Off on my bike : Burgos to Zamora

On the trail to Santiago de Compostela.

I head straight from camp on the outskirts of Burgos to Decathlon, only to find it won't open until 10am, well I'm not waiting, have eighty miles to do and the bike seems OK.  Off through the centre of town, nice place, many bridges.  From here I move onto what is clearly a very popular part of the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage route.  I must pass a hundred hikers at least, all making their way west, with over four hundred and fifty kilometres to go I'm not sure they'll all make it.  There's quite the cottage industry catering for them all, I pass a number of 'Bars del Camino', as well as little shops selling snacks, souvenirs etc.

The Castilla Canal.

It makes for flat riding at any rate, for the first time in days I switch my hub gear to the 'flat' setting.  And the squeaking noise stops.  Ah.  Not the crank bearing then, good thing I didn't waste time and money replacing that.  Good and bad news this, the hub gear is an expensive specialist part, I'm not going to replace it en route.  But, all I have to do is keep it on 'flat', which locks the gears in place, and it's fine... means bottom gear is a bit higher but I can cope.

Onwards, I join the Castilla Canal which as you'd expect is flat, and takes me to my campsite at Las Cubillas.  Not a lot here, but my GPS does show a bar just down the road... hmm, I recognise the red and green 'club' sign from an establishment I passed earlier, and there is a scantily clad lady stood by the door.  Not a bar then.  Oh well, the campsite has one, they know what I mean by 'una jarra', sorted.

Preaching to the choir?

I keep along the canal for twenty miles or so next morning, not too exciting, barring the moment I swerve to avoid a fallen branch, which then slithers away - that'll be a two foot long snake then.  Then roads, mostly flat too, across a plateau with poppy-speckled fields stretching to the horizon, then down a gentle valley to Zamora.  Easy enough, but I am feeling a bit broken, good that I have a real bed tonight - not for the first time on my adventures, in a student hall.

First, a present for the bike, I ride to Zamora's Decathlon, only a mile away though a lot of hill is involved, and buy a new rear tyre.  Fit the thing, back to the university, and time for food, oh hang on, I have left my tools at Decathlon.  Aargh!  Well, they are at least still there when I get back... and I do then get much meat at a hamburguezaria.

Jesus of Palencia.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : San Sebastian to Burgos

Orio

Turns out there is another big hill out of San Sebastian, they even have the cheek to charge me two euros to climb it... kind of worth it, once I reach the top there is a nice ride along a ridge with the ocean to my right and a valley, and mountains, to my left.  The bike is not liking the hills though, making some alarming clicking and squeaking noises. Then another hair-raising descent into Orio, my stop for the night.  I arrive at 8pm, well, time for some vino and 'home cooked' pasta.

I think I deserve a rest day in Orio, nice place with a beach, marina, and a pleasant old town.  I do some washing and bike maintenance, then a few beers and a fine meal, arroz con mariscos, then some kind of Basque fish - there are at least two Xs in the name.

There were many tunnels.

Straight up a hill next morning, I follow the coast a while, climbing one hill, down to a village, and so on.  Then a river takes me inland, or rather an old rail line following the river valley, climbing up via a series of bridges and tunnels, it is most cool.  Can't last though, I turn off to head up an even steeper hill, too much for pedalling, it takes me an hour to push the bike to the top.  Then the other side is a mess of rocks and gravel, so bad I have to wheel the bike down at times.

And so it continues, struggling up to mountain passes, some as high as eight hundred metres, and zooming down the other side.  Progress is slow, but I am getting there.  Good to be in Spain anyway, France was pretty but kind of dead, whereas here there always seems to be a party happening.  For instance I pass through Bergara, and there are bands playing from a balcony in the main square... well it would be rude not to have a beer, and they give me some tapas too, fair play.

Vitoria-Gasteiz.

Onwards, through Vitoria-Gasteiz, up over another punishing pass, my legs burn and the bike squeals - I have diagnosed it as the crank bearing, could be worse.  I make my campsite for 8pm again, and once again nor only are they still open, but smile and tell me 'it's not late'.  This would not happen in France...

