Down by the river...

It was a good day.  I left Regensburg without visiting the town which I was annoyed about but having lost the hours yesterday I knew I didn't have time today.  I had in my mind the streatch to Passau was the last if the three long days and I wasn't sure after yesterday I had it in me.  So the only way to find out wsa to get back on the bike and try.

I was granted a beautiful day to cycle in and the gift of joining the river Donau (Danube).  One my travelling 'chance encounters' had commented that she had been disappointed with the Donau because it was not blue and it lacked the romantic nature of that famous waltz. 

I however was enraptured by this river. I was worried that it would be a repeat of the Fhine but not so.  I can only describe this river as beautiful, silent lady. She is serene and still with eyes of deep, deep blue.  Look into those eyes and you can loose yourself for hours. I was mesmerised.   The density and variety of colours and the depths that appeared to  lie below the surface were just breathtaking.  The pictures I add do no justice to this fine lady but I do now 'know' that expression still waters run deep. I shall enjoy travelling along this river.  

I arrived at my campsite in good time to catch up on washing and eat a hearty meal. Tomorrow I shall allow for a late start and let me leg rest.   I had a gentle journey to Lintz to take and I was not going to rush.  This next stage of the trip I had earmarked for a bit of a sightseeing so I would give myself a bit if a break.  

Now the crossing the road has a rich picking today.  I can offer you a Nun on a bicycle ( why wouldn't a nun use a bicycle?) a duo on a tandem with a selfie stick, or my favourite! A Goat being chased by a Daschund! I so wish I could have had my camera ready for that one. 

Bid for Regensburg

Not every day had to be a good day and it would be unfair to expect that.  But I was a bit pissed off the way this day panned out.

It all started really well with an early get away from the campsite.  I had eaten well the night before as I knew today was a bit of a challenge.  Some climbing and quite a few miles my notes til me. 

I was very sad to say goodbye to the River Main as I had felt comfortable and entertained by the life around it. However changing river vallies means climbing out of one into another.  Actually I should say this was the best part of the day.  My climbing legs were ok.  Getting over a 12% hill that lasts a good few kilometers fully loaded is no simple thing but as the expression goes "Slowlt slowly catch the monkey". In fact it made me work pretty hard but the road surface was Tarmac unlike last years climbs in  Iceland so it was good travelling. 

I made good time and thought I'd be able to get to Regensburg before 7pm so as to set up camp and do some washing while thee was still heat. So bring on those mischief monkeys that mess with time and maps.  

Actually I want to take a pause here.  There is something that on reflection I have decided. Whichever way, route , journey or landscape I seem to visit a dark place of digging deep to get out of it.  Today was this day.  The monkeys scrambled brain and GPS and I once again found myself atop of a plateau looking out over a wonderous landscape wondering where the hell I was?  If there is one thing I truly hate on a journey it's having to go back on yourself to go forwards.  I have fought hard against this and found it to be my cost.  Today was one of those.

So I stopped an gave myself a good talking to.  I made a plan. The main thing was food I needed to eat and the next was light which was fading fast.  I high tailed it, as fast as you can with a luggage aboard into Hanmnu a local town. 8km in and out but worth it.  That's the best Falafel kebab I have ever had and the Coke went swiftly down.  Replenished and happy I had some water on board I set off again.  In my panic to feed and water I accidentally deleted all my data for today's ride.  Marvellous, just bloody marvellous.  Mercury was obviously havering a goo day up in the heavens.  No QoMs for me today. Hahahahah 

It was obvious that I was not going to be in Regensburg as planned and it was also obvious today was going to involve a night ride.  I stopped and kitted up as best I could with lights and checked I was ok. "All is good!" An expression I have heard a lot in Germany.  Let's do this Sheila. 

