A LONG BIKE RIDE

CYCLING BRAZIL (2)

2011-09-24T21:58:00.002+02:00

On arrival at the airport in Rio I took a taxi to the Wave Hostel in Copacabana Beach and was lucky enough to find a bike shop across the road where they put my bike together again. What a bargain! The hostel was not too bad, as hostels go. It was situated close to the beach, and with breakfast thrown in and free WiFi, one could do worse…

28 August - 3 September - Rio de Janeiro

I spent most of my days in Rio shopping for a new sim card for my phone, camping gas for my stove and a good map of Brazil that shows the kilometres travelled and the road north/west of Rio. The vague plan was to cycle along the coast towards French Guiana, a small country bordering Brazil and Suriname.

I also had to wait for Amanda, who had decided to join me in cycling South America for a while, to arrive. I had a strong suspicion that this was going to be loads of fun…!

In the meantime I cycled into the city centre so I could ‘recky’ the route so that it would not too stressful for Amanda getting out of this large city by bike on her first day. I also got a Brazilian sim card for her phone as it is much cheaper to use a local card.

At the same time I enjoyed the good sunny weather in Rio. Although it is considered winter, the beaches were packed with tanga-clad sunbathers, deck chairs and umbrellas. I could easily live in a place like this. It’s just a pity that things are so expensive.

Rio is very much a party town; you party all night and sleep in the day!! Not something I’m too used to, but what the heck, as they say, “when in Rome…….”!

Amanda arrived on the evening of the 31st, dead tired after 22 hours in the air. We had loads to chat about and besides her being very tired, we only went to bed quite late. She must have been VERY tired as she did not utter a word about the fact that the room was terribly small and we had to share a bed!! Something I know (from childhood) she hates, seeing that we always had to place pillows between us whenever we had to share a bed!

The next morning we woke to a cold and overcast Brazilian day, not good for our sightseeing plans. First things first though: we took Amanda’s bike to the bike shop. Afterwards we took a stroll to the famed Copacabana beach, the colourful local market and backstreets where men were playing cards in the park. After which Amanda had a quick nap. We soon set off again, this time by bus to the very famous Sugarloaf Mountain. The price for taking the cable car was a bit steep for us (on a cloudy day) so we gave it a miss and hoped for better weather the following day.

The streets come alive after dark with literally thousands of stalls selling touristy things and bites to eat. We had a beer on the beachfront and then headed for the backstreets to find some food. The cheapest meal we could find was two pizzas from the bakery that we could cook in the microwave at the hostel. We ate our pizzas accompanied by a cheap (and terrible) bottle of wine. The wine, however, did what it was supposed to do and Amanda nearly fell asleep with her head on the pizza.

The following day we headed up Corcovado, the 710m high mountain with the statue of Christ the Redeemer at the top. A tram ride up the steep slopes brought us to the 38m high statue, and although very touristy, the views over the city were fantastic. It was fairly cold and windy so we did not spend too much time up there and soon headed down to the warmth of the city again.

With all the sightseeing done it was time to pack the panniers and start cycling again.

4 September - Rio de Janeiro - Marica - 56km

It was Amanda’s first day on the bike and we were lucky in that it was Sunday and the beach road was closed to traffic. We had an easy ride to the ferry terminal where we could get a ferry to take us across Guanabara bay, saving us from having to cycle all the way around to Niteroi. Our luck did not end there as we found out that on Sundays you can take bikes on the ferry free of charge. It was really our lucky day as, while we were waiting for the ferry, we met a local chap who lives along the coast, close to Marica. He had bought himself a bike in town and was planning to cycle home as he could not take the bike on the bus. So he offered to show us a shortcut and lead us out of busy Niteroi onto a much more traffic-free road. He stayed with us all day until he had to turn off - what a nice guy! Not much further along the road we spotted a sign for a campsite and headed in that direction. It was just before Marica, about 3 or 4 km off the road along a dirt road. We were pleasantly surprised when we arrived as it was a stunning place with lakes, forests and a fantastic lawn. Although Amanda was tired, it was a good day with all the good fortune we had had.

Once the tents were pitched, we cooked some noodles that we fortunately still had in our bags and that was us done for the day.

5 September - Marica – Itauna Beach - 59km

After a cup of coffee we packed up and headed back to the main road. It was day two for Amanda and she was looking for an internet connection to put the bike and bags on e-bay - ha ha! It was actually quite a nice ride, mostly along the Costa do Sol, with densely-wooded hills on the inland side.

We stopped several times so Amanda could get her Coca-Cola fix, or just rest under the trees. Once we reached Saquarema we looked for a campsite but found none. We did some shopping at the
supermarket and headed off again to Itauna beach, where we eventually settled for a pousada (a chain of luxury, traditional or historical hotels in Portugal). We stayed in luxury for the night, right on the well-known surfing beach of Itauna.

6 September - Itauna Beach – Arraial do Cabo - 65km

We had breakfast at our pousada and then headed north along the coast. The road runs between the coast and a lake, which we realised was obviously a salt lake as we passed many salt farms. We picked up a strong tailwind, and I was happy for Amanda as she seemed rather tired by that time. On arrival at Arraial do Cabo she felt nauseous and had cold shivers.

We camped at the local campsite which was quite a disappointment - although it was close to the beach, I thought it was overpriced for what it offered. Amanda retreated to her tent, never to be seen again. I cycled to the supermarket and bought the necessary items for supper, as well as loads to drink for Amanda (I suspected her problem was dehydration).

We stayed put the following day in order for Amanda to fully recover before heading off again. We did however take a walk to the colourful harbour and ate at one of the well-known “self-service” restaurants. These restaurants are actually the best value for money as one pays by weight. Amanda is also a fussy eater so these are the best places for her to eat.

The wind picked up and was blowing at storm-strength - we even had to move our tents around in the night in order for them not to blow away. I was however not quick enough, and the wind broke one of my tent poles, something which seriously peed me off!

8 September - Arraial do Cabo – Buzios - 35km

Amanda looked a lot better after a day’s rest and, although it was still very windy, we packed up and cycled the short distance to Buzios. Well done to Amanda for not complaining about the wind, she only rolled her eyes a few times but continued on. Once in Buzios we took a room at Buzios Hostel, where I could fix my tent and we could use the internet. Amanda, no doubt, was the first to spot a sign advertising a bus trip to Salvador along the coast!!

We took a walk to the local supermarket to get some food for supper which we could cook in the hostel’s kitchen. Amanda also discovered that she was a victim of credit card fraud! What a disaster!

9 September - Buzios

Although we packed up and were ready to leave quite early, contacting Amanda’s bank to report the credit card fraud took some time. By the time we had completed the time-consuming job of contacting the bank and cancelling the card it was after midday so we stayed another day in pretty Buzios.

Buzios is known for its beaches and it did not disappoint. The wind dropped and we took a walk along the beach and enjoyed a stunning sunset. At least Amanda had a good rest and looked ready to take on the road again.

10 September - Buzios – Macae - 81km

We were incredibly lucky and picked up a strong tailwind. We hardly stopped along the way and flew down the road past Rio das Ostras and onto Macae. Accommodation looked a bit a pricy, so we continued on until just past Macae. The sun usually set quite early so by 17h00 we needed to start looking out for a place to stay. Just outside Macae we found a small pousada along the road. The price was nearly the same as some of the campsites. Needless to say, we were very happy. Although it was on a rather busy and noisy road, we had a sea view, a fan and a bathroom.

We cooked some food in the room (it was more an experiment than anything else) - not the most tasty of meals, I must admit, but a meal nevertheless.

11 September - Macae – Campos dos Goytacazes - 94km

It was Amanda’s birthday and she had the best present the road could possibly give us. A tailwind! It was also an overcast day, which was a good thing as it turned out to be quite a long day on the road. Although Amanda was tired and her backside quite sore by then, she continued on. Not that there is much one can do if there is no accommodation along the way, except for wild camping. We stopped a few times along the way and I must admit, there’s nothing quite like a cold sugarcane juice when cycling. Amanda did not like the taste and stuck to her tried-and-tested Coca-Cola.

On reaching Campos we took a hotel room as I don’t think Amanda was up to cycling around town looking for a cheap room. We found the aptly named “Canaan Hotel”, and while she relaxed in the room I went shopping for the few items we needed. She later claimed that the only things she could move were her eyes so all she could do was just lie there, staring at the ceiling. Later we got a take-away pizza to eat in the room (seeing that Amanda could not move). The pizza was so big that we could only eat half so we packed the remaining half to eat along the way the following day.

12 September - Campos dos Goytacazes – Quaxindiba - 56km

After 16km of cycling we turned off the BR101 and headed for the coast again. The coastal road gave more opportunities for accommodation and seemed more interesting that the main road.

We cycled past large sugarcane fields, cattle ranches and pineapple fields. Along the way were numerous stalls selling pineapples at incredibly cheap prices. On reaching the coast at Quaxindiba, Amanda spotted a decent looking pousada. I did not argue as by then I had heard the phrase “this is not for me” a hundred times. The room turned out to be far less glamorous than the outside. It was the most smelly, dingy room one could imagine, but we took it as it was very cheap.

13 September - Quaxindiba – Marataizes - 65km

We continued on along the coast, partly on a dirt road and past many small villages. Sugarcane trucks abounded, all on their way to the factory. We once again cycled past vast pineapple and sugarcane fields. We were now in the state of Espirito Santo, overlooked by tourists and truly stunning. It was also out of season so it was just us and the locals!

Marataises was our first beach town along the coast. We took a room as first priority was for Amanda to get to an internet connection in order to arrange for a new bank card to be sent to her.

CYCLING PORTUGAL

2011-09-24T21:56:00.001+02:00

13 August Redondela, Spain – Viana do Castelo, Portugal - 95 km

It was only 35 km to Tui and the Portuguese border. The weather was excellent: nice and hot and even a bit of a tailwind. After stopping for coffee in Tui, I crossed the river and entered Portugal. As always, I was excited to see what a new country would bring. My first town was Valença and so my impression of Portugal will always be one of cobblestone streets. I continued along the coast and was once again amazed that you can experience a whole new culture simply by crossing to the other side of a river! It wasn’t long before I spotted fruit stalls along the way. I must have been thirsty because once I spotted the juicy looking peaches I had to have myself some of them. I stopped under the nearest tree and scoffed the whole lot.

I followed the N13 which is a brand new road so is a pleasure to cycle on as it has a nice wide shoulder. I arrived in Viana do Castelo and was pleasantly surprised to find an interesting city with an old fort, historic centre, old churches and a lively festival underway.

Just across the river I found an interesting campsite, which was more like a farm with plenty of animals. The showers were converted horse stables and were huge!! One could have had quite a party in there…

14 August Viana do Castelo – Porto - 70 km

The previous night the fireworks carried on until 3 in the morning, so I only woke up after 8 and the campsite was still as quiet as a mouse. It made me wonder if there was perhaps a time change, I should find out - it would make a lot of sense.

It was an overcast morning as I took my tent down and loaded up the bike. A fine drizzle set in as I pedaled along the coast. The Sunday market was in full swing along the road. The narrow coastal road was jam-packed with what appeared to be city slickers in their fancy convertibles. All seemingly out to buy some of the nice fresh, home-grown veggies being sold along the way.

I had my first flat tyre in Europe. I don’t know how I do it but fixing a flat tyre always leaves me covered in grease!

Once I reached Porto I followed the road signs for “centro” and was once again surprised to find a historic centre. I was blown away by the spectacle of it all. I soon found out that it has been declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO. I also found out that port wine is named after the city as this is the region where port was first produced. It was time to go and taste the good stuff. I suppose that’s the beauty of travelling without a guidebook: everything is a surprise.

15 August - Porto

I was up early to explore the city further. I first popped into the historic railway station, which is still in full use, and I found the most beautiful railway station I have seen to date. The walls were lined with tile panels depicting the early history of Portugal.

A trip to the harbour revealed narrow alleys flooded with the smell and smoke of fish-braais. The fresh catch of the day was on the coals and ready to be devoured. The seagulls no doubt knew what was going on as thousands were hovering over the area.

Further along the beach, fishermen were casting their lines, all trying their luck. Most, however, seemed unlucky although I could spot fish swimming in the ocean with the naked eye. The beaches were packed as it was a lovely sunny day and a public holiday as well.

Back in my room and browsing through my pictures, I realised that people could easily get the wrong idea about Portugal. Portugal is actually quite a modern country with loads of modern buildings designed by famous architects, both local and foreign. It’s just that I’m so taken with old buildings that I hardly ever take pictures of the modern stuff. They just don’t seem that interesting to me. The same goes for the smoky fish-braais in the back alleys: they are far more interesting than the glitzy restaurants in the city centre.

16 August - Porto – Ilhavo - 88 km

I ate breakfast at the hotel before I left. It was an easy day’s riding along the coast, past the nice beaches of Valadares and Espinho. It was holiday time and people were out cycling and running along the beach front. This is still the Atlantic Ocean so I don’t think the water is very warm - I didn’t see people just running into the ocean, but entering rather slowly instead… I reached Aveiro with its many canals, colourful boats and old churches. It was all very touristy and there were no camping facilities to be found. The nearest camping area was 10 km along the highway so I continued along the road to Ilhavo. I still couldn’t find any camping though and there was only one very expensive hotel so I just paid the money and enjoyed a bath, TV and room with a balcony!!!

17 August - Ilhavo – Coimbra - 65 km
Included in the hefty room rate was a lovely breakfast spread. Whatever you could think of was there, but unfortunately one can only eat so much. I knew it was a short ride to Coimbra so I took my time in packing up. Along the way a friendly local cyclist caught up with me and gave me plenty of information about the area. We even stopped and raided a fig tree along the way, which he seemed quite happy to do. I always know it’s time for a reality check when people say “You can come and shower at my place!” - definitely time to do laundry again! Eventually it was time for him to turn off and I continued down the road in the direction of Coimbra.

Once in Coimbra I took a room again as the campsite seemed quite far out of town, so it was my second night in pricey accommodation. I wasted no time in setting off to explore the well-known city of Coimbra. Coimbra has a history dating back to the Middle Ages so there was plenty to see. Even more well-known is the University, which is situated high up on the hill and surrounded by narrow cobblestone alleys with niches and steep staircases.

18-19 August - Coimbra – Nazare - 100 km
Of course I had breakfast at the hotel before setting off in the direction of Nazare, a beach town along the coast. It was an uneventful day on the road. By then I had been totally spoilt for views so what I would normally have considered a good ride, I now described as “uneventful”.

As usual, I dreaded getting to my final destination. I felt I was going slower and slower in order to avoid the inevitable. After feeling particularly strong (both mentally and physically) in the past few months, I found it hard to deal with feeling lethargic. On arrival at Nazare I took the first campsite I saw.

The next morning I woke and found I had little energy to load my bike. With plenty of time on hand before my visa ran out, I made the decision to stay another day. It’s quite amazing how one can do absolutely nothing for an entire day. Although it was a very nice campsite, the flies bothered me endlessly. It was already way past their bedtime, but despite the hour the sun was still high in the sky. In order to get away from the flies, I took the bike and went for a ride. The views were too hazy for taking pictures so I returned to my fly-infested campsite. I sat people-watching while having a glass of wine and realised, once again, just how similar people are all over the world.

20 August - Nazare - Obidas - 42 km
Back on the bike I followed the coastal road towards Lisbon. I even bumped into my cycle friend from 3 days ago. This time he was in a car, so we had a quick chat and then I was on my way again.

My first stop was at Caldas da Rainha where I nearly stayed as it is such a picturesque village. The Saturday market was in full swing and the cobbled alleys, where people sat at sidewalk cafes, looked very inviting. I continued however and a good thing too, as I soon spotted the ancient walled city of Obidos, high up on a hill. I could not get myself to cycle past without stopping, so I booked into a rather expensive room. Although touristy, it was worth every cent. The city has a history dating back to BC and has changed hands many times over the years. Today it is considered one of the 7 wonders of Portugal and rightly so. I wandered around taking a zillion pictures, ate small “milk tarts” till they came out my ears and drank liqueur out of small chocolate cups: now that’s what I call a good day!!

21 August - Obidas – Ericeira - 60 km
I did not anticipate this day’s ride being so hard. It was fairly hilly but worse, there was a strong headwind. Once along the coast it was great as the views were stunning, but views like that do not come without climbing up a hill or two.

Due to the strong wind I camped early at Ericeira which had a nice campsite with all the facilities I could wish for.

22 August - Ericeira – Cascais - 50 km
I packed up in a fine drizzle for the final cycle into Cascais. The road led me past Sintra, another interesting town. Finally I arrived in Cascais, where my friend Carlos lives. I have known Carlos for many years since our days of working together at Syfrets Trust in Cape Town, South Africa. Today Carlos is living with his wife, Melody, and her two beautiful daughters, in Cascais. They have a beautiful home high up on a hill overlooking the coast. I was shown to a large comfortable room where I could spread out (what luxury!!).

That night Carlos, in true South African style, lit a fire and we had a real SA braai with “boerewors” made by a South African now living in Portugal.

The following day we took my bike to the bike shop for a service and to be boxed for the flight to Rio. I also booked my flight to Rio for the 27th, giving me a few days of R&R in Cascais.

24 - 26 August - Lisboa, Portugal
On the 24th August I took the train into Lisbon, got myself onto a hop-on-hop-off bus and explored Lisbon. Once again it was the old quarters that were most intriguing to me, and where I could wander around for hours.

The 26th arrived too soon and it was time for me to pack my bags and get ready to leave Portugal the following morning. Carlos arranged a lunch for us at the South African embassy in Lisbon. We were treated like real celebrities by the very nice group of South Africans who head up the office in Lisbon. Afterwards we stopped and had some small milk tarts before picking up my bike from the bike shop. My bike was all boxed and taped up, so I hoped all the necessary bits were going to be there when I opened it in Rio.

That evening Carlos, Melody and myself went out to a local restaurant. I ordered the chef’s recommendation and landed up with an entire plate of meat - ha, ha – I thought it was going to be a stew!! Well, Carlos and I had fun with all the strange bits of meat on that plate. Melody was more sensible and ordered a seafood dish. At least I can now say that I have eaten pigs’ ears!!

27 August - Lisboa, Portugal – Rio de Janeiro, Brasil - By plane
I was up early and ready to depart for Brazil. Carlos was kind enough to take me to the airport. Things at the airport took much longer than expected: the queues were long and slow and I realised just why they require you to be at the airport 3 hours before departure.

I also had a nasty surprise as I had to pay an extra 150 Euros for the bike (no negotiations). That is a serious amount of money! After all the delays I only just made it in time for the 9h30 departure. Good thing I didn’t bargain on doing any shopping at the airport. I then settled in for the long, boring flight to Rio. It was a fairly old plane so there were no individual TV screens, only one small one in the front for the whole plane. Fortunately I had checked-in online and had a nice seat with loads of leg room.

CYCLING SPAIN

2011-08-29T01:16:00.003+02:00

28 July - Capbreton, France – San Sebastian - 91 km

With everything all dried I headed down the road. It was tricky to find the road to the border, but after some concentration on the map, I was 30 km down the road and in ritzy Biarritz before I knew it. I continued on towards the border and arrived in Spain without any fanfare. In fact I did not even notice that I had crossed the border as I never saw a sign for it.

There was, however, no doubt that I was now in Spain! It was not only the architecture but a whole new language and culture. Things also became a lot hillier. Soon I arrived in San Sebastian – a much larger city than expected. Once in San Sebastian, I looked for the Camino route and soon found the free accommodation that goes with it. I got my Camino, or Pilgrim’s Passport (or ‘credentials’ as they call it) and I was set. A whole new world opened up to me. The doors at the ‘Refugio’ closed at 10 and by 10.30 the lights were out. I found that to be quite early but I was not complaining as the accommodation was free. I still had to get into the Camino way and figure out when and where to eat. I had fortunately bought four bread rolls at the little shop down the road. I ate two and kept two for the following day. Not much of a meal but better than nothing.

29 July - San Sabastian – Mutriku - 58 km

I got kicked out of the ‘Refugio’ at 8h00, so went for a cup of coffee and a croissant at a local coffeehouse and waited for the bike shop to open. The gears on my bike were playing up but there seemed little they could do about it. At least I had the brake blocks replaced in anticipation of the mean downhills still to come. Then it was off to the internet shop to sort out a new sim card for my modem, and it was midday before I finally left.

What an absolutely stunning coast it is! It was a windless sunny day as I crept up the steep hills at a snails’ pace, only to fly down the other side like a kamikaze pilot. Holy crap, Spain is a hilly country! And it was only day one. I stopped more than I cycled, just to admire the view. On arrival at Mutriku I made the decision to camp as my map indicated no other campsites in close proximity. I huffed and puffed up the steep hill to reach the campsite. It was all worth it as it came with excellent lawns and a stunning view.

I sat in the sun studying my map for hours, and to be quite frank, it scared the living daylights out of me! There was just no easy way through Spain! My legs already felt weak and my back was sore. There was no way I was going down that hill back into the village for food. While warming up a rice dish I had been carrying in my bag for ages, I chatted to friends on the internet, then had some coffee and chocolate biscuits for dessert, and that was supper done.

30 July - Mutriku – Bilbao - 86km

I rose to a perfect morning and headed up the hills. I followed my map of the Camino route, which is not necessarily the easiest or shortest way, but I followed it anyhow. The people I encountered along the way were rather friendly; greetings of “Hola” and “Welcome to the Camino” were frequently heard as I passed people heading in the opposite direction. I must admit, I did not once meet anyone on a loaded bike! I did, however, see loads of cyclists on road bikes powering up the hills. Spain must have the best hill climbers in the world, when it comes to cycling ─ one was even chatting on his mobile phone while going up a steep hill. Now that’s impressive!

As I left the coast and turned inland over the mountains, I passed through small villages with ancient-looking churches high up in the hills. Thank goodness for a granny gear. I sometimes seriously doubt my choice of routes and, for that matter, my sanity. After a very long climb, I arrived in Bilbao and was, once again, pleasantly surprised; not only was it a very large city but it was jaw-dropping beautiful. I enquired about a campsite but there was none to be had, so I settled for a pension in the old town at about the same price as some of the campsites.

31 July - Bilboa

My legs felt lame, my knees were sore and the town of Bilbao looked very inviting, so I paid for another night in the pension, put my backpack on and went exploring. Not only did I find the most amazing old buildings and churches, but I also realized that I was now firmly entrenched in the land of sangria and tapas. Although everything was firmly shut, as it was a Sunday, it seemed quite all right to have a class of wine at 10h00 in the morning. Street artists were hard at work trying to earn a living. Soon the cafés opened up and people were sitting outside sipping coffee or a glass of wine.

I also had a pleasant surprise as my friend Ed, who lives in the UK, was on his motorbike heading in my direction, so I decided I may as well stay for another day and meet up with him.

1 August - Bilbao

Ed arrived around midday and we had loads to chat about. We walked the narrow lanes of the old city and chatted for hours about the good old days over a bottle of red wine or two.

2 August - Bilbao – Laredo camping - 50km
It was time for me to move on, and after a cup of coffee and some cornflakes, which Ed had in his panniers, we set off. He lent me his GPS and I followed the voice directions out of the city, but it soon became clear to me that it wanted me to go in another direction. So I switched it off!

It was nice to have some company for a change, albeit on a motorbike! I went my own way, continuing along the Camino route and stopping at small villages along the way. Soon I caught up with Ed, who had already found a camping spot. I thought it was rather early to settle down for the day, but he must have thought that the hills were steeper than they really were. I was, however, pleased about the short day and for not having to negotiate yet another hill to a campsite. Just as well, for soon it started raining and we both retreated to our individual tents.

3 August - Laredo camping – Santillana Del Mar - 88km

I left camp before Ed, but he soon caught up, armed with bread and jam which he had bought along the way. We had a bite to eat and then set off again. I could count on finding him at scenic spots along the way admiring the view. We gave the big city of Santander a miss and got onto a smaller road which leads up the coast. Ed went ahead again to look for camping, and I soon received an sms from him announcing that he had found a nice site at Santillana Del Mar. It took me a while to get there as the road was fairly hilly, as usual. I encountered a number of walkers and cyclists who were also following the Camino route and they all seemed so relaxed and friendly.

We wandered into town to the “supermarcado” to find food and just to admire the old buildings and cobblestone streets in the village.

4 August - Santillana Del Mar – Llanes - 60km

We woke to a brilliant sunny morning and I knew instantly that it was going to be a stinker. The road was no less hilly than the previous days, but we were now riding along the famous “costa verde”. The costa verde conjures up romantic images, but there is nothing romantic about it if you’re huffing and puffing up steep hills in the heat. It was, however, stunning, with one picturesque village after the next. People were very much in a holiday mood, and I even encountered two very friendly people running after me with beers, shouting something like “le fresco”!

I managed to fix the gears on my bike, something I was very chuffed about! Fortunately Sram gears makes it very easy for a person.

I kind of gave Ed the wrong town for our stop-over, so he found a campsite fairly early. I was quite pleased about the early camping as it gave me plenty of time to do my much-needed laundry. Ed loves photography so we wandered around the town, him taking endless pictures. In the end I found a tranquil little bay where I sat doing my dairy as the sun set over the bay.

5 August - Llanes – Nava - about 80km
I was rather surprised to wake to a rainy morning. There was, however, little one could do about it but pack up as quickly as possible. Breakfast consisted of cornflakes and coffee, and then we were on the road.

I did something I seldom do, and that was to take the wrong road by accident. It was drizzling on and off all day, my map was covered and I never bothered to take the cover off to look at it. It was no disaster as it was a stunning road all along a river. There was a very festive vibe as a canoe race was in progress with, what seemed like, hundreds of participants. The river was lined with people camping, music and food stalls abounded and spectators cheered me on as I was going up river.

The mistake solved my problem of whether I should continue along the coast or head inland, seeing that I was now already on the inland route.

6 August - Nava – Salas - 85km
After a croissant and a cup of coffee we left our cozy accommodation. It was a fairly easy road to follow, until we got to the town of Oviedo. Road signs were rather inadequate and after riding around for what felt like forever, I eventually found my way out. Ed waited for me just outside the city boundaries. We had a chat and then continued along the road.

I felt frustrated having wasted so much time in the city and therefore I did not appreciate the strong and gusty wind which picked up later on. The hills got steeper and dark clouds soon started to gather. Eventually we called it a day and found a nice room in Salas. The little town of Salas turned out to be quite interesting, with cobblestone streets and a quaint old church right in the centre of the village. Locals were sitting at sidewalk cafes sipping coffee or a glass of wine, which gave it a nice village atmosphere.

7 August - Salas – Pola de Allande - 55km
What a fantastic day’s riding it turned out to be. I decided on a short day as it was Ed’s last day and instead of cycling the entire day, it was nice to spend some time with him after the ride. The road snaked up gentle hills and although hilly, they were fairly easy climbs. Fortunately (at least to date) the mountainous terrain which I saw on the map turned out to be much easier than expected. The gradient is not as steep as expected and although slow going, it was fairly easy cycling.

Be it as it may, I was still fairly happy to spot the village that I was heading for, although way down in the valley.

8 August - Pola de Allande – Fonsagrada - 70km
I said goodbye to Ed, who sadly had to head back to London, and work. The road lead up the pass and the map indicated that I was in for a tough climb. After an hour and 30 minutes of riding, I reached the top and sped down the other side, just to find another steady climb waiting for me. When I reached a dam wall, I ate some lunch and then tackled the steep climb above the dam to the village of Grandas. Once there, I stood around for awhile, watching a festival in progress and then continued on my way again.

Although I love the idea of wind-farms, I’m not always so keen to spot them along the road. They inevitably mean that this is a notoriously windy area and today they seemed to be on top of every hill. The road, for some or other reason, went right up to them and then down again into the valley.

The more I climbed up into the hills, the smaller and more rural the villages became. I hardly saw anyone along the way and it was dead quiet. It felt as though I was on a hike. The only people that I spotted on the way were a lonely hiker, who was singing loudly to himself as he was walking along and an elderly farmer who was herding his cattle.

Although I had visions of continuing on for a further 20km or so, my legs were starting to feel rather tired. So I decided to stop at the village of Fonsagrada, although I wasn’t pleased to see that it was situated up a 2km climb!! Oy!! I found a room, took a walk to the supermarket and despite it still being fairly early, I decided that was me, done for the day!

9 August - Fonsagrada – Lugo - 59km
The day started much as expected and after breakfast I headed down into the valley. It was icy cold and I realized that I would not like to be here in winter. Road signs warning motorists to be careful of snow falls were to be seen all along the road. Also, judging by the snow poles next to the road, it must get fairly cold in this part of the world. The road climbed steadily up to more wind-farms, but soon I was able to see a large valley down below.

I was concerned about my bike’s front hub and hoped that it would hang in there until I reached Lugo. Despite my concern, it was a fantastic day and I was sorry to reach the end of this day. I was pleasantly surprised arriving in the town of Lugo, which revealed the old city walls of Lugo. They are the ancient Roman walls which were built between the 3rd and 4th centuries.

I found a pension right next to a bike shop where they decided to replace the cones. Hopefully that is the only problem with the bike, as I would have preferred it if they replaced the hub, but they could (or did not want) to do it. Instead, they wanted to sell me the entire wheel, complete with rim, spokes and hub. Already I felt that they had overcharged me for the cones, as I thought that 30 euros was a bit of a rip off. At least the owner of the pension was extremely friendly. He carried my bags and bike upstairs for me and also offered me the use of his kitchen and washing machine (which I did not use, but in hindsight I should have).

10 August - Lugo – Santiago de Compostela - 105km
I had a rather slow start to the day and first cycled through the walled city before getting onto the road to Santiago. I was reluctant to reach the end of the Camino route. It turned out to be one of the easier days and I must have descended and cycled through a valley of sorts. It was also much warmer and not as hilly. I sustained myself during the day by picking berries along the road and thoroughly enjoyed them. The berry season was almost over, but there were still plenty of good ones to be had.

65km from Santiago I joined the main, and popular, French route. At first I was a bit taken aback with all the people. There were loads of walkers, cyclists and even people on horseback. The villages became larger and more geared for tourists and one could find all kinds of “Camino” trinkets. However, it only took me a few more kilometres to get used to all the people. It felt quite appropriate that I was part of the large group of pilgrims all en route to Santiago whilst I was almost on my final leg of this journey. For pilgrim walkers, it was still a 2 day walk, but I pushed on and soon reached Santiago. I was even more delighted to find a campsite just outside the city centre, where I could rest my weary legs. I was thrilled though that it was not the end of my journey, but that I still had quite a way to go to Lisbon.

11 August - Santiago de Compostela
I was supposed to have a day of R & R, but sightseeing and laundry left me more exhausted than cycling. I brushed up on my knowledge of the Camino. Embarrassingly enough, I have been following the “Northern route” and part of the “Original route” and even a bit of the “French route”, but I still did not quite know what it was all about. There was, however, more than enough literature around town for me to read all that I wanted to know. Seeing that I was now firmly entrenched in the Camino Way, I guessed that I might just as well follow the “Portuguese Way” all the way to Lisbon and do the whole hog!

12 August - Santiago de Compastela – Redondela - 80km
It was quite a popular campsite and there were a number of other hikers and cyclists camping in close proximity. We first had a bit of a chat, before each one of us headed off in our own direction. It was around 11.30 before I finally left Santiago.

I could not believe that the route was getting even more interesting. The tiny villages along the way now took on a different look and feel and they all seemed to have some vineyards and wine for sale. Old churches and statues were still in abundance. The lawns next to the roadsides must have recently been mowed and the smell of the wild aniseed was hanging thick in the air. I considered myself lucky to be out on the bike on such a good day.

I cycled past Pontevedra and thought at first that I would stop there for the night, but as it was still early, I headed on. Just outside Redondela, I spotted a fairly cheap looking hotel and went to investigate. The owner was incredibly friendly and offered me a very nice room with a sea view for 25 euros, which I considered cheap.

CYCLING FRANCE (2) Basel - Capbreton

2011-08-29T01:14:00.000+02:00

5 July - Budapest, Hungary – Basel, Switzerland - By train

I left my very comfortable hotel room and headed for the station to pick up the bike path heading west from Basel to the Atlantic coast in France. I once again took the cheapest ticket which meant jumping in and out of the train to move the bike from one car to the next. It also meant I had only a seat, which made it rather difficult to sleep.

6 July - Basel, Switzerland – Mulhouse, France - 50 km
When I arrived in Basel, at first I was a bit confused. Basel is located where the Swiss, French and German borders meet, and although located in Switzerland, it has suburbs in both France and Germany. So I was not quite sure where I was: Switzerland, France or Germany!

It’s a fascinating city with an old historic center, but I was keen to get on the bike and to start heading west to the Atlantic coast. I hopped on the bike path and ambled on to Mulhouse, France. It was a short ride along the Rheine, or to be more exact, the Rheine canal.

It was a particularly picturesque ride, with a forest to my left and a canal with ducks and swans to my right. The path was well marked and I soon arrived in Mulhouse, which gave me plenty of time to explore, and pick up some bread and cheese in the village. I then set off to the local campsite where, not only did they have Wi-Fi, there were also pizzas for sale! I was fairly tired from the lack of sleep so I wanted to have an early night - not so easy in a place where it is still light at 9.30 p.m!

7 July - Mulhouse – L’Isle-sur-le Doubs - 80 km
I ate some bread and cheese for breakfast, and then slowly packed up, so it was 10 a.m. before I got on the road. I was on the Veloroute 6 cycle path and it continued in an easterly direction along the Canal du Rhone. The path is not as busy as the Danube cycle path but still well-used, and I shared it with fellow cyclists, runners and Nordic walkers. These cycle paths really are the best thing since sliced bread!

The canal was fairly busy with barges and boathouses cruising up and down the canal. It seems to be quite slow-going for them as there were many locks where each had to wait in line to pass through. Each lock has a “lock master”, with his house situated directly opposite the lock. Most of these were picture pretty with lovely colourful gardens.

I stopped for coffee only once, as dark clouds gathered and it soon started drizzling. I pulled into the next best campsite and hardly had my tent up before the thunder and lightning started. Safely in my tent, I ate the leftover bread and cheese, but also spotted a mobile pizza stand at the entrance to the campsite. As soon as the rain stopped, I made a beeline for the pizza stand and scoffed half a pizza, saving some for breakfast the next morning.