I am hoping for some flat riding for the last day into Burgos, no such luck though, I stay in the mountains, sure is pretty but very hard work.  My legs seem to have run out of steam, I have to push the bike uphill a lot, well, it is putting less strain on the bearings at least.  No bike shops up here, I pass through many tiny villages, each dominated by a massive, fortress-like church or abbey.  I keep hoping to start a long downhill stretch , but it never happens, eventually I realise that Burgos is at an altitude of some nine hundred metres.  There is at least a decent road for the last ten miles or so, and I make camp for 8pm, again.  Time for a couple of beers and much tapas, all for a ridiculous nine euros.

High up in the hills.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Bordeaux to San Sebastian

A wet start in Bordeaux.

It is of course raining when I wake up in Bordeaux, can't say I am feeling enthused, still I do get some breakfast at least, cheap and cheerful like everything else at the Formule 1.  Then off through the city traffic, not much fun in the rain, to the big Decathlon near the airport.  It's sure big, but no they don't have a pole for me - instead they suggest another store two miles back the way I came.  To be honest the big problem is, my French is not up to explaining that no, I don't want an exact replacement, but rather something a bit stronger, and I don't care if it is glass fibre rather than alloy.

The new tent.  Not bad for €22!

Well, executive decision time, I somewhat sadly dump the old tent and buy a new one, Decathlon's cheapest at twenty-two euros.  Well, it's the right size, and only weighs two kilograms, less than any of the 'ultralight' tents they have, odd.  Onwards then.  I ride out into the country, it keeps raining, I get wet, whatever, it is only water.  I'm getting close to the sea, I do get a brief glimpse, then hit the 'Grands Lacs' where I plan to camp, in the region of Biscarosse.  Plenty of campsites, nobody in their offices... I camp up anyway, the tent is basic, has no porch, but it's double skinned, and bigger than my old one.  Time for a beer - a chap in the bar shows me photos from his recent trip to London, he was in Stratford about the time I left, small world.

Lighthouse at Biarritz.

The tent lasts the night, and keeps the rain out, that will do.  I ride south along the Atlantic coast, before long I pass a beach resort, lots of campsites and holiday homes.  All pretty empty, it not being the two weeks of the year that everybody in France has their holiday during.  Nice cycling here, I follow a cycle path through pine forest, with dunes to my right parting occasionally to reveal the ocean.  And whisper it, but it is not raining.

In fact, as I head into the rather pleasant environs of Capbreton, it's turning into an unquestionably nice day, with actual sunshine.  I enjoy the afternoon's ride through the coastal forest, reach a charming camping municipal where the tent goes up again without trouble, and I have a beer or two and a mighty Basque Burger.  This is what it is supposed to be like.

Crossing the border.

Time for my last day in France, the cycle route continues - I'm following the pilgrimage route towards Santiago de Compostela, have seen signs for it since Paris in fact, though I've not followed the exact route.  More than once people ask if that is what I am doing.  I reach Biarritz, from here the coast is rocky and I must ride up and down cliffs, it is rather reminiscent of Cornwall, not least the multilingual signs, here in the Basque language as well as French.

Nice part of the world anyway, with many seaside towns that seem worth a visit.  In one such, I cross an unremarkable pedestrian bridge, and realise I'm in Spain, well, that deserves a celebratory beer.  Not far to San Sebastian, however as it turns out there is a substantial hill, fully four hundred and fifty metres of ascent, to climb on the way.  Well I make it, mostly pedalling rather than pushing, and there is an exciting roll down the other side.  Nice to see San Sebastian, has been a long time, I have to stop for a beer.  That turns into two beers, it is getting on for 6:30pm,  still only another ten miles to my campsite, won't take long surely...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Poitiers to Bordeaux

There are worse riding surfaces than grass.

I depart Poitiers, on my own route along minor roads, it mostly works well although sometimes a minor road on the map turns out to be a dirt track on the ground.  Not terribly exciting mind, although there is exciting weather, it becomes clear I am heading towards a massive thunderstorm.  I manage to skirt the worst of it, and hit some fine scenery at Verteuil-sur-Charente, with its mills and château.  From here it is a short ride down the river to Mansle, where I camp and enjoy a proper four course meal.

Verteuil-sur-Charente.

I decide to stay a day in Mansle, it's a nice spot by the river and I have just done eight days on the trot.  Shame it rains pretty much all day, still I guess hanging around the campsite beats riding through it.