I love cycling in the dark. You have a sense of  being the only person on the planet with all the smells and noises of the wildlife around.  I ha lots if company on my way. Owls and rusting critters were everywhere.  Why am I not afraid? I mused at this point?  The answer came back pretty quickly.  If you stopped to think about the dark and what fears may lie in it you would not make a move.  The fear of the fear is enough to stop anyone moving forwards and I didn't have time for that today.  Also growing up on a moorland with no "street lights" you become accustomed to the dark.  Make friends with it but listen to you're intuition has always been a mantra.  I was ok. 

As if by magic the hours sped past as swiftly as the hills and kilometers. I was in Regensburg.   The campsite was all closed but a swift nod to the local bar owner and I'm inside and pitching the tent.  I was glad to get my head down.  Although the ground was hard and cold and the campsite was noisy but I slept. 

Any hooo. Crossing the road? Ahhhh the waft of a familiar smell that took me straight home to Kent. The smell if Hops. 

Bermuda Triangle Moment

Another route change to what had been planned. For reasons that I can't quite fathom I didn't want to go to Nuremburg. Yes there are hills involved but that had never stopped me before.

So I'm going with my hunch as an intuitive decision is something I stick with.  I had a route heading out of Wertheim heading towards Ansbach. Well the plan was good. 

I was up early and broke camp by 8.15am before the weather got too hot. I had also heard on the grapevine that thunder and showers were forecast for this evening.  Not wanting to be caught I though early was a good idea. 

Following the Main has been a real highlight.  It's a gorgeous river and I never tire of being alongside it.  But my new route was taking in the valley of the Tauber.  A much smaller 'beck' as we would have it up north.  

There were some hills today as I needed to swap river valley for river valley.  But it made for a change from the flat.  My legs felt quite fresh for the recovery day so I was pleased how 'ok' they felt on the way up the hills. 

Apparently I am in what is known as the Romantic Corridor.  It is a well known area in Germany and coach tours are in evidence in some of the towns. I know this is mad, but I actually headed towards one village, Bad Mergentheim simply because I wanted to see what was bad about it.  Nothing stuck out.   I took this picture along the route simply because as a bronze statue it was wicked.  Literally!

The town of Rothenburg ob der Tauber is truly breathtaking.  I actually stopped my bike to have a wander around the streets because it was just so mesmerising. This area is becoming a clear candidate for a return trip as a tourist.  (Huge difference to a journeyman)

(

Then things went skew. Was it because I just opted for the wrong turn, was it the planning of the route, the lack of campsites or was I simply in Bermuda? I often encounter one of these places where time, distance and my internal compass gets messed with.  I ended up travelling a whole 40km that actually advanced my journey by 20km.  But the upside was the countryside was stunning, great little roads and the odd beck that I literally dropped off my bike for so that I could stand knee high in chilled water. The temperature was high in the afternoon and the sweat was dripping.  Felt loads better though.  

Anyway at least the campsite was where it should be and the ground is soft and lush and the welcome was genuine. 

Crossing the road: now this one takes a bit of imagination but a Cowboy on a bike.   Fully clad in embroidered shirt and a Stetson.  He had left the chaps off though. I think he might have heard me having a laugh!! Oooops. 

Time out

The weather here is soaring to above 30-35 degrees and that's pretty hot.  I have decided that given the next stage may involve a few hills I would have a layover day of a short recovery ride and some 

My campsite last night was brilliant and I slept very well next to the Main. In the morning I was reluctant to leave but thought I may as well push on a short way and then get to the next campsite early. 

This worked out just as planned. Nothing unusual just a beautiful day on a lovely part of Bavaria. I would recommend Wertheim and it's surrounding villages as a rich place to explore.  I would return to this 'romantic' area of Getmany.  

As I was walking through one if the towns a fair and fete was in full swing.  Girls were walking around in a traditional folk dress and everyone was full on sunshine.  That and the copious beers.  But the mood was buoyant and lively.  

I gently peddled along the main until I reached another waterside campsite.  I had a plan, I was going to have a spa treatment.  Well to be honest not quite a Spa but I had purchased an enticing therapeutic balm at the fete and I reckoned a dip in the cool Main followed by a long streatch out in the sunshine and as self massaged masseag was just the ticket. It was. I actually fell asleep on the bank with a little duck for company. 

sunbathing.  