8 July - L’Isle-sur-le Doubs – Ranchot - 110 km
I woke to a misty Friday morning but the mist soon cleared and it turned into a wonderful, sunny day. While waiting for my tent to dry, I drank some coffee and ate the leftover pizza.

I was still following the Rheine canal, cycling past rustic-looking villages that appeared uninhabited as not a peep was to be heard from any of the houses. The canal was as busy with houseboats as the day before, all slowly travelling down the canal.

At Besancon I stopped to admire the biggest fort/citadel I have ever seen. The citadel occupies eleven hectares on top of Mount Saint-Etienne. Situated high up on a hill, it even has a tunnel running underneath it. I cycled through the tunnel and popped out the other side, to discover that the fort was even bigger than expected. Although Besancon is quite a large town, I decided to continue on as it was still early in the day.

I came unexpectedly upon a small sign indicating that I had only 730 km to go to reach Nantes on the Atlantic coast. It was much closer than I had expected.

So, on spotting a campsite at Ranchot, I felt I had covered enough ground for the day and pitched my tent. It was a very basic campsite, but the smell of the freshly-mowed lawn and the sound of the river made it heaven on earth. Finding food proved to be harder than expected. The campsite was situated in a very small village and I had to cycle back to the previous village to find bread. Not that it was a big deal, as it was only 1.5 km away.

9 July - Ranchot – Verdun-sur-le-Doubs - 105 km
I’m back to my old ways of sleeping in, and by the time I woke up, just about everyone in the campsite was already gone! They must have been in a great hurry.

It was about 25 km to Dole, the birth place of Louis Pasteur, which dates back to the Middle Ages. The Collegiale-Notre-Dame is most likely the most important building in the town. It is located in the centre of the old town, and can be seen from quite a distance away. After a short cycle though the narrow streets, I was back on the bike path heading for Seurre.

It drizzled for most of the day and I was frankly fed up with being wet. On seeing a campsite at pretty Verdun-sur-le-Doubs, I enquired and found the cheapest campsite to date. At 5 Euros it was by far the cheapest I have encountered to this day, and it even came with an English speaking lady at reception and Wi-Fi!

By the time my tent was pitched, I was absolutely starving and quickly cycled to the local mini-market to pick up some bread, cheese, chips, a beer and coffee (what’s new?). I did not mind the short cycle as Verdun-sur-le-Doubs was yet another very old settlement with beautiful old buildings, narrow alleys and old stone bridges.

10 July - Verdun-sur-le-Doubs
I woke to thunder and lighting and decided to stay the day. I had to do some long overdue laundry and, as there was a washing machine and drier in the campsite, it was just the place (bargain!).

I felt ever so French as I zooted around this small village on my bicycle, drinking coffee at a pavement café and buying a baguette and camembert cheese from the local grocer. Before returning to the campsite, I popped in at the supermarket to get gas for my stove, washing powder for the much-needed laundry and salt for the bland food. My panniers always seem to get heavier instead of lighter!

In the afternoon, the rain ceased, and with the campsite situated right on the river, I sat watching the houseboats put-putting by and serious-looking fisherman casting their lines. As usual, I did not see anyone actually catching anything.

I now also threw in the odd “Bonjour”, “Merci” and “Au revoir”, but going by the expressions on their faces, they probably thought I was swearing at them - ha ha!

11 July - Verdun-sur-le-Doubs – Paray-le-Monial - 132 km
The next day turned out to be a beautiful sunny day for a change, so I put foot and cycled all the way to Paray. I spent the entire day next to the canal. Although the cycle path went up over the hills, I stuck to the road which made it much easier. I was in a totally different area of France, vineyards abounded, and gone were the forests of the previous days. Only once did I go off-road along a path that the map indicated as “rough”, but it was no more than a grassy jeep track.

There were still houseboats aplenty and I even spotted one with a big South African flag. I could not pass up the opportunity to say hello and they looked as surprised as me to find a fellow countryman in this part of France. We had a quick chat and then it was their turn for the lock so they had to move on.

By the time I reached Paray I was hungry and tired, but fortunately there it was… a mobile pizza stand at the gate of the campsite. After pitching my tent and having a shower, I splashed out on a pizza. It was one of the better ones - or I was just very hungry! It was one of the few warm days so I lay outside my tent on the grass, ate my pizza and drank a beer until the sun went down, which was only around 10 p.m.

12 July - Paray-le-Monial – Nevers - 115 km
I could not believe my luck as I woke to another sunny morning. I was up and on the bike before nine, just in case the weather turned bad again. I was now along the Loire River and the cycle path seemed to head over the hills again, so I just stuck to the road and followed the river. Past medieval-looking towns, which appeared to be deserted. I reached Decize and found a campsite, but as it was still early and the weather was holding out, I had a cup of coffee and pedaled on to Nevers.

The campsite was situated right on the Loire River with a view of the old town and cathedral. A short walk into town also revealed a Carrefour, so I popped in, got a ready-made salad, two baguettes, more coffee and I was set for the evening.

What an extraordinary place Nevers turned out to be. With its narrow, winding streets, old houses and cathedrals, it was a good choice for the night.

13 July - Nevers – Cosne-Cours-sur-Loire - 90 km
I was disappointed to wake to another dreary and cold morning. Winter was back and I was slow in rising. It was 10 a.m. before I set off heavy-heartedly into the light drizzle. Hardly an hour into the ride, I stopped for my first coffee at a cozy-looking pub.

The day dragged on as I had my head down and pedaled into a slight headwind and a constant drizzle. It felt and looked more like autumn than summer.

I turned off to Cosne to draw money and buy a sim card for my modem. On the ride into the village I also spotted a nice-looking campsite so that was me, done for the day. The rain abated and I could sit outside my tent while having my usual bread and cheese.

14 July - Cosne-Cours-sur-Loire - Orleans - 124 km
What a tough day on the road it was. I cycled into the wind all day long and I did not appreciate the gravelly bits along the path either!

I stopped for coffee in small villages, which, despite looking closed down, fortunately always seem to have open pubs! At Sully, I had lunch at the castle and then it was back on the bike again, and into the wind. It was quite late by the time I reached Orleans, but fortunately it stays light until fairly late in the evening.

I had a plate of French fries and a beer, and then it was off to bed. It was Bastille Day which is the French National Day, but no amount of fireworks was going to keep me awake! The poor buggers had to wait until 11 p.m. to start the fireworks as it stays light until around 10 p.m. Thousands of Euros must have gone up in smoke that night! The ground literally shook!

15 July - Orleans – Chaumont-sur-Loire - 84 km
I woke to a lovely sunny morning on the banks of the Loire River. No breakfast as I was a bit slack at the shopping the previous day. I chatted in camp to other campers and it was 10 a.m. before I packed up and headed downstream; 20 km later I found a lovely village and an equally nice pastry shop.

I weaved through medieval-looking villages, sticking close to the Loire River. This time I did some shopping along the way and soon afterwards found a conveniently located campsite. I felt tired from cycling into the wind for the past few days and concluded that I had had enough for the day. The Bastille Day celebrations were still in full swing, and I was treated to yet another display of fireworks and could hear bands playing from across the river.

16 July - Chaumont-sur-Loire – Montsoreau - 110 km
I packed up in a hurry as it was spitting again. It was another blustery day as I cycled past Amboise where people live in caves; it reminded of Coober Pedy in Australia. I also discovered that caves make very good wine cellars. Past impressive Tours where I stopped for a quick coffee, and then it was back on the bike and into the wind and rain again. What an utterly miserable day it was. I was desperate for a toilet stop and once I spotted a bit of forest I quickly squatted down - only to find that I had placed myself squarely on a patch of stinging nettles! My ass was literally on fire and I covered the last 15 km to camp in record time!

17 July - Montsoreau – La Possonniere - 78 km
I was reluctant to leave my tent as another cold, windy and overcast day awaited. My path led me up the hills and through vineyards, past impressive-looking castles and back down to the river again.

Around midday the wind became even stronger and nearly blew me off my bike. I became more and more irritated as I battled into the wind. I was not a happy chappie! The wind drove a cold rain into my face so I pulled my cap down, put my head down and battled on until I reached La Possonniere which had a basic campsite.

18/19 July - La Possonniere - Nantes - 92 km
I slept well and only woke up at around 8 a.m. There was little change in the weather, and I packed up and moved on. 30 km down the road, my stomach told me it was time for breakfast and I stopped at a café for coffee and a croissant. I never fail to be surprised by going around corners in these small villages and seeing old castles and forts. It’s such a pretty route that I quickly forgot about the weather.

On reaching Nantes, my last big city before I finally leave the Veloroute 6, I looked in vain for a campsite. Two campsites were indicated on my map, but neither were still in existence. I cycled around town looking for a cheap hotel, but could find none. In the end I settled for a fairly priced hotel where I booked in for two nights.

Nantes is a big town and it had all I was looking for. I desperately needed a roadmap for the next section along the Atlantic coast to Spain. I did my laundry, sorted out my internet connection and did some personal maintenance, not that it made any difference! It was a pleasure to wander the narrow alleys where locals sat chatting and sipping coffee at sidewalk cafés.

20 July - Nantes – La Bernerie - 95 km
In anticipation of another headwind, I was packed up and on the road by 8.30 a.m. The wind was however the least of my problems as it bucketed down the entire day. I followed the last part of the Loire River until it reached the Atlantic ocean at St Nazaire. I finally said goodbye to the Eurovelo 6 cycleway and headed south along the coast. The weather was shite the entire way and I was getting sick of it!

I was however surprised to spot signs for yet another cycleway - the “velocean” route. It was very well sign posted, so I followed their little arrows until I reached La Bernerie, which had a rather fancy campsite. I was soaked to the bone and happy to call it a day. Trying to keep things dry while putting up a tent in the bucketing rain is plain useless. Before I had the flysheet on, the entire tent was wet. Once inside I was quick to make myself a cup of coffee. With dry clothes on and a steaming mug of coffee in my hands, I was once again a happy puppy.

21 July - La Bernerie - Port Bourgenay - 113 km
There was no chance of drying out the tent or my clothes in that weather, so I packed all the wet stuff into plastic bags and set off. I followed a cycle path that was slow going and a bit frustrating, but at least it was away from the busy main roads. It was scenic but the path is more suited to families with children on a day out. Truth be told, it would have been much quicker to take the normal road. The small roads are unfortunately exactly that – small and very narrow – but still very busy, which can make them difficult to cycle on. I must, however, give it to the French: they will sit patiently behind you on these narrow roads, waiting to overtake. And when they eventually get a chance to pass, they still wave and give you the thumbs up!

The path took me across the Vendee, along canals, through forests, over dunes and along the coast. Past large and popular holiday resort towns, until I reached Port Bourgenay where I found a relatively cheap campsite. Rather than miss out on cheap camping, I decided to stop for the night. The Vendee is a flat area with the highest point reaching 295m, and with a good tail wind and no rain it was a good day on the road.

22 July - Port Bourgenay – La Rochelle - 107 km
The sun came out for the first time in days. At last I could dry my tent before rolling it up. I also discovered that what I had bought in good faith the day before as yoghurt, was in fact cream! So breakfast consisted of muesli and cream. My first stop was at the seaside resort of La Tranche and what a vibe it had! It had a real holiday feel with all kinds of stalls, merry-go-rounds, wind-surfing shops, the works. After cycling around for a while I got back on the road. I once again made the mistake of following a cycle path, which promptly disappeared and left me wondering just where the hell I was.

Eventually I found myself on a marked road again and continued on towards La Rochelle. By that time the wind had picked up to near storm strength, my windbreaker was roaring in the wind like a Boeing 747. I had every intention of continuing past La Rochelle, but I weakened when I spotted a campsite which did not look too pricey. However, I soon discovered the reason for the discounted price! It was right on the flight path of the aircrafts landing at the nearby airport. What noisy place! The owner of the campsite was rather impressed by my “itinerary” and kept repeating that it was impossible. He then proceeded to tell the entire campsite. I felt a bit like a celebrity… photo shoot and all!

23 July - La Rochelle – Verdon-sur-mer - 113 km
I had a rather slow start to the day but eventually got on my way. It took me forever to clear the city boundaries. 20 km later I was eventually out the city and on my way. It was quite a frustrating day as it felt that I was continuously looking for smaller roads to cycle on. Much as expected, the wind was as strong as the previous day. I hated the idea but eventually I just got on the big busy road and cycled to Royan.

At Royan I took the ferry across the windy bay to Verdon-sur-Mer. It was a short ferry ride of about 30 minutes. I was starving and had a quick cup of coffee and a bread roll before we reached the other side. I then cycled another 8 or 10 km down the road to find a campsite.

24 July - Verdon-sur-Mer – Gulan Mestras - 121 km
It was an uneventful morning’s ride. I was, however, pleasantly surprised to find myself quite unexpectedly on the Cameno route. At first I thought I was mistaken but the signs were very clear and soon I started seeing Cameno accommodation advertised. The path was packed with families out on a Sunday afternoon cycle, and I seemed to be the only daft one with a loaded bike. It turned out to be a very pleasant ride through small villages where people were seriously concentrating on their seemingly very popular games.

At camp I chatted to one of the first cycle touring people I had met along the way – a French chap on his first cycling holiday. It rained and rained and rained so there was little chance for us to swap war stories as we were both sat huddled in our own tents. Fortunately the camp had a little store where I could buy bread and cheese for supper, and biscuits for breakfast the following morning.

25 July - Gulan Mestras – Farm camp Bias - 91 km
I waited until around 11h00 for the rain to stop, but with no sign of it abating I eventually packed up. It was a thoroughly miserable day. It did not stop raining once the entire day. I eventually found myself on a narrow and very busy road. That, combined with the bad visibility, made me decide to camp early. I spotted a “farm” campsite along the way and found some more very unhappy campers huddled together under a makeshift shelter. Some were in the process of packing up to go home. They had had enough of the bad weather and of having nowhere to go with their active kids.

I hurriedly pitched my tent but just about everything got wet before I had the flysheet up. What a good thing I had stopped along the way to replenish my dwindling food supply. I lay in my tent, munching away on sweets and crisps. Later that evening, I warmed up the ready-to-eat meal that I had bought at Lidels earlier on that day. I’m usually slack at stopping along the way to buy food, and once at camp I’m often too lazy to go look for food. Most campsites have small shops where I can normally find something to eat, but as this was a farm campsite it had no such facilities.

26/27 July - Farm camp, Bias – Capbreton - 91 km
I donned my last dry clothes, had a quick cup of coffee and left. The show must go on! No good lying around. I hated the idea of another wet and rainy day, but what else was there to do? I had my head down into the drizzle all day long. I stopped at a supermarket to stock up and as I came out the rain came down in droves again. I was quite frankly fed-up with that rainy affair and it was at that point that I decided to pull into the next best available campsite.

The following morning the sun half came out and I decided to make use of the camp ‘laverie’. I washed and dried my clothes which had been in plastic bags for a few days and smelled like something had rotted in my panniers. A quick trip into Centre Ville also revealed a map- and camera shop where I could get more memory cards and a road map of Spain. I also purchased an adapter for the campsite’s power point so I could charge my notebook and camera. I was very active and posted home my memory cards with the photos from the past months. I spent the rest of the day chatting on the internet – what a handy thing this notebook is. I would be completely lost without it.

CYCLING HUNGARY (2)

2011-07-05T11:55:00.003+02:00

30 June - Komarom – Budapest - 94km

It was my last day of cycling with the group and I was enjoying my last bit of luxury on the road. A good ride though the countryside and up a few hills brought us to the lunch truck, from where we cycled together into the city centre of Budapest.

That evening most of us went out for a few beers and some good Hungarian food. I had made such good friends on the trip that I felt quite sad to see them carry on without me.

From Budapest I am going to take the train back to the Paris region (where we started) and head west in the direction of Lisbon (or so is the plan). Gergo was kind enough to find out all the details of the train times for me, so all I have to do now is load up the bike, buy the ticket and set off again.

1 – 3 July Budapest

We spent two solid days sightseeing in Budapest. There was just so much to see and do in that beautiful city! Every night we found a different restaurant where we could indulge in the local cuisine.

In Budapest one can visit the ROMKOCSMA (literally RUIN PUBS). These are pubs installed in the courtyards and gardens of empty houses. You don’t see anything from the outside (except people drifting about with their plastic beer glasses, and sometimes a beefy guard who is there to make sure people don’t get too noisy, as these places are usually in residential areas), but once you enter into the inner courtyard, it is something else! They offer live music, alternative exhibits, some even screen films, and they are open until at least 4 a.m… As Gergo’s band was playing in one of these pubs, we all went for a few beers and the chance to listen to some good music.

What a nice group of people they were. I was even presented with a farewell goodie bag from PC and Mieke! The goodie bag was very well thought through as it contained all the essentials: cup-a-soup, instant noodles, an energy drink, sweets and, of course, a small bottle of wine!

On the morning of the 3rd, I finally waved goodbye to my friends as they sped off to the Romanian border and I returned to my room to work on my web updates. My train ticket was booked for the 5th so I had plenty of time to kill before heading back to Paris.

4 July - Budapest

I finally picked up my laundry from the laundromat. I walked around the city centre with PC (who had to come back to Budapest to pick up his new passport). Then it was back to my room to start repacking my panniers for cycling.

CYCLING SLOVAKIA

2011-07-04T15:39:00.001+02:00

26 June 2011
Vienna, Austria – Bratislava, Slovakia
65km

After two solid days in Vienna it was time to move on again. New arrivals to the group included two South Africans (Mieke and PC), Paul from the USA (and whom I had met previously on Tour d’Afrique), Mark from Australia and Rudolf from Canada. We left on a group ride to the outskirts of the city and then ambled along, heading for the Austrian/Slovakian border.

John’s legs were much improved and I think he was relieved to be back on the bike again. The two of us set a comfortable pace and from time to time cycled with Mika and PC. After a quick coffee break we arrived at the border. Border crossings in Europe are rather unremarkable and you need to be quite alert to spot the tiny sign high up on a pole. 4 km later we arrived at Bratislava and found accommodation in a boathouse. I think we were all rather surprised at our unusual accommodation. It was not only unusual, but also very comfortable with large and spacious rooms.

I wondered around Bratislava with Marion and Barry and we marvelled at our new environment; a short bike ride hads brought us to a whole new culture, language and architecture. We walked up to the castle and explored all the nooks and crannies the old town had to offer. Dinner was on the boat and the food was once again excellent.

After supper we took a walk into town, had a glass of red wine compliments of PC, then back to the boat for an early night.

29 June 2011
Bratislava, Slovakia – Komarom, Hungary
116km

It was time to leave our boathouse and we all cycled together out of Bratislava. Soon the group split up, with Chris, Francois, Michelle and Jacky taking the lead. Barry, Alice, John and Marion were on close pursuit followed by Stirling, David and Edna. The rest of us ambled along in our own good old time. I mostly cycled with my fellow countrymen, Mieke and PC. Like good South Africans we had to stop and sample the local brew along the way.

At Komarom we reached yet another border crossing, this time even more inconspicuous than before. We crossed from Slovakia into Hungary and so came to an end my trip with Orient Express as I would be leaving the group in Budapest.

It turned out to be Mieke’s birthday, so that evening we did not only have cake, but also consumed a rather large amount of red wine. Francois tried his best to teach us a few words in French but eventually gave up. After reassuring him that “hou poephol hou” is actually a very formal term of greeting in South Africa, we eventually retired to our tents.

CYCLING AUSTRIA

2011-07-03T18:29:00.001+02:00

23 June 2011
Passau, Germany – Linz, Austria
100km

Edna, Sterling, John, Evlyn and Alf took the boat on the Danube from Passau to Linz, a particularly scenic part of the river. I kind of felt sorry for John as he really wanted to cycle but with his leg being all stitched up, it was just not a good idea. John is a university professor from Canada and he is such a wise and kind man, and the last person in the world one wants things like this to happen to is him. The rest of us saddled up and set off down the river to the Austrian border. Soon we reached a rather small and faded sign indicating the border between Germany and Austria - quite disappointing.

I cycled with David and from time to time met up with the others as we stopped for our usual coffee breaks. 6 km before Linz, we spotted the river boat carrying our friends and we waved frantically to attract their attention. We then proceeded to race the boat to its mooring point, waited for them to disembark and then we all cycled the last few km to camp together. No sooner were our tents up and the dreaded rain came down again.

It turned out that it was a public holiday in Austria and all the shops were closed, making it impossible for Miles to pick up enough ingredients for supper. The result was that we all ate in the restaurant that night.

24 June 2011
Linz – Emmersdorf
110km

We followed the river east and turned off to visit Mauthausen concentration camp. What a depressing site! Soon after the visit we had our first coffee stop, after which I set off and cycled downstream with a strong tail wind, never to see the rest of the group again that day.

There was no doubt that we were in the land of Heidi and the Sound of Music. The scenery was stunning and it was a pleasant day on the road as the rain held off and the sun peeped through the clouds.

It was Evlyn and Alf’s final day of riding as they were due to fly back to South Africa the following day. Bikes were taken apart and boxed, and tents rolled up and stuffed into the bike box. They booked into a B&B for the night and I was sad to see them go as I quite liked them.

At camp John’s leg was cleaned and redressed. Fortunately Sterling is a medical doctor and kept a beady eye on the operations.

25 June 2011
Emmersdorf – Vienna
120km

It was a particularly scenic ride past vineyards, cherry trees, apricot plantations and small villages. These tiny villages are steeped in history, with cobblestone streets, quaint houses and old churches complete with human remains! There seem to be castles on each and every hilltop, some dilapidated and some still in good nick.

I once again lost the group and enjoyed a day of riding on my own. Although it’s nearly impossible to get lost in this part of the world, some people still managed to lose the official path and land up on a really muddy road. We eventually all arrived at our hotel in Vienna and were all lookingall looking forward to two days of rest and sightseeing in Vienna.

26 June 2011
Vienna

Vienna, or Wien as it known here, is the capital of Austria and by far the largest city in the country. We could not have picked a better time to arrive in Vienna as the Danube Island Festival was on and the island was packed with bandstands, food stalls and all kinds of entertainment.

I wandered around the city eyeing the huge Ferris wheel but could find no one to join me, so instead I enjoyed numerous cups of their famous coffee. Vienna is also the home of great music and a person does not have to go far to find piano makers, opera houses, and other great musical shows.

The old and the new seem to blend effortlessly in Vienna. Hectic city traffic, old fashioned looking trams and horse-drawn carts seem to co-exist quite happily. For that matter, so do Armani, Strauss and Mozart! Coffee shops and Bratwurst stalls abound, and one can find opera tickets and tickets to Mozart concerts on about every street corner.

Vienna has enough art nouveau buildings to satisfy anyone for a lifetime; Otto Wagner must have been a very busy man. All in all, a fantastic city with bicycle lanes, large parks, pavement cafes, music houses, opera theatres, coffee shops - and all this situated on the banks of the famous Danube River. It’s no wonder that it is such a touristy place.

CYCLING GERMANY

2011-07-03T14:23:00.004+02:00

11 June 2011
Munster, France – Freiburg, Germany
68km

Shortly after breakfast I set off with Alf and Evlyn on a beautiful ride past stunning villages. A short ride brought us to the Rheine River, where we crossed into Germany and immediately found a cycle path. We cycled along through farmlands and the difference in architecture was immediately visible.

Our hotel in Freiburg turned out to be very fancy. I was rather ill-prepared for such a fancy place and I tend to feel half claustrophobic in a room where one can’t open the windows. That comes from living in a tent for too long - I can’t even enjoy the good life anymore. I shared a room with Alice (from Canada) who turned out to be a very strong cyclist. She did not however feel well at all and was in bed very early that night and had no problems with the claustrophobic room.

12 June 2011
Freiburg

We spent the day in Freiburg (situated on the edge of the Black Forest) - a very charming village with cobblestone streets, trams, pavement restaurants, street musicians and plenty of old buildings. Kids were floating their boats down the water furrows and everybody was out enjoying the sunny weather.

Just by looking at the variety of beers available, one could tell that we were definitely in Germany. We wasted no time in sampling the local brews. There was also no shortage of cuckoo clocks, as theyir originate is very much from this part of the world. I was amazed at the number of bicycles in town - there were literally 100’s of bicycles and just about everyone seemed to travel by bike.

13 June 2011
Freiburg – Donaueschingen
75km

We had an amazing breakfast spread, after which we saddled up and cycled through the village of Freiburg. The road led us through a part of the Black Forest with amazing scenery and small villages. Dense forest lined the small road we cycled on and a musty wooded smell accompanied us all the way. The wood business is in full swing here and most houses are therefore timber homes. The ride was not without the customary climb up a hill or two, but also came with some really good downhills.

Donaueschingen is the official start of the Danube River and sits at a surprisingly low altitude for such a mighty river. This is also the start of the world-renowned Danube cycle trail. We cycled along the trail for a few km before reaching our campsite at Pfohren. The campsite was packed with other cyclists and I met a very interesting couple (Tamar and Keith) from the UK) cycling on a tandem recumbent bicycle. Keith even gave me a “lift” around the campsite, quite an unusual experience, but one I think I could get accustomed to.

14 June 2011
Donaueschingen – Sigmaringen
86km

We had an excellent ride along the Danube cycle way and experienced our first sunshine on the trip. The path is very popular and we came across many families (with small kids) cycling along the path. The cycling was easy and followed the river on a dedicated cycle path.

We passed castles, forests, villages and stopped numerous times for coffee along the way. It was a very social ride and everyone ambled along nicely, without any rush to get to the campsite.

Miles is an excellent chef and once again cooked up an amazing meal. A drizzle set in and sent us to our respective tents quite early.

15 June 2011
Sigmaringen – Ulm
115km

The Danube cycle way is a bicycle trail along the Danube River (as they call it here). It runs from the source at Donaueschingen to its mouth into the Black Sea. It is a dedicated cycle path for most of the way and the terrain is far more varied than I had expected. We crossed the Danube several times as the path followed the river in an easterly direction. What an absolute pleasure to amble along a dedicated cycle path!

We arrived in Ulm, after stopping many times for coffee and pastries. That evening we all took a walk into town, looking for a proper German restaurant. We had no problem finding one and pigged out on Wiener schnitzel, sauerkraut and Swabian noodles, washing it all down with the local brew. Delicious!!

16 June 2011
Ulm

We had a rest day in Ulm and did the normal rest day chores i.e. laundry, internet etc. Ulm is known for being home to the church with the tallest steeple in the world, and it is also the birthplace of Albert Einstein, so there was plenty to explore in this very interesting city before setting off down the river again.

17 June 2011
Ulm – Eggelstetten
104km

There is nothing like a breakfast buffet for a cyclist! We filled our stomachs from a large spread of fruit, cereal, bread and cheese before ambling down the Danube again.

We must have impressed the owner of a coffee shop with our “Paris – Istanbul” bike signs, as he offered us freshly baked pretzels, which came out the oven piping hot a few minutes later. He also generously offered us a sample of the local sausage before we set off through the forest again.

Although the path is clearly signposted, we still managed to pick (I think) the wrong route. Not that it made any difference - all the routes are scenic and you eventually seem to land up on the one you are looking for.

18 June 2011
Eggelstetten to Kipfenberg
100km

Everyone seemed to be up early in the mornings due to our early nights, so there was no sleeping in. I however seemed to be rather slow at the getting up thing.

After breakfast we all set off together but soon the group split up and people did their own thing along the way, taking photos, drinking coffee or sampling the local cuisine. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves as our days rolled nicely along and people got into their own stride. The weather however did not want to play along and it drizzled for most of the day. The town of Eichstatt seemed rather interesting but I kept going as by that time I had lost the rest of the group and it was drizzling. I enjoyed the ride through the forest on my own and arrived at camp fairly early.

Soon the others arrived and tents were pitched in the constant drizzle. Fortunately the showers at camp were piping hot and the rain abated as the evening wore on. The cold seemed to encourage the consumption of an unprecedented amount of red wine and chocolates! The red wine fueled in-depth discussions of the worlds energy crisis. As with most good discussions, we all went to bed content that we had solved the world’s problems.

19 June 2011
Kipfinberg – Regensburg
100km

In a constant drizzle we continued down the cycle path, which also meant that we had a good excuse to stop for coffee and pretzels. It was once again such a pleasure to amble along past all the small villages, through forests and past farmlands. We watched barges maneuvering through sluices and slowly moving downstream.

Somehow I managed to miss the lunch spot but found myself on a nice cycle path along the river. So I continued downstream until I reached the famous Regensburg where we had hotel accommodation. This felt like the easiest cycling I had done to date - downstream on a cycle path!! What an absolute pleasure, I could get soooooo used to this!! That evening we all went out to a German restaurant again so it was back to schnitzel, sauerkraut and Swabian noodles - yummy!!

20 June 2011
Regensburg

Regensburg is a fascinating town with a medieval center which has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The old town is packed with old houses, churches and narrow cobblestone lanes. It is apparently the only intact historic city in Germany. The stone bridge over the Danube River was built between 1135–1146, making it a pretty unique bridge.

21 June 2011
Rederenburg – Straubing
52km

It was a short but delightful day on the road. Soon after we left, we stopped to inspect a very Greek- looking building, the history of which is still unknown to me. With it being such a short day, we stopped even more than usual for coffee and pastries.

Chris was the only racer in the group and normally arrived at camp hours before anyone. Francois (from Canada), Michelle (New Zealand) and Jacky (Australia) are also strong cyclists and normally set a good pace. Barry, Marion and Alice are also experienced cyclists and so were normally right on their heels, with the rest of the group trailing far behind.

22 June 2011
Straubing - Passau
100km

Our last day in Germany arrived and at last the sun came out. We had a fantastic day on the road, except that John (from Canada) had an accident and had to be taken to hospital to have his leg seen to. Fortunately Barry and Marion were there when it happened and could attend to his injuries before the staff arrived with the van to take him to the hospital. I can’t think of a better couple to have with you when something like this happens as they must be the most caring and compassionate couple around.

We stopped for coffee; we stopped for lunch (no lunch truck today) and stopped for coffee again!! There was no rushing and eventually we cycled on to the famed Passau. Our campsite turned out to be extremely picturesque with good showers. Supper was excellent (again) but then the rain came down and sent us all rushing for cover. A few bottles of red wine helped ward off the cold.

CYCLING FRANCE

2011-07-03T14:04:00.002+02:00

2 June 2011
Cape Town, South Africa – Paris, France

At last I was on my way to Europe via Abu Dhabi, and from there on to Paris. It was a rather uneventful flight - just the usual sitting, sitting, sitting, waiting, waiting, waiting!

3 June 2011
Paris, France

I arrived at my hotel in Paris, dead tired as usual. There I was in Paris, located on the River Seine and home to Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton, Yves Saint-Laurent etc. I didn’t, however, have much use for any of these stores. I was wondering if I would even have time to visit any of the famed touristy places i.e. Notre Dame, Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe etc.

I soon met the other cyclists, all busy reassembling their bikes after equally long flights. With the help of our bike mechanic, Gergo, my bike was soon in tip-top shape. My bike lock seemed to be the only thing of importance that I had left behind. Marion and Barry (from Australia) kindly lent me one of theirs until such time as I could pick one up along the way. Together with David and Edna (also from Australia), I had an early bite to eat and then it was off to bed.

4 June 2011
Paris
35km

Early the next morning the entire group left the hotel and cycled down the road to the city centre. The traffic was light and we had a great ride through the streets of Paris. Past the Eiffel Tower, around the Arc de Triomphe and down the road to the Louvre. We had a quick coffee stop and then it was back on the bikes along the River Seine,and back to our hotel. Ricardo, Miles and Gergo gave us a short briefing on the low-down of what to expect on the tour in the following days. Everything seemed to be extremely well-organised so it appeared that I was in for a relaxing month ahead. I found a bike shop and invested in a helmet and bike lock and was as keen as everyone to get out on the bike, and see what Europe was really like.

5 June 2011
Paris – Chenoise
71km

At last I was back on the bike and could not have been happier. We left Paris in a group ride and I felt a little silly as all my fellow cyclists were dressed in full cycling gear, and there I was in my usual shorts, sandals and T-shirt. It was a very easy ride through the French countryside and past very tiny villages. We stopped for lunch under some trees before we did the last few km’s into Chenoise. We arrived at the campsite in Chenoise quite early and everyone fiddled with their tents and gear. The campsite was on a farm in the countryside with a very French-looking farmhouse and loads of horses, donkeys and ponies.

6 June 2011
Chenoise – Troyes
90km

It got light really early and the farm animals made sure that no one overslept. After a good breakfast we were ready to cycle down the road. At Provins we turned off the road to explore the old walled city with its castle and old houses. Then back on the road through the countryside, past vast farmlands, poppy fields and small villages. These villages were really tiny and extremely French-looking with its stone- built houses and windowsill flowers. Things are so organised and orderly in France that from time to time these villages resembled ghost towns, as not a peep came from any of the houses. Even the “riot” in one of the small villages was so peaceful it resembled a well-rehearsed play.

On arrival in Troyes I was pleasantly surprised to find an extremely comfortable hotel waiting for us. What luxury I was enjoying. Troyes is known as the historic capital of Champagne, and I was looking forward to some really good stuff.

7 June 2011
Troyes

We spent the day in Troyes, famed for its wood-framed houses and the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul. Word also has it that The Order of the Knights Templar was founded here in 1128 by the Council of Troyes. I was keen to find out more about this mysterious history. Unfortunately however, I met no one belonging to the Order but found loads of Champagne and thoroughly enjoyed the day in Troyes.

8 June 2011
Troyes – Val de Meuse
140km

After a hearty breakfast at our fancy hotel we were all ready to get on the road. A nasty surprise awaited us as the (locked) bicycles belonging to my fellow South Africans, Evlyn and Alf, had disappeared from the hotel’s parking garage. I now have the greatest respect for them as they took it all in their stride without making a fuss. Off they went to the bike shop, bought two new bikes and got on the road.

The rest of us set off on a beautiful ride through the countryside with numerous stops for coffee and pastries. Although fairly cold, it was an enjoyable day out on the road. Needless to say that when Evlyn and Alf arrived at the campsite on their new bikes, it was to great applause for their strength of character and the way they handled the whole situation. A good few bottles of red wine were consumed, partly due to the cold and partly to celebrate the new bikes. At 3 Euros a bottle, we felt no guilt in opening a bottle or two.

9 June 2011
Val de Meuse – Plombieres-les-Bains
88km

I was reluctant to get out of my warm sleeping bag as it was still bitterly cold in the morning. The sun threatened to come out from time to time but to no avail. At lunch we had some awesome cheese and bread (something there is quite a good variety of in France).

