Adventure cycling in Morocco: Come n ‘av a butchers

Waking in the desert plains with mountains to our right and behind us, we look ahead to a flat road stretching as far as the eye can see, nothing of note but small trees and goats climbing and eating them. So, we set out at a blistering pace (for our bikes and luggage that’s maybe 18kph) heading to towards the coast, in particular, Agadir.

We push on to the nearest town with lunch on the mind – we’re pretty hungry today – bound for the town of Taroudannt. Rolling into the town after a good stretch of the legs we’re keen to settle into some shade, an ice cold coke and a tagine of some kind. The town however, is a sprawling mass of streets, side streets and alleyways cramped inside a fortress. We get hopelessly lost pretty early on.

The danger in appearing hesitant upon arrival to a town is that you become a target. An easy target. An easy target for someone to sell you a rug. Unthinking we follow a friendly chap on his moped through the busy streets to the main square where we hope to feast on tagine and kebab and bread. Our new friend however has another plan, ‘come’an have a butchers’ he says happily. How can we refuse the Moroccan Frank Butcher?

Off we go into a rug emporium of the highest order; ‘take a seat, have some tea, my wife makes the best tagine… ‘ the offers are endless, as is the history lesson of the Berber art of rug making: this pattern is made in the desert using camel hair, this rug has this pattern which gives the rug its magic flying powers…’ the mans’ voice, deeper than any man I’ve ever met, is almost hypnotic in its’ rhythm, and doggedly persistent. We have to eat. We make our excuses, declining to buy a rug just now since we’re CYCLING and a 10m rug might not be the most practical gift idea.

Back on the bikes the day is long and hot and confused. We take more than a couple of wrong turns and roads that should exist appear to have disappeared, frustrating to say the least, especially in the heat. It’s nearly 40 degrees. We’re also surrounded by farming so there’s little in the way of camping available to us, we stop for a coffee in a town, pick up some street food and make a decision left, right or straight ahead. We turn right. We get lost. And there’s nowhere to camp. That’s when we meet Arhmed. ‘Come, stay my house’…

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Adventure cycling in Morocco: Tizi n Test, a bent mech and the Moon

Out of Asni and into the mountains we go, pushing up through the High Atlas like two mountain goats. This is a well-traveled road, busy with ‘grand taxis’ darting from Marrakech to Coast and back. For this reason the road is dangerous and wits must be razor sharp to avoid an accident since the drivers are somewhat reckless and vehicles overloaded.

Our early start meant that we made reasonable progress and so paid a brief visit to Tin Mal, a mosque with no minaret, which was closed. On leaving the ancient mosque site – a minor climb – Adrian’s rear mech found its way into his back wheel bending the mech further still and truly buckling the wheel. This is not a great situation. We’re just two days in on the bikes and have a mountain to climb (literally), a desert to cross and a coast to reach. After an extended period of staring at the bike and tutting we decide that nothing can be done save to bend the mech a bit hoping it doesn’t break.

It’s now late in the day and we should seek a camp for the night. Fortunately we happen upon a small river and find a campfire long since abandoned that serves us perfectly. We wash, eat and relax, thinking on the test that lies ahead. The big moon peeps an edge over the mountain top beaming light into our tiny camp, the sight of the moon is totally mesmeric and surreal that it’s all we can do to stare. A memorable end to an ominous day.

Today is the biggy – the climb – Tizi n Test day. Off we go, steadily climbing, gradually covering the k’s, slowly raising our heart rates and height above sea level. It’s a very gentle climb indeed and for that we are grateful – Ade has a limited gear selection to say the least – but what a climb. Tizi n Test may not be the steepest mountain, but it is certainly the most stunning and dramatic to cycle up by a long mile. Each mountain in the range criss-crossing the next, across a huge valley of gigantic elephant’s feet, a great herd crashing over from the Sahara.

We reached the summit of 2100m just in time for lunch and were lucky enough to break bread with a trio of Italian cyclists heading the way we’d come. Feasting on what was to be the most over-priced yet most-needed meal of the trip we shared stories of the road ahead, learning of the lie of the land and the possible water stops and next meal both.

A fond farewell, exchange of telephone numbers (Mazza is a vinyl buff and intends to visit London the following week) and with a quick photograph, we are back on the bikes, flying along the most treacherous and beautiful side of a mountain you could hope to see.

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Adventure Cycling in Morocco: Dude where’s my bike?

Flying with our bikes is something we are always reluctant to do, it’s a major hassle to get to the airport, since they are always out of the way and then the dismantling of the bikes at the airport inevitably means something goes missing not to mention the fact that the bike has to be handed over to the wonderfully mysterious forces of ‘baggage handlers’ hidden in the bowels (behind the wall) of the terminal. So, we fly out to Marrakech full of excitement and hope – ready for our latest adventure in a foreign land – not knowing what lies ahead of us (we very rarely plan a route in detail).