Sadly next day that is what I have to do, the weather is not letting up.  It's nice enough country, I continue along the Charente, crossing it several times - in this area, the river divides into as many as six or more arms, I ride over a lot of bridges.  The water looks high, unsurprising as it just keeps getting wetter, I am soaked by the time I reach Baignes-Sainte-Radegonde, where things just get worse.  My poor old tent pole, repaired many times, just disintegrates, I guess fatigue, or else the sheer weight of water is too much for it.

Mansle.

The campsite warden says I can sleep in the toilet block, yay, well I have slept in worse places.  I find a bar to drown my sorrows in, me and a few elderly French people.  The local paper has 'vineyards count the cost of exceptional storms' on the cover.

At least it is a short way from here to Bordeaux, and by some miracle the rain holds off.  I check into a cheap 'Formule 1' hotel in an industrial estate, it has a somewhat custodial air, but it's a bed at least.  The nearby Decathlon doesn't have a pole of the right size, but they suggest a bigger store near the airport which I'll be passing tomorrow.  If all else fails I will just buy a new tent...

Last pitch of the tent before the pole disintegrated.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : Paris to Poitiers

Orléans Cathedral.

Paris is not an easy city to cycle in.  I struggle a bit with the crazy traffic, regular halts for red lights, steep hills and cobbles.  Nice to see a good slice of the city though, and once I get out of the centre I hit a decent cycle track and things improve.  Still a few hills though, and I'm worried this will be a long day.  In the event though, I hit some nice flat roads and make good time into Toury.

Only now do I remember I couldn't find the location of the campsite here, and marked the train station instead it seems.  I ride in circles a bit then ask in a bar - and not only do they know where it is, the barman even drives me there.  And they look after my bike - and beer - while I'm gone.

Can't find anybody to pay for camping in Toury, ho hum, off I go then.  More flat roads and an easy twenty miles or so into Orléans, nice place with an impressive cathedral.  From here my route follows the Loire, this is a popular route along either well built cycle paths or quiet minor roads, it makes for lovely riding.  The surroundings aren't bad either, the majestic river flanked by châteaux and pretty towns and villages.  I finish up in one such, Chaumont-sur-Loire, where I do have to pay to camp - a whole five euros, given this I feel justified in heading to a restaurant for an excellent meal - the tatin d'endives is just awesome.

Riding along the Loire.

More of the 'Loire à Vélo' route next day, through Amboise and then Tours where I get some shopping.  There is lot to be said for cycle touring I must say, not least compared to walking I can carry more, and don't have to worry about running out of food.  So for instance it is no problem to grab a bottle of wine to drink later - well, I am in France.  Destination today is Rigny-Ussé, home to the Château Ussé which inspired the sleeping beauty story, and most impressive it is.

Le Château de la Belle au Bois Dormant.

I leave the Loire à Vélo route in the region of Chinon - massive fortress there.  I do rather wish I could spend more time in these towns, but it's hard, where would I put my bike and bags for one.  Ah well... I leave the châteaux behind and ride through typical rural France, vineyards and tiny villages.  Then another cycle route for twenty miles or so, the Ligne Verte is another old railway, this time there is at best a thin line of packed gravel through the grass.  It's better suited to mountain bikes than my laden hybrid, but at least it's flat.

Then a bit more road into Poitiers, where I have a hotel booked, is good to have a shower and a real bed.  There is supposed to be a fête here, I can't find it though, still nice to have a wander around the town, the centre of which is up on a high plateau, must have been pretty defensible back in the day.  I do manage to find a bar at least.

La Ligne Verte.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Off on my bike : London to Paris

Setting off from Stratford.

So, I'm off again, this time on two wheels rather than feet.  Don't know how far I'll get, I do have accommodation booked in the Canary Islands and Rio (!), but I may not manage to cycle all the way there - should be fun trying though.

Rio is of course hosting the Olympics this year, so that's one reason to go there, it also explains why I start from the Olympic park - kind of a symbolic departure from the previous venue for the games.  From there I follow a familiar route through Southeast London and into Sussex - the Downs are as hilly as ever but I manage.  I even do some guiding, another cyclist waves me down and asks if I am going to Newhaven, well funnily enough... His GPS has stopped working, so I lead him as far as Lewes where I have to stop for beer.

Peacock at Dangu camping municipal.