Plombieres turned out to be a fascinating place with narrow straight-up houses built on the mountain side and known for its thermal baths. After a cup of coffee in the village we cycled the 2 km uphill to our campsite and reached it just in time before the rain came down.

10 June 2011
Plombieres-les-Bains – Munster
86km

We left our campsite in freezing cold weather and sped downhill into the misty valleys of France, past vineyards and quaint villages. One long climb brought us to a ski resort (fortunately it’s summer) where we had lunch and coffee in one of the coffee shops. We sped downhill for about 18km to the small village of Munster where we arrived with frozen fingers and toes. Two people in our group got half-lost but fortunately found their way back onto the right road again.

We arrived at our campsite fairly early and had enough time to wonder through the streets of Munster, eyeing the storks nesting on the rooftops. At camp we (once again) had an excellent supper, accompanied by loads of local wine.

CYCLING EUROPE

2011-07-03T13:40:00.001+02:00

CYCLING EUROPE

An unexpected turn of events sent me to Europe. Usually my route takes me on a continuous path from country to country. I was very excited to make the major leap from South America to Europe. My struggle for a Schengen visa forced me to book myself onto an organised tour. I was therefore in the fortunate position of being able to cycle with a group of cyclists for an entire month!! Not only would I be lucky enough to have my panniers transported and food provided, but I would also have loads of company. There’s always a first time for everything!

1 June 2011

I was itching to get back on the bike. A whole month of doing zilch except eating, drinking and smoking had made me very restless. I was ready to zoot off to Paris where I would meet the rest of the cycling group.

I hurriedly piled all my worldly possessions into a single bag (except for the bike, of course). I’m quite convinced that I must be one of a very small group of people: those who can fit into one bag all their earthly riches. I was getting slightly nervous. The company I was going to be cycling with clearly stated that we could only bring 2 x 90 litre bags. All my stuff fits into one bag (mainly because I only have one bag). That made me wonder what the heck the other people were taking?? I guessed I would find out soon enough what should have been in those bags! Damn that bag was heavy! OK, maybe I should have taken two bags…

I said my final goodbyes and was in bed early, ready for my early morning wake up call and flight to Paris

CYCLING BRAZIL - Chui to Rio De Janeiro

2011-03-12T00:54:00.012+02:00

10/11 March - Chui – Santa Vitoria Do Palmar - 25km

Brazil must have one of the easiest border crossings one can hope for, just a quick stamp in the passport and we were on our way. (Again, it helps to be S.African at times, like in most of Africa where we didn’t need visa’s). Our first day of cycling in Brazil came with bucketing rain and we pulled into Santa Vitoria Do Palmar to get out of the weather. Amazingly enough it boasts a large lighthouse at the entrance to the city, but this is really just a welcome gate as the town is quite a few k’s from the coast.
The ATM spat out some Brasilian Reals, and we booked into the nice “Hotel Brasil” which came with an en-suite bathroom, nice breakfast and Brazilian TV. Not that the TV helped us much as now the little Spanish we picked up is of no use anymore and Portuguese will be our next challenge! We did however pick up that it’s not just here where it’s raining but that the whole area further north has been flooded. We also learned about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan - how sad is that and I’m complaining about a bit of rain!

In the morning the weather was no better and Ernest still wanted to do his blog update so we stayed on for the rest of the day.

12 March Santa Vitoria Do Palmar – Curral Alto - 90km

Getting Ernest going in the morning is like preventing Uruguayans from drinking mate! It was midday again before we got on the road and cycled until around 18h00/19h00. That also meant that we got the full brunt of the headwind and the heat, but as they say “as jy dom is moet jy swaar kry”.

This coastal southern part of Brazil is flat, hot, humid and wet, perfect for growing rice. Once again we cycled past pastures and rice paddies and we could imagine ourselves in Vietnam. By the time we reached the tiny settlement of Curral Alto it was time to start looking for a camping spot. With Curral Alto being on the shores of Lake Mirim the local fish factory was just the place. They even offered us a room where we could sleep on the floor, it was a bit smelly but then it was a fish factory after all! At least we could close the door and keep the bugs out, which seems grow to monstrous proportions here (and at least now I know the Portuguese word for fish!).

13/14 March Curral Alto – Pelotas - 157km

Ernest must have read my thoughts (or it was the fishy smell that got him going) and we were on the road before 10 am. We picked up a stiff tailwind and sped down the road passing large areas of wetlands, rich in birdlife. We spotted storks, herons, sacred Ibises, raptors, and numerous other water birds. I did not particularly care for the many snakes we encountered along the way and kept a beady eye out for them.

We flew down the road, past the turn-off for Rio Grande, but kept left (as that was the most favorable wind direction) and onto Pelotas. What an interesting city Pelotas turned out to be, with its old buildings and cobblestone streets there were loads to explore.

The following morning I handed in the laundry which was by then way overdue, and we took to the streets to explore the historic city center.

15 March - Pelotas

We had planned to leave this morning, but found that our laundry was unwashed and still sitting behind the reception counter where I’d handed it in. I’m not sure what they thought, maybe they thought it’s old clothes that we no longer wanted. We took the clothes to the laundry ourselves and spent the rest of the day again wandering around town and exploring the historic areas.

16 March - Pelotas – Camaqua - 133km

We packed our clean laundry and headed in the direction of Porto Allegre. We expected a head wind but it was a good day on the road, the wind was slight and the road gently undulating.

This is still very much Gaucho country and one can spot farmers on horseback rounding up cattle with the aid of their working dogs. Commanding the dogs by whistling they make the task look so easy.

We pedalled on until we reached Camaqua turnoff where we camped at the petrol station. It turned out to be a popular truck stop and it was a rather noisy night, perhaps next time we will find something more secluded.

17 March - Camaqua – Quaiba - 104km

Even in Brazil the drink of mate is still popular, which means hot water is readily available, so we filled up our mugs from the hot water dispenser and packed up earlier than usual (mostly due to the noise). It was a hot and humid day and we sweated buckets. The road became more hilly and forested with plenty of rivers. At Quaiba Ernest spotted a bicycle shop and bought a much needed new back tyre. Just down the road there was a hotel (with air-con) and we pulled in. What luxury we had, air-con, cable TV, and a shower.

18 March - Quaiba – Osorio - 125km

We awoke to light rain which continued throughout the day. Once on the road it was not altogether unpleasant and as we were already wet we carried on cycling – sometimes it is quite nice cycling in the rain. (It’s just that the bikes suffer with all the grit that gets into the moving parts). In Osorio we found a nice room - we were soaked and covered in road muck, so it was rather pleasant to be dry and out of the rain. We hung out our wet cloths as best we could, hoping it would be dry in the morning.

19 March - Osorio – Capao Da Canoa - 47km

A beautiful day, the sun was out and the wind behind us as we cycled north along the coast. The coast was dotted with small villages, all fairly quiet as carnival was over, the kids were back at school after a 3-month summer holiday and there were just the odd holiday makers on the beach.

At Capao Da Canoa we found a small campsite and the owners offered us one of the chalets in the camp for no extra charge, how nice of them.

20 March - Capao Da Canoa – Torres - 62km

Both Ernest and I felt rather lazy and we pedaled slowly along the coast. Along the way we passed a vagrant “Gaucho-type” man and his dog on a horse buggy with a flat tyre. At first we did not notice the problem as he addressed us in Portuguese (quite normal around here). As we passed he started shouting and waving like a madman, so he got our attention – fortunately his wheel size was the same as ours, and Ernest gave him one of his new tubes to see him on his way.

In general Brazilians are amazed at the fact that we can’t speak Portuguese. “Nao Portuguesa!!??” is normally uttered in total astonishment. The fact that we are from South Africa is another total surprise to them – “What ……Africa?” they repeat and look at us as if we have just dropped from Mars. If we then still continue to explain that the have been cycling for the past 4 years to get here, they just laugh and shake their heads.

21 March - Torres – Ararangua - 60km

The campsite where we’d spent the night was so peaceful and quiet that I felt reluctant to pack up and it was rather late by the time we finally left.

The wind picked up and the nice road that we have been cycling on deteriorated – with road works and narrow sections in places. I was in no mood to battle into the wind and by the time we reached Ararangua we turned off into the town. It was a much bigger town than indicated on my map and it even had a few hotels. We took a hotel room for the night which was rather expensive but all I wanted was go get out the wind. Hotel rooms in Brazil are all quite expensive, but this one had cable TV, air-con, en-suite bathroom and sparkling white linen and a great buffet breakfast!! We’re living a life of luxury, and their breakfast is definitely a lot better than that of their Spanish-speaking neighbours to the south.

22 March - Ararangua - Tubarao - 62km

Another day of battling strong winds. It’s rice harvest time in the South of Brazil and farmers are feverishly bringing in the crop. Flocks of birds are hanging around waiting for an easy meal. It was rather hilly and again we had only done half a day of cycling before calling it a day. We turned off into Tubarao town (quite a big place), and found a nice hotel room for a good price (again, it had all we required). There was a big supermarket up the road where we could buy the necessary goods, and that night Ernest made a good potato salad in the room. Yummy!!

23/24 March - Tubarao – Imbituba - 55km

The breakfasts keep improving as we move north, and this was a good one. However, on the road a strong headwind made us work hard up the hills; at least the new road was completed along this stretch and made life a bit easier. We had our heads down most of the morning battling into the wind. The beach and harbour town of Imbituba came as a welcome surprise. We even found a decent sheltered campsite, which came with Wi-Fi and a nice lawn.

The relentless wind never abated, not even during the night, and we decided to say another day. Perfect for doing laundry, restocking our dwindling food supply, oiling bikes, and airing sleeping bags.

25 March - Imbituba – Tijuca - 129km

We packed up just before the rain, picked up a tail wind and motored down the road. What a stunning day it turned out to be, past small villages with horse carts and lush green hillsides until we reached the turn-off for Florianopolis. Florianopolis and Sao Jose (both high-rise cities with Florianopolis on Isla de Catarina and Sao Jose on the mainland). There are sprawling cities with skyscrapers as far as the eye can see, so we headed straight along the coast with beautiful views of the ocean the islands off the coast.

It drizzled all day long but as we had a tail wind so we carried on until we reached Tijucas, a smallish town with a supermarket and hotel (which we could spot from the highway). Afterwards Ernest cycled to the supermarket and came back with the necessary supplies for a good pasta and so forth.

26 March - Tijucas – Barra Velha - 85km

We followed the road north, over hills, down valleys, through tunnels, past large resort cities with upmarket condos and humble timber homes next to the rubbish dump. Along the road a local Brasilian couple, out for the weekend in a camper van, stopped us at a sugar cane juice-shop and literally “topped us up”. We could not speak Portuguese and they could not speak English but we still managed to understand one another.

In Barra Velha we found an unofficial campsite along the river (with some directions from friendly locals). We hardly had our tents up and the food prepared when it started raining. Soon a full blown storm hit us with full force and I discovered that my tent is not as waterproof as it used to be. It was like a small swimming pool. Fortunately it quickly passed over and things returned to normal.

27/28 March - Barra Velha – Joinville - 58km

We awoke to a sunny peaceful Sunday morning, the storm forgotten, except for large pools of water all around us. The birds came out drying their feathers while we sat around waiting for our tents to dry. It turned out to be a beautiful morning and people arrived with boats and fishing gear to try their luck in the river. Eventually our tents were dried out and bags repacked, friendly locals waved us good-bye (after a photo session with the estate agents across the road) and we were on our way.

We still had a nice little tailwind as we got on the road, the road turned away from the coast and headed inland, over wooded hills and the smell of the forest was strong after the rain the night before. We came upon a turnoff for Joinville, so we decided to see what was at a place in Brasil with such an English name.

Joinville turned out to be a rather interesting place. The land on which JOINVILLE was settled was originally given as a dowry by Emperor Dom Pedro to his sister, who had married the Prince of Joinville, the son of Louis-Philippe of France. A deal with Hamburg timber merchants meant that, in 1851, 191 Germans, Swiss and Norwegians arrived to exploit the fifty square k’s of virgin forest.

29 March - Joinville – Garuva - 41km

We packed and set off in a light drizzle, the road left the coast and headed inland over the mountains. It continued to rain and by the time we have cycled the short distance to Garuva the weather over the forward pass to Curitiba looked even worse so we settled for a room in this small village and hoped things would improve by morning. Hotel Recanto-Eliza at the edge of town turned out to be a very comfortable choice in a lush forest setting with a river running right past it. We fed the fish stale bread and they came out in their hoards to snatch it away. It rained hard throughout the night and there seemed to be no end to this rainy weather.

30 March - 1 April - Garuva – Curitiba - 95km

After a hearty breakfast we set off in a drizzle with the mist hanging low over the mountains. It was a long slow day as we climbed over the mountains. It rained most of the day and we cycled up about 25 km through the hills. After that it was up and down and eventually we arrived in Curitiba, wet, cold and fairly tired. We headed straight for the historic center, found a hotel at the Formula 1 hotel at a reasonable price and could have a hot shower and dry out.

The following day we took the tourist bus around the town and could (in one foul swoop) see all there is to see in Curitiba. From the lovely and peaceful botanical garden to the 110m high telephone tower with a 360 degree view of the entire city.

The next morning we woke to an overcast and rainy morning and decided to stay put for another day. We ate cake and drank Brazilian coffee all in the warmth and safety of our hotel room. Not bad for two down-and-out homeless people.

2 April - Curitiba – Parana/Sao Paulo State Border - 111km

It was time to leave our comfortable hotel in Curitiba city and get on the road again. Fortunately the weather cleared and although it was drizzling from time to time, at least it was not bucketing down like the night before. Although it was still hilly it felt mostly downhill. Ernest had two flats from truck tyre debris (steel belt fragments) and also discovered that his rear rim was cracked. Fortunately the road was good and we continued until the light started fading. The overcast and rainy weather made the day short and we camped in the wet grass on a hill behind a petrol station. As soon as the tents were up it started raining again, we still had some tinned food and we could buy bread at the petrol station so there was no need for cooking.

3/4 April - State Border - Registro - 110km

We had the usual coffee and biscuits for breakfast and packed up in a constant drizzle. The road had a spacious shoulder and ran through a national park, which usually means stunning scenery and hills. We were slowly creeping north, with more tropical-type rivers and forests. The forest became dense and overgrown with ferns, moss and creepers. There were very few villages along the way, only the odd wooden home peeking out through dense bushes. We finally reached a 20km downhill and once at the bottom of the mountain it was a lot more humid with large banana plantations. On reaching Registro we turned into the town and found a very comfortable hotel. It had a large room and we could dry our tents and wet clothes.

The next morning Ernest washed our bikes at the car wash around the corner, and as there was a bike shop in town he bought a new rim and spent the rest of the day spoking the wheel, a lengthy process which he should be good at by now. The rim was deeper than his previous rim which required shorter spokes (so it was back to the bike shop the next morning, another day in Registro).

6/7 April - Registro – Peruibe - 109km

I’m always more than happy to get on the bike after a day or two in one place. The day turned out all one can whish for on a bike. It was mostly downhill, a slight tail wind helped as along and the scenery was as stunning as usual. We stopped and ate fruit, filled our water bottles from mountain streams and after about 60km we turned off the crazy trucking highway and headed south-east towards the coast. It was up and over the mountains and eventually we reached the coast at Peruibe. It was out of season and we virtually had the place to ourselves. We camped at the beach and fell asleep with the sound of the waves in our ears.

Ernest still needed to straighten his new wheel and fix some punctured tubes, so we stayed and relaxed in our own private little paradise.

8 April - Peruibe – Guaruja - 122km

The further north we go the more lush the scenery seems to get (and more vicious the mosquitos). The coastline was picture pretty with white sandy beaches. We missed the shortcut to Guaruja and found ourselves on a hilly (but stunning) section of the road running around the port of Santos. On reaching Guaruja we found it to be an island as the area is surrounded by water. It was also a touristy / beach town with many lovely beaches, plenty hotels but no camping. People strolled along the beachfront and sat at sidewalk cafes, the balmy weather made it perfect for being outside. We found a nice local hotel for the night.

9 April - Guaruga – Bertioga - 37km

We cycled along the coast with its white sandy beaches and palm trees until we reached the ferry back to the mainland. Once off the ferry the weather came in and soon it started thundering, we looked for a room and found really cheap room just as it started bucketing down again.

10 April - Bertioga – Boicucanga Beach - 70km

There were scenic beaches, el-fresco oyster bars, and lush forests along the road. Ernest and I weren’t getting along very well, so I didn’t enjoy the day. I saw a pousada opposite a beautiful beach, and we booked into there for the rest of the day and night.

11 April - Boicucanga Beach – Sao Sebastiao - 41km

I felt mentally tired and weak and I struggled up the hills - I pushed my bike up the nasty steep hills which I had to confront early on. It was however incredibly beautifully and I wish I was in a better frame of mind to enjoy it all. We met up again during the day and booked into a room overlooking the straight and Sao Sabastiao island. That evening things got even worse as I decided to get a pizza for supper and went to the expense of buying a large Vegetarian pizza from the pizzeria across the road (tuna!! - I guest around here fish is not considered to be meat). After spending all that money (and it was not cheap) and waiting forever for the pizza to be made, I was needless to say, looking rather forward to my “feel good” meal!

12 April - Sao Sebastiao – Maranduba - 52km

Woke up to a bright sunny morning and sore knees from all the many steep hills. I still felt incredibly fatigued but loaded up the bike and once on the road things seemed much better. Gone were the sore knees (how does that work) and it turned out another stunning day. Past waterfalls and caves. We spotted a small campsite right on the beach and I could not bring myself to cycle past such a lovely spot with a little island off the coast - it was like a true paradise.

13 April - Maranduba - Ubatumirim - 61km

There’s just no rushing along this stretch of coastline. We literally ambled along from one beach to the next. In the process we crossed the tropic of Capricorn (the 3rd time I’ve crossed it on the bike). It is quite ironic that between Brazil’s two largest cities is a coastline so beautiful and varied and with some of (I’m sure) Brazil’s best beaches. It seems that some areas are practically unknown to foreign tourists. The beaches also seem to get prettier the closer we get to Rio. The ocean is a clear blue-green and at least 25*C, very comfortable to say the least. We turned off the road along a sandy path to a rather rustic beach with basic facilities, just a long stretch of beach. We camped on a small grassy patch and could just sit and look at the small waves rolling in.

14/15 April - Ubatumirim – Paraty - 49km

Another short day, at the turnoff for Paraty we nearly went past but decided to turn off and have a look. What a surprise it turned out to be. A lovely beach with an old historic town, still with cobble stone roads so rough I had to push my bike along. Just across the river we found a campsite across the road from the, beach. Little food and drink stalls were right on the water’s edge and one could just sit and watch the ocean or drift in the calm warm water of the Atlantic.

The following day we did some laundry and lazed around on the beach, it was so nice we nearly stayed for 2 days.

16 April - Paraty – Tarituba - 37km

We slowly packed up while waiting for our clothes to dry out a bit and eventually pedaled down the road to the next beach. We spotted a turn off and turned down to see what’s down the road but after seeing the lovely beach and a cottage right on the water in a jungle setting we off loaded the bikes and I promised myself that the following day I’ll go a bit further. We sat on the beach and ate patelini (a fried pastry with a filling). When night fell a sweet aroma filled the air, crickets chirped and the moon shone brightly, unfortunately the mosquitos also came out and we retreated in doors.

17 April - Tarituba – Angra Dos Reis - 66km

We ate breakfast under the trees, while the waves rolled in. A full spread of bread rolls, ham, cheese, salami, coffee, juice, fruit and biscuits, we felt like the royal family. All good things come to an end and we waved the owner good-bye and set off along the coast.

The road continued to be rather hilly but offered unparalleled scenery. Even the nuclear power plant looked good amongst the lush forests. The town of Angra Dos Reis turned out to be quite a surprise as it was quite different to the rest of the coast. Houses clung to the mountainside overlooking the picturesque bay and narrow cobble stone streets weaved through the old part of the city.

18 April - Angra Dos Reis – Mangaratiba - 66km

Although the coast is scenic it is everything but flat, we churned our way up hill after hill and sweated buckets as it was hot and humid. Huge oil tankers were anchored in the sheltered bay waiting their turn at the off-shore oil rigs.

At the turnoff to Mangaratiba I saw that the road went up a big hill, so we decided to go into the town and look for a place to stay. After a few k’s we got to the small picturesque town along a steep peninsula, but there wasn’t any decent cheap accommodation or camping (this is one of the jumping-off points to the touristy Isla Grande). After heading back towards the main road we found an OK room, although a bit expensive without even a breakfast.

19 April - Mangaratiba – Barra Do Tijuca - 93km

We continued along the road towards Rio and although the road was still hilly it flattened out later. At Santa Cruz we turned off the high way to in order to follow the coastal road into Rio. For some time the road was in poor condition, there were road works, and it was very busy. After one last big hill we found the coast again, and suddenly it was very built up but we found a campsite for the night (probably the last one this side of the city).

20 April - Barra Do Tijuca – Rio De Janeiro - 55km

We’d camped on the SW outskirts of Rio, and for 20 km there was a cycle path along the beach in the direction of the city. Then we got to a spectacular bluff a Jao, where we illegally (no bicycles allowed) went onto a bridge and 2 tunnels separated by a spectacular elevated highway over the rocks and waves, before getting to the famous Ipanema and Copacabana beaches where we could cycle on the bicycle path again. We took some photo’s and started looking for accommodation – then we discovered that it was the start of Easter Weekend (in one of the world’s biggest holiday destinations!). All the budget accommodation was full, and eventually we found a nice room/flatlet a few blocks from the beach in Copacabana, but it came at quite a cost. Anyway, the condition was that we take the place for the whole weekend, so we’ll have time to see the city.

21/22 April - Easter Weekend - Rio De Janeiro

So far, as expected, Rio is a spectacular place, with natural beauty and a lot of interesting people. Now it is only the start of the weekend, so the next few days should be rather interesting.

CYCLING URUGUAY

2011-03-11T17:19:00.005+02:00

27 February 2011
Buenos Aires, Argentina – Colonia De Sacramento, Uruguay
By ferry

We were up rather early to start packing and get the bikes out of the storeroom where they were resting for the past 12 days. Then it was off to the ferry terminal. We took the slow 3-hour ferry instead of the more expensive 1-hour boat. We could just cycle on board as our ferry was a large comfortable car-carrier, with food outlets and even a duty-free shop.
It was smooth sailing across the muddy Rio de la Plata all the way to Colonia, Uruguay where we arrived in the heat of the day. Colonia dates back to 1680 and is now a Unesco World heritage site. We cycled past the old city gate, through the old city with its cobble stone streets and down to the old harbour. Eventually we headed for the local campsite. We were a little shocked at the price and the quality of the facilities, so we decided to wild-camp from then on.

28 February 2011
Colonia De Sacramento – Colonia Valdense
58km

Our first day on the road in Uruguay turned out to be very pleasant. It seemed more lush, green, and humid than in Argentina. Just 56 km down the road we stopped at an ATM to draw money and bumped into a woman, Jo, who lives just down the road with her South African daughter and son-in-law. We were invited for tea and ended up having supper there and camping in their garden for the night. Jo, Abigail, and Andrew, together with their small child Lucy, sailed the South American coast for a couple of years. With Abigail being pregnant again they then settled in Uruguay for a while. Now their 3-month old baby Sarah, is the picture of health and seems quite pleased to be Uruguayan.

1 March 2011
Colonia Valdense – Playa Pascual
93km

We reluctantly left our comfortable accommodation and headed East towards Montevideo. A headwind picked up and it was a bit of a battle for the rest of the day. We stopped a few times for a drink and a bite – including snacks which Jo gave us the previous evening.

In the late afternoon, 33km From Montevideo, we spotted a fine petrol station with lawns out back, a shop, and toilets, so we pulled in for the night.

2/3 March 2011
Playa Pascual – Montevideo
37km

It was an easy ride into the capital, it’s a fairly small city (population just over one million) and it was easy to find our way around. We headed straight for the old part of the city where we found some reasonable accommodation.

Situated on the Rio de la Plata gives Montevideo it a bit of a holiday feel and people seem to be very relaxed. Mate, like in Argentina, is still the most popular drink and one can see locals with flask clutched under the arm and cup in hand wondering the streets of the city.

The historic Cuidad Viejo area is a pleasure to walk around as most of the old buildings have been renovated and reminds a bit of Eastern Europe. Plenty of pedestrian malls with street cafes and lively squares with craft markets and statues made me want to linger.

4/5 May 2011
Montevideo – Piriapolis
110km

Montevideo has a 20km long beachfront and we cycled along it together with joggers and other cyclists. Once out the city limits there were plenty of beaches and small villages along the way. The wind picked up as usual and be battled along until we reached Piriapolis. We cycled on to Laurence and Elisa’s house where we camped in their garden for the night (Andrew from Colonia Valdense knows Laurence and contacted him in this regard).

The next morning we got wind of an evening braai and stayed for the party. What a delightful mixture of people, 4 South Africans, 2 Canadians, 2 Americans, 1 English, 1 Spanish, 2 Swedish, an Irish and only one Uruguayan!! It was a true Uruguayan asado with more meat than anyone could eat. These people know how to party.

6 May 2011
Piriapolis – La Barra
52km

Due to our late night we had a rather slow start and after scoffing the leftover food we reluctantly cycled off along the coast.

We soon reached Punta del Este, one of South Americas most popular and expensive coastal resort towns. Four huge cruise ships where anchored in the bay, and the rich and famous were doing their thing on the many beaches around the town. We could only look and then pedaled off quietly up the coast until we found a campsite, a safe 10km distance from the glitz and glamour of Punta.

We pulled into the campsite on a Sunday afternoon, thinking that the weekend camping crowd should be moving home to make space for us. Mistake, as the next week is Carnival holiday and the place is packed full – but we did find a site and are now surrounded by mate-drinking campers who are continually tending their asado’s fires (that’s after siesta, of course).

7 March 2011
La Barra – Rocha
91km

We’re slowly getting into the Uruguayan style of life, going to bed late and rising late. We got on the road at 12h00. We encountered a rather strong-head wind but battled on to Rocha town. This smallish town was a bit of a surprise as it is rather old with cobblestone streets and rows of old semi-detached houses where people still go around in horse carts. A local lady stopped us and offered us accommodation in one of these old semi’s (at quite a steep price – it is carnival holiday after all). The tiny low-ceiling cottage had 2 bedrooms, lounge, bathroom and kitchen, as well as a courtyard where we stashed the bikes - and we lived as if it was really our house. By the time we’d had some beer and we’d scoffed the good pasta which Ernest cooked it was 01h30 – way past our bed time.

8 March 2011
Rocha – La Esmeralda.
75km

We washed the leftover pasta down with some coffe, and it was afternoon by the time we handed in our key. The wind was even worse than the previous day and we had no intention of going very far. The road continued to be rather hilly and it was up and down into the wind all day. A friendly Uruguayan man stopped and offered as a lift in his truck - he looked rather perplexed when we thanked him for the offer and refused.

We cycled past farmlands and the ever present pampas grass until we saw a sign for camping 4 km off the road (about 10 k’s before the town of La Esmeralda). The sign promised a restaurant, pizza place, and so forth – so we flew down the gravel road dreaming of some luxury. After 5 km we found a rather rustic place amongst the sand dunes (luckily there were some trees to break the wind, and after helping each other to push our bikes over the dunes to a suitable site, we felt that the place may not be all that bad after all).

9 March 2011
La Esmeralda – Chuy
80km

We pushed our bikes through the thick sand until we reached the safety of more solid ground and headed for the Brazilian border. Although it was still windy the road flattened out and we cycled past large grazing fields and wetland areas. Along the way we met Jorge, from Spain, who has been driving his little vintage Citroen all the way from Spain via Asia, Australia, and the South of this continent - very much along the route we’d cycled.

Chuy is quite a remarkable town in that the Uruguayan border post is 1km south of the town and the Brazilian border post 1km north of town, making Chuy a bit of a no man’s land. The town itself is however divided in half, one part being Brazilian (Chui) and the other half Uruguay (Chuy). One side of the main road is therefore Brazilian and the other side Uruguayan.

We cycled around this smallish place, endlessly in search of an acceptable room, and in the end we found a cheap ground floor room in one of the back streets.

CYCLING ARGENTINA - Mendoza to Buenos Aires

2011-02-22T03:44:00.004+02:00

2 February 2011
Mendoza – Las Catitas
106km

We left our bedbug-ridden accommodation and headed East on Ruta 7 towards Buenos Aires, more than 1000km across the pampas. It was a good day as the road was pancake flat and the temperature (I guess) in the low 30’s. We camped fairly early at a petrol station along the road which had some grass at the back and a shower. A Japanese cyclist called Nobu arrived from the opposite direction and also pitched his tent where we were camping. He’s been cycling for the past year and a half.

3 February 2011
Las Catitas – Alto Pencoso
99km

We awoke to a fairly strong wind, probably sounding worse than what it was due to the popular trees we camped under. The pampas consists mainly of large open plains, and is therefore quite exposed. We saw little in the way of interesting sights just low bushes and sandy soil. The wind was against us all day, but at least it was nothing close to the wind in Patagonia.

In Argentina road fatalities are not just indicated by a humble cross but by little shrines and sometimes quite elaborate ones, the purpose of the collection of empty plastic bottles at some shrines still baffles me. The shrines surrounded by red flags have an interesting history and (I understand) pays homage to Antonio Gil.

We camped in the municipal grounds of the small settlement of Alto Pencoso. People went out of their way to accommodate us, even unlocking the community hall’s toilets for us. Mostly people were just amazed at these two foreigners on bicycles arriving in their tiny village.

4/5 February 2011
Alto Pencoso – San Luis
22km

20km Down the road Ernest’s back hub eventually packed up totally. He tried to do makeshift repairs, but it was too badly damaged. We were fortunate enough to get a lift into San Luis where he could buy a new hub. Spoking and straightening the wheel is a time-consuming activity, and the next morning Ernest was still not happy with his work so we moved to a cheaper hostel and spent another day in San Luis. San Luis is actually not a bad city; it has a lively town center with, as usual, a central square and some nice buildings surrounding it. I still find the language a bit of a problem; it is surprising how few people actually speak English. I also seem to find food a bit of a problem as this is beef country!! Argentinians are the biggest consumers of beef per capita in the world and God forbid that one should be a vegetarian in this country! At least there’s plenty of good wine and pasta around as well.

6 February 2011
San Luis – Picnic area (close to Villa Mercedes)
85km

It was an excellent cycling day, the wind was slight, it was bit overcast and the road fairly flat. We cycled along quite happily until we spotted a really good picnic area next to a river, and we thought we may be able to camp there. People were swimming and having a picnic on the grass under the trees and we went to investigate.

We explained that we wanted to put up our “carpa” (tent) and camp for the night which was no problem. Smoke from the asadas (barbecues) was hanging thick in the air and people stared at us in amazement as we cycled in. They even came to have their pictures taken with us. We hadn’t even unpacked the bikes before our neighbours presented us with a plate of barbequed meat. Not wanting to be outdone other neighbours also came with a huge plate of meat. True to Argentinian asadas they don’t bother much with salads and other food, just a huge plate of meat. Even I tried a piece of meat, as I felt too embarrassed to turn them down.

7 February 2011
Picnic area – Old petrol station (Washington)
96km

All good things come to an end as it started raining the previous evening, with some heavy storms during the night. We woke at 8h00 but it was still raining so I crawled back into my tent. Eventually the rain stopped and goats and sheep came wandering past. It was 12h00 by the time our tents had dried and we got on the road. What a lonely stretch of road it was. We saw little in the way of life along the road and when we finally reached a disused petrol station we were out of water. We filled our bottles at the still functioning tyre repair workshop, and decided to camp there seeing that there was water – we camped on the porch of a vacant house on the premises. I’ll be more careful tomorrow and take more water with me for the road.

8/9 February 2011
Disused petrol station – Laboulaye
128km

We set off and soon reached Villa Mackenna where we spotted several service stations, a camping area and a Motel. We stopped and had a nice lunch at one of the petrol stations and then carried on along the road. Once again there was not much along the way but large cattle ranches, vast fields of corn and soybeans. The crops are probably for cattle feed as I have not noticed much soybean products in the shops. I guess that in a beef eating country like Argentina soybean products will never been very popular.

The road was once gain fairly narrow with loads of trucks and we had to be very careful staying out of the way of the trucks and cars. A steady headwind slowed us down and it was getting late enough for us to get concerned that we would have to cycle in the dark if we were going to reach Laboulaye. 7 km from Laboulaye Ernest came to an unexpected and sudden halt. The front hub on his bike had also siezed up totally and with a fast setting sun he quickly had to do an emergency repair job before the light faded. We then managed to battle on to Laboulaye in the dark.

The town was much bigger than expected and we even found a hotel room for a reasonable price, where we stayed the next day while Ernest repaired his bike. Fortunately Argentinians are a fairly sporting nation, and one can find a fairly decent bike shop in most sizable towns. Laboulaye was big enough to sport a bicycle shop and we could even find a new front hub for Ernest’s bike. Then it was back to the room for the time consuming job of spoking the wheel again.

10 February 2011
Laboulaye – Rufino
71km

We encountered a head wind from the start of the day, and the traffic seemed to have gotten even worse. The narrow road left us virtually no room to cycle as there was just not enough space for two trucks and us. The grassy verge was of no benefit to us as it was nearly impossible to cycle on it. By the time we reached Rufino we turned off into the town as I dearly needed a mirror so I could at least see what was coming up behind me (Ernest had fitted a mirror in Chile already).

We arrived at siesta time and the place was like a ghost town, but a policeman on a motorbike took us to the town park where we could camp . People here take their siesta seriously and only seem to wake again at around 17h00. No sooner have they woken up from their siesta and the entire town was at the park (which was also the sports grounds), playing football, hockey, running, and even the local marching band was out practicing. What a delight it was to observe a small Argentinian country town in full swing. Once again there was a bike shop where I could get a mirror.

11 February 2011
Rufino – Vedia
119km

It was another windy day on the road and 18-wheelers still came roaring past, causing us to dive off the road every now and then. The mirror I bought the previous day at least helped a bit. Again we cycled past vast cattle ranches. This is the Pampas and home to the Guacos, it’s an area known for tasty beef. With Argentinians being the world’s biggest meat eaters, no decent petrol station comes without a nice grassy area and some barbeques, making it pretty easy to camp at these places (which we did again on this night). An added bonus is that they also come with good clean toilets as well as showers. Most also have hot water on tap as it is quite inconceivable that one could go without a flask of hot water for mate (a herbal tea sucked through a metal straw).