We arrive in Marrakech via our EasyJet flight EKGCX6X ahead of time, 6 minutes early in fact, our bikes on the other hand do not arrive. We are fobbed off by the frazzled ‘Baggage Guy’ and told that the bikes have not made it on to the plane and that they will arrive on the morrow. There are a dozen other holiday makers without luggage – all of them in the oversize category – all of them pretty cross.

Disheartened we make a plan. No bikes so we can’t travel, no tent so we can’t sleep, need to be at the airport tomorrow first thing to collect the bikes. What to do? Only one thing for it really – go to Marrakech for the night and feast on tagine, mint tea and cake! Next day on the bikes we pedal off away from the hustle and bustle of the Jemaa El Fna towards the huge, splendid, and violent mountains looming before us.

In the town of Asni in the foothills of the High Atlas, close to Imlil, we meet a Berber shepherd by the name of Moustafa. He offers us food and accommodation for the night in his family home, and we gratefully accept. We are shown to the Hammam which is a real treat after a decent day in the saddle, then we sit down to dinner with Moustafa, a splendid Berber omelette with fresh bread and olives. Then out comes the mint tea. And the silver. And more mint tea. And more silver. And more tea. I casually admire the detail of the handiwork on one of the necklaces. I’m buying a necklace and I don’t even know it…. Negotiations are protracted, Moustafa and I cannot agree on a price, so we decide to sleep on it, in Moustafas bedroom.

Next morning, keen to make a good start on the day into the mountains I decide that we must agree quickly and offer to swap a mobile phone for the two necklaces I like. And we’re on our way. Hurrah! Who did the best deal? Who know’s, but it was a fun either way.

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Route Planning and Mapping Software: A guest post from MadeGood.org

Maps and Apps

Finding one’s way around on a bike is one of those tricky things that every cyclist needs to master. Back in the days before the internet, GPS and smartphones the only options we would have had would have been to either be very good at navigating or carry paper maps with us. Indeed, to a lot of people that is still the case (and it can be a much more reliable way of navigating when out of battery or signal reception). One invention that didn’t quite catch on back in the 1950s was a map that you wore like a wristwatch.

As mentioned, we have a multitude of options available to us these days to plan a bike ride, navigate during one and also to review a ride:

- Google Maps (desktop). https://maps.google.co.uk
The desktop version of Google maps is probably the best and most used mapping site, with its streetview feature revolutionising how maps can be used. It it now features the option to plan routes using a bike. The route that it suggests sometimes takes you onto big and busy roads, so it is best to double check routes and compare with other sites. The feature displays all the different cycle routes and paths, and has been a massive help when I have needed to quickly find a route via cycle paths.

- Google Maps (mobile app)
The new version of Google Maps benefits from the Google’s outstanding and detailed mapping software and its extensive database of businesses and data. Upon its re-introduction to Apple’s app store it was welcomed back with open arms, and now it has the added bonus of turn by turn navigation – useful if you have a handlebar mount for your phone. If you need to find a landmark or particular address, the mobile app is a Godsend.

- Apple Maps (iphone)
The much maligned apple maps has turn by turn navigation, which is probably its only positive. Hated by iPhone users when it was forced on them despite it not being ready or at all accurate, I haven’t opened the app since Google Maps returned.

- Cyclestreets (desktop and mobile app) www.cyclestreets.net
My go to app and website for when I want to plan a ride. Cyclestreets is accurate, well built and it works. My experience with this software has only been positive and you can adjust the route depending on estimated speed. It shows an itinerary for you to follow and go through step by step, with a photo map available for when you are planning your journey. You can also choose to display different mapping software, like Google maps.

- Cycle Network (mobile app)
This app from Sustrans (the charity that aims to improve cycling and walking infrastructure) puts the national cycling routes at your fingertips, so no matter where you are in the country you will be able to find your nearest route. Sustrans do fantastic work and although this app is not as smooth or easy to use as Cyclestreets, it is a useful resource and has a great feature to allow you to find nearby attractions and bike shops.The routes can also be found on Sustrans’ website, www.sustrans.org.uk/map

- iOSMaps(mobile app)
More of a resource for walkers, the ordnance survey’s mapping app is simply a way to display their maps. It lacks easy route planning functionality. Dull.
- Map My Ride (desktop and mobile app). www.mapmyride.com
A social ride logging service, Map My Ride allows you to… map rides. You can then share them with your friends and other users so that they can try them out themselves. So, if you are thinking of going on a ride from London to Brighton you can search for a route and follow it.

- Strava (mobile app)
Strava is similar to other sites in that it allows you to record where you have ridden via your phone’s GPS. What makes it different, however, is that it adds gamification to your rides. Sections of road are split up on Strava and you can take a look at them to see how you match up with Strava users.