Heaven. 

Getting out of Dodge

Up early and packed up in record time. 

This is the best expression of cycling  chaos I can think of.  Now I don't know whether it's just me, but there is this silent appraisal from soloists as to how quick they can get back on the road.  It's never spoken and maybe it is all in my head but it gives me a focus to the daily ritual as I try to make the rebuild process look smooth and streamline. I now have it down to 45 minutes from wake up. Not that I'm counting! 

Getting the hell out of Dodge was a fantastic feeling.  Today was going to be down to Garmin.  I had stuck a pin in the digital map along my chosen route but Garmin was going to help chop the corner off for me. and 

My happy ness levels were restored as soon as I left the city and headed out into the adjacent countryside. My heart began to soare as the houses were left behind and replaced by miles and miles of agricultural farmland and open countryside.  

Garmin is adamant that I test my climbing legs again.  This time it was a full on steady long climb up over the hills in order to descend into Bavaria and the river Main valley.  When I eventually reached the top of the first hill I looked around and gave a sigh.  ( that was after several pants to get my breath back ) This was my kind of place. Unlike the desolate expanse of last years terrain this was lush and wooded. 

You could see for miles from the top of the next stage. I must admit I was very jealous of the trio on carbon, sprightly bikes tackling this 'Grand Pass' as one of them put it.  They had room to talk and laugh, I had room only to mop the sweat from my brow and gulp water.  By the way the temperature is soaring and it's very hot. Not that I'm complaining as it's perfect sock drying weather.

The descent into the Main valley was awesome. My lovely Shand flew down the open road and was well steady. The last time I had travelled at speed in this manner was in Spain. I remember my little Dolce had struggled with the on board weight and the rim brakes were not brilliant. So this was a luxury. 

The Main river is as far away from the Rhine as can be imagined.  Whilst the latter was impressive and grand in it's appearance, the Main was soft, calm and welcoming.  This was a river where families gathered in the warm sunshine to swim and laugh with others.  A social river indeed. 

No comparison really.  I decided to be picky about my campsite tonight, I even went into one and came out again pretty sharply because it was not what I was looking for.  Tonight I have soft lush green grass and the view is not that different to what you see above.  Heaven. 

Crossing the road list... A Kit Harrington lookalike... No kidding! Now I know Kit doesn't like to be objectified and rightly so. But such a handsome chap he is that this look alike almost toppled me off balance as I spun my head around to check it wasn't actually him. (Kit Harrington plays Jon Snow in Game if Thrones by the way). 

Travelling along the Rhine

I have made a decision, I'm going to alter my route and circumnavigate Frankfurt 

rejoining my planned route lower down. 

But I have to continue with the planned route for one more day a I was headed to Mainz for reasons which will soon become clear.

I reluctantly set off this morning thinking I was going to be in for the same tourist clad streatch of cycle paths. There is nothing wrong with this style of riding and I recognise how this must be a huge adventure for many but it isn't making me happy and I need to change it.  I guess I'm learning quite a lot on this journey.

Having made the decision it was as if by magic that the tourists begin to thin out and the cycle path became varied and adventurous. I should have realised that the tourist areas of Koln and Koblenz would be very different and not totally representative of the Rhine paths. I could almost get used to this.

I stopped in a small street in one if the beautiful medieval towns to have a cup of tea and something to eat.  A gentleman beckoned me over to join him so he could 'practise' his English.  This is not unfamiliar to me and his age and stature meant I was sure this was someone simply looking for conversation. Happy to oblige I too gained as he was a willing guide to the Rhineland and I found out about Koblenz being the word for corner and other such tit bits of interest along the Rhine. As he was discussing Mainz, he said that it wasn't up to much as it had been heavily bombed in the war but that the rest of the Rhine was ignored because 'they' didn't think it important.  I nodded politely and then realised, this was a bizarre turn around as the 'they' was 'us'.  Oh the irony of happenstance and two people drinking tea and how time passes and history becomes blurred at the edges. It certainly made me sit back and think. 