12 February 2011
Vedia – Junin
58km

The wind seemed to have picked up during the night, fortunately it was not as bad on the road as I had expected. The traffic was a bigger problem than the wind. My legs felt lame all day, and we turned off into Junin town where we found a comfortable room. We relaxed lying on the bed watching TV for the rest of the day. I seem to be constantly hungry these days, and after a visit to the local supermarket I had my fill of bread and cheese as there seems to be little else around this part of the world except for meat, meat and more meat.

13 February 2011
Junin – Carmen de Areco
126km

We picked up a nice tailwind for a change, and not being one to waste a tailwind we cruzed all the way to Carmen de Areco. It was a Sunday and the traffic not too heavy, a pleasure to be on the road. At Carmen de Areco we were in luck and had 3 nice petrol stations to choose from to pitch a tent. The best one was at the YPF with a large picnic area at the rear of the buildings, a children’s play park and plenty of barbeque areas, perfect. Ernest cooked the usual large pot of pasta and after a beer and a big serving of pasta I was off to bed.

14 February 2011
Carmen de Areco – San Antonio
66km

I could tell we were going to have a head wind and was pleased that we’d pushed on the day before. We ate our leftover bread with cheese, had some coffee (as I have not yet acquired a taste for mate) and then it was time to leave again.

The traffic was hectic as usual, but once we turned off Ruta 7, it was slightly better. A nice ride through the countryside brought us to the town of San Antonio. Dating from the 18th century it is loaded with history and is also considered home to the Gauchos. We pulled in at the local campground and relaxed in the shade.

15 February 2011
San Antonio – Buenos Aires
118km

We followed Ruta 8 East in the direction of Buenos Aires and soon found ourselves on a highway. Much easier than cycling on that narrow road. Closer to Buenos Aires traffic became a bit hectic and about 10km from the city centre we eventually got kicked off the freeway. We slowly battled the rush-hour traffic on one of the regular arterial roads, which spat us out right into the city centre as it became dark. Every few hundred meters there was a traffic light so it took forever to reach Ave 9 de Julio (the main road). It was 21h00 by the time we found a room. Although the hotel was rather expensive it was really nice and right in the city centre.

What a lively city Buenos Aires is, street cafes everywhere, and people out and about until the early hours of the morning.

16 February 2011
Buenos Aires

We walked around town, down Ave Florida a pedestrian mall jam packed with people and street vendors, down to Plaza de Mayo with its pink palace (or presidential office), past lovely old colonial style buildings and around the famous Obelisk right in the middle of Ave 9 de Julio, with its 8 lanes in each direction it must be the widest main road in the world.

Eventually we decided to sit down at a sidewalk restaurant, and while looking at the menu a very skilled thief nicked my bag (which I’d placed on the ground between my feet). So good was the thief that neither Ernest nor me noticed anything. This was quite a disaster as my wallet with cash and bank cards was in the bag, as well as my camera, glasses, and the disc with all my photos which I’d taken in South America since arriving in Ushuaia. Most of the rest of the day was spent cancelling cards, ordering new ones, and contacting home so someone can send me money.

17/21 February 2011
Buenos Aires

Early morning I was woken by a phone call from my bank to advise me that they will have a new card delivered, but it may take 7 working days! (We may be waiting here for some time). Again we wondered around town, and down to Puerto Madero (a waterfront area with a bunch of modern skyscrapers), and South to San Telmo district with its narrow cobbled street, old buildings and antique markets. We carried on walking to La Boca district with its colorful houses and home of Boca Juniors football team. Eventually we took the bus back to the city centre and scanned the shops for a new camera.

Fortunately there is a lot to see in BA, and we’ve been spending our days visiting all the interesting places. I’m in awe of all the beautiful old buildings in the city.

CYCLING ARGENTINA - Los Libertadores Border to Mendoza

2011-02-03T18:59:00.002+02:00

27 January 2011
Road side camp to Puente Del Inca
40km

Three years and 10 months on the bikes! All day long the road zig-zagged up the pass. Although the gradient was acceptable it was still a steep and dreadfully slow 22km climb up the pass from where we’d spent the night. Roadworks along the way also caused more long delays. Eventually we reached the tunnel at the top of the pass and the authorities were kind enough to give us a lift through the 3km long tunnel. Once on the other side it was still 18km to the customs office. We flew downhill past the small settlement of Las Cuevas with just a few timber restaurants and a strong smell of lentil soup. Then it was onto the small touristy village of Puente Del Inca where we found a basic campsite. At least we had a sight of Aconcagua from the road, the highest peak in the America’s (6 960 m). Ernest cooked supper and then it was an early evening for me. Puente Del Inca has the most amazing scenery with high mountains all around which turned all colors of the rainbow at sunset. In addition there was a natural stone bridge across the river which has turned a lovely orange color from the sulfur spring waters running over it. The remains of an old spa were located directly under the bridge and were slowly turning the same color.

28 January 2011
Puente Del Inca - Uspallata
70km

Ernest had some work to do on his bike and it was midday by the time we finally left. We cycled past Cementerio Andinista a small cemetery for climbers who died an Aconcagua. Then past Los Penitentes a well-known ski resort, now all boarded up (because it is summer and there is no snow). The pinnacles around the town are supposed to resemble a line of monks but I looked and looked but could see nothing that resembled a line of monks. Then it was a long mostly downhill run to Uspallata. Unfortunately we had a headwind all the way which made us pedal even on the downhills. The views were sublime and it is no wonder the film “7 Years in Tibet” was shot here. It was a stunning ride and we stopped many a time to try and capture the beauty of the surrounding mountains but to no avail. We had a scary moment when a large truck and trailer overtook us on the downhill and burst a tire right next to Ernest (who was ahead of me). I got quite a fright but things could have been much worse as pieces of tire flew everywhere and the truck swerved madly from side to side. Soon we reached Uspallata and what a surprise it turned out to be. It is a true oasis of poplar trees in this absolutely barren mountain landscape. Uspallata is a small town but with a campsite and all the necessary shops.

29 January 2011
Uspallata - Potrerillos
58km

The party next to the campground in Uspallata carried on through the night and little sleep was had. It was 12.30 the following afternoon by the time we finally left. Again the road followed Rio Mendoza and the scenery was as spectacular as the previous day. Although it was mostly downhill there were still plenty of uphills and narrow tunnels as we followed the river. This is also a popular rafting destination and we could see many tour operators carting people to the drop off point for a raft down the river. Again a headwind picked up and I was kind of sorry that we’d left so late. However, we reached Potrerillos early and found a campsite close to the lake with beautiful braai places amongst shady poplars and other trees. Ernest had to have a braai in Argentina, and he bought a large chunk of beef and wood which he strapped to his bike, and that evening he was in his element just tending the fire.

30/31 January 2011
Potrerillos – Mendoza
72km

It was a fairly short cycle to Mendoza, but first we had some solid hills to cross before going down into the valley. Once we reached route 40 junction the road widened and at least we had a shoulder to cycle on. This is wine country and we cycled past many a wine farm offering wine tasting and wine tours. Allthough Mendoza is a fairly large town it was an easy cycle into town. We found the accommodation frightfully expensive but still settled for a room in one of the hostels in the touristy part of town. It's high season and prices are at a maximum, the weather was however fantastic and in the high 20's.

Included in the hefty room price were bed bugs which, together with the disco next door, kept me up all of the first night. Fortunately the hostel had a nice garden with a swimming pool and some shade where one could relax during the day.

1 February 2011
Mendoza

We decided to stay another day in Mendoza, as there were things to do like internet, etc. We also booked for the braai tonight (eat all you can) of course for Ernest as I haven’t changed my vegetarian status quite yet.

CYCLING CHILI - Puerto Montt to Los Libertadores Border

2011-02-02T00:15:00.006+02:00

3 January - Puerto Montt – Puerto Veras - 20km

At last I felt that we could give the cycling a try and we cycled the short distance to picturesque Puerto Veras with its strong German influence. What a touristy place it was, I guess that picturesque places like that will always come with the hordes of backpackers, fancy hotels and pricy restaurants. Unfortunately it was overcast and drizzling so we did not see the famed volcanoes from across the lake.

At least my ankles held out and I felt a bit more confidant to continue north. Walking was still causing a lot of discomfort but at least it appeared that I could cycle.

4 January - Puerto Varas – Frutillar - 43km

We cycled along to the next village along the lake, looking for a campsite on the lake, but could not find any. We did however find a lovely campsite in someone’s garden and camped under a cherry tree. I was happy that a second day on the road went well without any aches or pains.

5 January - Frutillar – Osorno - 70km

I could not wish for a better start to my recovery cycle. The road was excellent, with a wide shoulder, a tailwind and it was a beautiful sunny day. For the first time in a very long while I could cycle with short sleeves, and could appreciate the countryside. Needless to say I was very happy.

We even found excellent accommodation in Osorno. Right in the town centre and with ground floor, outside rooms, TV and hot showers. I could not ask for more.

6 January - Osorno – Los Lagos - 95km

It was another perfect day on the road as we followed the Pan-American Highway North. The weather was warm, a slight tailwind and excellent scenery past forested areas. We turned off the highway to the small and very un-touristy village of Los Lagos. We found some rickety accommodation in centre of the village, more a homestay than a guesthouse.

7 January - Osorno – Loncoche - 84km

One of the best days one can have on a bike. The weather was warm; the road was good, gently undulating, past forestry areas and all this with a gentle tailwind. I was truly happy to be out on the road. We stopped at a roadside stall to pick up some cheese, something that seems to be quite popular around here. We pulled into the small village of Loncoche and found an excellent room in town (outside & ground floor). Ernest went off to the supermarket and came back with a bag full of salad stuff. He then proceeded to make an awesome noodle salad and I stuffed myself before crawling into bed.

8/9 January - Loncoche – Temuco - 88km

I could not believe my luck as it was another perfect day - clear skies, sunshine and no head wind. I knew my bad luck had to change some time. We pedalled along at leisure until we reached Temuco, quite a large town. After looking around a bit, we again found an outside ground floor room, something that I always prefer to being cooped up in a 3rd floor room with no outside windows.

We also stayed the following day, did some laundry and some internet. A walk to the interesting local market brought us again to the cheese sellers, fruit, fish, and meat vendors, and also to the local horse butcheries - something that appears to be quite popular around here.

10 January - Temuco – Collipulli - 102km

It was another excellent day on the road, although we had a bit of a head wind in the afternoon. We had to use a lot of sunscreen cream as the time in the cold South has clearly softened us up. It was so nice to be in hot weather without a howling wind. We pulled into the fairly small town of Collipulli. I just love these small villages where people go about their lives without the tourist influence. Each town has a park/plaza in the town centre, and colorful wooden houses. We found a room in the centre at a very reasonable price and just chilled out for the rest of the evening.

11 January - Collipulli – Los Angles - 77km

Blue skies abound and the sun was out as we biked along the Pan Americana highway (Route 5) north. As in the previous days there were plenty of small stalls along the road, mostly frequented by the truck drivers. There were a few hilly sections, as we crossed a number of large rivers along the way.

Soon we reached Los Angeles and turned off the highway to inspect. Not to be confused with the Los Angeles in USA, this is an agricultural town, but also close to a National Park and therefore a jumping board for those wanting to visit the park. This region was hard hit by the severe earthquake a year ago, and the town is still busy recovering from the disaster – rebuilding is in the progress, and many buildings are still in ruins. We found a room, and could pick up BBC on TV – I don’t seem to have missed a lot, in fact it is sometimes amusing to see what is considered to be World News!

12/13 January 2011
Los Angeles – Chillan
113km

We made some sandwiches for the road and set off at 11h00, nothing unusual in this part of the world as people go to bed rather late and only get going at around 10h00. Ernest spotted a welding shop on our way out of town and quickly had his bike’s front rack repaired – it broke along the infamous Ruta 40 when he was being blown over on the gravel roads. It was nice to cycle in warm weather for a change and we even looked for shade when we wanted to rest.

Chillan was interesting as it had an old city with cobblestone roads and is also the birthplace of Bernardo O’Higgins who is regarded as the liberator of Chile.

We found Chillan rather interesting with many squares and parks; in fact it was so nice that we even stayed the next day. The town had a nice Town Centre with a mall and plenty of shops and interesting roadside cafes. There are also some very interesting churches near the town centre.

Chillan was partially destroyed by earthquakes in 1742 and 1928, and sits near the epicenter of the 2010 earthquake (magnitude 8.8) which again caused severe damage. The damage is still quite visible and our accommodation was slanting at such a degree that we thought we might just roll out the door.

14 January 2011
Chillan – Linares
109km

Again we only left after 11h00, heading north on the Pan American highway. We turned off for Linares and found a little cycle path between the two lanes heading in and out of the town. Again the town surprised me with all its old buildings; unfortunately most are still off limits due to the earthquake of Feb 2010. Close to the town square is the Cathedral Church of San Ambrosio de Linares, one of the nicest buildings in town.

We found some nice affordable accommodation (with cable TV), we could store the bikes in a spare room and, as usual, Ernest lit his petrol stove and cooked some pasta in the bathroom.

15 January 2011
Linares – Talca
56km

For the first time in a long while we had a slight headwind. We felt rather lazy and turned off for Talca. Talca is a university town in a wine region and that sounded pretty good to me. Unfortunately we found Talca to be badly damaged from the Feb 2010 earthquake and all the cheap accommodation in the older areas that we’d heard about was destroyed – there were mostly just empty lots where these hostels had stood. It’s rather shocking to see such devastation.

We took a walk to the local Santa Isabel supermarket (which you get in every town) to get some supplies for supper and for the road the next day.

16 January 2011
Talca – Curico
73km

We left at 10.30 with a nice tail wind, but it was not long before we heard a loud bang, which was Ernest’s back tire having a blowout. He fixed it rather quickly and we were on our way again. This was Wine County and we cycled past many a wine farm which very much resembled those at home in the Western Cape. Once we reached Curico we found the very pleasant Hotel Prat – with a kitchen for guest use, and outside ground floor rooms which is always a convenience as we can park the bikes outside the door.

The town was destroyed by an earthquake in 1928 and rebuilt during the following year. As is the case with the other towns in the area, Curico was once again badly damaged in the February 2010 earthquake. The Plaza de Armas (the main square) is most likely the most visited place because of its trees and plants, as well as the historic bandstand.

In summer around this area the sun only sets after 9pm and it only gets dark at around 10pm, which makes it a fairly long day - no wonder people have such a long siesta in the afternoon. Shops could be closed anything from 12 – 4pm!!

17 January 2011
Curico – Rancangua
112km

As usual we left after 11h00; it was fairly hot with a slight tailwind, what a pleasure! Vineyards stretched as far as the eye could see, always with the ever present Andes to the East. We stopped a few times for a cool drink and soon reached Rancagua. I did not expect much of the town, but was once again pleasantly surprised. Rancagua has a historic section with loads of old houses. It is quite a big and busy place with a very pleasant town square known as Plaza of the Heroes, and is the place where the Battle of Rancagua took place (also referred to as the disaster of Rancagua because O’Higgins and his army had to beat a hasty retreat and hide in the nearby caves).

18/23 January 2011
Rancagua – Santiago
92km

Santiago (population about 6 million) was one of the easiest cities I’ve had to cycle into. Once we got onto the local road, which runs next to the highway, it was straight into the city center. Ernest knew exactly where to go, so we headed straight for the Hostel Chile Inn - where he’d stayed a couple of months earlier before cycling South. It was located in Bario Brazil district close to the City Centre and within easy walking distance of almost everything. Of course, you don’t have to walk because the underground metro railway station was about 100 m from the door and could take you almost anywhere in the city at a fairly cheap rate (we made good use of that).

The hostel was one of the many old 3-storey buildings in the area with high ceilings and large rooms (former grand homes with an upper deck and ground floor courtyard). The staff were really friendly and we even got invited to a free barbeque on the deck (after all, we were like locals as we stayed there a full week). We danced the Macarena till the wee hours of the morning together with the staff and a wild mixture of guests (Italians, Germans, Brasilians, Venesuelans, Mexicans, and of course Chileans from other areas).

We spent a few days wondering around town, enjoying the novelty of taking the underground around the city the funicular up the San Cristobal hill to the statue of the Virgin Mary which offers panoramic views of this vast and pleasant city. My laptop gave endless trouble and I handed it in to be fixed but once I got it back I discovered it was still not working. On the Friday afternoon I took it in to a proper repair shop, and could only get it back on Monday pm, the 24th.

24 January 2011
Santiago
(continued)

I finally got my laptop back but then it only spoke Spanish, at least it was working again. I shopped for some essential stuff (i.e. nail varnish) and other stuff and was ready to leave.

25 January 2011
Santiago – Los Andes
81km (+3km through tunnel)

At last we were on our way again. The scenery changed as soon as we left on our way North, and quickly became very desert like. It was boiling hot as we followed the road north to Los Andes via a good old climb up the mountain. After about 55km we reached a tunnel where we were not allowed to pass through on our bikes due to the tunnel being very narrow. The people from the tunnel/highway company quickly loaded us up and took us through the tunnel with their pickup truck. Then it was a pleasant short downhill run to Los Andes valley. We carried on until we saw a small roadside stall with nice lawns, and upon enquiry we found out that they had a campground out back – they also sold homemade bread so that’s where we stayed for the night.

26 January 2011
Los Andes - Road side camping
50km

We packed up at leisure and as could be expected the road was mostly uphill. Our pace was rather slow and we stopped numerous times to take photos and drink some water. We camped up on the hill above an emergency truck stop with good views of the surrounding mountains. The adjacent cascading stream from the snowy mountains provided fresh water. We stopped there a bit early, but we passed the time and Ernest had a wash in the icy cold river (without anything to drink!). While we were having supper a jackal came wandering past, and soon it was pitch dark and a zillion stars lit the sky.

27 January 2011
Road side camp to Puente Del Inca
40km

Three years and 10 months on the bikes! All day long the road zig-zagged up the pass. Although the gradient was acceptable it was still a steep and dreadfully slow 22km climb up the pass from where we’d spent the night. Roadworks along the way also caused more long delays. Eventually we reached the tunnel at the top of the pass and the authorities were kind enough to give us a lift through the 3km long tunnel. Once on the other side it was still 18km to the customs office. We flew downhill past the small settlement of Las Cuevas with just a few timber restaurants and a strong smell of lentil soup. Then it was onto the small touristy village of Puente Del Inca where we found a basic campsite. At least we had a sight of Aconcagua from the road, the highest peak in the America’s (6 960 m). Ernest cooked supper and then it was an early evening for me. Puente Del Inca has the most amazing scenery with high mountains all around which turned all colors of the rainbow at sunset. In addition there was a natural stone bridge across the river which has turned a lovely orange color from the sulfur spring waters running over it. The remains of an old spa were located directly under the bridge and were slowly turning the same color.

CHILEAN PATAGONIA - Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt

2011-02-02T00:05:00.010+02:00

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13/25 December - Puerto Natales

All was not well as yet! I still needed the medication from the pharmacy and had to ask one of the staff at the hostel to get it for me. At least I shuffled along and had a much needed shower. Thank goodness for my laptop! At least I could sit in my room and type up my adventure. To be quite honest with myself, I very much suspect that the problem was due to a lack of walking. After nearly 4 years on the bike, my ankles are not very strong. So all in all, it was my own fault for once again thinking that I can do more than the body was capable of!!!

Both Yutta and François arrived back from their hike and both had a great time, needless to say I was very envois of them.

I waited for the ankles to improve, but it was slow in healing itself so I helped it along with some anti inflammatories, just so I could go to the bank and do some shopping. Day after day I waited but progress seemed dreadfully slow. Daily I shuffled to the supermarket, a painful exercise at snails pace. My friends all moved on and still I waited. I could not believe, that a simple ankle injury takes that long to heal. I was bored and desperately wanted to get on the road. I however had the bad news that tendonitis takes 3-6 weeks to heal!!! This was not what I wanted to hear. There are unfortunately certain things in life that one can to pretty little about. This was one of those situations so I waited!!

Morning after morning I woke with great anticipation just to find that there was little difference since the day before. I was close to despair, bored stiff, and with virtually nobody to talk to I even started wishing that I could cycle into the wind.

The hostel where I stayed turned out to be a favorite among young Israeli travelers, and they arrived in their hordes. They seem to favor South America as a travel destination and move in packs – you seldom see one travelling alone. They therefore have little need for other conversation and stick very much together, speaking Hebrew – so that lot was of no benefit to me as I impatiently waited.

And I waited … And I waited … And I waited!!!!

26 December - Puerto Natales

At last if felt as though my injuries were on the mend and I could at least walk around with less pain than before. That evening Ernest arrived from the North looking rather haggard from weeks of battling the wind and the harsh conditions along the Carretera Austral in Chile, and the infamous Route 40 in Argentina. There was a lot to catch up on since I’d left him in Melbourne 2 months earlier, so we talked until late in the night.

27 December - Puerto Natales

That morning we went to the ticket office in order to find out about the Navimag Ferry which sails between Puerto Natales and Puerto Montt to the North – apparently a spectacular 3-day voyage via the channels and fjords. We discovered that this weekly ferry sailed that very evening and there was a cabin available for us – so a quick decision was made to take the ferry, something which I secretly had my eye on for a long time. Although it was quite expensive, it included 4 nights and 3 full days of sailing plus all meals. It would also give my feet 3 more days rest, and it would get me out of the fierce Patagonian wind and cold conditions (I hoped).

An odd thing is that we had to board the ferry at 21h00, but it only left at 4h00 the next morning. I was as excited as a child just to be on the move again. Shortly after 21h00 we settled into our cabin on the Navimag ship “Evangelistos”, and although our cabin had 4 berths we were lucky to be the only two occupants.

28 December - Puerto Natales – Puerto Montt - Day 1

Early morning we sailed, and by 6 AM the ship was maneuvering through narrow passages and fjords. Snow-covered jagged peaks surrounded us and a fierce wind whistled by, so I was happy to watch the spectacle through the cabin window.

That afternoon we passed the huge and spectacular Glacier Amalia, and although it was bitterly cold I ventured outside for a picture or 2. The scenery was impressive with thousands of uninhabited islands, snowy mountain peaks and icy looking glaciers in the distance.

We’d already had 2 good meals that day, and at supper I discovered that I could request a vegetarian main course instead of the usual fish/meat/chicken – so I had a very tasty vegetable stew and rice which came with a small side salad.

29 December - Puerto Natales – Puerto Montt - Day 2

Breakfast like the previous day consisted of bread porridge/eggs, cheese, ham, fruit, yogurt, cereal, juice and coffee. Not bad for 2 homeless people! All the meals have been excellent so far, with enough tasty food to go around. Through a narrow channel we passed the shrine on a small island which is the Guiding Spirit of all sailors, and we also passed an “insurance scam” floating shipwreck before heading out of the channels into the rolling swells of the Pacific Ocean (time to take the anti-seasickness tablets). Although the dinner was good as usual, I noticed that there were less passengers at the meal, and it was fairly tricky to balance your food tray on the way to the table. At least we were rocked to sleep that night.

30 December - Puerto Natales – Puerto Montt - Day 3

Some of the passengers still seemed a bit “green around the gills”, but we again enjoyed our breakfast (proof that the seasickness tabs work). By mid-day we were back in the channels again and sailed smoothly along without having to cling onto every conceivable thing like tables, chairs, and especially railings. The early morning fog burned off and brought excellent views of the Southern Andes Mountains with its jagged peaks and snowy volcanoes. For the first time we had calm sailing and sun at the same time, and the upper deck outside the bar/lounge was very popular that afternoon (by evening some of the paler passengers resembled well-cooked crayfish).

Once again at dinner time we stuffed ourselves in the dining room, and as any good ship will have it there was a little bit of a party on our final night.

a href='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FPoKggk0dnQ/TUiI4jMzhwI/AAAAAAAAB68/W4znnXaiC_M/s1600/PC310049.JPG'>

31 December - Puerto Montt

We docked at Puerto Montt during the wee hours of the morning, and by the time I woke up most of the trucks had already left the cargo decks below. We enjoyed our final fancy breakfast and then it was time to pack the bikes and disembark to continue with our normal lives.

We took a short cycle to the city centre where we booked into the hospedaje where Ernest previously stayed on his way South. In the typical Chilean style it was a rickety triple-storey shingle clad home with lace curtains and wooden display cabinets housing all kinds of family heirlooms. I felt that I had finally arrived in Chile proper. The elderly owner of the place is also quite an interesting character (he’s owned that place – simply named B&B – for the past 40 years).

That evening we walked out in search of some excitement, but found that most restaurants and bars in the city were closed and everyone seemed to party at home in the suburbs. However, there were spectacular midnight fireworks at the pier, and our host invited us downstairs for a drink where his family and friends were partying.

1 – 2 January - Puerto Montt

We stayed in Puerto Montt for the next 2 days, waiting for my ankles to heal. I lay watching TV while Ernest proceeded to polish off 2 bottles of whisky and a case of beer!

The weather in Puerto Montt was relatively mild and I was happy to be out of Patagonia. So all in all Patagonia was not as scenic as it sounded, all I remember is a ferocious wind and a hike that went wrong.

That afternoon a fairly strong earthquake hit Chile, fortunately it was quite far north and we only felt a moderate trembling. Our rickety accommodation where we stayed swayed from side to side but fortunately no damage was done.

CYCLING ARGENTINA - Ushuaia to Puerto Natales

2010-11-27T02:53:00.009+02:00

24 November Cape Town, South Africa - Ushuaia, Argentina
I was up at 5h00, ready for my early morning flight to Ushuaia via Buenos Aires, a 9h20min flight, and then a further 3h30min flight to my final destination. All went well, except that I had to pay for my overweight baggage on the final leg. I easily found a taxi at Ushuaia airport to take bike, my bags and me into the town and to Hostel Haush where I stayed for the next three nights. At last, I had arrived on the Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego; an island shared with Chile and cut off from the main land by the Strait of Magellan.

Ushuaia is picture pretty but also freezing cold. There are more than enough outdoor stores to stock up on warm cloths. It remains light until rather late, so it was hard to go to sleep with it being so light outside. By 23h00 (24 hours since I woke up) I finally went to bed and slept like a log.

25 November - Ushuaia
With its snowy mountain backdrop, Ushuaia reminded me a bit of Alaska. With many brightly painted corrugated iron homes, it is quite a picturesque village. The city is situated on the Beagle Channel and at the foothills of the Andes Mountain Range and is known as the southern most city in the world. With a population of about 64 000 it is not much of a city. The southern location also means that it remains rather cold year round with a high of only 9 degrees in the warmest months. Heating systems remain on all year (including the summer months).

Therefore, off to the shops I went to spend a fortune on a pair of very nice Merrell hiking shoes. I only have a pair of sandals, which will not do here. I wondered around the many shops stocking up on all I may need for the days ahead. I found some gas for my stove at an equally high price. I also found a rather nice bike shop, Ushuaia Extremo; they put my bike together again.

26 November - Ushuaia – Tierra del Fuego National Park - 50km
I dressed in my warmest clothes (including my brand new shoes) and set off into the National Park. The Park gate is only about 12km from the centre of town and an easy cycle along a dirt road. Although freezing cold the scenery was quite spectacular. The end of the road in the park is also the end of Ruta 3 and known as “The-end-of-the-world”. It may be the end of the road for others, but it’s the beginning of the road for me. I took a short hike around the park and then headed back to the village. I could not believe my eyes as I saw fine snowflakes fall from the sky. They unfortunately melted immediately and now I cannot even say I cycled in snow!

After much deliberation I bought myself a pair of rain pants as well as a beanie for the cold weather ahead.

27 November - Ushuaia – Tolhuim - 109km
I was excited to get on the road and see what lay ahead. The road headed uphill out of Ushuaia and over the mountains, past numerous ski resorts; some even with chair lifts. Not a bad road, a bit narrow but sealed. Motorists were friendly and always gave me a wide berth and a little warning hoot. After about 50km I reached the top of the pass Via Paso Garibaldi, with a view over Lago Escondido and Lago Fagnano. The mountains provided some shelter from the wind, as I sped downhill past Lago Escondido and onto Tolhuim, situated on the shores of Lake Fagnano. It was a bit of a strange town and hard to find accommodation or shops, maybe there just weren’t any. I was fortunate enough to find a good enough spot to lay my head for the night.

28 November - Tolhuim – Rio Grande - 113km
I woke to lose corrugated iron roof sheets, banging in the wind. I knew instantly that it was going to be a long hard day riding into the wind. I left Tolhuim with dust swirling in the dirt roads and headed north in the direction of Rio Grande, straight into the infamous Patagonian wind. It was freezing cold and rain pelted down, driven by the near gale force wind. I was wearing almost all I had but still felt the cold.

As if that was not enough, my rear gear-cable broke. Despite this, I battled on working with the three gears I had left. It did not make all that much difference, as I was only going at an average of 10km/h, if I was lucky. As the day wore on the wind grew even stronger, slowing my pace to a mere 5km/h. Still I battled on, past vast, wind swept and barren looking estancias. About 20km from Rio Grande, a friendly Argentinean offered me a lift. I could smell victory over the harsh conditions and declined, but could have kicked myself as soon as he left. My goals became shorter and shorter, four x 5km sounds a lot more doable than 20km! Every 5km I stopped and had some sweets or biscuits took a sip of water and then headed off into the howling wind again.

The barbeque is a way of life and I notice people stopping just about anywhere (out of the wind) along the road to light a fire and throw some meat on the coals. I was dead tired by the time I arrived in Rio Grande, found a room and went to bed. I was rather pleased with myself for surviving such a harsh day on the road.

29/30 November - Rio Grande
I slept and slept, and eventually woke to the smell of coffee and toast! A nice breakfast was included in the room price (standard in Argentina); a typical breakfast is normally coffee and croissants or some other pastries. At least the weather cleared but the relentless wind did not abate, I don’t think it ever does. Irrespective of what one might read or hear about the wind, nothing can quite prepare you for the reality. If Ernest and I had not battled for days into the wind along the Red Sea Coast in Egypt, at 5km an hour, I would not have believed this possible!

I was pleased for a rest day as my backside and my knees were sore. I could feel a bout of laryngitis coming on (it must be from breathing all that icy cold air). First thing was to find a bike shop to have the gear-cable repaired. The friendly chap and the bike shop also advised me to get off-road tyres for the dirt road ahead. He could only get the tyres the following day so I left the bike at the shop and did not complain about waiting another day as the wind was blowing at 85 - 100km per hour.

1 December - Rio Grande - 19km
I was up and rearing to go. Unfortunately, the wind won the day, 10km out of town I eventually gave up and turned back. It’s not just that it was hard, it was just too dangerous; I was blown across the road like a rag doll, totally out of control!! Back in town, I found Hostel Argentino (bit cheaper than where I stayed before) and found three more cyclists heading in the same direction as me. They were also waiting out the wind, hoping that the weather would improve by the next day. I don’t have much hope of that but I will wait and see what happens. We had some good red wine and swamped war stories until bedtime.

2 December - Rio Grande – San Sebastian – by car to Punta Arenas - 38km
I woke and thought the wind looked less fearsome than the previous day. I packed in a hurry and was out the gate as soon as possible; to my horror, the wind was as strong as the previous day. I was battered kilometer after kilometer; each turn of the pedal was an achievement in itself! The wind, however, blows in gusts and every so often I was blown off the road and had to get off the bike, push it back onto the road and to try again. Worse was that it also blew me into the road, which was rather narrow and even although the drivers were very courteous it was still nerve racking. It remained freezing cold and soon it started hailing!! A friendly truck driver stopped and gave me a lift to San Sebastian. With renewed energy, I set off again. The border crossing between Argentina and Chile is quite low-key but it still took a while before all was checked and cleared. This is the end of the tarred road and from there on it was a dirt road. That was about as much as I could take. I felt rather sorry for myself pushing my bike (in high wind) along this long and desolate road.

So I weakened and when a friendly Chilean driver stopped and offered me a lift all the way to Punta Arenas, I got in and was grateful for the warmth and safety of the car. The people here are so incredibly friendly, I’ll have to watch out or I’ll be given lifts all the way through Patagonia!! (Although it may be the only way, I’m going the get through it)

3/4 December -Punta Arenas
I camped at Hospedaje Independencia, easily the cheapest accommodation in town and therefore packed with backpackers from all over. Much of this region once belonged to one person namely Jose Menendez, wool baron of his time. Even today, it is still a sheep country and wool and lamb is big in this area.

Francois (whom I met at the Hostel Argentino in Rio Grande) arrived by bus and it was like meeting an old friend. The weather station put out an alert for high winds in the area (according to them over 100/120km per hour) so there and then I decided to stay put and check the weather out the next day.

5 December - Punta Arenas – Puerto Natales - By Bus - 21km
The weather looked good and after a slow start, I decided to cycle, once again. I only cleared the city limits (about 10km) and the wind hit me with full force. I truly don’t know how people do this. I’m just too scared. I turned around and flew back, down-wind into the city centre.

From there, I took the bus to Puerto Natales, as I had already arranged with Yutta and Francois to do some trekking once in Puerto Natales. Even the bus seemed to have great difficulty staying on the road. What an unforgiving area this is! The plains are rather barren, treeless and windswept. Every now and again there were a lonely and fore lone looking estancia, some even deserted. Once in Puerto Natales I found some good camping in Josmar Hostel with a nice campground and restaurant.

6 December - Puerto Natales
I met up with Francois and Yutta again. The day flew by as we prepared for our 8-day Torres Del Paine trek. I rented a bag and walking sticks from the local shop and bought food. The bag was rather heavy and I wondered if I’d even make the first few kilometers (and that was even before I packed the wine). Just the very essential stuff like tent, sleeping bag, food and warm cloths was already a lot of stuff to carry.

7 December - Torres Del Paine - Las Torres – Campamento Seron
Things were rather well organized to get to the Torres Del Paine National Park. Francois, Yutta and I grabbed a 7:30 bus to the park and then a small minibus to Hotel Las Torres, where we started our first day hike, a short and easy walk. I heaved my heavy pack and we strolled off to our first campsite. We had lovely views of the snowy mountains and lakes nearly all the way. Our first campsite was a bit exposed to the elements and of cause the wind blew as it can only blow in Patagonia. We managed to cook food and I was quite sure that I was going to lose my tent during the night.

