A lot of the sites were jam packed, like sardines, but like anywhere, the summer is where these places make their money. I tried the old soldier routine, but never met with success.
The following morning I headed down the coast to a city called Ravenna. Now for cyclists, this place was as close to a black hole as you could get; once in never out!Throughout Italy I cycled on, or by the SS16, essentially the coast road. No chance of cycling on this route out of Ravenna though, dual carriageway. While people try and help with directions, I quickly realised that I was going nowhere, so ended up on a minor road to Bologna, and ending up doing a very large circle to Cervia on the coast. As well as I had travelled the day befor, it was that bad that day, such are the joys and frustrations of cycling.
From Cervia to Rimini. Now I have seen hideous pictures of Rimini in the 70's when it matched Benedorm as the grot resort of Europe. No longer, I was impressed with the city. Yes its what it is, but so much better than I had envisaged; new hotels, reminded me of a big Bournemouth. It was great cycling along part of the coast, looking at the Adriatic. In that heat I was consuming 10-12 litres of liquid, hardly anything touched the sides, straight down. The water in my bottles became warm in 10 minutes, literally, so it was cafes or supermarkets where I tanked up.
Over the next few days I visited Pesaro, Ancona, Pescara, and a beautiful town Termoli. I was struck down with a bug so on two occassions frog hopped on the train where the topography was steep or decidedly uninteresting as around the peninsula close to Foggia. I suppose in all I lost around 120-140 kms. The one thing I will say about Italian trains is that they are cheap. They also allow you to get off and continue your journery the following day on different trains if you can. Cannot imagine the jobsworths on our railways being so accommodating. I love the sheer abandonment Italians display when they either see each other or say goodbye. Where on earth would you get the conductor walking down half the platform to invite a couple in passioate embrace (one on the train, the other on the platform) to separate so that he can close the doors and get the train moving! With a cycle you are restricted to local services, but that'sok. There is still the problem of lifting Cynthia 3 feet into the air onto the train, and reversing the process getting off. Invariably someone will help you, even the driver! The Italians are great, so friendly and will try and help whenever possible. I find there expressive ways so amusing, why say something that only your friends will hear when you can tell the whole street! And the hand and arm expressions to go with the vocalisation works a treat. Like the central Europeans and the Greeks; the Italians smoke like chimneys. Now I have no problem with this, I don't mind having a beer and the waft of smoke coming across. It may make medical sense not to smoke and treat people who do like a pariah as the nanny state do in the UK, but I'm for freedom of choice.
The night before arriving in Bari I stayed on a site in Bisceglie. What another gem of a place. Orening the tent flap and the Adriatic right by you. I couldn't figure why this site was half empty given the facilities (UK style loos) unlike some of the old French type 'stand and crap' that were prevalent in the 60's when I went to France and were common in the sites on the way down through Italy. Well I found out, since next door was a night club and opposite a hotel, and clearly a battle raged in decibel count as to which venue could make the most noise. Think the club did it, finishing at a very respectable 5.30am! Of course you are up at 7am anyway as the tent becomes a sauna. So I and others trooped out the following morning (I had intended to anyway) and I felt really sorry for the owners daughter who was somewhat upset and invited me to stay for the extra night at the same rate. I assume she had met with little success with those who preceeded me since nobody did a 'U' turn.
I cycled into Bari, again being prevented from continuing along the dreaded SS16 and having to drag Cynthia across scrubland and along a dirt track (sounds like the things she used to get up to in her old Harborough days!)and dry river bed to get to a road that would eventually take me to the port.
The ferry departed at 8pm and after stops in Corfu and Ignoumista arrived in Patras to 41 degrees at 1pm. So now I am sitting here in this terrific internet cafe compiling this. I found a hostel where there was only one other chap there. Need to call in on a superb bike shop I passed. Think I might invest in a saddle cover, since although my Brookes id well worn in, when I go over any bumps (a frequent occurrence) up to 6 rivits do there best to embed themselves in my arse! Also invest in a decent pair of cycling gloves to help the grip change.
So from Patras, its onto Delfi, Lamia,Larrissa, Thessalonika, and on to Istanbul. Already I have noted, things in Greece are cheaper than Italy which is good news. Early morning starts to avoid the sun, we have apparently been promised temperatures with a 4 in front all week. Looking forward to this leg, I think progress will be slower due to the topography but thats the way it is and it should be worth it. Cheers.
Yet another thank you
My profound thanks to Michael and the cycling team, to Jon in UAE and to a young Dutch lad whose family I chatted with in Italy for so kindly donating so generously; further the good wishes of support really help the kilometers ticking over.
Wednesday 4 July 2012
Another thank you
This one is for you Ronnie, my apologies for the name oversight, but thank you so much for your very generous donation.It really was good cycling with you all.
Tuesday 3 July 2012
Thank You
Just to say thank you to all who have kindly donated to Children with Cancer UK and also for the kind words of support and encouragement. To say I am grateful is an understatement.
Change of Plan
Having stayed in Budapest a little longer than anticipated (no complaints, beautiful city), it has given me the chance to do a little research on the next leg of the journey. Initially I had planned on continuing to follow the Danube down to Belgrade and then cross the Balkans to north Greece. Reading the various descriptions of the proposed route it has become clear that there seems to be little advantage in going that route. Several reasons for this including mountainous totpography, little by way of scenic value, no camp sites and wild camping prohibited in Croatia and Serbia due to land mines. Didnt fancy Romania (well who would!) so have decided to back track a bit so tomorrow I finally leave here and head to Venice by train. Italy is probably my favourite European country so I'm unashamedly going to see Venice and cycle through Verona, Florence and down the Adriatic to Brindisi and hop on a ferry to Greece and make my way across Greece. Now at this point I could use some help. If anyone knows of a ferry service from Greece or Cypress to Egypt, Jordan, Israel or Lebanon could you kindly advise. I can't find anything, but before I hit Turkey I would love to travel through those countries and it looks like the Turkey-Syria border may not be too welcoming at this time.
So why Italy? well the culture, scenery, cuisine what else. Yes, it is a little self indulgent but seems to me to be a far preferred option than my original intentions. So I have a 13 hour train ride through Austria changing at Vienna and Interlaken before arriving in Venice the following afternoon.
So why Italy? well the culture, scenery, cuisine what else. Yes, it is a little self indulgent but seems to me to be a far preferred option than my original intentions. So I have a 13 hour train ride through Austria changing at Vienna and Interlaken before arriving in Venice the following afternoon.
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