The irony was made far greater when I arrived at Mainz. My husband Charlie's grandfather, Bob Shelley, had been held as a prisoner of war in the castle at Mainz.  I said I'd look out to see if I could find it and I couldn't miss it as it was pretty much next door to the campsite I had in mind to stay at. 

The castle/prison had been eventually turned into a museum but now it would appear it's been left to go into decline. Various parts were apparently being used for bohemian apartments, indie clubs and music venues. I think I described it best to Charlie as like something you could imagine happening in the trendy backstreets of Dublin.  The whole building had open grounds and the people were wandering around the courtyards are entrances oblivious to their surroundings.  And why not...

In contrast however, I became the prisoner. The campsite was pretty grim and the greeting was just downright rude. "Passport!!!" was snarled at me. I bit my tongue (a hard thing for me to do at times but needs must I had to sleep) I was informed that the campsite gates would be closed at 10pm and "if you are in your in, if you are out you stay out" and "Was I ok with this?"  No option mate... no option!  This was a chain fenced compound where the grass dreamt of water and the campers jostled to lay claim to a bit of earth.  I was as you can probably tell pretty unhappy.  

Having pitched my tent I made to walk around the castle and take some pictures for Charlie. I felt very uneasy as the ripples through history could be felt under the feet.  Over dramatic? Possibly but sensitive is more likely.  

I will have no issues with leaving this place tomorrow.  The upside, yes there is one, the city appears to have a vibrant youthful expression that has little regard for the old things as they party in the park and make music in old buildings.  But if I wanted to join in with this scene I'd have to break out to do so.  Now that's irony. 

Adding to the crossing the road list, a spirited red squirrel with the most enormous bushy tail. 

Koln to Koblenz

Travelling down the Rhine has it's up as well as it's down points. The up being you can never really get lost with a huge river on your left but the down side is that it can be a 'tad' monotonous.  

As ever ithe long drag out of the city is just tedious and always takes twice as long as you would excpect.  Needless to say I scurried from cycle path to cycle path making my way across the city. So why use the cycle paths ? Well on one hand it would be rude not to... As they are extremely well constructed but the other factor is that you can concentrate on where you are heading and not the traffic. Having ventured onto the main roads the waving of the drivers sort of suggested that if they are there you use them. Probably illegal not to!

The imagery as per yesterday went from pretty to industrial.  But there were still images to be had and I wasn't unhappy with the juxtaposition. 

Time was marching on and I was coming to the Moselle and the Rhine confluence. Where the two rivers meet. Apparently the word Koblenz  means 'corner' where two directions converge.  

Looking for a campsite is always a hit or miss situation but that can be fun if you are in the right mood.  I simply use my trusty Garmin, find a reference to campsite and if it's in the right direction let the Garmin decide.  Tonight I was not amused.  I had a deadline of getting to a camp that would serve food as I hadn't eaten properly the day before and I knew I had to be careful.  

Garmin, bless it, thought it would be fun to take me off track and into the surrounding lanes.  I went right, left, back and forth and finally as Garmin had decided I should try my hill climbing legs I started to go upwards. I was about to loose the plot and give up on my trusty guide. But as I have learnt from the journeys before, giving up is a que for a sign for perseverance patience and "Stop Swearing at the Garmin" moment.  Bearing in mind I was in the middle of nowhere this
was@waiting for me at the very top.  You may remember the symbol as the sign for the Camino to Compestela and considering I'd just left Jack the day before I thought it was hilarious.  Laughing out loud I looked skywards, nodded, patted my Garmin and set off. Sure enough I arrived at a fab campsite with an open cafe and all was well in the world.  Well that was the case but it was the fastest pitch of tent to date as the kitchen closed in 15 minutes.  

Campsite appraisal? Excellent apart from the numpty who has forgotten to switch the TV/Rasio off.