8 December - Torres Del Paine - Campamento Seron – Refugio Dickson
I woke with sore ankles but paid little attention to it as little aches and pains normally come with the territory. We packed at leisure and then ambled along to our second campsite. Again, it was a short and easy day, which I was happy about as it started raining and it drizzled all day. By the time we reached Refugio Dickson we were wet and cold, my ankles were throbbing and I found it quite difficult to walk. Dickson is, however, one of the nicest camping areas on the trek, and has a lovely Refugio with a fireplace; communal sitting area, coffee, tea and one can even order food. Well you can just imagine all the wet and cold bodies (and boots) huddled around a small fireplace.

Outside it was bitterly cold, I dressed in all I had to ward off the cold, but nothing seemed to work. Soon it started snowing and turned the entire landscape around me a brilliant white. Falling snow is quite a novelty to me, but it was not as romantic as I imagined, instead all it was, was freezing cold. I thought my poor tent was going to collapse under the weight.

9 December - Torres Del Paine - Refugio Dickson – Campamento Los Perros
Once again, we were very slow at packing up. We knew it would be a short walk to our next camp and as rumors were that it was even colder there, we only left at around 12h00. I was really struggling with my ankles and to later thought that I should have stayed an extra day at Dickson. The walk however offered stunning views of the glaciers and surrounding mountains. I was going slower and slower, François walk with me as I growled along at a snail’s past. I wobbled along; aided by my two walking poles I dragged myself to camp. I felt bad that I was holding up Francois and Yutta, but there was little I could do. It was bitterly cold by the time we arrived at camp and I knew that I should get my tent up as soon as possible.

People are just so incredible, all offering painkillers and creams. I, however, knew that there was no way I could even think of crossing the pass in the morning. I understood that the pass was a steep climb of about 1 000m in deep snow and that it was at least a 6-hour walk to the next camp.

10 December - Torres Del Paine - Campamento Los Perros
I was stuck inside my tent and could not move! My ankles and feet were so sore that I could place no weight on them. I waved Francois and Yutta good-bye and then had to think about how to get out of where I was. I understood that one could get a horse, but with no command of the Spanish language, I felt lost and very sorry for myself. Eventually I understood that I could not get a horse from Los Perros, but had to walk back to Dickson and maybe I could arrange something there. Just how I was going to achieve that, I did not know, as I found it quite impossible just to stand up.

Later that day a group of British horse riders arrived, and it was good to hear a language I could understand. The guide offered to take my pack back to Dickson, if I thought I could make it there by foot.

11 December - Torres Del Paine - Campamento Los Perros – Refugio Dickson
I soon discovered that two of the horse riders were South African doctors, now working in London. True to nature, they had a fair amount of medicine with them and offered me some painkillers. Thanks to them, I could at least get out of the tent on could stand on my feet. I waited for the tablets to kick in and then, aided by my walking poles, shuffled back along the path. This was not only embarrassing but also very painful. I kept on telling myself “it’s only pain” but it did not work for me!! I knew that I was not doing my ankles a favor by walking back but what could one do?

I was proud of myself for making it all the way back to Dickson, where I found three other trekkers waiting for horses. I pitched my tent and did all the necessary things, like filling up with water etc., as I knew that once I sat down there was no getting up again, I had to keep on moving until everything was done. Exhausted I flopped into my tent and stayed there until the morning.

A storm strength wind picked up and I desperately had to get outside to strengthen my tent ropes. All I could do was to crawl on all fours around the tent and hammer in the pegs and tighten the ropes! What a sight that must have been! Still, I was not sure that the tent would hold up in such a strong wind. (Fortunately it did)

12 December - Torres Del Paine - The “rescue”
Early morning, and quite unexpectedly, I was told that a horse had been arranged for me. The horse was however on the other side of the river. I took my last four painkillers, waited a while, and then tried to pack up. It felt that the tablets had no impact on the pain. I tried my utmost to pack my bag and tent in high winds. Eventually the owner came to help and I set off towards the river. The wind was blowing so hard that one could barely stand. Driven by the wind the river was a torrent. The oarsmen tried everything, but could not get the boat hooked up to the cable, already spanned across the river. In the meantime the ranger with horse was waiting on the other side! Eventually everyone gave up, and we headed back to the Refugio. We had a hearty lunch after which the men went to check on the conditions of the river and wind again.

Eventually the boat was hooked up, they loaded my backpack and me into the boat and we made it across, by pulling the boat along the cable spanned across the river. Getting out the boat, across the rocks and onto the other side must have been quite a spectacle. Eventually we met our very patient ranger. (I later discovered that he was the most experience and longest serving ranger in the park). I was heaved onto the horse by strong hands and off we went!!

I was lucky to see a seldom seen part of the park as we followed one of the horse trails. After about 2 hours (and with a sore backside) we arrived at a small road where a driver with a van waited!! I had no idea it was going to be such a mission. With a most skillful driver, I set off on a very exciting ride through the park. The jeep track went up over mountains; through rivers and marshlands and past some of the most stunning sceneries the park can offer. What an adventure I had, albeit a bit unnecessary.

Arriving at the main gate of the park, I found an ambulance waiting!!!! How embarrassing, they loaded me in and took me all the way to Puente Natales Hospital. At the hospital, x-rays were taken, feet examined and I was declared fit and healthy except for a twisted ankle pulled ligaments and tendinitis. I had the luxury of an intravenous painkiller but as far as I could figure it did absolutely zilch for me!! It was 23h00 by the time I look a taxi to the hostel. Finally, I could rest my weary feet. Total cost US$470!!!!!

13/14 December - Puerto Natales
Not all was well yet! I still needed the medication from the pharmacy and had to ask one of the staff at the hostel to get it for me. At least I shuffled along and had a much-needed shower. Thank goodness for my little laptop! At least I could sit in my room and type up my embarrassing adventure. To be quite honest, I very much suspect that the problem was due to a lack of walking. After nearly 4 years on the bike, my ankles are not very strong. So overall, it’s my own fault for once again thinking that I can do more than the body is capable!!!

Both Yutta and François arrived back from their hike and both had a great time, I was very envious of them.

Still I waited for my ankle to improve, but it was slow in healing itself. I helped it along with some painkillers, just so I could go to the bank and do some shopping.

The Argentineans are quite a unique bunch of people. The men are rather macho but in such a boyish way that they endear themselves to you. Men still whistle as you cycle past (I thought that only happened in South Africa). They are warm and passionate people and I am happy that I wasn’t here when they lost in the Football World Cup.

With so many ranches, it is not unusual to see farmers on horseback along the way. This is cattle country

CYCLING AUSTRALIA - Adelaide to Melbourne

2010-11-15T07:47:00.003+02:00

6 October - Adelaide – Mt Barker - 40km
Eventually (eventually!) we packed up and left Adelaide, what I first thought to be a boring, dull town turned out to be a great city. I think Adelaide had endeared itself to me. We headed over the Adelaide hills along the Crafers Cycle Path, past Stirling, Aldgate, Bridge Water and Hahndorf (the oldest remaining German settlement in Oz). What a fantastic ride it was, through forested areas and quaint villages. Unfortunately the weather came in and what started off as a beautiful morning, became an icy cold, cloudy, blustery and drizzly day! We pulled into Mt Barker Caravan Park early to get out of the weather, pitched our tents and had some of the lovely red wine from the region to ward off the cold. Not a bad day at all!! I could definitely live in this area. We met a South African family who’d just immigrated, living in one of the cabins in the park while they look for a house and wait for their furniture to arrive – good luck to them.

7 October - Mt Barker – Tailem Bend - 79km
Gosh, I wish summer will roll on! It was bitterly old as we headed off; we followed the back road past Littlehampton, Nairne, Native Valley, Callington and onto Murray Bridge. These tiny villages are picture perfect, ever so neat and with lovely old restored buildings. We cycled past farmlands, horsey areas and even spotted a llama or two (what the heck are llamas doing out here?).

From Murray Bridge we followed the old road south along the west bank of the Murray River. The head-wind was blowing storm-strength, I lost my sense of humor and wondered just what exactly I was doing out there on a bicycle!! At Jervois village we took the ferry (motor pontoon) across the river to Tailem Bend town. After setting up camp, a hot shower, a glass of the local red and a huge bowl of pasta my sense of humor returned and things didn’t look all that bad anymore.

8 & 9 October - Tailem Bend – Meningie - 63km
We first paid a visit to “Old Tailem Town” a pioneer’s village consisting of 105 old buildings, some dating from the 1800’s - uplifted from their original places all over South Australia to form a true old pioneer’s village. Not only houses but a church, school, movie house, bank, shops, and railway station - the works!It was rather late by the time we headed out of “town” and it was another windy day on the road!! At least it was a short ride to Meningie.

Meningie is situated on the shores of Lake Albert with beautiful views of the lake. The wind subsided, the sun set over the lake and pelicans drifted past while terns ducked and dived in search of their evening meal. A perfect ending to what was a rather unpleasant and windy day on the road.

In fact, it was so nice that we stayed the following day as well.

10 October - Meningie – 42 Mile crossing - 83km
We followed the road SE running along the Coorong National Park. What an excellent day we had! A slight tail wind and excellent views of the famed wetlands with its rich birdlife made it a pleasure to be on the road. We cycled past Policeman’s Point and Salt Creek to 42 Mile crossing (3 k’s off the road on gravel) where we camped at the rather basic park camp for the night. The water tank was dry, the “camp kitchen” had been taken over by a swarm of bees, the flies and mozzies were attacking at the same time – but we weren’t bothered by kangaroos, emus, and the lack of other campers.

11 October - 42 Mile Crossing – Robe - 112 km
What’s with the wildlife in this place? While packing up I got bombed by a magpie. He obviously thought we had overstayed our welcome. Powered by a serious tail wind we flew down the road past Kingston (but not before we had one of their famous pies) and on to the picturesque seaside village of Robe.

Camping right on the ocean is something I always enjoy. We took a stroll into town and pigged out on take-away chips, fish (for Ernest), and a veggie burger for me. We should never have ordered a medium chips each, it was huge!! So no doubt it will be a chip roll for breakfast.

Along the road we’d met a retired Dutch lady (Anneke) cycling in the opposite direction. She came to visit her daughter and is now cycling back to Netherland. She has no watch, no odometer and no cycling partner! As she said, all she needs is a credit card, passport and water!! She cycles when it’s daylight and sleeps when it’s dark. You go girl!! Hats off to you!

12 October - Robe
I woke to the unwelcome sound of tip, tip, tip on my tent! A steady drizzle settled in, and it did not look like the kind of rain that was going to stop any time soon. Ernest was already packed up but there was no ways I was getting out of my tent – so he had to unpack everything off his bike again!

13 October - Robe – Millicent - 81 km
I listened carefully for that tip, tip, tip sound on the tent, but fortunately did not hear anything. So we quickly packed up, loaded the bikes and got out of Robe. It was still bitterly old and I was dressed for the Arctic Circle! We met 3 other Australian cyclists, cycling from Adelaide to Sydney and I looked at their bikes and gear with great envy! Jan was kind enough to invite us to his home in Sydney (when we get there) for a comfortable night. We may just take him up on that!

14/15 October - Millient – Mt Gambier - 53km
We knew it would be a short day so we took our time in packing up. Fortunately we picked up a good tail wind and reached Mt Gambier early. No sooner have we set up camp, at the campsite in town, or the weather came in again. A steady drizzle accompanied by a strong and gusty wind brought freezing cold weather, enough to send me shopping for warmer clothes.

By the next morning the weather deteriorated even more (if that’s possible). I lay cocooned in my tent listening to the wind and rain for most of the day. I fortunately found some girlie magazines in the camp kitchen, and a packet of chocolate coated peanuts in my bag! That, together with numerous cups of coffee kept me occupied me for most of the day.

16/17 October - Mt Gambier – Portland - 106 km
One can only be stuck in a tent for so long. Dressed in my new winter woolies we got back on our bikes in freezing cold weather accompanied by occasional rain and high winds. Not my best day on the road!! We followed the coastal road past Nelson and through large sections of state forests; up and down over the hills we cycled in freezing cold weather. For the second time on this trip we were attached by Magpies along the way. I read the following: “Spring in Australia is magpie season, when a small minority of breeding magpies (almost always males) around the country become aggressive and swoop and attack those who approach their nests, especially bike riders” . Now I know why they require you to wear a helmet! I was more than happy when we reached Portland. In fact it was so miserable that we weakened and took a cabin at the campsite. What a good idea that was. The cabin came equipped with TV, microwave, kettle, toaster etc, etc. We lived in style! In fact it was so good that there was no getting me out of that cabin the next day. I was warm as toast and very comfortable on a bed!! (Ernest packed up and had to unpack again).

18 October - Portland – Warrnambool - 105km
Eish!!! Time to go. Back on the bike and out in the weather again. Actually it was not that bad at all, we only got wet once or twice but at least we had a bit of a tail wind. Past more wind farms and farmlands we went. We even had time to explore the quaint and historic town of Port Fairy. With its many old buildings and pretty wharf it surely must be a popular place in summer. Warrnambool is much larger than I expected and we found a campsite right in the middle of town and with easy walking distance to the shops. On a cold night there’s not many things better than a hot shower, a mug of hot chocolate and a choc chip muffin, ooh the luxuries of life.

19 October - Warrnambool – Port Campbell - 71 km
The sun came out for the first time in days. We were rather slow in packing up and sat in the sun for hours. The road took us past many a dairy farm, cheese factories and miles and miles of picturesque pastures. We even spotted some black swans. Eventually we reached the coast and the renowned Great Ocean Road. I was not disappointed!! The scenic and very dramatic coast draws thousands of tourists with prices to match. The wind and ocean has eroded away the limestone to form dramatic pinnacles, coves, caves and arches, a truly magnificent site. It was a good day on the road and we turned off at every chance we had to admire the view and take a few snaps.

20 October - Port Campbell – Lavers Hill - 52km
We were lucky to have another sunny day with little wind. Our fist stop for the day was at Loch Ard Gorge another dramatic view point, then on to the famous 12 Apostles. Soon the road left the coast and headed uphill through eucalyptus forests to Lavers Hill, a small settlement perched atop the Otway Ranges. It was a slow but beautiful ride to the top. We met 3 cyclists from Adelaide cycling to Melbourne, the night before, and saw then from time to time along the way. In Lavers Hill I was hoping to see the glow-worms but none came out, and once the sun set it was far too cold to go exploring.

21 October - Lavers Hill – Kennett River - 73km
After our usual slow start, we headed downhill at over 50km/h. Soon, however, we climbed up the hill again through the Otway National Park, a dense forest with lovely fern gullies and then a nice downhill ride to Apollo Bay. We carried on cycling along a magnificent coastline to Kennett River where we found a campsite across the road from the beach. With Koalas in the trees, ducks and colorful birds, it was close to a paradise. We also met Alan and Heather form England, cycling for the past 9 months on this trip. The most amazing thing is that we previously met them at Kannur in India in December 2008. That night Ernest cooked a huge pot of pasta, we could not even finish it all. The leftover pasta was neatly left in the pot but we discovered that Koalas also likes pasta. The next morning we found the lid under the tree and the pot totally empty. Unfortunately Ernest also heard that his mother had passed away the previous day.

22 October - Kennett River – Anglesea - 56 km
We chatted to Alan and Heather forever and it was midday by the time we left. It was also our first warm day in ages. What a beautiful coastline it is, we cycled along the shore past Lore and Aireys Inlet. Unfortunately the weather came in again and we reached Anglesea to set up camp just in time before the rain came down.

23 October - Anglesea – Rosebud - 80km
Instead of cycling up the road via Geelong on the Western side of Port Phillip Bay to Melbourne, we decided to take the ferry from Queenscliff across the mouth of the bay to Sorrento, and cycle to Melbourne along the Eastern shore instead. It was a good choice as the stretch of road from Sorrento was very scenic. We just missed the 15h00 ferry so had to wait until 16h00 for the next one. In the meantime we had a bite to eat and then it was time to board the ferry. The ferry cost 12 dollars and took about half an hour across the short stretch of water. The road from there to the camp site at Rosebud runs alongside the coast, and although it was all built up, it was easy cycling. Instead of cooking, we splashed out on pizza (just across the road from the camp site).

24 October - Rosebud – Melbourne - 80km
I was concerned (as usual) about cycling into a big city, as traffic can be hectic and we had no idea where we were heading. My concerns were unjustified as it was Sunday and the road leading into the city had a bicycle lane all the way, how cool is that? What an organized city Melbourne is. Once we crossed the famous Jarra River we were dead in the centre of town. It did not take us long to spot a backpackers along King Street, aptly named King Street Backpackers. Nothing in Australia is cheap but it was very comfortable accommodation, with neat, clean rooms, a kitchen and large communal area. I must admit that being in a place where everything is closed and all locked up makes me be a bit claustrophobic! Time to move on again.

25 October - Melbourne
I spent most of the day organizing a flight from Melbourne to Cape Town (where I intend spending some time before going to South America), getting a bike box and organizing a taxi to pick me up and take me to the airport the next day. Ernest kindly packed my bike for me in the box, as he will cycle on to Sydney from where he hopes to get himself to South America. So that’s Australia done and dusted for me!! Although I did not see half of the country I was very impressed with what I saw and to think I was not even all that keen on coming here in the first place.

26/27 October - Melbourne, Australia – Cape Town, South Africa - By airplane
It was another long and boring flight from one end of the world to another. I was happy to have the opportunity to stop over in Cape Town instead of flying direct to Buenos Aires, Argentina. It was sure great to see my family again. We wasted no time and immediately got out the wine and ordered pizzas! Some things never change.

CYCLING AUSTRALIA - Darwin to Adelaide.

2010-10-05T07:44:00.002+02:00

11/12 August Darwin airport – Darwin city centre - 14km
We landed in Darwin at 3h00, and by the time we’d cleared immigration and customs, it was 4h00. They sure did scrutinize me, opening bags and bike box and even checking the tent pegs for soil (good thing Ernest cleaned the bikes – although he was shown through without any further checks). Then it was time for Ernest to reassemble the bikes again. As soon as it got light (at around 6h30) we were on our bikes and pedaled into town to look for accommodation. One could immediately tell we were in a first world country. We encountered many early morning joggers, cyclist and people walking their dogs, but none looked up to greet us unless we greeted first!

All seemed frightfully expensive at $30 Aus for a dorm bed. We found room at Chilli’s Backpackers, which seemed fine with a communal kitchen and outside sundeck with 2 small pools.

The conveniently located supermarket, right next door, gave as an indication of prices in Australia. We bought a map of the Stuart Highway together with some other little bits and pieces, and then I had to go to the ATM again!

13 August - Darwin – Adelaide River - 124 km
We left the party town of Darwin, with dry mouths (from too may beers the night before) and with fear in our hearts, due to all the horror stories we had heard. Due to our late night we only hit the road after 10 am, and found ourselves on a bicycle path for about 25 km as far as Paterson. Amazing that the places that need it least have bicycle paths (wouldn’t that have been nice in India or Java!). At last we were on the Stuart Highway - a really good wide road with a hard shoulder. The traffic was light and predictable, what a difference from Indonesia. On this first day there were plenty of water stops, and we passed many campsites along the way. We had a slight headwind, just enough to cool us down and to keep the flies at bay. Where all the flies came from I don’t know, there really is not much around. Just 50km into the day and Ernest had his first puncture in Australia. Not long after that we saw a huge bush fire, blazing away, fortunately the section next to the road was about under control, but still a bit too close for comfort for me. I even spotted my first kangaroo! (Actually it was one of the smaller wallabies). At around 6.00pm, when our shadows had grown long, we rolled into Adelaide River where we stayed at a really nice campsite - excellent showers, a kitchen area and a nice green lawn with shady trees.

14 August - Adelaide River – Pine Creek - 120 km
We were on the road shortly after 10h00. The area is dotted with world war II memorials, from old campsites to cemeteries and air fields. Again, there was more than enough water points and camping along the way. The road was really good and although hot it was a dry heat and very bearable. We stopped at a rest area to fill up with water and found that many rest areas are nice for camping, with toilets and even firewood. We pushed on to Hayes Creek where we filled up with water again. The next stretch to Emerald Springs came with a few hills and a head wind. The head wind is a blessing in disguise, (if not too strong) as it keeps the flies off you and cools you down. We arrived at Pine Creek just after 6 and camped at Lazy Lizard campsite, nice lawn and good showers again. This is definitely the luxury part of the outback. We were starving when we got there (as we had nothing to eat all day). After we’d pitched our tents and had a shower we found that the stove wouldn’t work! The little restaurant and shops had already closed, but the friendly bar lady unlocked the adjoining shop for us (so it was Vegemite and chip sandwiches for supper. I was disappointed as I was looking forward to a nice large plate of pasta. I should not complain as I love Vegemite and at last we’re in a country with decent bread.

15 August - Pine Creek – Katherine - 97 km
For breakfast we had more of the same sandwiches with coffee, and were on the road again. Our rushed departure was mostly due to the flies, better to try and out cycle them. The darn things are really an irritation. The air is extremely dry and already my skin is flaking and my lips cracked and this is only day 3! The road stretched for miles in front of us, with only the occasional uphill to break the monotony. Water breaks along the way are normally very fast as the flies seem to get the better of us. There were no rest stops or camping all day so we pedaled until we reached Katherine, the 3rd largest town in the Northern Territory. We camped at Coco’s Backpackers, which gives discount to cyclists. A very interesting set up with chickens running around, a ramshackle building with various rooms and dorms and a very interesting owner. We stayed the following day, doing as little as possible; at least I did my laundry and fixed my leaking sleeping mat. Ernest fixed tent poles and punctured tubes, and got the stove working again.

17 August - Katharine – Mataranka - 115 km
We were as slow as ever to leave, and got on the road at 10.30. Approximately 28km south of Katherine we turned off to the Cutta Cutta Caves, ate our pasta sandwiches which Ernest made from the previous nights leftover food and then we were off again. About 50km south of Katherine was a rather nice rest stop with camping, water and toilets, but as it was still very early we just ate our jelly sweet in the shade of some trees and headed on to Mataranka. The scenery had been unchanged (except for an occasional World War 2 site) since we left Darwin. We reached Mataranka (population 420) and headed for Bitter Springs campsite, where we arrived shortly before dark.

18 August - Mataranka - Larrimah - 81 km
We were up early and strolled down the road to the hot springs – which flows along a clear stream surrounded by the natural bush. We swam for a while before having breakfast and making some leftover pasta sandwiches for the road. We also scored some pasta and tins which other campers had left in the camp kitchen for take-away. The road was once again very good with little traffic, mostly caravans and mobile homes - not your ordinary mobile homes, they are fantastic contraptions and larger than many apartments. Everyone seems to be in a holiday spirit and will give a little toot and a wave as they go past. We either had a tailwind or it was down hill (or maybe it was the pasta sandwiches) but we rolled into Larrimah (population of 200) before 15h00. We camped at the Larrimah Hotel with it’s legendary Pink Panther bar. Before we even paid our camp fee we knew the town’s entire history. Ernest was keen to service his bike's front hub, which had been making alarming noises. In typical Northern Territory style I sat in the shade of a huge tree watching him.

19 August - Larrimah – Daly Waters - 104 km
There were no water stops or rest areas between Larrimah and Daly Waters so we pushed on, stopping at each and every “interesting” spot or memorial along the way -even the occasional road sign is getting us all excited. We popped in at the legendary Daly Waters pub for a (rater expensive) beer and sat talking to other travelers for a while. It claims to be the oldest Pub in the Territory as its liquor license has been in continuous use since 1893. The interesting part is that in the early 1930,s Qantas airlines used Daly Waters as a refueling stop for the Singapore leg of its Sydney – London run. It must have been a big attraction when a plane landed! We camped just a few km down the road at Hi-Way Inn. I must admit I have never camped amongst wallabies and parrots before. We once again met some friendly travelers at the campsite. We were invited for beer, crab and interesting snacks at their very fancy camper. These people truly live in style.

20 August - Daly Waters – Newcastle Waters - 127 km
We woke up to the raucus sounds of parrots and cockatoos outside our tents - not a bad way to greet a new day. Birds of all colors surrounded us. We managed to get on the road at a decent time and headed towards Newcastle Waters rest stop - our next water point. Newcastle Waters used to be a droving town, but is only a ghost town today. Road transport started in the early 1960’s and was the death of this little town, today only the old store and hotel is left. We saw little along the way, only a lonely memorial cairn and two dirt roads turning off to nowhere. Sleeping at the Rest Stops is rather interesting, as it is free, but comes with water and toilets, so there is always a number of campervans overnight there. The people seem friendlier here, and we chatted until late with other travelers, both foreign and local.

21 August - Newcastle Waters – Renner Springs - 118 km
After about 45km we reached Dunmara where we filled up with water and chatted to some guys on motorbikes, and that was about the excitement for the day. The wind picked up in the night and we feared that it was going to be a long haul into the wind. Fortunately the wind was mostly from the side, so it was not a bad day on the road. The tarmac lay stretched out in front of us, while we amused ourselves with picking up all kinds of things along the road and renaming the birds of Australia. We saw even less today, two roads turning off, one repeater station and two cattle grids, and that was the sum total of our entertainment!

22 August - Renner Springs Road House – Tennant Creek - 166 km
This section of the Stuart Highway is like a tourist trap, prices of things are totally ridiculous (and the country in general is very expensive for us). I guess these shopkeepers know that travelers have little choice but to buy at the prices they charge - or go without it! Even the Australians are complaining about it! Had to pay $5 for a loaf of bread! It was a fairly easy day, an almost flat road and various opportunities to fill up with water. 62km south of Renner Springs we found Banka Banka campsite. The lady of the campsite seemed to think she was doing us a favor by letting us fill our water bottles! She then proceeded to tell us we may sit in the shade of her tree and eat our sandwiches as long as we do not walk around! Gosh, walk around!? Where to? It’s only a tiny campsite. Hot and sweaty we arrived (50km down the road) at a rest area, with toilets and water. We’d hardly stopped and – wait for this - an Australian couple camping at the rest area, came out with two ice-cream cones!! It sure was the most delicious ice cream cone I’ve ever had! Back on the bikes we picked up a nice tail wind, and ran with it. Three Ways junction was just 50km down the road, and once there we decided to go all the way to Tennant Creek (4th largest town in the Northern Territory) which was only another 25 km. We arrived at the camp site in Tennant Creek just before 6pm, and we settled in as we knew the next day would be a rest day.

23 August - Tennant Creek
We had a rather busy day as we each did our internet business, uploaded photos, and went shopping. We stocked up with foodstuff for the next few days as the town Supermarket was a hell of a lot cheaper than the Roadhouse shops along the way.

We did our long overdue laundry and fiddled with the bikes and tents. I was wondering if I’d ever fit all that shopping into my panniers the next morning.

24 August - Tennant Creek – Wauchope - 120km
We were rather reluctant to pack up us the wind picked up in the night and it looked like we were going to have a strong head wind. We only left after 10am. The wind was not as bad as expected (or maybe it was just because I was sitting in Ernest’s slip stream all day). The road lay black and endless in front us, forming a mirage on the horizon. We were pleasantly surprised towards the end of the day, as suddenly the scenery changed (at last) as we reached Devil’s Marbles. Huge rocks stacked upon one another covered the area, a stunning site at sunset. There we met an Italian - Antonio, cycling around Australia. After chatting to him for a long time it was already sunset, and we decided to camp at the nearby National Parks camping site. We put the required fee in the box at the gate, and I was already pitching my tent when Ernest pointed out that there was no water there. We weren’t carrying enough water for cooking, etc., so we packed up and cycled another 10 k’s or so to Wauchope Roadhouse.

The sun had already set in a flaming Western sky, and a huge full moon came up on our left as we cycled to Wauchope. We even spotted our first dingo trotting towards us in the road, probably on this way to scavenge at the campsite which we’d just left. He, however, gave as a wide berth and we carried on down the road.

25 August - Wauchope – Wycliffe Well - 18km
It became real cold during the night; it was the first time in nearly a year that I felt cold. I was in no mood for cycling as we woke to a howling wind. We packed up and headed down the road to Wycliffe Well.

Wycliffe Well is said to be located on a cross section of key lines or energy lines. This may also be the reason why Wycliffe Well has had its fair share of UFO sightings. We stopped at the pub to read all the paper clippings about UFO sightings in the area and decided to camp right there in the nice grassy camp site. I also wanted to see a UFO!! (I wonder if the sightings have anything to do with the large selection of beer they sell in the pub???)

26 August - Wycliffe Well
We woke to a howling wind and rain pattering down on the tent. I pulled the sleeping bag over my head and announced loudly that I’m going nowhere that day. It was not all that hard to convince Ernest and we stayed put. The Roadhouse not only made good chips but also had internet so we drank their bottomless coffee and did more internet updates. In the process we met another cyclist going north and low and be hold would he not be from South Africa. We convinced him (Clyde from Pietermaritzburg) to stay for the night and we had a good old chat.

27 August - Wycliffe Well – Barrow Creek - 94km
We were rather slow to emerge from our tents as outside it was bitterly cold. We had some coffee and toast (made on the fire) and then said good bye to Clyde. He continued on his way north and we headed south. First stop was Taylor Creek Rest Area where we filled up our water bottles and had a sandwich.

We cycled into a bit of a head wind and once we reached Barrow Creek we called it a day. Barrow Creek is a bit of a Godforsaken place with hardly a campsite at all, but a welcoming pub. Although we had plenty of time to carry on we set up camp as it was already getting cold. Ernest cooked his usual delicious pasta and we were off to bed rather early.

28 August - Barrow Creek – Ti Tree - 93km
We were on the road by 9h00 (early for us), soon we reached a rest area where we filled up our water bottles and headed off to Ti Tree. We reached Ti Tree very early but all the talk about a potato salad along the way made us shop for some potatoes, salad veg, and mayonnaise at the little store.

Once we bagged all the ingredients we headed for the campsite. We had just pitched our tents and made some coffee when a friendly lady camping close by brought us some fruit cake. Needless to say it went down very well. The people are just so friendly here.

It was still fairly early, so we sat in the sun while Ernest started to prepare the much anticipated meal. We were in no hurry to get to Alice Springs, as what we understood form other travellers was that there was not a campsite to be had in Alice due to a trucking show in the town.

28 August - Ti Tree – Aileron - 63km
We waited for the sun to warm our tents before packing up. A short ride outside Ti Tree we spotted some vineyards and a sign for wine tasting. Not wanting to miss the experience we turned off the road to explore. We even splashed out on a bottle of port. About 40km from the start we found a rest area where we filled up with water and ate some potato salad sandwiches. From the rest area it was only another 20km to Aileron through Prowse gap, so we were in Aileron fairly early. It was time to sample that port!!

It was a freezing cold night so Ernest made vetkoek and soup which went down extremely well with the port. He has now been declared the undisputed “Vetkoek King of the Outback”!! A zillion stars lit the sky while we sat all wrapped up in our sleeping bags. Life was good!!

29 August - Aileron – Tropic of Capricorn Rest Area - 105km
We only left Aileron at around 10.30 and headed into the wind for the rest of the day. Ernest was strong and led the way whilst I sat in his slip stream (men can be sooo handy at times!) We only stopped now and again to refill our water bottles and then were back on the road, battling the wind again.

We arrived at the Tropic of Capricorn Rest Area in good time and pitched our tents right on the line for the night. We also met a guy from Germany on a motorbike, who has been riding all the way from Germany and who has followed most of our route since about Turkey.

31 August - Tropic of Capricorn Rest Area – Alice Springs - 36km
We were up rather early as we camped next to the Tropic of Capricorn monument and people arrived early to take pictures. They will just have to Photoshop us out of their pics (although many travellers along the way have taken photo’s of us – even from their car windows).

We blitzed the last few k’s into Alice Springs – mostly downhill. We passed the marker for the highest point on the road between Darwin and Adelaide (a mere 740m according to Ernest’s GPS) and then rolled into Alice (our halfway point on the Stewart Highway). We checked out a few rooms but camping was still way cheaper. I was in serious need of a shower, and had to see a dentist ASAP!!

The day was nice and warm, even hot, for a change, so it was time for doing laundry and airing farty sleeping bags!

1 - 3 September - Alice Springs
It was time to face the facts and see the dentist. I have had a loose crown since Indonesia and it was causing BIG problems, the gory details of which I will spare you. Off to the dentist I went and came back minus $180 and the tooth!! I will now have to cycle around with a missing tooth until I can get back home one day to have an implant or whatever it takes to fill that gap. Never in my life did I think that I’ll be walking around with a gaping grin!! From now on I will just have to keep my mount shut (something I think Ernest will be happy about). Ok, ok it’s not that bad, at least it’s not one of the front incisors.

I’m a little disappointed in the Australian Barbie, “Savaloys (looks like a vienna on steroids), onion and potato slices on a gas-fired plate – not even a grid?? (How do I braai my sami’s now?). At least Ernest is happy, grid or no grid, it’s our first real meat-eating country since we left South Africa (besides insects, dog, and the occasional chicken or goat – and, of course, pork in China).

The following day we spent shopping for foodstuff for the next few days. Ernest bought a new tyre and pedals from the local bike shop and I splashed out on a new bike computer. The weather report predicted heavy storms and we batoned down our tents and waited out the weather. Not much came of the storms, just a sudden downpour towards evening.

We were planning to leave on the morning of the 3rd, but we awoke to rain and we were reluctant to leave the tents – I’m such a baby!! The reception/shop at the camp had a small selection of books to swap and I found a nice easy to read book and crawled back into my sleeping bag. However, it was tempting to carry on cycling as the sun came out every now and then – and the wind was in our favour.

4 September - Alice Springs - Stuart’s Well - 95km
We woke to the sound of singing birds and a perfectly blue sky. Time to pack up and start the long haul south. Once again I was surprised at the large amount of colourful birds along the way. Parrots, cockatoos, and large flocks of bright green budgies! Stunning.

We camped at the grassless red earth campsite at Stuart’s Well, but can’t complain as it was free and we were rewarded with the most stunning sunset and a clear night sky, complete with shooting stars and all. However, we had to be careful not to put anything near the fence as the horses around the perimeter apparently have an appetite for such things as towels, tents, and bicycle saddles (recently the seat of a Harley was chewed up!).