Newhaven is not much further, and once there I get a huge kebab, and then board the ferry to Dieppe.  The overnight crossing departs at 11pm, and takes just five hours, not much sleep in my Pullman seat then... well, 5am local time is certainly an early start, but I am feeling a bit broken after yesterday, and that really was not enough sleep.  Progress is slow, and the rain does not help, can't say this is much fun.

The 'Avenue Verte' from Dieppe towards Paris makes good cycling at least, much of it a tarmac surface on old railway lines.  Eventually it gets late enough for cafes to open, I get a coffee and the rain stops, this is more like it.  I just about get to my campsite at Dangu before it starts again, and the nice lady there shows me to a pitch with a substantial shelter.  I do have to share it with a peacock, but I can live with this.

Chateau de Maisons-Laffitte.

It rains pretty much all night, and is still going the next morning, still, nothing to do but stick the sodden tent on the back of the bike and ride on.  It's a nice route along country lanes, the weather does rather spoil things though... still, always a silver lining, I shelter at a bus stop with some fellow bikers who insist on giving me food.  The rain does ease in the afternoon, but there are sections of the Avenue Verte which are simply impassable, gravel tracks turned into mud baths by the sheer volume of water - I detour around as necessary.

I pedal along the Seine, and into industrial northern Paris, past the Stade de France.  An old lady directs me to follow her, fewer barriers than the official route she says... go on then.  And finally, my hotel, in the Gambetta district, it was cheap of course but I am quite pleased, they let me stick my bike inside, and sell me a phone charger for five euros.  I like the area too, distinctively Parisien, but the bars and restaurants are inexpensive enough.  There is even a cheap, late opening supermarket!

It's the Eiffel Tower!

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Te Araroa : Retrospective

Tree hugging.

So, have had a month to recover from this, some sort of retrospective seems to be in order.  Not least I should pull my finger out and do this before going off on further adventures, which I may start doing shortly.

Well then, positives first.  I certainly don't regret doing Te Araroa, it was an incredible experience.  The landscape of New Zealand is truly awe inspiring, the flora and fauna fascinating, and both the local people, and my various fellow hikers, were friendly.  I became fitter than I have ever been, was able to eat a fantastic amount of food, and generally spend four months doing a fair amount of stuff I enjoy.  It was certainly never boring!

Seemed fun at first.

I do think I made quite a few mistakes... not least, my idea that at 'only' three thousand kilometres, this would be a relatively easy long distance path was, I am pretty certain, completely wrong.  The New Zealand attitude to paths, as in, there is no need to construct them, seems to be quite unique, so, while one of the big American trails might have been longer, it would also have been easier.  Given this, I surely should have allowed more time to do the thing in, it would have been great not to have quite as many really long days, and to have more time to rest up and explore.  I definitely should have done at least some posting of resupply packages - in particular to the mountain resorts such as National Park and St. Arnaud.  And I should have brought four pairs of shoes with me from the UK!

Did I see a Kiwi?  I think so.

Other than shoes my equipment faired pretty well... so my tent pole broke many times, I kept repairing it and it was still going at the end.  Also fair play to the cheap, five year old Decathlon rucksack, got all the way, albeit with a few broken zips.  Also awesome was my Garmin GPS, which allowed me to walk pretty much the whole way without the weight of paper maps.  A bit of a shame that the GPX file from the official Te Araroa site was less than ideal, as indeed were the PDF maps and guide files, still I expect enterprising third parties to address that over the next few years.

OK, this was fun I have to say.

What of the route itself?  Well, if you've read all my blog entries, you'll have read some fairly detailed complaints about it.  After a month of reflection... well, I guess the whole 'we don't need a path' thing is just the local culture, you kind of have to accept it.  I have to say that the all round horridness of the bush sections, and the large amounts of road walking on North Island, would still lead me to advise people to skip that altogether.  South Island would make a nice three month walk, and sure, go to North Island, travel, do some tramping.  But I would not recommend doing the long path up there.  It will improve of course, new sections continue to open.  But sadly I doubt there will be much motion towards better paths, they will just put more boardwalk and steps in.  The cap-doffing attitude towards private landowners seems embedded in the culture as well, so a huge amount of what is surely great walking in NZ remains sadly out of bounds.

Final thoughts?  Well, this was a great thing to do, and I'm glad I did it.  Maybe one day I will come back and do South Island again... before that though, it is a big world out there, lots more to see.  Bring it on!

Run Timmy run!