Blunters for company

Day 4 and I awake to the internal hum of James Blunt singing. This often happens to me for no good reason and I am now quite familiar with his songs.  What amuses me is that it's like someone has left the iPod on shuffle of all his songs and I just happen to wake up at some random point in the playlist.  Odd but helpful when you are travelling solo.  I know some people have chosen to carry radios on trips of this nature but I shall happily stay with James. 

So another fast wet (Dew!... No rain today) packing away of the tent and off to break fast with Jack and Dianne. Jack cycled with me through Venlo. The picture shows one if the oldest town halls in history. (I can't remember the date but when I get home I'll ammend this detail. ) 

We cycled together as far as the German border where I had to say goodbye. Take care Jack and I hope to see you in the not too distant future. This time it's your turn to make the trip to Kent.  

I wasn't sure what to excpect of this part of the trip but I hadn't excpectd to find it such a contrast to the green luscious countryside I had become accustomed to.  I realised that this was the industrial norther region of Germany. Skirting around Dusseldorf for speed and because i knew it was not a simple cycle through city I had to remain focused as the traffic was heavy.  The cycle paths were there but it didn't feel quite so laid back as Holland so I was vigilant.  I had decided to take today at leisure and spin my legs to give them some recovery which was just as well because the journey was somewhat stilted and broken.  Where's a good canal path when you need one?  No sooner said and I turned south to find the biggest canal going.  Well ok so it's the Rhine!  In the picture you can just see Dusseldorf in the distance. . 

I spent a good half hour sitting in the sun watching the huge tankers go by. We just don't have this scale of river traffic in England. Well not that I've seen anyways.

I made a detour into the small medieval town of Zones.  I'm pleased I did as it was as pretty as had been promised. I felt quite a fraud as I snapped my pictures without taking the time to learn about the various buildings.  But alas the idea of an ice cream had taken over my brain and it was going to have to be satisfied.  

I hope however if you are reading this blog and you have a mind to, when you are travelling down the Rhine, take a pause at this village.  It is definatley worth it.  

Now as I have been cycling thinking about what to write each day I decided it would be amusing to make a list of "all that has crossed the road in front of me ". A sort of why did the chicken cross the road moment.  So my list to date: chicken...(she started it! Blame her, I was happy with just Blunters for amusement) caterpillar, toad, orange slug, black slug a hedgehog and a mink that hadn't quite made it. Lovely!   Today was however topping the list! This fellow thought he could cross the road but hadn't quite worked out his trojectory and hit me splat!  He then decided to cadge a lift for long enough for me to stop and take the picture. 

As I continued down the Rhine I was aware if the beauty in nature but also the beauty of the industrial infrastructure that runs along it's edge. It's not all the time but the light is spectacular here and has the ability to turn an ugly building site into something worthy of comment. 

I wasn't sure where I was going to camp tonight but as luck, the Universe or fate would have it just as my battery on the Garmin was bleeping I happened across a small campsite opposite a bar.  And this will be my view tomorrow. 

And finally, the "chicken" list has been added to quite spectuarly. Cycling away from Zones and down a tourist clad street a woman opened her car door and let her dog out just in front of me. Now the dog was following the rules of how to get onto the list by attempting to cross the road but what literally caught me out was the fact he was on an extendable lead.  So I took a 'paws' and concluded that with my wheels, disc brakes and the dog might suffer so I opted for the lead. Fortunately the brakes are pretty good but not so good that I couldn't avoid hitting the dog who had decided not to play the game after all and wanted to get back in the car. 

Good thing was I was wearing mirror sunglasses so the woman couldn't see the icy stare I gave her as I unceremoniously toppled off my bike.  The dog you will be pleased to know lives to play the game again another day. Me? Well it all about the Woofs but I too was unscathed just a little shaken.  And I thought it was only the car doors I was to avoid. 

Another stunning day in the saddle and the promise of more musings from the musette tomorrow. 