5 September - Stuart’s Well – Erldunda - 111km
There were two rest stops with water along the way so there was no need for carrying lots of water. Both looked rather inviting, but we carried on south. The trees that we had all along the way since Darwin gave way to shrubs and grassland. We cycled past the meteorite conservation area and coasted in to Erldunda Roadhouse, with a restaurant/pub, campsite and pre-fab motel rooms. It was also the turn off for Uluru (Ayers Rock), so we set up camp for the night before heading off in a westerly direction (a rather long detour of 500 km there and back) too go and see “the rock”. The area is not called the red centre for no reason, the soil colour was a deep red, especially stunning at sunset but not always so good for camping as all our gear takes on a reddish tint. Even the lone Dingo we spotted along the way had a rather red back. Interestingly enough I also spotted a sign on a fence warning that poisoned bait had been put out for “wild dogs”. Well I suppose “wild dog” sounds more acceptable than “Dingo”!

6 September - Erldunda – Rest Area - 135km
I waited for the sun to defrost me and chatted to the other campers before packing up. Our slow start did not affect us too much as we picked up a rather good tail wind and headed in a Westerly direction to Uluru. That rock better be worth it! Once again we found 2 really nice Rest Stops with water along the way. We pulled into the first one to fill our water bottles and were entertained at their caravan by Daryl and Gloria, what a nice treat. After chatting to them for a while, drinking their coffee and eating all their fruit cake we headed on to the next rest area (can’t waste a tail wind).

7 September - Rest Area – Curtin Springs - 28km
We awoke to a rather miserable day, as it threatened to rain and the wind picked up during the night, making the tent flaps roar like a Boeing in the process of taking off. We were still having our coffee when another cyclist pulled in. It was Carson from Taiwan, of whom we have heard from various people along the way. He was a day or two ahead of us and on his way back from Uluru to the Stewart Highway. We chatted for a long time while it rained a bit and we were all reluctant to leave the rest area as the wind seemed to gather strength. Eventually we had to move on, and before long we were cycling into a cold rain.

Fortunately Curtin Springs was just down the road where we pulled in for a hot cup of coffee. We were cold, wet and windswept so it did not take much to convince us to pitch our tents and crawl inside for the rest of the day. Only once I ventured out to get a loaf of bread from the roadhouse shop and at Aus $7 it must be the most expensive bread in the world!!

8 September - Curtin Springs – Yulara - 88km
The weather seemed to have cleared during the night and we were rewarded with a huge rainbow across the sky. The dreaded Emu from the previous day was back, inspecting everything and pecking on our tents. It must have been time to wake up. We watched as dark clouds gathered and disappeared. By 11.30 the weather gave us a break and we quickly packed up and were on our bikes for the last stretch to Yulara.

Wow, what a hard day on the road it was. A gale force wind blew all day as we battled on to Yulara. Not much was said between us, as we had our heads down battling the wind. Eventually we arrived in Yulara Resort camp and caught our first glimpse of Uluru in the distance. By the time we pitched our tents there was not a drop of wind and the cold weather seemed to have dissipated. We could even sit outside and talk to other travellers. Typical!

9 September - Uluru - In Nat Park viewing the rock – 37 km
We woke at leisure and did the normal rest day chores. Eventually we got on our bikes and cycled to Uluru. I was surprised at the size of Uluru; somehow I expected it to be much smaller. It’s quite a dramatic site as it rises 350m out of the desert floor and measures 9.4 km around its base. The sun did not want to play along and did not want to come out properly to light up the rock for us. We snapped a few pic’s and then went back to the campsite.

In a way it is quite sad, that such a sacred site to the local Aboriginal people is trampled by tourists who climb the rock. They also ask that people should not climb up to the top but still many people find this a kind of a pilgrimage.

10 September - Yalara – Curtin Springs - - 88km
Ernest changed his worn tyre and it was 12.30 by the time we left the camp site. It was fortunately a much easier day than anticipated. The wind was not as strong and we reached Curtin Springs shortly after 5. We picked up some wood and made a camp fire. We also met Rudolfo from Argentina who now lives in Melbourne. We sat around the fire, had a few beers and were invited to his house once we get to Melbourne.

11 September - Curtin Springs – Mt Ebenezer - 107km
After our usual slow start we got on our bikes and battled the wind all day long. What a mission it is cycling into a head wind! We waved good bye to our last glimpse of Uluru and headed back to the Stuart High Way. Just after 5 we crawled into Mt Ebenezer with its cheap red earthy campsite. I could not resist the French fries from the roadhouse and before setting up camp I ate a whole 5 dollars worth! Delicious! Then it was off to have a really hot shower. Oh the pleasure of the small things in life!

The next morning we woke at 5.30 with rain pelting down on the tent. The entire campsite turned into a mud bath. We lay cocooned in our tents waiting for the weather to clear. We, however, had no such luck and it rained throughout the day. Later we went to sit in the roadhouse pub/restaurant and sat there playing on the laptop and drinking bottomless coffee until it came out our ears.

13 September - Mt Ebenezer – Kulgera - 135km
We were happy to open our tents and see that the rain had cleared. We were rather quick to pack up before more rain came down. We had an excellent tail wind for the first 60km to the Stuart Highway junction at Erldunda. Then it was back in a Southerly direction, from where the road beat a dead straight track south though the desert.

Another 75km along the Stuart High Way brought us to Kulgera with a good campsite and roadhouse.

14 September - Kulgera – Rest Area - 61km
An icy wind blew as we woke up and we were reluctant to leave. Battling into the wind is one thing but battling into an icy cold wind is another. It was 11 am by the time we finally left our cosy campsite. 22km further south we officially crossed into the state of South Australia. At the border is a good rest area and we bumped into Gloria and Daryl again. Once again we got invited for coffee and cake at their caravan. I wonder if these people realize what luxury that is for us! We chatted for a while and then we were on our way again. 40k’s further we found a good rest area, with water and a nice shelter. We camped for the night as it was already getting late. Another camper at the rest area, invited us to share his camp fire and I was quick to get my billy on for some hot water for coffee. The people are so friendly. That night Ernest made more vetkoek than we could eat.

15 September - Rest Area – Marla - 125km
What was with that weather? As I woke I could hear the unwelcome sound of rain on my tent again. Fortunately we had a perfect shelter, for packing the bags and loading up the bikes. We set off in icy conditions and in a constant drizzle. I was absolutely frozen all day long - I even thought I had hypothermia (I can be such a drama queen).

Ernest had not one but two flat tyres along the way, not something one wants in those conditions. We were, however, lucky to see some wild horses and, yes, a big kangaroo, sitting right in the middle of the road, just looking at us.

I was never more pleased to ride into a camp site. A quick cup of soup with leftover vetkoek and a hot shower was all I needed to be quite happy again.

16 September - Marla – Cadney Homestead - 85km
We did not leave the campsite until after 12h00. Ernest repaired tubes and we did some shopping at the little mini-mart for the next few days. It was another cold and windy day on the road and we did not get into Cadney until after 5.

Money has also become a problem, Australia is incredibly expensive and I will soon have to find myself a job in order to continue my travels. Ernest has run out of money and me having to keeping both of us is proving rather costly.

17 September - Cadney Homestead – Pootnoura Rest Area - 80km
Another short distance that took us the entire day to cycle. It was once again a bleak day with low clouds, and an icy cold wind that blew all day. We also had our fair share of bicycle problems, as Ernest had two blow-outs due to his new back tire tearing at the side-wall.

I stuck the iPod in my ears and battled on, eventually we reached Pootnoura Rest area, which had water and a shelter. I had my tent up in no time as it looked like it was going to rain again. Oi the weather is just not in our favour, not the best of days on the road.

18 September - Pootnoura Rest Area – Coober Pedy - 78km
We struggled to make some coffee in the windy conditions, but eventually got some water boiling for an early morning cuppa. I was not looking forward to another windy day, but we had to move on as our supplies were running out.

We once again struggled into an icy cold wind (sometimes from the front, sometimes a fierce cross-wind), sometimes struggling to cycle at more than 10km an hour. The gusts from the road trains nearly blew me off my bike a few times. I clung on for dear life to the handlebars and just about managed to stay on the road.

About 40 k’s north of Coober Pedy we crossed the dog fence, a 5500km long fence running across South East Australia to keep the dingoes out, and then it was into opal country. All along the road we spotted holes and piles of dirt littering the country side. Opal mining is alive and well in Coober Pedy, the Opal Capital of the world.

19 September - Coober Pedy
Coober Pedy is a typical small mining town with corrugated iron houses, dirt roads and eccentric looking foreigners seeking their fortune. The town has one more fascinating feature - old worked out mines have become homes. Living underground makes a lot of sense as it gets extremely hot in this part of the world, apparently the temperatures underground never rises above 23C. The surrounding desert has also attracted a number of film makers, and old movie props can still be seen around town. We’re camping at the Opal Inn Caravan Park for a day or two, doing laundry, stocking up with supplies for the road south, and so forth.

21 September - Coober Pedy to Ingomar Rest area - 94km
It was time to leave our lazy life of hanging around the campsite and get back on the road. It was a much better day than expected, at least the sun was out and the wind not too strong. The land was flat and all we could see was miles and miles of nothing (except for the “mole hills” where the optimistic miners were digging for opals).

I tried to draw some money before we left but to no avail. So off we went without any money, at least we not going to need any in the next few days. I had a big fight again with Ernest, so things were not all that wonderful. At least the rest area was (as happens at the free camping places) interesting with the usual bunch of odd people camping there.

22 September - Ingomar Rest Area – Bon Bon Rest Area - 79km
We battled into the wind on a pan flat road with very little change in scenery. On and on we went head down into the wind. I’m close to getting white-line fever. Fortunate it was a short day and once at the rest area we could pitch our tents and get out of the wind a bit. We also met the most interesting people. Jen from Adelaide is a 70-year old lady who drove all the way to Darwin to deposit her late husband’s ashes into the ocean (she is a most remarkable woman with loads of interesting stories - I will definitely visit her in Adelaide).

23 September - Bon Bon Rest Area – Glendambo - 87km
Ernest and I were not close buddies, the wind was relentless and the road pan flat again, I can’t think of anything worse. We battled on in silence; this is just not worth it!! We reached Glendambo early but I was (by then) really fed up with this whole situation and decided to camp right there, get a LARGE bag of French fries, have a shower and drink a LARGE glass of red wine. (My way of solving problems).

At sunset the wind dropped, the flies went to bed, and I felt a whole lot better!

24 September - Glendambo – Woomera - 125km
Thank goodness not all things are constant! We got on the road and picked up a tail wind. Powered by the wind we sped south past vast areas of nothing until we reached Lake Hart. What a sight it was, a salt lake filled with water after the good rains they had in the area. It is such a large pan that it resembled the ocean.

We were like two horses that smelled the stables and would have sped right past Woomera, was it not for me having a flat tyre along the road. Woomera has a bit if a dark history as it was the headquarters for experimental rocket and nuclear tests. Indigenous people apparently suffered greatly from these nuclear fallouts. In the centre of town is a rocket display area, and I was surprised at how small some of these rockets were.

25 September - Woomera- Ranges View Rest Area - 120km
We passed more salt lakes and some dusty rest areas along the way. We even found water at Ironstone Lagoon Rest Area, about 70km south of Pimba (turnoff to Woomera), which was great and we could fill up our bottles. It was not at all necessary as there was water at Ranges View as well (after carrying litres of our own!). We pitched out tents as the wind came up and blew and absolute gale, I truly thought my tent was going to take off with me inside!

26 September - Ranges View Rest Area – Port Augusta - 66km
We were in no hurry to leave and packed up at leisure. It was a beautiful spring day, sun shining, hardly any wind and flowers everywhere. We rolled into Port Augusta early and headed for Shoreline Caravan Park. Although a bit out of town it was cheap and had good facilities. We sat around for a while, chatting to the beer-drinking John, who lives in the caravan park.

27/28 September - Port Augusta
The wind picked up and I was happy not to be on the road. Did the normal chores of laundry, internet and stocking up with some foodstuff.

29 September - Port Augusta – Port Germein - 70km
After our night in luxury accommodation we reluctantly packed up and resumed our life on the road. A strong head wind battered us all day long, but we struggled on regardless. In fact it became so strong that it was getting right out dangerous to be on the road. Trucks and busses blew us all over die road. Along the way we chatted to people from this region who we’d met at one of our rest area camps up North a few weeks earlier. By the time we reached the coastal village of Port Germein, I’d given up and settled for a night in the campsite (at the turn-off we met a cyclist, Grant from Perth, cycling home from Sydney in 30 days – at least he was cruising with the wind). The camp site opposite the “longest wooden pier in Australia” wasn’t cheap at $20 but had a well equipped kitchen and good showers.

Port Germein is a rather forlorn looking place with just a few houses, a small hotel and general store, the jetty, and campsite. This is definitely a crabbing area and each and everyone here seems to have a crab net for fishing off the pier.

30 September - Port Germein – Snowtown - 98km
The wind eased a bit and we headed down the highway, the closest and easiest way to Adelaide. I have to get out of this windy area. Judging by the wind-farms and mangled old windmills, this is obviously a notoriously windy area. It was, however, a scenic ride as the fields are green and stretch as far as the eye can see, we passed small quaint towns like Warnetown, Red Hill and Lake View.

We set up camp at Snowtown, a village with a population of 600, 3 churches, a hotel and general grocer. Camping was in the Centenary Park community recreation area, where there was also a perfectly manicured bowling green, tennis court, and of course the football oval (which doubles as a cricket pitch in summer).

1 October - Snowtown – Dublin - 89km
Hallelujah, the wind was with us for a change. We woke to a perfectly blue sky, warm weather, gone was the icy wind! We had an excellent day on the road past deep green wheat fields and yellow canola fields, large salt lakes and interesting small villages the likes of Luchiel, Wild Horse Plain and Windsor.

We reached the tiny Dublin village early but it had such a good rest area that we decided to camp there for the night (only the following morning did we notice the small “no camping” sign).

2/5 October - Dublin – Adelaide - 62km
We rode into Adelaide on 2 October, a breezy but sunny Saturday afternoon. The streets were quiet and it was surely the easiest city we’ve cycled into in a long time. Roads were wide and traffic ever so orderly. No hooting, traffic jams or strange one-way streets, just a plain and easy ride right into the city centre. We camped at Adelaide Caravan Park for the night, again ever so orderly to such an extent that I was wondering if it was plain boring or peaceful???? Located on the banks overlooking the Torrents River, it was however rather peaceful, but with so many camp rules there’s no space for spontaneity and people seem to hide away too scared to talk to you, just in case it’s against the rules. Sigh….., I miss the good old Rest Areas from the Outback with its eccentric travellers.

Nevertheless, Adelaide remains a pleasant, spacious city with loads of parks, river walks and cycling tracks. A very liveable city I would say. Well, I guess with its 750 churches it is sure to put a damper on things. We strolled endlessly down city malls and picturesque river paths, ate pizzas and drank beers at side walk cafes, ate their famous chocolates and in the process totally blew the budget. For such an orderly city it has an amazing amount of eccentric people, even strip clubs and sex shops (just to stir things up a bit). I feel ill suited for city life as my sense of fashion is obviously years behind!

Possums came to visit us in our campsite, black swans floated down the river and parrots woke us in the morning - not a bad place at all!!! Due to the long weekend we waited in Adelaide for the shops to open on Tuesday, when I bought a new rear hub for my bike which Ernest fitted (I did get him a set of really good tyres for his bike as well – he’d been going for the past 900 km on a blown tyre which he’d sewn up with fishing line).

I have finally come to a decision regarding my route for the near further. The plan (which seems to change from day to day) is now to cycle to Melbourne (or Sydney depending on the time) and then fly (via South Africa) to South America in order to start the long road north in summer. I think Ernest has other plans, so I may be on my own there.

This was only my first experience of an Australian city (Darwin and Alice Springs are somewhat smaller), but already I thought that if I ever had to live in Australia it would be Adelaide.

CYCLING INDONESIA - Bali and Lombok

2010-08-11T07:37:00.001+02:00

17 July - Situbondo – Gilimanuk - 90km
Ernest was still not well; I just yesterday thought he was getting better. We set off and soon encountered a rather stiff headwind, which just got worse as the day progressed. The road was not as flat as the day before but rather hilly in parts. Fortunately the hilly area was through shady forest. By the end of the day I had enough of battling into the wind.

At the dock in Ketapang we took the short ferry ride across the channel to the island of Bali. At last we arrived in Bali! I take my hat off to Ernest, who feels crap, but still manages to cycle 90km in a strong head wind (or is he just stupid??)

We were hardly off the ferry when we spotted a nice place advertising rooms, and what a delightful place it was, little bungalows in an overgrown garden, lovely!! I just hope the wind dies down during the night.

18 July - Gilimanuk – Medewi Beach - 59 km
The first part of the day we cycled through a national park and under a green canopy of trees. No wonder Bali is such a popular destination. It has more than just beaches! The Balinese Hindu culture is alive and well and I have seldom seen such a vast collection of Hindu temples and shrines. The towns and villages along the way had a strong ancient Hindu flavor reflected in the architecture and all the shrines - how fascinating!

Soon we reached the well known surfing spot of Medewi Beach. Close to the turnoff from the main road we found a good place to stay with an excellent menu! I don’t often cycle past places like this.

19-21 July - Medewei Beach – Denpasar (Capital of Bali) - 74km
Bali has everything to make it a true paradise; with its warm tropical climate and great beaches, good surf, palm trees and frangipanis. Add to that an evocative Hindu culture, green rice paddies and friendly Balinese and it is sure to be a winner. Typical island style there was plenty of fruit to be had along the way. Roadside stalls were selling bright red water melons, large yellow bananas, pineapples and mangoes.

The road down the west coast was fairly hilly and slightly windy, but we soon reached the capital where we had to stop for a day or two in order to inquire about a visa for Australia.

We did the necessary, filled in forms, made copies of what was required and handed in the forms. Then it was just a matter of waiting to see what will happen. In the meantime I was bored stiff. Time to move on and check on the progress of the visa later. There must be more to do on this holiday island than sitting in a city room staring at the ceiling.

22/28 July - Denpasar – Kuta Beach & Uluwatu - 10km/29km/28km
We saddled up and cycled the rather short distance to the famous or infamous Kuta Beach. It was a much closer than I had expected. It all came as a bit of a shock after such a long time in the rest of Indonesia. Tourists galore, narrow alleys lined with curio stalls, CD’s. T-shirts, surf shops, western restaurants, booze, tattoo shops and marijuana!! Gosh, I nearly fell over just witnessing it all!! We eventually found a reasonable room and parked off, absorbing it all.

The most wonderful thing about human beings is how quickly we can adapt to a new environment! Soon I was shopping, eating and drinking and nearly had a new tattoo!! I joined the beer swirling holidaying Auzzies and ate at Pizza Hut, swam in the ocean and spoke loads of shit with holiday makers from around the world, dogged curio sellers and anyone else trying to sell me a trip to a nearby island!

I was enthioasticaly telling someone about our trip, but he obviously did not me believe me. Definitely time to move on, I’ll say, before all my money is gone and people think we’re just making this up!

We biked down to Uluwatu Beach, one of the most famous surfing spots in Bali if not in the world. There was no accommodation at the surfing point, but most accommodation places where scattered along the hilly roads in the vicinity. We only stayed one night and decided to go back to Kuta, while still waiting to hear from the Australian Embassy.

Back in Kuta we found a better room at Sari Bali, lovely with balcony and pool. We lived in luxury, eating more pizzas and of course we also drank a few beers.

29 July - Kuta – Padang Bai - 61km
At long last we left the touristy area of Kuta and headed for Denpassar to pick up our passports at the application centre. We were eager to see if the visas had been granted and were rather relieved to see that a 3-month visa was securely pasted in our passports.

We headed off to Padang Bai to get a ferry for Lombok as we still had until 11th August left on our visas for Indonesia. We bought our flight tickets from Bali to Darwin for 10th August and could now relax and explore Lombok until it was time to leave Indonesia.

Bali is a smaller island than expected and the roads are good and scenic. So all in all an enjoyable ride with once again plenty of Balinese Hindu temples and shrines. Padang Bai is not only a ferry port but quite an enjoyable little village, with a small touristy sea-front where there were plenty of places to stay and eat. We found ourselves a cheap room (complete with sheets which has not been changed for months) and headed out to one of the small restaurants on the “strip”.

Ernest went wild and ordered a steak, big mistake! Although the steak was ordered “rare”, it was still cremated and resembled part of an old shoe sole, just as flat and just as tough (the accompanying French fries looked and tasted exactly like rice). My veg curry was a winner. Stick to the local food, that way you avoid disaster on a plate.

LOMBOK

30 June - Padang Bai, Bali – Senggigi, Lombok - 40km
We took the 10h00 ferry from Bali to Lombok, a 4-hour voyage. From the ferry port it was only 20km to the capital which we bypassed and headed up the coast to Senggigi, famed for its lovely beaches, and the most touristy place on Lombok island. Once there we discovered that most of the accommodation on the beach was too expensive for us - so much for the lovely beach where I envisaged myself in a bamboo hut with the water lapping at my feet.

In order to get out of our dark hole of a room, we headed for a local restaurant instead of cooking for ourselves. Ernest, at long last, had his fish which was not cooked to a frazzle, and was not served with scales and bones! I had fried veg and tofu, which was absolutely delicious; I was pleased we did not cook for ourselves.

31 July - Senggigi – Senaru - 85km
Most rooms in this part of the world come with a simple breakfast and this time it was no different. We ate our banana pancake, drank our coffee and soon were on our way again.

The road was a lot more hilly than expected and we huffed and puffed up the steep little hills and then flew down the other side. The ongoing road works made it even harder and while pushing up one particularly steep gravel hill a kind local motorbike passenger decided to help - but I think he underestimated the weight and soon abandoned me to my own devices.

As often happens the last 10km of the day was straight up the mountain! We were rather happy to reach some accommodation with excellent views of Rinjani (the well known volcano on the island). I was itching to do the trek up to the crater, but we have such little time left, that I gave it a miss.

1 August - Sennaru – Lanbuhan Lombok - 68km
After our usual banana pancake (tourist breakfast) we sped down the hill at breakneck speed, but once that was over it was back to the steep ups and downs again. The scenery was absolutely stunning and friendly kids cheered us on as we battled up the vertical road. A chorus of “Turist, turist” and “hello mister” could be heard as we cycled past small villages. I must admit my greetings seem to fade a bit towards the end of the day.

Shortly after lunch we reached Lanbuhan Lambok, the ferry terminal to Sumbawa island where we had been heading. After some consultation with the locals we decided to stay the night and only cross to the Sumbawa in the morning. We found a cheap “losmen” (local hotel), bought some things at the local market, and eventually Ernest found a decent White Snapper at a good price which he filleted and fried (he managed to eat up the whole thing – for the uninformed, I’m vegetarian).

2 August - Lanbuhan Lombok – Mataram - 75km
Somehow our plans changed during the night. For a number of reasons we decided to stay in Lombok instead of crossing the short strait to Sumbawa. The main reasons being that we both hate back-tracking (which, it seems, would have been necessary), we had no decent map of that island, and we were unsure of where to go once we got there.

We headed back in the direction of the Lombok capital, Mataram. A number of locals had reliably informed us that the main road back to the West coast was flat. Unfortunately (as in many parts of the world), “flat” seems to mean “straight”. We gradually climbed for some time, then some “up and down”, and eventually we had the gradual downhill run-in to the capital. The road was dotted with small villages where the horse and buggy is still in full use and seems to be the main mode of public transport around town. Farmers still plow their rice paddies with oxen and locals are amazed that we’re cycling to the next town! It’s rather useless telling them where we come from as its way off their radar.

In Mataram we found a nice room (recommended by the guide book), where we could unsaddle our own well-used horses. Ernest did his usual pm march around the markets, and as usual he returned with a refreshing local Bintang beer. Now we have a few days left before our flight to Darwin.

3 August - Mataram, Lombok – Padang Bai, Bali - 21km
We were rather slow at packing up. Eventually we had the bikes loaded and ambled along the road to the harbour for the ferry ride back to Bali.

We were just in time for the 12h00 ferry, along with trucks, busses, curio sellers and hawkers, we boarded the ferry for another 4-hour crossing back to Bali. The swell was rather large, making it difficult to walk around so we just settled in on a mat and ate Pop-Mie and selak (snake fruit, which we’d bought earlier along the way).

By the time we were off the ferry it was 16h30 so we once again found a room at the same hotel as the one we’d stayed in before we left for Lombok. It at least appeared that they had changed the sheets, although we were definitely not the first people to sleep on them, they were rather less “used” than on our previous visit.

4 August - Padang Bai – Amed - 56km
I knew we were just passing time in Bali before our flight out, so I was rather lazy to cycle. We eventually made a move and headed east and then north around the island. So off over the hills we went and what a stunning ride it was! Lush and green with rice paddies and temples made the ride a pure pleasure and I was happy to be on the bike. There seems to be frequent celebrations or festivals complete with people all dressed up in traditional clothes, dancers and local bands. This time, however, it could have been a funeral (who knows?).

Once over the eastern hills we sped down to the coast and in no time at all found ourselves in Amed, a very touristy area on the far eastern coast. We found a rather nice room (albeit pricy) on the beach and enjoyed a swim, a beer and some of the local food. Although the beach was a black volcanic pebble beach, the water was crystal clear and lukewarm.

5 August - Amed – Lovina - 85 km
We had a good tail wind for the first part of the ride, so we sped along a fairly flat road along the coast. Ernest bought a fish for supper at the local market down the road – a rather strange looking pike-like creature which he cleaned and deboned for hours. He was quite pleased with the end result, a fine meal of game fish fillet and fried noodles. It seemed to me that so much work should have produced a lot more fish – but then again, I’m very lazy when it comes to cooking food.

6 August - Lovina – Tangarang - 83 km
We had to head over the hills back south towards Denpasar and the airport, and as we’d expected it was a decent climb across this volcanic island. Then, as usual, we flew down the other side. The scenery was however stunning, and we had to stop to photograph the neat terraced rice paddies along the hillsides. We found an affordable room in the big town of Tangarang, about 20km North of Denpasar (not a touristy place, therefore the price was reasonable).

7 August - Tangarang – Kuta - 36 km
The ride to Kuta was fairly quick – with a bit of a rain shower along the way. We cycled around Denpasar city looking for an outdoor store which I’d spotted previously, but I was now unable to find it again. On the road from there to Kuta Beach we passed a good bike shop where Ernest bought a spare rim (cheap) – he wasn’t going to cycle through the Australian Outback without the necessary backup. So we headed on to Kuta, where we found a nice room at Sari Bali where we’d stayed previously. Now it was time to sort out the bags and the bike for our flight to Darwin, trying to reduce the weight as excess baggage can be very expensive.

8/11 August - Kuta – Kuta Airport - 7km
Ernest scrubbed and cleaned the bikes; we did laundry; sorted out our gear; and lazed around before our flight to Darwin Australia. Who the heck worked out the flight time table? Out flight was at 11pm arriving in Darwin at 3am, ghosh, what a time to arrive in a place! (The actual flying time was only 2h30m, but there is a time difference).

I was, however, quite excited to go and experience Australia, a new country and a new culture, after a very long time in Asia.

At last it was “Salamat Tingel dan Tarima Kashi” Indonesia. We cycled the short distance to the airport for our flight to Darwin. Once at the airport we expected to have to box the bikes, but there were no boxes available there. However, we were lucky to meet an extremely helpful Malaysian (Tan C K), who had just bought a bike in Bali - he phoned the bike shop to bring us 2 bike boxes, which they did. They also helped pack the bikes -gosh how nice is that.

The bad part was paying for our overweight baggage which, even after a discount, was still far more than the price of the ticket. Even on board there was no service whatsoever (without paying extra), not even a glass of water of a cup of coffee. Then they still wanted you to clean up and pack the seat-pocket in front of you neatly they way they want it. Well bugger that, they can repack their own brochures. Ha, ha, I suppose, that is what you call a budget airline!

CYCLING JAVA, INDONESIA - Surabaya to Situbondo

2010-07-17T07:01:00.000+02:00

July Makassar – Surabaya - By boat
Eventually it was time to leave. The day dragged on, seemingly for ever. We had to be out of our room at 12h00 but the ship only docked at 3pm and left at 7pm. So, we sat around in cafes, walked around shopping centers and visited the old fort (again). At last we headed for the harbor where we boarded the already overcrowded ship (this was not the origin of the voyage, the ship does a weekly route amongst various Indonesian islands).

We found what we thought was a good spot for ourselves and our bikes in a passage close to the door where we entered the ship. However, soon other passengers also claimed their space in our passage and we could hardly move. The rest of the ship was similar, with people sleeping on the stairs!

The Indonesians must surely be the most tolerant people on earth. With the boat being that overcrowded, everything from going to the (soon blocked and overflowing) toilet to buying something at the shop brings along a lengthy wait in a long que. Those people (unlike me) don’t stand there grumbling, sighing, and rolling their eyes. In fact they remain friendly and chatty as if this is no problem at all. I truly admire them, even when our ship developed engine problems and we were left adrift out in the open seas, they did not lift an eyebrow, - they just carried on eating their instant noodles and playing cards, believing that the problem would be fixed in no time at all!!

In the meantime they seem to be constantly having a shower, and always smell as fresh as daisies; it was just the 2 foreigners being all sweaty and stinky. I have now discovered their secret. Sweet smelling flowers, being sold at the market, is placed in water and is then used for rinsing the body.

10 July - Arriving in Surabaya
A lot of rubbish is generated by so many passengers on a ship (meals and snacks are served in polystyrene containers, and most wrappers, etc. are plastic. This rubbish was collected in large plastic refuse bags and stored at the other end of our passage – but during the night the large side-hatch was opened and all that rubbish was unceremoniously dumped into the ocean!l I could not believe my eyes, after all that careful collection, what’s the point?!

We arrived in Surabaya, at around 22h00 (instead of in the afternoon, due to the engine problems). It took forever to get off the boat with our bikes and bags. We once again cycled in the dark into town to find a hotel. I was more than happy to be off the boat and into fresh air.

11 July - Surabaya
FIFA really did put South Africa (Africa Selatan as they say here) on the world map. Most people have at least now heard of South Africa. My impression is that many people still think SA is just a geographical term referring to the South of Africa. A common reaction is still, “But you are not black?” As someone asked today, “Where in South Africa, …..Nigeria?”

Ernest was still rather ill, so we stayed one more day. He refuses to go see a doctor, and because he keeps on cycling he has now also picked up a cold.

12 /13 July - Surabaya - Pasuruan - 67km
We packed up and cycled the relatively short distance in heavy traffic to Pasuruan. It was a short ride but better than just staying in one place. I seemed to have also picked up Ernest’s cold and suffered from a tight chest, blocked nose and headache. This is so frustrating.

The entire way was very congested, and it felt like we were not getting out of Surabaya. This must be guava country as all along the road they were selling guava and guava juice. A great drink to have as they put loads of ice in it.

In constant traffic we arrived in Pasuruan; found a very comfortable room (my favorite) an outside, ground floor room with a window and a veranda overlooking a central garden.

The next day both Ernest and I were rather sick and feeling worse for wear, we decided to stay in bed and only carry on the followed day.

14 - July Pasuruan – Probolinggo - 41 km
We took it real easy and only cycled the short distance to Probolinggo. Although a busy road, it was nice and flat with a bit of a tail wind, so we arrived early. I was keen to see the nearby volcano and decided to do that the next day.

15 July - Gunung Bromo
I got up in the early hours of the morning, left Ernest in bed, and headed up the mountain to see the sunrise. Gosh, I have not seen so many tourists in a long while. Where did they all come from? I could hardly catch a glimpse of the sunrise with all those people at the view point! It still remained quite a spectacular site. Mount Bromo with its smoking cone and smelling strongly of rotten eggs, is situated in a vast caldera and surrounded by various other craters.

I climbed up to the lip of the crater to see what was down there. Not much just a smoking hollow! Then it was time to head back to the room where Ernest was still semi-comatose under the covers.

16 July - Probolinggo – Situbondo - 102km
A great day on the bike, as the road was flat and there was not as much traffic as expected. The road hugged the coast for most of the way and although not a beachy area, more like mangrove swamps, it was great to be next to the ocean.

I love easy days!! Both I and Ernest felt a lot better so we enjoyed the day, all we needed was a tail wind, but that was asking for too much!

CYCLING SULAWESI - Pare Pare to Makassar

2010-07-09T12:47:00.000+02:00

4 July - Pare Pare – Pancep - 113km

At last we found a flat road in Sulawesi. The road followed the coast and contrary to what I expected, was very scenic and very enjoyable. Hardly any of the places along the way were on our map – the names seemed to be different from those commonly used in the area (a bit confusing at times)

Ernest was still ill, therefore we considered stopping early but there was not much (or nice) along the way so we carried on to where we found a comfortable room. Once again, I expect, it was a place where they rent rooms by the hour but it was cheap and the people friendly enough.

5-8 Jul - Pancep – Makassar - 56km
An easy and short ride brought us to Makassar with its heavy traffic and congested streets. We found a good old backpackers hostel right in the centre of town where we off loaded the bikes. We soon found out that we would have to wait 5 days for the next boat back to Surabaya (Java) - gee that is a long time to sit around!

While waiting for the boat we visited the old fort and took bicycle rickshaws around town, visiting all there is to see in Makassar.

CYCLING SULAWESI - Pare Pare to Tana Toraja to Pare Pare

2010-07-03T10:32:00.003+02:00

24 June 2010
Pare-Pare, Sulawesi

Dead tired we arrived in Pare-Pare at 7h00. Once off the boat we headed straight for a room where we could have a shower and a sleep. First we had to find a bike shop and a new tyre for my bike as a huge bubble appeared along the wall of the tyre. Ernest, still feeling unwell, did all the work and changed my tires for me.

25 June 2010
Pare-Pare – Enrekang
86km

Sulawesi is a twisted orchid shape Island with four mountainous peninsulas sprawling into the sea. Needless to say there is little flat ground around. The road between Pare-Pare and Enrekang is probably the most flat of the lot. We headed north on a gently undulated road until we reached Enrekang.

Both the culture and architecture here seems to be different to Java and Kalimantan. Traditional wooden houses lined the road, orchids seemly growing wild along the road and amazed and friendly locals are keen to inspect us as soon as we stop. At every stop they appear from nowhere and have no shame in staring at and even touching us (they must wonder what a white skin feels like).

26 June 2010
Enrekang – Makale
80km

Gosh what an uphill day it was. We climbed up to the highlands with stunning views of the valleys and rivers far below us. It was a rather slow day as we stopped numerous times for water and to admire the views and the interesting traditional houses along the way. Once we reached the area of Tana Toraja things became even more interesting.

Traditional houses with boat shaped roofs, rising in front and at the back, is a common site, most also have a richly decorated barn in front,

Although it was Saturday night, we were lucky this time and found a room in Makale at the 3rd local hotel we tried. Although we were not far from Rantapao (tourist centre of Tana Toraja), it was getting late and we were rather tired (Ernest was still suffering from the illness which he picked up in Borneo).

27/28/29 June 2010
Makale – Rantapao
24km

It was a short and easy ride to Rantapoa. We took the opportunity to stop at Londa, a small village with some fascinating burial caves. One can even go inside the caves where old coffins are scattered around, exposing skulls and bones. Very gory, how can these people find any rest? Above the cave is a balcony with a row of tau tau (life size carved wooden replicas of the dead) sitting all dressed up in fresh clothes watching their graves. We found more caves at Lemo where tau tau is sitting high up on a sheer cliff face.

Once we reached Rantepao, we booked into a rather expensive but comfortable hotel, in fact we stayed for 2 nights, doing nothing just laying around and watching football on TV. (Aslo waiting for Ernest to recover from his illness).

30 June 2010
Rantepao – Palopo
65km

Another remarkable day on the road. We cycled through more authentic villages with colourful rice barns. At last we reached the long awaited downhill. The road was in rather poor condition and washed away in many places, parts so narrow that I wondered how the trucks and busses make it past those detours. Thick clouds and rain hung over the mountain top and made visibility rather poor as we descended down the mountain. We reached the town of Palopo fairly early in the pm, and booked into a room close to the central market.

1 July 2010
Palopo – Larompong
81km

At last we reached a level road! (only slightly up and down at times). What a pleasure it was to cycle along and just enjoy the ride. We could see all kinds of produce being dried along the road. The whole range was there, coco beans, coffee beans, fish, rice, sea weed, vanilla and the ever present cloves. The smell of cloves will now probably forever remind me of Indonesia.

We spotted a Hotel sign indicating a beach hotel, and booked into what was once a very nice resort hotel – right on the warm tropical ocean -but it has since gone to the dogs. The hotel is situated right on the ocean with all the facilities, but no one there. The facilities were not what it used to be but the location was fantastic. There was a small fridge and TV in the room - and despite the arrangement of satalite dishes there was only one channel on TV. (I later found the TV remote in the bed). Soon the word must have gotten out that two foreigners were in their midst, and the townsfolk arrived to come and have a look while we were still unpacking outside.

2 July 2010
Larompong - Sidenreng
123km

Another excellent day on the road, gently undulated and with nice views. We picked up a bit of a tail wind and carried on cycling past more colourful villages. The Indonesians do like color - from bright pink curtains to luminous green school tracksuits.

Just as we departed from one of our water stops, Ernest snapped his chain but fixed it in no time. In the meantime the lady from the house served coffee and cake. Kids arrived to check us out, and although shy they’re not timid. They just come to have a closer look at the two strangers.

The soccer world cup has really put South Africa on the map. Most people now have heard of South Africa, although they still find it amazing that we are white. When they hear where we from, they spontaneously brake into the “Wave your flag” song. How fantastic is that! I must admit it is a rather catchy tune.

3 July 2010
Sidenreng - Pare Pare
31km

After a breakfast of fried rice and chilies, there was no doubt that heartburn was going to set in soon. Ernest (still suffering from his mysterious illness which he picked up in Borneo) now seems to have a chest infection as well. He wisely decided not to cycle on to Makassar but to take a day’s rest in Pare Pare.

CYCLING KALIMANTAN, BORNEO - Balikpapan to Samarinda

2010-07-03T10:28:00.001+02:00

14/15 June 2010
Balikpapan

We moved to another hotel, closer to the centre and one offering better accommodation at the same price. My knees were sore from cycling up all those hills, but nothing a couple of anti-inflammatories and a few days rest can’t sort out. We even had a shower with hot water in our room, which made us stay another day and enjoy the luxury. We washed our clothes, washed our hair, scrubbed our bodies and just enjoyed the luxury of an air-con room.

16/17 June 2010
Balikpapan – Loa Janan – Samarinda
139km

Time had come to move on and we headed further North towards Samarinda. The road continued to be extremely hilly. It was also slightly further than expected. By the time it got dark, I insisted we find a room as I had enough of struggling in the dark up hills and trying to find a room in heavy traffic (my pet hate). So we stayed over in an overpriced crumby room in the town of Loa Janan, and cycled the remaining 13 km into Samarinda city the following morning. There we booked into a local favorite hotel close to shops and the central basar.

We also took a walk to the harbor to enquire about ferries to Sulawesi. However, before leaving Borneo we plan to explore the interior by boat, as roads appear to be non-existent and the best way to see the interior seems to be by river.

I found out to my horror that our digs also came with lice on the bed. I woke the following morning bitten to pieces and itching like hell!!

18 June 2010
Samarinda

We conveniently found a guide to take us to the interior (they seem to frequent the hotels on the hunt for tourist). I liked the guy so we arranged with him to take us inland along the water ways. I’m sure that we could have done this quite easily independently, but what the hell let’s do the touristy thing for once.

19 June 2010

Our guide was dead on time at 8h00. We took an ankot to the bus terminus where we boarded a bus to Kota Bandung further up-river, a very bumpy 3-hour ride. There we boarded a small long-tailed boat, which was not much more than a canoe with an engine. It fortunately came with a canopy to keep the worst of the sun off us. The engine sits on the back of the boat, and has a long direct drive shaft to the propeller - a rather noisy affair. The engine spattered and roared - reminding me of our disastrous crossing from Thailand to Myanmar where the engine blew up.

Soon we left the busy waterways around the town and found ourselves on a large lake resembling an ocean. The colors reminded me of the Antarctic, whites and blues abound as we zooted across the lake. After about 2 hours we reached a tiny village where we stopped for lunch. The little village is no more than 1 square mile but was fitted with walkways for streets whilst everything ells seemed to be floating alongside it.

At times our boatman had to find his way along channels through the floating grass islands in the lake, which were sometimes so thick that the boat got stuck. We had to as directions from local fishermen a number of times.

A thunder storm was building, and came down with such force that we took shelter at a floating fish-depot. That also gave us the opportunity to buy some huge lake prawn which our guide later cooked for supper.

Our overnight stop was at a village where we stayed in a very comfortable guest house, resembling a longhouse. Longhouses (the traditional accommodation) are not in use anymore and I understand that it is discouraged by government. Traditionally a whole village would live in one longhouse, but apparently it was also a breeding ground for disease. Individual houses are now encouraged but there are still some lovely old longhouses to be seen in some villages.

20 June 2010

After a breakfast of tea and fried noodles we were on the boat again. This time the route was up a river lined by dense forest and small villages. Wooden houses on barges floating along the side of the river are the norm around this part of the world. The toilets are no more that a small outhouse directly over the water with a hole in the floor! From what I could see most of these villages are fishing villages and people don’t seem to do much more than fish, wash, and clean. I just wonder if kids don’t drown in hordes??

We even spotted some long-nosed proboscis monkeys along the way. All kinds of fishing methods are being employed, from fish traps to Chinese fishing nets, but still there seems to be plenty of fish around.

The villages along the way seemed to be well organized (albeit floating and with no connecting road). They have their petrol station, shops, furniture stores, schools, etc all floating on barges or on high stilts.

Women could be seen going about their daily business with faces speared with white cream. The purpose of which is still unknown to me. Babies were being rocked viciously in small hammocks and older kids were, seemingly, constantly playing in the river.

In the next small village I eventually found the women making the face masks. A concoction of leaves and flour. This is then rolled into small bolls and dried in the sun. She keenly gave me some (which I still have to try out).

Back in our guesthouse we ate the rest of the prawn, tempe (something like tofu, thinly sliced and fried) and noodles, washed down with some more tea.

I could still not stop itching, no lice this time just hordes of mosquitoes! I was fairly lumpy by then. Fortunately the power come on in the evening and stayed on until the morning, so one can at least have the use of a fan during the night.

21 June 2010

It was time to head back to Samarinda. First I had to take a quick peep at the traditional healer’s house. It was rather colorful and quite busy, so it seems that people make use of the local healer fairly regularly. His drumming and chanting could be heard throughout the night.

Our boatman was ready and waiting for us and we headed back the same way we came. Although there was not a huge amount of wild life around there were still a fair amount of bird life, there were colorful kingfishers, plenty of other water birds and even a huge maribu stork or two.

I must admit that the toilets here are something to get use to. Not only is it just wooden structures over the water with a hole in the floor, people wash themselves, do their laundry and swim right at the door of the toilet. Best not to think about it, just squat and do your thing. Good thing they do not use toilet paper around here. The worst is that you still have to wash your ass with water scooped from that very same hole!! Gosh, I guess that is way too much information for most people.

22 June 2010
Samarinda

We bought our boat tickets for our trip to Sulawesi, which appears to leave every Wednesday. I anticipate another long boat ride with minimal facilities. Judging by the way they were selling tickets left right and centre. I’m sure they have no idea of how many tickets they have sold. We’ll wait and see what the boat is like.

Ernest was sick and stayed in bed all day, so even if there was another boat we could not leave.

23 June 2010
Samarinda, Kalimantan – Pare-Pare, Sulawesi

According to the ticket the boat would leave at 11h00, but it was 14h00 before we finally left. People streamed onto the boat and we were packed in like sardines. Rumor had it that there were 4 000 people on the boat (which I could believe), licensed to carry 970 people. There was not even enough space for us to roll out our sleeping mats. Eventually we opted for the open deck, but even there it was totally packed with people coming out to escape the stuffy interior. Hawkers still managed to get thru to sell all kinds of snacks and trinkets; how they managed I don’t know. You know you in for a hot and stuffy ride if the hawkers peddle fans at only R3.00.

We waited for the mullah to call the people to the mosque (on every ship around here) and took the opportunity to roll out our mats on deck; at last we could stretch our legs!

As if that was not enough a fierce wind came up and soon we sailed through a storm. It rained, the swell was rather large and the boat pitched and the people puked! Ugggg … there was no chance of going inside as by now it was even more packed inside and there was not even standing space. We wrapped ourselves in our ground sheets and waited out the storm on deck.

The problem with such an overloaded boat is that the facilities are not designed to handle so many people. People puked and had a pee where ever they could squat! What a trip we had.

CYCLING KALIMANTAN, BORNEO - Banjarmasin - Balikpapan

2010-06-14T14:01:00.004+02:00

4 June 2010
Surabaya - Banjarmasin

Twenty-two hours after sailing out of Surabaya we docked at the river port of Banjarmasin. We only had to cycle a few k’s into the city, and although it was dark we had no trouble finding our way and booked into one of the budget hotels. It was immediately apparent that it was going to be even hotter and more humid in Borneo than in Java. The last part of the ferry trip to Banjarmasin was up a large river, and from the ship one could see many wooden stilted houses over the water along the riverbanks.

5 June 2020
Banjarmasin

I felt absolutely awful and spent the best part of the day lying in the room under the (not so effective) fan. It was boiling hot and the humidity was extremely high, just what one can expect being so close to the equator. Ernest found some tablets for my nausea which seemed to work quite well and by the evening I felt a whole lot better. We decided to stay another day, and I arranged an early morning river trip with Ahmed, a local guide.

6 June 2010
Banjarmasin

We were woken by our guide at 5 am (we hadn’t adjusted our watches to Borneo time – an hour earlier than Java). After cruising up rivers and canals in an open slow-boat we arrived at the very colorful floating market. We bought some fruit from the boat vendors, and on the return trip we stopped at the riverside “old market” for vege’s and made a nice potato salad that evening. (I still could not stomach any fried stuff). The markets are fascinating and a quick glimpse into the daily life of the local people.

Banjarmasin is a city with a maze of rivers and canals, and much of the population spend life in the stilted houses lining the banks. The waterways are not just for transport, but also serve as a toilet and a bath (swimming, laundry, and dishes are all done in the same water). Then they still fish in the river, gosh, I hope they don’t drink that water as well!! That sure will be enough to kill a person. The people are incredibly friendly and shout, scream and point us out to their kids, as we pass by. At times I felt as out of place here as an urang-utang would be on the streets of Cape Town.

7 June 2010
Banjarmasin – Margasarihilir
81km

We decided not to take the main road, and left Banjarmasin along a narrow paved road following a canal with plenty of local life. In contrast to our suspect map, the road abruptly turned into a small gravel road which ran along rivers and canals and rice paddies. We could tell that there have definitely not been many tourists in this part of the world, as people seemed rather apprehensive of us.

The mother of all storms was building up around us, and our road had deteriorated to a footpath with no shelter in sight. Fortunately, just as the storm broke we reached the entrance road to a coal mine and sheltered in the security hut, with coal dust from the overhead conveyer belt showering down together with the driving rain. Later, in light rain, we proceeded along the unpaved mining road which soon ended. Before we knew it we were back amongst the rice paddies, and the rain had turned the track into an impossible clay pit. Slipping from side to side, my bike and feet were soon jammed up with the thick sticky clay. Pushing the bike was also impossible, and I ended up dragging the bike along, falling and slipping around in the process.

It seemed like an eternity before we reached a canal where a ferry took us across, and we were hopeful that conditions would be better on the far side. The locals helped us slide the bikes onto the ferry, and then helped us clean off the worst of the clay. As it was getting rather late we considered camping right there, but it was still raining and there was no shelter or dry land around (besides that, the mosquito’s were eating us alive. By the time we’d made up our minds to move on it was dark, and the friendly locals helped push us off through the clay for the first km or so (bikes caked with clay again!). By then the path had improved to simple mud, stones, and potholes, so we could cycle to some extent. It was tricky cycling in the dark and the rain I was lucky to have only one serious fall (luckily I didn’t break my arm again!).

A lifetime later 2 rather soaked and muddy foreigners slunk into the small town of Margasarihillir – much to the surprise of the locals. After looking around for a while we went to seek shelter in the (deserted!) police station. After a long while the police returned from their patrol (or dinner?), and allowed us to camp in their derelict back rooms. In fact, it took a while to explain to the police that all we wanted was a place to sleep (not a lift to the bus sation, or a meal, etc.). Ernest worked until well after midnight to wash the worst of the muck off the bikes.

8 June 2010
Margasaribilir – Kandangan
54km

At last we were on a tarred road again, and I have never been happier. We cycled along the scenic narrow road, past villages and along a river to reach the small city of Rantau. What a fascinating country this is. We carried on past Rantau until we reached Kandangan were we found a hotel. I was in desperate need of a bath, and we spent the afternoon doing laundry, and cleaning equipment.

Now the skin is coming of the palms of my hands, gosh what’s next? It looks to awful, like athletes foot on one’s hands, this is so gross!!

9 June 2010
Kandangan – Tanjung
97km

Breakfast seems to be included in the room rate – often something like fried rice and a boiled egg. Taking the weather into account it’s no surprise that duck eggs are the order of the day here.

In a constant drizzle we cycled along, and I was happy that we were on a hard topped road. Anything is better than that mud!

10 June 2010
Tanjung – Muarakomam
92km

Holy Mackerel, those hills were steep. It just went straight up and straight down, what happened to good old zig zags? On top of every hill I first had to stop and get my breath back, then it was straight down and up again. Along the way we were offered coffee by locals at a roadside stall where we stopped for a rest – coffee was obviously being grown in this hilly area, and locals were drying the beans at the roadside.

We reached Muarakomam at around 16h30. It was a tiny village with just a few houses on either side of the road, a mosque and a market. We could not believe it when we spotted a penginapan (small local hotel). They sure knew that they had a monopoly as the price was rather steep for such basic accommodation.

11 June 2010
Muarakomam - Kuaro
57km

Now that was a hard day! Gosh, it’s not that the hills are that long, only about 500m or so. But the gradient is insane, then straight down again, across a river and straight up again. So it went all day until we reached the top of the mountains. We basically fell straight off that mountain and flew downhill at break-neck speed. I was nearly a goner as I flew around a corner at high speed, while a truck coming up swerved out for a huge pothole and missed me by mere centimeters. I was a lot more careful after that!

We called it a day when we found a hotel in the small junction town of Kuaro - I desperately needed to rest my weary legs.

12 June 2010
Kuaro – Balikpapan
141 km

I was hoping that the road would flatten out in comparison to the previous days. Although it was not as steep, it was still hilly the whole day. We headed for the coastal city of Balikpapan on the East coast along a “good” road (according to the locals – still bumpy and potholed). As it had been on the previous day, it was hot and humid under a searing sun. I was sure that I lost half my body weight as the sweat just poured out of me!

By late afternoon we’d reached Pananjang on the Southern shore of a large estuary, with Balikpapan on the other side. We decided to take the car ferry across, but realized why many of the locals hire speed boats as the crossing took more than an hour. By the time we cycled off the ferry it was dark, and to our dismay we found that the ferry dock was some distance away from the city. So, we had some fun cycling another 20 km up and down steep hills on a tricky road in the dark, and then through chaotic traffic (every time we asked for directions it was another 5 km!).

By the time we reached town, I was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty – but that was not the end of the ordeal. It was late on Saturday night, and all the hotels in town were full! At last, after 10 pm we found a place, but had to wait for a while until the hourly customers had left and the room could be cleaned! What a long, long day it had been, and I was never happier to be horizontal – lumpy sagging mattress or not!

13 June 2010
Balikpapan.

I wonder if people in SA realize just how much they are in the eye of the world right now. With the FIFA world cup their every move is watched across the globe. Here I am in Borneo and the streets are jam packed with traffic, going to the local park where a huge big screen is showing the football. It’s festive and food stalls are lining the streets, they should have blocked the road, as it was impossible to get through. Everywhere else in the city, people are sitting on the pavement in front of cafés and at local eateries, cheering on their chosen team on TV.

CYCLING JAVA, INDONESIA - Kebumen to Surabaya

2010-06-05T07:57:00.007+02:00

26 May 2010
Kebumen – Borobudur
87km

We were up and going before 8h00 again, ghosh what’s happening? It was a rather overcast day and soon it started raining, not that it’s a big problem – it’s nice to be cooled down a bit.

As we approached Borobudur the road became more hilly as we crossed over the flanks of two volcanoes. Jeepers, those hills were steep, but I huffed and puffed and made it to the top. From the turn-off to Borobudur it was a nice downhill run into the village where we planned to visit the well-known Buddhist temple on the following day. We had to search for a room in the pouring rain, as accommodation was hard to find due to the annual Buddhist Waisak Festival. Borobudur is the largest Buddhist temple in the world, and during this festival thousands of pilgrims and monks visit the site to celebrate the birth of Buddha and his teachings. Because the site is a popular tourist destination, it inevitably comes with all the tourist paraphernalia one can expect of such a place.

27 May 2010
Borobudur

We were up early to visit the temple. Borobudur is an excellent example of Java’s Buddhist heyday. Constructed in the early part of the 9th century the temple was later abandoned with the decline of Buddhism in the area, and covered in volcanic ash by an eruption in 1006. The buildings were rediscovered in 1814 by Raffels, then governor of Java. To Buddhists the temple is a symbol of awakening and of a human’s journey to enlightenment. It sits on top of a small hill and overlooks the surrounding valleys and hills. From here one can also see the two nearby volcanoes, “Sumbing” and “Gunung Merapi” which appears in a near state of eruption (smoke spewing from the top and all - I’d better just behave until I’m out of here!).

Soon, however, hordes of giggling school kids arrived, (“small students” as the gatekeeper referred to them) all wanting to have pictures taken with me, and wanting autographs in their books which they apparently brought with especially for that purpose. I did the best I could, but there were just too many of them! So with the arrival of the heat and the school kids we retread back to our room for a lazy afternoon.

28 May 2010
Borobudur to Prambanan (via Yogyakarta)
71km

Shortly after leaving Borobudur we cycled past the nearby Mendut Temple where more Buddhist celebrations were underway. Police blocked the road off around the temple, but allowed as through on the bikes. Monks were chanting at the temple so we just viewed the scene from outside the fence.

I now realized why I thought I was stuck to the road cycling to Borobudur - it was uphill!! So it was a relatively short downhill run all the way into Yogyakarta city. Once there we discovered that there was not room for a mouse in town - everything was jam packed full, due to the celebrations. We cycled around for hours looking for room, but eventually we decided to head out in the direction of Solo, our next destination. Within about an hour we passed the temples of Prambanan, and fortunately we found a cheap room close by just before the rain came down. I decided to have a look at the temples the following morning - these seemed to be Hindu temples, hence the fact that we found accommodation so easily.

29/30 May 2010
Prambanan – Solo
51km

First thing in the morning I went to visit the Prambanan temple site – reputedly the largest and most beautiful Hindu temples in Java, built in the 9th century and mysteriously abandoned just after completion. Although seriously damaged by the 2006 earthquake, I found the temples to be very impressive. Then it was back on the bike.

It was a fairly flat ride into Solo, known as a very conservative city. It can’t be all that conservative as Ernest managed to find not only a beer, but also a tin of ham. The local Moslems probably think that he is going straight to Hell!

The next morning we decided to stay one more day. I handed in my laundry and we walked around town. We also bought some new dry bags at an outdoor store, at a fraction of the price we would pay for it in SA. Food for myself was more difficult to find as everything I saw had meat or egg in it. Eventually I ordered a spring roll at the hostel where we stayed and instead of a spring roll, got an omelette with veg inside. Ernest had to once again eat my poor order, and that after he already had to eat my breakfast omelette which came included in the room price. (I think he’s had enough of omelettes for a while).

31 May 2010
Solo – Caruban
119km

After Ernest had 2 omelettes for breakfast (mine and his), we headed in the direction of Surabaya and found the road fairly smooth and flat. That also meant that the buses and trucks were going ten to a dozen and we had to be careful not to become road-kill in the process.

At last it seemed that we were (at times) out of the built-up areas and among some farmlands for a change. Cassava, rice and sugarcane were being grown in large quantities. All kinds of things were being sold next to the road, including tiny monkeys, fancy chickens, and colorful song-birds in cages.

I nearly got bitten by a snake which had been run over, and in defence it was striking out wildly in all directions. I did not spot it until the last moment, so I swerved away in a panic and nearly got run over by a truck myself -sjoe, that was close!

Otherwise it was a good day on the road and we put in a full days cycling, something we haven’t done in a while. Around 5 pm we pulled into the small town of Caruban where there was no problem finding a bed, food, and a beer - what more can I ask for?

1/2 June 2010
Caruban – Surabaya
159km

We were on the road early and headed in the direction of Surabaya, and until we reached the outskirts of the city we made good time as the road was fairly flat and not too congested. However, once we reached Surabaya the traffic became horrendous, and the last 15 k’s into town took hours - the last thing I feel like after such a long day on the road! (When Ernest decides what the destination is for the day, then there is no stopping him - and me like a small dog following in his wake, tongue hanging out and huffing and puffing for 160 km!). By the time we found a budget room close to the city centre it had been dark for some time, and I was totally buggered. I had a quick wash out of the mandi and then passed out on the bed.

The following morning we went to enquire about a boat to Kalimantan, the Indonesian part of Borneo. The first shipping company wouldn’t allow us to take the bikes along, so after I schlepped all the way to the head office of another company I was informed that the ticket office was elsewhere. We decided to leave it at that for the day, and rather cycle to the ticket office the following morning.

That evening a huge explosion rocked our street, scattering building rubble and broken glass everywhere – I nearly shat myself! The power was cut, and there was general pandemonium around the place with people running and sirens, etc. There seemed to be a strong military presence which made me think that it was something more sinister than just an accident. (Later I discovered that it was an accident in a gas-storage warehouse – it was even on the TV news, and apparently 3 people died).

3/4 June 2010
Surabaya – Borneo
By ship

In the morning we packed up and cycled to the harbour where the friendly security guard at the gate went to the shipping office by motorbike to buy our tickets for us. I wasn’t feeling well, and as the boarding time was only later that afternoon, I parked myself under the nearest tree while Ernest went back to town in search of an Internet cafe and snacks for the trip.

Judging by the ticket price (R160 SA for a 24h00-trip) it sure was not going to be a cruise liner. I was suffering from severe diarrhea and certainly wasn’t looking forward to spending a long time on a crowded boat with a lack of toilets. The ticket included 6 meal vouchers so it seemed that they were expecting us to be on the boat for significantly longer than the predicted 20 to 24-hours. The fact that we only left at 20h00 instead of 17h00 made me wonder if we were going to need all those vouchers. However, once on board the friendly crew gave us an option to upgrade to a private cabin for a mere R40 each - what a bargain! (I quickly dug in my wallet en coughed up the money). There we were like two comfy rich tourists, even having meals served in the cabin while the rest of the rabble had to stand in que’s! The ship was a large car-ferry, so we could cycle on board and store our bikes below decks with the trucks and cars and motorbikes (R60 per bike).

Twenty-two hours after sailing out of Surabaya we docked at the river port of Banjarmasin. We only had to cycle a few k’s into the city, and although it was dark we had no trouble finding our way and booked into one of the budget hotels. It was immediately apparent that it was going to be even hotter and more humid in Borneo than in Java. The last part of the ferry trip to Banjarmasin was up a large river, and from the ship one could see that a large part of the population lives in wooden stilted houses over the water along the riverbanks.

CYCLING JAVA, INDONESIA - Bandung to Kebumen

2010-05-27T11:03:00.006+02:00

14 May 2010
Bandung – Cicalengka
46km

Ooh it was so good to be on the bike at last. First we cycled to the bike shop and had the gears on my bike sorted out, Ernest also got a new front derailleur, and after everything was fitted it was 12h30. We headed south-east along a terribly busy road, complete with traffic jams, busses, trucks, motorbikes and scooters. Not even on the bike could we always get past.

By 4.30 we did a mere 46km, dark clouds started heading our way and with big drops of rain falling we kept our eyes peeled for a room. We pulled into roadside village (in Java the whole roadside is a village) and asked around for a room. By the time we found a room we’d actually started heading back in the direction of Bandung. The room came without windows, a solid cover of mould on walls and ceiling, and a pile of cigarette butts swept into a corner. Rooms were obviously let by the hour as there was a constant coming and going of visitors, and judging from the sounds coming from the other rooms I think they all had a pretty good time.

With rain pelting down on the tin roof we cooked our noodles and drank a local “Bintang” or two.

15 May 2010
Cicalengka – Tasik Malaya
73km

In the morning I was more than happy to be out of our cell and back on the road again. Things went well enough until we started climbing over the mountains when I could feel that I hadn’t been cycling for 6 weeks – Gosh, how quickly one looses fitness. In the afternoon the usual rain-storm arrived, driving us to seek shelter at a petrol station. After an hour the worst of the rain was over, but it was still twilight and raining, with parts of the road more like a river. I felt that this was a dangerous situation as we were not very visible, the road was narrow with flooded potholes, and the traffic was extremely heavy (as usual in Java).

I was becoming concerned about the gathering dark, but fortunately about 10 k’s before Tasik Malaya town Ernest spotted a hotel - there was no argument about pulling in there (fortunately the rooms were cheap and not too bad).

17 May 2010
Tasik Malaya – Tasik city
16 km

We cycled the short distance into the city centre, drew some money and then decided to stay for the day. Good thing too, as we did some laundry, high time as well, as I’ve been wearing almost the same clothes since leaving Cape Town 5 days ago. 18 May2010
Tasik Malaya – Cipatujah
78km

I was getting back into my stride and felt more at home on the bike and on the road than on the previous two days. We headed south on a much smaller and more quiet road to the small seaside village of Cipatujah. Although a hilly road, the scenery was sublime. We pedaled past small villages, rice paddies and dense forested areas. Once again we had to take shelter from the rain for a while, but for most of the afternoon it wasn’t much more than a drizzle. What a pleasure it was to cycle in the rain, at least it helps to keep one cool!

Soon we arrived in Cipatujah and found ourselves a nice little local hotel room close to the beach. We had hardly unloaded the bikes and the landlady brought us a bunch of bananas and later 2 huge plates of fried rice accompanied by the usual omelette, prawn crackers and slices of cucumber. At first we thought we were the only visitors in the village but soon a bunch of travelling salesmen (on motorbikes) arrived - that’s when you know that you’re staying in a local joint.

Later, just as we were nicely settled in, the earth started to rumble and shake! Clothes started swinging on the wall, the standing fan teetered back and forth, the water in the bathroom mandi (tank) was sloshing around, and even the floor tiles were moving back and forth!! Ernest and I looked at each other wide-eyed and I quickly put my shoes back on, just in case I had to run from our not so strong looking room (or a tsunami).

We had hardly calmed down again and a whole bunch of local policemen arrived (apparently to check our visas, etc.). They were obviously inquisitive about us and wanted to chat, but the language barrier was a problem and they didn’t stay long - at last we could go to bed.

19 May 2010
Cipatujah – Batu Karas
76km

We left our fragile-looking accommodation and headed towards Pangandaran, the next biggish place on our map. We followed the smallest of coastal roads past fishing villages and more rice paddies. The road was mostly level as we followed the coast, what a pleasure it was! Some days, bicycle touring can be so much fun!

We took our time and turned off the main road. In the process we found the fishing village of Batu Karas, and decided to stay the night. The place is popular with tourists as it has a great beach and good surf as well. There is a range of accommodation, some fancy hotels and also basic “surfer dorms”. We found a nice cheap place attached to one of the beach restaurants, and it was even worth eating there instead of cooking our own food.

20 May 2010
Batu Karas – Pangandaran
34km

A short ride into Pangandaran,, apparently the main beach resort on Java island. There’s a lovely beach, hundreds of cheap hotels, a peninsula with nature reserve up the road, and not much else. Ernest was complaining of a sore backside, so we booked into a room and did lots of exciting things such as the laundry! We also spent the next day in Pangandaran, and while Ernest fiddled with equipment I spent some time on the beach - lukewarm water and good waves is not something I complain about. That evening after supper I started feeling nauseous and puked my lungs out all night. Although I felt a million times better in the morning, I was weak so we stayed on another 2 days. The first day I mostly spent sleeping, and on the second day I went to the bookshop and spent the rest of the day reading The Shining Mountain by Peter Boardman. I love mountaineering books and find our personalities and justification for what we’re doing scarily similar. It’s interesting to read that he had as much difficulty in explaining to people why he climbed, than what we have explaining why we’re cycling.

24 May 2010
Pangandaran – Cilacap
90km

There were heavy thunderstorms during the night, and in the morning it was still raining. At first we couldn’t decide whether to move on or not, but by mid-day the weather had cleared and we were eventually on the road. It was a rather bumpy road, but that also meant not so many vehicles. We followed this tiny road over hills, past rice paddies and coconut groves, and through villages until we reached the large town of Cilacap. It was rather late and half dark by the time we found a reasonable room for the night.

With my eyes closed under the rickety fan, in the dead of the night, I sensed an unnerving presence. Then I felt it, something running over my bare stomach! The first shot missed, but I was quicker on the second take – and that poor cockroach didn’t know what hit him! Ooh, the pleasures of the tropics!

25 May 2010
Cilacap – Kebumen
90km

We got woken up with a tray of breakfast at 6-30. The breakfast consisted of a teenaged chicken thigh (with claw still attached), sticky rice, and sambals. No need to say Ernest had both plates, but was convinced that it had already been prepared the previous day.

We left by 8 o’clock (a record for us in recent times!), and continued East along the road. During the course of the day we found ourselves back on a main road, and in Java that means the road was jam-packed with buses, trucks and scooters. I have to remind myself that there are 130 million people living on this island of 132 000 square kilometers - the most populated island in the world. The roads are also rather narrow and often in poor condition – everything but a relaxing ride.

It was still fairly early in the afternoon when we arrived at Kebumen, a large town about half-way between Cilacap and Yogyacarta. Due to the early start we’d had enough for the day, and had no trouble finding a reasonable room. In some of the more conservative Indonesian towns it is, however, rather difficult to find a beer with which to relax during the evening – and this town is one of those places.

CYCLING JAVA, INDONESIA - Jakarta to Bandung

2010-05-26T13:14:00.005+02:00

29/30 March 2010
Jakarta – Bogor
57km

We seemed to be cycling less and less. The road was congested the entire way from Jakarta to Bogor. Bogor is world renowned for its historical botanical gardens and we could hardly cycle past without a visit to the park. We found accommodation close by at Puri Bali Homestay for a reasonable price and with lovely old spacious rooms. We spent the following day exploring the gardens - and what an impressive haven it was.

31 March 2010
Bogor – Cibodas

We climbed up the volcanic slopes to the Puncak Pass, which took the best part of the day but offered stunning views of the surrounding mountains and tea plantations. Ernest was still suffering from bronchitis and on the downhill it started raining, so we started looking out for a roadside room.

Disaster! As I went up a wet concrete ramp to check on a room I slipped and fell. I immediately knew something was seriously wrong as I went into spasms and couldn’t stop shaking. I sensed that Ernest was irritated by my clumsiness but he still went with me (by taxi) in search of medical assistance. X-rays revealed a dislocated shoulder and two fractures, but the local hospital wasn’t equipped for further treatment so they referred me to a specialist in Cianjur about 20km away. Off we went in another minivan but the doctor was out of town and we made an appointment for the following afternoon.

So I spent an uncomfortable night back in the “disaster-zone room” (which we’d been forced to rent), sucking on pain-killers.

1 April 2010
Cibodas – Cianjur
By minivan

I managed to charter a local minivan to take me, the bike and the bags to the larger town of Cianjur, where I had an appointment with the specialist. All the effort was in vain, as I was again referred to doctors in the city of Bandung about 65 km away. What a schlep, I just hate things like this! Cycling was out of the question, so all I could do was take more pain-killers and go to bed.

As if I didn’t have enough problems, earlier in the day my credit card got stuck in the ATM. Fortunately it happened at a bank which was still open, but it was still a big rigmarole getting the card back – obviously not my week!!

2 April 2010
Cianjur – Bandung
By minivan

It is such a mission to organize things if you don’t speak the language. When I enquired about a minivan to Bandung the hotel staff thought I wanted to exchange money!? In the end I flagged down a minivan, negotiated a fee and set off for Bandung. I could not believe Easter weekend was such a big event in Indonesia (the most populous Moslem country in the world), as hotels were fully booked and one could only get a room at prime rates. There wasn’t much else to do but pay the price and sms Ernest where to find me (he was still following by bicycle).