Donkey on the edge

Day 3 and the weather was still wet.  If I hadn't known that the forecast was favourable to damn hot for the next week I would have been a bit glum.  But needless to say I up sticks and packed my wet tent away again and got back on the road. 

The focus of today was to head to Venlo and catch up with an old friend Jack from my  Chemin St Jaques tour. Facebook and Strava have kept us in touch and after three years it would be rude not to pop in on my way through Europe.  

The days journey involved pedaling down more canals with the odd detour down some very wonderful cycle paths into the adjacent farmlands of Holland.  I was called to an abrupt halt to witness a sight that took me way back in time to a field in Armathwaite in Cumberland.  I was with my Dad and his friends as they took part in clearing the trees of the rooks.  It was a Rook Shoot organised by the farmers and gamekeepers to rid the area of the 'vermin'. Indeed it is not a common sight these days for a multitude of reasons which I won't go into in this blog but as I stood next to his legs,  being barely taller than his knees, I heard the rooks "caw" in distress as they tumbled in black flurries out of the sky.  Sometimes it's not the pretty things in life that stay with you but at the age if four I adored this man and it was good to see him again today in memory.  The noisy, busy  rookery was a potent image. 

 After all... These trips are not all about the bike!

My pitch for the night was in a Donkey sanctuary just outside Venlo in Balearic. 

I was treated to the sights and sounds of chickens, finches and the braying of the nine Donkeys.  Little did I realise that I had pitched my tent right next to the field in which they grazed.  And yes, they decided to "chomp" loudly late at night and brayed triumphantly early in the morning.  Alas by the time I surfaced they had taken themselves off to another field for feeding so there is no photo to accompany this but here's my pitch anyway. 

It was a joyful reunion to see Jack. I can't quite explain how the Camino forged a common bond between us but it was still there.   I guess when you set out and meet another pilgrim on the road you are both searching for something within and the spiritual quest creates  a shared  experiece.  Whichever way it was we burst into laughter as we hugged out our hellos and dropped into a familiar cycling pattern as we pedalled off to meet his family and partake in a fantastic spaghetti bolognaise.   There were familiar stories to be retold of days in warm sunny Spain and all the hills we climbed.  It was good to revisit this time as it's easy to forget the little things that make the journeys important.  Jack and Dianne were perfect hosts and generous in their offer of a soft bed and hot shower but I was not to be tempted. Something about sleeping in a tent, even a damp one just keeps me happy.  

Back at the campsite I was in for a splendid nights kip to the sound of grass chomping and braying.  Hee Hawww

Scooby doobie do....

RDay 2 and I'm not up with the larks. In fact I could hear the rain on the fly sheet so I was staying put. But then I decided procrastinating was not going to help and It would be a late night cycle if I didn't get a wriggle on.  Wet tent stuffed into a stuff sack. I'll deal with that later. 

The road to Tournault was as pleasant as could be.  The route took me alongside more water ways and canals as I quietly meandered my way towards Holland. 

However if you navigate by Garmin you will understand my distress when I followed the route that took me to this point. 

This was supposed to be my crossing but apparently someone had stolen the landing stage.  As I gazed up and down the river I could see the boats passing from pier to pier.  I looked for a button or a bell to summon a boat maybe he would come up and untie the barrier. It's amazing how deluded you can become when the answer was pretty simple.  No one is coming for you! Move on.   Sure enough five minutes up the river a brand spanking pier was waiting.  I couldn't resist taking the picture from the other angle 

This "free" service runs back and forth every day carrying locals, tourists and cyclists from one pier to the next.  

As the sun began to dip I realised I hadn't eaten lunch so when I was greeted to the wafting smells from a quick food van at a local fete the front wheel of the bike turned towards it and if course I had to follow.  As I sat slumped against a post munching on a burger I was swooped on by the local mayor. He didn't have a badge but he was wearing a white linen suit and a jaunty fedora to match.  But it was the fat cigar that give the game away.  Now having brushed with authorities already I was a little apprehensive.  Are you the women from Calais heading to Budapest? ( Note to self... Don't be so chatty at burger vans) "Well we are almost finished with our Fete tent so feel free to sleep in there rather than cycle another twenty miles". I was a bit taken aback to say the least. I thanked him but declined the kind offer. Anyway I have a perfectly lovely tent of my own and I needed to get on to the campsite. 

In previous blogs I have talked about the sudden appearance around a corner of a message from the Universe. I happened upon this which was to provide me with another two hours mulling as I cycled. 

And finally. It was late and I had found myself pushing my bike along a track of sand heading for my campsite. Whilst cursing the quicksand nature of this track  a well travelled orange VW campervan pulled alongside. "Are you stuck, have you a flat" shouted a young chap from the front seat. When I explained the viscosity of dry sand and cycle wheels he stopped the van. "No problem we can give you a lift to the next Tarmac road." Now I am not in the way of accepting lifts from strangers but as I climbed into the van with the two girls and two blokes I thought it was a perfect moment to see what the inside of the Scoobie Van really looked like.  I didn't dare spoil the illusion by asking if one of them was called Thelma and I was ceremoniously dropped off at the next junction amidst hoots of laughter and well wishing.  The van then bounced it's way off from whence it came. You have just got to love  Those pesky kids.  Perfect end to another grand day out.  

On the road to Ghent

Note to self, when booking a ferry to Dunkirk don't get on the one to Calais. Two reasons, the first is the extra miles that are added, 27 to be precise and second getting on the right road.  Most times I have left Calais, I have headed over the caps, but this time I was going in the other direction.  Now don't get me

wrong... I am pretty good at maps and such like but to be honest I was a bit fazed by all the signs.  However as luck would have it a group of obliging gendarm helped point me in the right direction.  Well that's what I'd like to think they were doing as one of them was waving his baton from the other side of the central barrier shouting "Get Off... Get off"  I don't think they got the  Sheila sense of humour with me nodding grinning and pedalling as fast as I could away from them whilst thinking there was at least ten camp site fees in that there fine. So yes I was indeed on the road, just not the one I was supposed to be on.

Cycling through France was bliss. I am at home in such an expanse of skyline and land and the accompanying soltude it brings. But Belgium, now Belgium I have fallen in love with.  It has such beautiful lush fertile countryside which is used at every opportunity in some agricultural pursuit. The goats looked happy on the side of the canal chomping foliage but the poor Ostrich just looked totally odd!  But back to the landscape. It all looked very familiar but as It is not a country I have visited before I was somewhat perplexed at this echo of something I seemed to know. And then, just as I was about to capture another stunning image of canals and willow trees on my phone it came to me. My wonderful Art teacher Mr Ormande and his books on Dutch and Flemish painters. Just such views I had looked at time and time again as an I colour plate in a book and now here they were now right in front of me. The colours and the light were perfect as were the reflections in the water of the canals.   I was almost tempted to push open a house door to see if there was a Vermeer waiting inside but that might just excite more gendarmes.  Forgive my mixing of countries and painters by the way but this just illustrates how little I really know of this part of Europe and it's culture. 

I managed to make my way to Ghent. But to get there I passed through the town's of Ypres and indeed Passendale. I found it quite disturbing trying to visualise the countryside as a battlefield and cycling along the lanes you have plenty of time to mull those big questions and pay silent homage to all those who died. 

Campsite no 1.  When arriving in the dark try to spend a little more time working out the lay of the land and the possible water logging of your pitch.  That's right, I woke to pools of water collecting underneath. Well that  wasn't really helped by the torrential rain that fell overnight and was waiting for me next morning. 

"Where next, what shall we do?"

...said the travel bug in my ear.  Out came the maps and the pondering began. How long, how far and how high?  The answer to all three... Quite a bit and the route took shape. So this year I have set my sights on Budapest.  Istanbul was the original endpoint but that's just not going to happen in the time available.  But hey! whats not to like about fourteen-ish days cycling across Europe. So here we go, bike packed, new bags made and Wistful on board again.  Whoo Haa....