By this time my arm had swollen to double its normal size and it was on fire. I went to a reputable private hospital in the city, just to discover that there was little they could do but put the arm in a sling and give more painkillers and anti-inflammatory medicine. At least the painkillers seemed to working better than the stuff I had up to then.

3 April 2010
Bandung

There was no doubt that I would not be able to cycle for some time, so I had to make a quick plan. I decided to leave all my belongings at the hotel and fly back to South Africa for a month, while waiting for the silly arm to mend. Fortunately there was a travel agent directly next to where we stayed and in no time at all I was bound for South Africa (albeit a huge credit card overdraft). I bought Ernest a plane ticket as well, but he didn’t seem all that pleased about it (Was it because his trip was being put on hold?) Whatever the reason, he was rather miserable.

4 April
Bandung – Jakarta
By bus

It was another mission just getting to Jakarta airport from Bandung (chartered minivan with bikes from hotel to bus station plus three hour bus ride to the airport) – all this while I was in constant pain and had a splitting headache as well, not even the medicine seemed to help. On top of that we still had 8 hours to wait for our flight which was at half past midnight. Just to crown it all, I puked 2 airsick-bags full before the plane even took off!! Now that is what I call “things not going to plan”.

5 April
Jakarta – Cape Town, South Africa
By plane

Wow, what a long, long day it was. Hours and hours in the air – via Dubai (that’s what happens if you live at the Southern tip of Africa) eventually we arrived in Cape Town where I spent just as many hours chatting to my sisters while drinking numerous glasses of wine. I was, however, more that relieved to be off that darn aircraft and snug in a real home, eating my favorite dish (macaroni cheese) of which a huge bowl was awaiting me as I stepped into Karin’s home.

6 April – 11 May 2010
Cape Town

It was party after party, pizzas galore, and after many good bottles of wine it was time to head back to Indonesia and continue where we’d left off. It was great to see my friends and family again, and even after extending our departure for a week, 5 weeks were just not enough to catch up with everyone. It was a concern that my shoulder was not yet completely right - now really, tell me, how long does it take for a bone to grow on?!

CYCLING JAVE, INDONESIA - Cilegong to Jakarta

2010-03-28T13:55:00.002+02:00

21 March 2010
Cilegong– Tangerang
91km

I thought that Sumatra was one long drawn-out village, but Java seems to be one long drawn-out city. Not once did we leave the built-up area, and cycled in traffic all day long. However, my impression is that the traffic is forunately very aware of cyclists.

Saw a guy pedaling down the road with his sewing machine (actually a sewing workshop on wheels). Well, what do they say? “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammad, then Mohammad must go to the mountain”.

It rained on and off all day long and by our third soaking we found a room where we could dry out. Although Tangerang is a large town we had some difficulty finding accommodation, as many hotels were seemingly full. Maybe they just didn’t want two scruffy looking cyclists dripping rain water all over their neatly polished tiles.

22 March 2010
Tangerang – Jakarta
31km

It was hardly a cycle into Jakarta, only 30km and we were there. We picked up a nice tail wind and got blown right into the city centre together with whirling dust clouds, cardboard boxes and plastic bags. The traffic was hectic with thousands of motorbikes and taxis. The one-way streets made it even more frustrating, just as we thought we had the route all planned we had to deviate to “who knows where” because of one-way streets.

Soon enough we found ourselves on Freedom Square and then it was easy to find our way to Jalan Jaksa, the cheap tourist accommodation area. We found a room at Borneo Hostel which was comfortable enough at the price. Ernest seemed to be all hyper-active and washed the bikes and some of his gear, as well as doing some work on his bike (hub and brakes). He was a real busy bee!

23 & 24 March 2010
Jakarta

Donned hat and shades, and in full tourist disguise, we went exploring what is left of the old Dutch city of Batavia. We found only an old town square with one or two well preserved colonial buildings. The rest of the buildings seem to have been hit by some severe natural disaster (floods, earthquakes or is it just old age??) The old Dutch port (still with beautiful wooden fishing vessels, but in rather polluted water) is still operating. Cargo is still being loaded in a rather old fashioned style along rickety gangplanks. Wow, there’s no way you’ll get me to walk on those things.

Just around the corner was the fish market, (which at the best of times is a smelly place) but with dirty water gushing from open sewers, people doing their daily ablutions in full view in the nearby canal, cats and rats having the run of the mill and homeless people squatting seemingly everywhere, this one was a bit more smelly than your everyday fish market. Just outside the fish market we found the old “Uitkyk Toring”, which is now starting to resemble to Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Ernest loves taking local trains and so we did our exploring bit by local train, at Rp1000 (about 80 cents SA) a ticket it’s hardly money at all, but how come it’s Rp1500 coming back? It just makes no sense at all, same train, same route but different price…… weird. (Subsequent experience seems to suggest that you pay to the end of the line, which is further for us on the way back).

25 to 28 March 2010
Jakarta

Scores of Islamic students staged protests outside Jakarta’s parliament against US President Barack Obama’s upcoming visit to the country. We nearly got caught in the whole thing but made a quick u-turn and headed in the opposite direction. The positive side was that the city streets were dead quiet and we could wander around at leisure.

Just to the south of where we’re staying is the modern city of Jakarta, complete with bumper to bumper traffic, modern shopping centres, high-rise buildings etc, etc. It’s however quite easy to get around, whether by bus, train, tuk-tuk, or mini-van.

I can’t believe we’re still here in Jakarta after a week! Ernest came down with a bout of bronchitis, but still kept fiddling with the bikes, and did some repairs to his tent, etc. Seeing that I’m neither domesticated, nor do I know anything about bikes, all I did was lie around, endlessly listening to music - what a pleasure.

CYCLING SUMATRA, INDONESIA - Bandar Lampung to Java

2010-03-20T16:03:00.006+02:00

18 March 2010
Bandar Lampung

The entire morning was spent renewing my visa. Whatever you do, don’t overstay your visa in Indonesia; it came at quite a price. Arie Tours, on Jl Wolter Monginsidi, was kind enough to help me process the application (also at a steep price). Job done!

Walking around I noticed that there was more to Bandar Lampung than expected, big supermarkets, loads of hotels, (which we’d missed coming in on the bike the previous day), a huge local market and even a Carrefour and Pizza Hut around the corner! Uhmmm….. just wondering if I should frequent them.

Traffic was hectic and, like elsewhere in Sumatra, traffic rules are often disregarded. Traffic lights are ignored and so are one-way street signs, making getting around quite challenging.

There is nothing as pleasant as listening to the bucketing rain from the safety of your hotel room. (Ha, ha sorry that was not rain, just the air-con dripping outside the window)

19 March 2010
Bandar Lampung - Kalianda
63km
An easy ride to Kalianda where I thought of taking a boat to Krakatau, but it was a little bit pricy after paying for my visa extension and fine for over stay, so I gave it a miss and rather just spent the rest of the day in the small harbor town of Kalianda.

I’ll just have to do the volcano thing somewhere ells. There will still be plenty of opportunities to do that here in Indonesia.

20 March 2010
Kalianda – Cilegong
46km

Breakfast is often included in the room price, even in cheap rooms. Don’t get all excited now it’s only a plate of fried rice. After breakfast we packed up, loaded the bikes and were on our way to Bakauheni to catch the ferry to Java Island.

Once in Bakauheni we swiftly got directed to the ferry terminal and in no time were on a huge car ferry. It must have been the slow ferry as the crossing to Java Island took 2 hours. Somehow it didn’t seem necessary to buy a ticket for the passage (nobody asked for tickets, and nobody offered to sell any). Can this trip be for free, or did we just miss the ticket office?

The ferry ride came in true Indonesian style complete with Karaoke singers, instant noodles and the ever present deep fried tofu sellers. The fact that the staff were frantically working on one of the engines during the entire trip - bits of engine parts laying everywhere- did not seem to bother anyone. Sea traffic appeared no less hectic than the road traffic with other ships passing dangerously close in front of us (no surprise that the there are many shipping accidents in this region).

Once off the ship at the Merak ferry dock on Java Island, we hit the road in the direction of Jakarta. We only made it about 15 km through the traffic before we found a reasonable hotel in the town of Cilegong, with outside rooms under shady trees.

So came to an end our cycle in Sumatra and it will be interesting to see what Java is like. Was that a level road or did I just imagine it?

CYCLING SUMATRA, INDONESIA - Bengkulu to Bandar Lampung

2010-03-16T13:08:00.009+02:00

8 March 2010
Bengkulu

No, we did not move on, there we still were, we woke to bucketing rain, and decided to stay put.

Flip-flops is definitely the footwear of choice around here, for easy removal when entering shops, houses and lodging, I’m getting fed-up with removing laced shoes, it’s such a hassle.

Sleeping does not always come easily, roosters crowing at all hours of the night, dogs barking, mullahs calling people to prayer endlessly, and rock hard mattresses - not a good recipe for peaceful sleep. What is with the short mirrors, all I can see is my navel, surely no one is that short; uhmmm…… full of complaints, definitely time to move on.

9 March 2010
Bengkulu – Seluma
60km

At last we were on the road again, and what a good day it was. The road was not bad at all and the hills where absent. I did not however, feel very well and struggled along on a day that should have been as easy as pie. Once we reached Seluma we opted for a room and even although it was hardly past lunch time, settled in and I even had a little nap. We walked into town in search of the food carts, with hordes of children in tow. They are just so sweet, a bit wary of us at first, but friendly enough, often chanting “tourist, tourist, tourist” which normally gets the whole town out for a look.

10 March 2010
Seluma – Manna
80km
Another fairly easy day as the hills were not as severe as before. We pedalled quite happily along through small villages, densely forested areas, rice paddies, and the ever present oil palm plantations.

Meeting curious locals normally comes with a barrage of questions. “What’s your name, where you from, how old are you, are you married?” After answering and posing for pictures with them, you’re considered a friend for life.
11 March 2010
Manna – Bintuhan
75km

I was not quite firing on all cylinders but we carried on regardless. As usual it was hot, humid, the hills were steep and the roads were bad!! Kids were cheering us on as we passed through villages, dogs barked at our heels and elderly people looked up in amazement. We dodged potholes, geese, chickens, goats, and water buffalo as we passed through what seemed like an endless village.

We rolled into Bintuhan where the fried food stalls got the better of us. We booked into a room and went shopping, returning with a huge bag of fried snacks - enough to feed the whole of Africa, and if that was not enough we got ourselves a rice meal as well. .

12 March 2010
Bintuhan – Pugung Tampak
82km
The day started deceptively easy as we cycled along the coast. Soon we headed over some of the steepest hills I have yet encountered on this trip. The sign board along the road which indicating the severity of the gradient was no exaggeration! At first I thought it to be a joke and that the board was placed the wrong way round on the pole, but I soon discovered that whoever made that sign was quite serious. We huffed and puffed and had to push our bikes up the endlessly steep hills.

It was supposed to be quite a scenic day (the road runs through a National Park), but I saw nothing just my own sweat dripping on the road. I was never more happy to see the end of a National Park, from where we sped down the hill towards the coast again and landed up in the small village of Pugung Tampak.

Dead tired, we found Cecep, who runs a basic “homestay” and caters for surfers. Cecep’s home is very traditional, built around a courtyard complete with a well, laundry and monkey on a string. We, however, decided to camp behind his house next to the beach, which was maybe not the best option. Soon the entire village surrounded us and I was concerned that the whole crowd was going to come down on my tent. I was aware of torches shining into my tent until the early hours of the morning, as visitors came from far and wide to witness the spectacle. I had hardly fallen asleep and the Imam started singing in the nearby mosque - let me tell you, that man should not quit his day job just yet.

13 March 2010
Pugung Tampak - Krui
37km

I felt tired from the previous day’s mountainous road and was rather reluctant to leave. Ernest was keen to carry on, so we packed up and cycled along the coast. Again it was hilly but nothing like the previous day.

We passed through some small fishing villages with double-storied wooden houses lining the main road. Laundry hanging on fence poles and produce being dried in the sun has become a daily scene. It‘s also not unusual to see the odd bullock cart along the way.

As we reached Krui we opted for a room as I felt weak and unwell. Aaah the pleasure of a room (with fan) where one can close the door and be out of the public eye for a few hours!

14 March 2010
Krui – Bengkunat
87km

At last we had a flat scenic road along the coast!! It lasted for at least 60km but unfortunately came to abrupt halt as we turned inland towards the mountains. What a pity we’d stayed in Krui, as there were some fantastic beach bungalows just about 25km down the road. We just had a quick peek and then it was on the road again past more fishing villages where they were carefully drying tiny fish along the road. The smell of ground coffee and cloves accompanied us all the way. About 20 km paste the tiny village of Bengkunat we found a derelict government office and camped out back beside the banana plantation were we found handy (abandoned?) water well. Later we were almost as amazed as the villagers who appeared from out of the bush, coming to fetch their evening supply of water. In those isolated parts they tend to be a bit shy, and were stopped in their tracks as they came upon the two strange-looking foreigners camping next to their well. After surveying the scene they built up enough courage to fetch their water – eventually there was a whole crowd of them, and some of the children were even demonstrating the English they’d learnt at school (“mother”, “father”, “grandmother”, “grandfather”, etc.).

It was not the most comfortable of nights as first the mozzies feasted on us and then it started raining, we had no option but to crawl into our tents where we lay sweating in our own private sauna. Fortunately we’d cooked and eaten our dinner by that time.

15 March 2010
Bengkunat – Kota Agung
70km

Ernest had one of his very slow mornings packing up, man the guy can drag his heals. It was 9h00 before we got on the road. I could not believe it was another day of serious hills!! Again the road ran through a National Park. I’ve come to the conclusion that National Parks are for hiking not for cycling. We climbed and climbed, higher and higher through a dense rain forest and although it was scenic I did not have the presence of mind to enjoy it. It started raining and the road became slippery and very wet. Once out of the park there was about 10 km of steep downhill, but alas, not to be enjoyed by us. A landslide had covered the road in clay soil, and in the rain it was rather hazardous. Those vehicles which attempted to pass were spinning and skidding in the mud, trucks were sliding into the embankment, but somehow we managed the get through.

The clay clung to our bikes to such an extent that the wheels could not turn and we were forced to stop and clear the worst away with sticks. At least we had one pleasant surprise, as we came upon the town of Kota Agung at least 20km earlier than expected (the best maps we could find here are not proportionally correct, they don’t indicate all the places, and they don’t show distances). We were pleased to reach the town, and we also found a comfortable room with a convenient tap and hose pipe where Ernest rinsed the bikes off.

16 March 2010
Kota Agung – Pringsewu
60km

The hotel gave us a surprise breakfast of fried rice, and after the bikes were oiled we were on the road heading up another mountain pass. Nothing like a good long hill first thing in the morning. I much prefer a mountain pass to the short chain snapping hills we had in the previous days. At least one climbs up at a steady pace and then you go down again.

What a pleasant surprise we had! Once over the crest the road just went down and down and down, I knew it had to happen some or other time. It was a real pleasure. Around 15h00 the clouds looked threatening and drops started falling. At about that point we arrived at another unexpected town, and once we’d spotted the very nice local hotel Ernest and I gave each other a quick glance and pulled in there without a word being spoken.

More amazing was the fact that no one in Sumatra seems to know the km too the next town. They glaze over and then come up with a number that varies so drastically from the previous one that one never knows. They can, however, tell you to the minute how long it takes by motorcycle or bus.

Interestingly the distances given between Kota Agung and Bandar Lampung varied from 50km – 200km!! That’s quite a difference (in the end it turned out to be about 100 k’s).

17 March 2010
Pringsewu - Bandar Lampung
38km

Breakfast was included in the room rate, and as everyone knows, that’s a dead loss to any establishment when cyclists are around. I just love the rice cooked in a banana leaf served with a fiery curry/coconut sauce. The Indonesians are not scared of chilly first thing in the morning. So I set of with serious heartburn up the hills again. This time the distance reported was between 45km – 75km to Bandar Lampung. Strange enough there were no distance markers along the road to Bandar Lampung.

We, however, reached Bandar Lampung after a mere 35km. I needed to extend my visa ASAP, as it has already expired the previous day and I was rather anxious to get to an Immigration office.

We found a rather expensive hotel but as it came with air-con and hot water I dug deep into my pocket and paid the price. Then it was off to the Immigration office just to find that I needed a sponsor. The hotel where we stayed was unwilling to help, what a pain!! I can’t blame them, I don’t know if I will do that for a total stranger. At least I was back in time before the storm broke which came with such roaring thunder I thought the nearby Krakatau had erupted again.

Bengkulu, Indonesia

2010-03-06T15:31:00.001+02:00

We had no intention of moving on until Ernest’s eyes had recovered and he could at least see where he was going. The antibiotic drops seem to be working and he already looked a lot better.

Bengkulu is quite a large town and had a shopping mall with supermarket etc, etc. The roads were littered with mobile food stalls (kaki Limas) and we ate as if we had not seen food in many days. In the meantime we did our much needed laundry and I found a better deal for my modem with unlimited access to the internet for the next month. I played on the internet whiles Ernest cleaned the bikes - not to mention that he sprayed the greasy muck off in the bathroom with what he calls the “ass-washer” (a flexible pipe protruding from the wall in many eastern toilets, usually with high-pressure water controlled by a sprayer at the end – in the cheap places the plastic scoop from the “tank” is used for the ablutions). I hope the hotel staff did not notice, as I’m sure they will kick us out on the spot.

I went back and forth to the mall (it was such a novelty) found a face mark and hair removal cream and spent the rest of the day titivating myself. In the mean time Ernest also spent time at the interesting local market, having his tent zip replaced, cheap Chinese shoes repaired, and his beloved chair sewn up.

Oh yes, we even experienced an earthquake, in this earthquake-prone area. However, I can hardly say that we experienced it, as it happened after we went to sleep and we didn’t even wake up (only heard about it the next day!). The quake happened 160 km out to sea from here, and although it measured 6.5 in magnitude there was fortunately no structural damage or injury here in Bengkulu.

Today, the 7th, we took a walk around town and to the coast, also visiting the historic Marlborough Fort built by the British in colonial times. Ernest’s eyes seemed much better and I think tomorrow we’ll scoff up the last of the luxury breakfast buffets served here (included in room price), and move on again.

CYCLING SUMATRA, INDONESIA - Padang to BengkuLu

2010-03-05T05:55:00.007+02:00

25 February 2010
Padang – Painan
80km

We headed South along the coast on our way to Jakarta (still about 1 000km away). What a stunning day on the road, we followed the coast for app 20km and then the road turned inland over the hills. We followed a small river through many tiny villages, past rice paddies, rivers and forests. Along the road people are drying all kinds of goods, rice, oranges, cloves, cinnamon, what a lovely smell.

We ended up in the small town of Painan and intended to camp by the beach but I had a distinct feeling that the entire town had come out to watch us - they came from far and wide on foot, bicycle and motorbikes to witness the spectacle. In the end we headed back into town to find a room as it is rather difficult to find a bush toilet with the whole world watching! It was a rather heavy price to pay for some privacy as the room was so hot we could not sleep (even with the “air conditioner” on) and it had no outside window so there was no obtion than to just grin and bear it. Big mistake we would have been better off at the beach in our tents.

26 February 2010
Painan – Balai Selasa
76km

Although this is not the easiest cycling one can get, the scenery is unsurpassed. The day started with a good hill or two. It was boiling hot and we were sweating buckets. Again the road followed the coast past many fishing villages, rice paddies and rivers. We stopped to sample the food along the way, including cassava fried in a batter.

A drinks stop at a local shop normally attracts the entire village, staring unashamedly without even blinking an eyelid. The road is lined with villages and seldom do we pass someone without hearing “Hello friend” or “Where you going?” – as well as the occasional “What are you?”, “Who are you?”, or even “Why are you?”.

We made it to the small village of Balai Selasa just before the rain came down and there was just enough time for Ernest to go to one of the local stalls and pick up some more fried snacks, amongst other things. The room was as cheap as they come so we were surprised at the air conditioning, but soon discovered that it was only ornamental.

27 February 2010
Balai Selasa – Tapan
65km

Bathrooms in Indonesia come with squat toilet and a water reservoir (mandi), from which one can scoop water with a plastic bucket to flush the toilet and “shower”. I was, however, so hot that I submerged myself in the reservoir, something I’m sure you’re not supposed to do, but there I had my own tiny swimming pool. Fortunate they have a power shortage, and in general very low voltage globes in the rooms – it’s better not to see what else is floating in the water. Power cuts seem to be a general occurrence, even stopping the mosque mullah’s chorus in mid sentence!

It rained all night but by the time we were ready to leave it had cleared and we were on our way. The road turned inland over the hills again but at least we had some cloud cover for most of the day.

We found some unusual fruit along the road, one (markisa) was like a passion fruit but less watery and with a thick skin that one can peel off to eat the pulpy inside. The other fruit (salak, or snake fruit) has a tough scaly skin with 3 firm white segments inside, quite sweet and delicious with a faint mango flavour.

Soon the heavy rain came down and by the time we were soaked to the bone we arrived in the village of Tapan, where we opted for a room. Sopping wet and dripping with water it was surprising that the landlady even let us in. An interesting room without any glass in the windows, just shutters, the room looked clean but Ernest picked up a really bad eye infection, we think from the pillow (or the wash water in the bathroom “tank”).

28 February 2010
Tapan – Pasar Bantal
125km

The day started flattish but got progressively more hilly. We thought we were on the coastal road (meaning next to the ocean) but it was up and down hills through palm oil plantations, and it just carried on, and on, and on. One needed to pedal like the clappers down the hills to make it up the next steep one. The road was full of potholes and often broken up in the dips, so it was not always possible to get enough speed down the hill to carry you up the next one.

Fortunately we had some food along the way as it became a rather long day as we were unable to find an ATM to stock up with cash again. Ernest also had a really bad day as he couldn’t see out of his one eye, and the other one was also becoming infected. Late afternoon the rain came down as usual and making it hard to camp as the ground was flooded. In the pouring rain after dark we were offered camping space in a disused mosque at a small village; at least it was out the rain – and we discovered that the lights still worked! We boiled some salt water for Ernest to wash his eyes, ate our noodles, drank our coffee and then it was straight to bed – accompanied by many eager mozzies.

1 March 2010
Pasar Bantal - Ipuh
53km

The road continued up and down the steep hills, what a difficult ride it was. I felt short of energy and had difficulty with my smaller gears, not something you want on a ride with a million and ten steep hills. Up and down we went through oil palm plantations. Ernest struggled with his eyes and found it difficult to see, by now both eyes were virtually swollen shut.

We stopped in Ipuh but were unable to draw money, as the only ATM in town was out of order. We decided to take a room and I took the bus back (with my last money) to Mukomuka to where we saw an ATM, the previous day. Once there I was shocked to find that the ATM only took Master Card and not Visa (mine is unfortunately Visa). I was in near hysterics as now I had no cash whatsoever. The friendly man at the bank gave me 150 000 rupiah out of his wallet without blinking twice!! Can you believe that!! He did not even want to give me his name so I can repay him later. (I did however manage to get his name from one of the staff members at the bank). I will be forever grateful to that friendly man. It was enough money to get a bit to eat, take the bus back and pay for the room where Ernest was lying in a dark room with his eyes (obviously) closed. There was also enough money left to get a large amount of noodles to see us through to the next big town. I only got back to Ipuh at 10.30 that evening, hot, tired, hungry and thirsty. Ernest was not impressed, as he reckoned us worse off than before. Wow what a day, I would have dearly liked someone to offer me a cup of coffee instead.

At long last I could have a shower and change out of my dirty cycling clothes - I must have stank the people out of the bus, considering that I had not showered or changed my clothes in the previous two days.

2 March 2010
Ipuh – Ketahun
82km

The day did not start in a perfect way, after packing up Ernest discovered he had a flat tire (from a pothole the previous day). Instead of waiting I got on the road as it was already fairly late. Ernest is quite fast, in both fixing tyres and cycling and would catch up soon. Off I went up and down the notorious hills. If there is one thing I don’t enjoy, then it is slogging up steep hills in my granny gear at 5k/h and men on motorbikes pulling alongside wanting to know if I want to boom-boom, while pushing their thumb between their index and middle fingers. This only happens when I cycle on my own and never when Ernest is with. I gave them a mouthful and they took off on their motorbike.

By the time Ernest caught up it was already 16h00, so it wasn’t long before we pulled into a petrol station with a grassy patch where we were allowed to pitch camp. We ate the last of our noodles and drank our precious coffee and then it was off to bed. The tent was like a sauna and I would have loved to leave the fly sheet off but with all the usual spectators it’s not possible unless I want my every snore watched.

3/4/5/6/7 March 2010
Ketahun – Bengkulu
91km

I was on the road before Ernest even had his tent down. The road was not as hilly as the previous days but littered with potholes the size of small cars. I bounced my way along the poor road until after 60km I decided to wait for Ernest. The people are just so friendly along the way, always shouting “Hello Mister, how are you?” from far away. When you answer there is normally scores of hysterical laughter afterwards.

Ernest soon arrived (I had to go into the road to stop him, otherwise he wouldn’t have seen me) and we were on our way to Bengkulu. Once there the first thing was to find a working ATM. With money in my pocket, we headed for the nearest hotel, had a shower and found some food. A shower is definitely not something that’s overrated!! Hotel Samudera Dwinka was quite fancy but they had some cheap rooms at the back which were quite comfortable, large, on the ground floor and came with a fan and a back door as well as a hot water dispenser – for plenty of coffee. (The only difference between our room and most of the other rather expensive rooms was air conditioning and hot shower).

CYCLING SUMATRA, INDONESIA - Dumai to Padang

2010-02-27T13:11:00.005+02:00

15 February 2010
Malacca (Malaysia) – Dumai (Indonesia)
By ferry (plus some cycling)
Malacca was rather slow to wake from the Chinese New Year celebrations, and we weren’t sure if the ferry was even running. Time to move on however and we packed up early and cycled down to the ferry jetty. We were advised to take the second ferry as the first one was choc and block full, whilst the second one wasn’t even half full. The ferry ride took about 2.5 hours and walla, there we were in a new country again – Sumatra Island, Indonesia.

Indonesia appeared to be halfway between India and Africa, hot, humid, crazy traffic and potholed roads, this is more my kind of country (opposed to more organized SE-Asian countries like Malaysia). Don’t get me wrong; I loved Malaysia, but feel very at home in more chaotic countries. I think I’m going to like Indonesia! So here we are back in dirty rooms with peeling paper-thin walls, shared toilets, and bucket showers - what more can I say.

16 February 2010
Dumai – Duri
85km
We followed the busy, potholed road south in blistering heat; I somehow think that this is going to be our lot for the next few months.

I haven’t worked out the money thing yet, the local currency is Rupiah which seems to be about 1 000 Rupiah to one SA Rand. Here we are in a conservative Moslem country again and being stared at yet again (especially in shorts and T Shirt). They will just have to stare as it is far too hot to cycle in long pants and sleeves.

The people seem very friendly and everyone wants to be your friend, we are constantly being invited to stay at their homes. “Hello, how are you?, Where you go? and Welcome to Indonesia” is constantly being shouted from the side of the road. They seem to get the Miss and Mister thing a bit wrong as I’m often called Mister. (A reminder of the “Good morning teacher” in Africa, is the regular “Good morning Mister”, even in the afternoon).

My heat rash was so bad that I opted for an air-con room, but accommodation seems rather expensive in Indonesia and we cycled around for a long time in order to find a reasonably priced room. In general the quality of the rooms are similar to some of the Arabic countries and Pakistan, not to clean, curtains hanging from washing pegs, mouldy peeling walls, and a bit smelly.

17 February 2010
Duri – Minas
110km

The map that I bought in Dumai was rather useless as it showed no km and was a very small print but at least it was better than nothing. We headed for Pekanbaru on the narrow potholed road and I was amazed that the truck drivers were so courteous, sitting behind us until they had space to overtake. This is not a road for listening to the i-pod, we had to be very aware of vehicles on the road. Not only was the road narrow but came with lots of steep little ups and downs.

We could tell that we reaching the equator as it was not only hot and humid but rain came down in buckets every now and again. So we took shelter with the local motorcycles waiting for the worst to pass and then continued along the road. I spotted a sign for a hotel, and we went to enquire even although Ernest said it would be far too expensive as they had security guards at the gate (a sure sign that it is out of our price range). The place turned out to be a resort type of hotel with tennis court, swimming pool, etc. The price list scared us, but after chatting to the management for a while they gave us a decent room for 100 000 Rp, not only with air-con and hot shower, but with dinner and breakfast included - now that’s what I call a good deal.

18 February 2010
Minas – Bangkinang
90km

We were rather slow to leave our luxury accommodation but eventually got underway, and I was pleased that the road leveled out a bit. So we cycled past rice paddies and the ever present timber stalls on stilts under rusted corrugated iron roofs, selling everything imaginable from cigarettes to petrol by the liter. There were Mosques aplenty, some quite impressive and some looking a bit worse for wear.

Although this is a Moslem country they do not seem to be as conservative as some other countries. There appears to be many Girl Schools and women are quite independent, schooting around on their motorbikes, and very much doing their own thing.

We’re becoming really lazy, and by the time we reached Bangkinang we called it a day and found a room for the night.

9 February 2010
Bangkinang - Pankanang
85km

We left at around 10h00 after looking for a cap for myself, (I once again lost my old one). It was by far the best day on the road since we arrived in Indonesia, although hot, humid and hilly it was very scenic past small villages, dense forests thick with ferns, and a large lake where the river was dammed up, probably to feed the hydroelectric plant that we saw earlier.

We crossed a few very large rivers complete with fish farms but had no idea of where we were as our map is not very accurate and the sign boards indicated places not mentioned on the map. The final stretch leveled out and we cycled along a river which, had it been anywhere else, would have been jam packed with holiday resorts. Eventually we spotted a petrol station where we were offered a room to sleep on the floor. As there was a restaurant, showers and toilets we settled in for the night with hordes of people staring and watching our every move. When we sat down to eat our table was shared with curious onlookers. Ha, ha our room was invaded every now and again by people coming to have a look at us. As this is a public room they proceeded to sit down on one of the mats and just look at us. I’m putting the laptop away now as they sitting right on top of me to see what I’m doing. There’s nooo private space here, what a disaster, should have pitched the tent next to the river instead.

During the night the room filled up with other people sleeping over, and I woke in the night to find a local man lying next to me with his hand on my leg; I couldn’t wait for the morning to get out of that room.

20 February 2010
Pankanang – Bukittinggi
85km

I was up at first light, but we still didn’t get away until 9h00. We expected to climb all the way up the mountain to Bukittinggi, which I’ve read is on top of a mountain. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the climb up the pass was only 20km. In the process we crossed the equator but missed the sign somewhere along the way (must have had my head down huffing and puffing up the hill).

On top of the mountain we stopped for a bite to eat and marvel at the view of the surrounding mountains, then it was on the bike again and we flew down the mountain on a very steep winding downhill. The road continued to be busy, especially in the villages, where the main road was packed with busses, trucks, cars, horse drawn carts, motorbike taxis with sidecars and of cause us on our bikes. This part of Sumatra is home to the Minangkabau. With the Minangkabau society being matrilineal, the houses are owned by the women of the family and ownership is passed from mother to daughter. The houses are mostly of timber and have dramatic buffelo-horne like curved roof structures.

Soon we were caught in the tropical rains again. We quickly found shelter and waited for the worst to pass so it was after dark when we arrived in Bukittinggi.

21/22 February 2010
Bukittinggi

Two days spent doing very little, although we did walk to Panorama Park which has views over the gorge, and we even went down and explored the WWII Japanese tunnels. I still want to know how dog owners manage to sleep with their dogs barking all night long! Just as the dogs went to sleep the mosques started up! At least their purpose is to wake the whole community. This is a Muslim country so there’s no getting away from it, but the dogs??? How can the owners not wake up from that constant barking?

23 February 2010
Bukittingkki – Padang
95km

This must surely rate of one of the best cycling days for a very long time! 95km of downhill past small villages, raging waterfalls, over rivers and through lush and green forests with volcanoes as a backdrop! Oh yes this is volcano county and there are hundreds if not thousands of volcanoes in Indonesia. It’s also a country which has experienced various natural disasters recently, such as the tsunami and a succession of earthquakes.

Early on in the day Ernest and I lost each other somewhere along the way. When I arrived in Padang and was shocked to see the full extent of the devastating earthquake of a few months ago. See and hearing it on TV never seems to be very real. Many buildings have collapsed and are now in ruins, hotels have been destroyed and the few remaining ones, now charge exorbitant rates.

Early on in the day Ernest and I had somehow lost each other along the way. However, just after I pulled into one known cheap hotel, Ernest pulled in there as well - ha, ha there’s just no getting rid of this man! I was however quite relieved to see him, as I was getting a bit worried after I saw a bicycle flatted by a truck along the way and it made me realize how quickly an accident can happen.

Padang remains a busy coastal town with a very scenic beachfront packed with stalls offering crab and prawn meals. We watched the sun set and what a display of color that was.

CYCLING MALAYSIA - Kuala Lumpur to Malacca

2010-02-22T15:38:00.006+02:00

11 February 2010
Kuala Lumpur – Port Dickson
95km

It was another easy and short day on the road as we biked back to Malacca. Once we reached our previous campsite just outside Port Dickson we pulled in and set up our tents under the trees next to the beach. It was still fairly early but the memory of a shower made up our minds for us.

I was fairly content just sitting and watching the sun set over the Straits of Malacca. This time I was careful about where I put my tent as my experience with the fire ants from a few days before were still fresh in my memory. It was boiling hot even after sunset and my tent was like a sauna. Shortly after I lay down I felt a damp spray and thought it had started raining, but to my horror I discovered that it was the camp’s tomcat that had sprayed through the door netting onto my head!! Don’t laugh it’s not funny.

12/13/14 February 2010
Port Dickson – Malacca
82km

It was another fairly short day as we biked into Malacca. It seemed to be getting hotter all the time, and we sweated buckets. The dorm we found at the Sama Sama annex was however well ventilated and spacious and came complete with mosquito nets, what a pleasure.

The following day was Chinese New Year, and what a colorful time it is with thousands of red lanterns decorating the streets and houses in Chinatown where we stayed. Firecrackers went off until late in the night but still did not come close to an Indian cricket match!! The alleys were packed with people and stalls and one could sample all kinds of food to you hearts delight. I’m into the curry noodle soup lately and just can’t get enough of it.