- TFL Journey Planner http://cyclejourneyplanner.tfl.gov.uk/
TFL has its own journey planner for if you live in London. Like Cyclestreets, you can edit the journey for to be easy, moderate and fast. It’s very clear and simple, and also show Barclays Hire docking stations. The map is nice to use, and is interactive, featuring other TFL transport options like bus stops that you can click on. You can also plan a journey incorporating public transport.

As mentioned, a good old trusty paper map can be invaluable. On my coast to coast ride from Newcastle to Cumbria the map that I had with me was vital. It was easy to reach and view whilst riding, was immune to bad weather (it was treated with a waterproof finish) and bad reception and didn’t have a battery to run out on me. I could also look at it without having to take off my gloves, and I was able to show it to my riding companion and anyone we needed to check re: directions.

At the same time, I used my phone to look at maps and search for facilities. At the end of the day, different things work for different people, but there really are some brilliant websites and mobile phone apps on the market. Take a look at them and see which ones work for you, and why not check out MadeGood in the near future. We are working on featuring bike rides that we think people will be inspired by on an interactive map showing terrain profiles as well as good places to stop for food, drink and accommodation.

By Duncan Palmer – @cyclodunc

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Stairway to Devon

It’s the first week in April, a season notorious for rain but capable of any kind of weather. The destination – Devon, famed for it’s spectacular coast line, picturesque cottages and bad ass cream teas. The perfect way to kick off 2012.

As is the norm for many of our local adventures we’re riding with MashUp and District Cycling Club. Last minute phone calls to other members of the elite touring club reveal several riders are well into late night drinking sessions and no one can get hold of the guy with half the train tickets, who’s no longer coming with us due to a lame excuse. Jim is going to be delayed until Sunday because he’s on a stag do and a severe snow warning has been issued for most of the country. Hmmm

By hook or by crook we eventually make it to Exeter, in varying states. We have had the great fortune of one of our top riders Tom ‘The Hen’ Hennessy being a proper Devon lad and offering up his local knowledge and his parents pad for us to crash in for the weekend. So we start the proceedings with a couple of Hen’s favorite day rides out of Exeter, day one we head to the eastern villages. We end up with a fish supper at a cracking chippy in Exmouth then potter back along the recently completed cycle route that takes us up the estuary to Exeter and Hen’s local pub where we get to work on cider and cheese plates

The shenanigans roll on, day two and we’re heading to the notoriously bleak Dartmoor, but the weather is on our side remarkably, no sign of the Blizards which are battering the north of the country. We soon find our selves lounging about in the sunshine drinking tea in Morten Hampstead, 10 minutes out of the village we hit a killer climb closely followed with a chain snap from our rookie mascot Dave. 6 riders, no chain tool, Whoopsie! It’s back to Morten to beg from the locals. Soon enough a knight in shining armour comes over to us with a chain break, having heard news of our plight, what a legend! Meanwhile Steve, the MashUp and District food and drink advisor goes off to interrogate the local cafe. Within minutes a raging argument spills out of the door and into the street. Steve has offered some friendly advise about customer service and the owner has blown his top. It’s all kicking off. Our new friend gives us an insight into village politics while I fix Dave’s chain as quickly as possible. Back on the road the confrontation has given Stevo a huge adrenaline boost and he leads the charge for the rest of the day!

So after our nice warm up it’s time to get to business, Jim arrives with the rest of our camping gear and we get fully loaded up with a superb curry on Sunday night. The plan is to camp for the rest of the week so we can do some distance, we want to see what the North coast has to offer. The rest of the MashUp crew decide to join us for the first day which takes us up onto Exmoor with spectacular views over mid Devon, we depart with a pub feast just outside of Barnstaple then roll off into night to become reacquainted with the world of wild camping. While technically illegal, wild camping is pretty safe in England, we find a perfect spot and get a fire going as quick as we can…it’s getting pretty cold!

I think If I could sum up our tour of Devon with one word it would probably be ‘Diverse’. Over the next 4 days we rode in wind, rain, fog, sunshine, sleet and snow. Through the desolate Exmoor and down to the picturesque North coast villages of Lynton and Porlock, through forests and farms, cutting down canals and racing along the dramatic cliff tops of the southern ‘Jurrasic’ coast. We couldn’t resist a stop off in the best named village in Britain while we were there, so it was down to Beer, that’s right the village is called Beer! It’s not just the name that’s impressive either, the captains cottage tea room rocks. Call in for some fresh crab sarnies and cream tea, I urge you!

I wouldn’t say that that the weather conditions were ideal, it was pretty nasty at times but you’re never too far from a welcoming pub and an open fire. Some of the climbs, particularly those along the cycle routes which follow the north and south coast are incredibly steep and narrow so I wouldn’t recommend it for a leisurely introduction to cycling but if you like a challenge then this has to be one of the most rewarding places to ride in the UK. If you’re not up for wild camping there are lots of small camp sites too, we stopped at a cracking one in the middle of Porlock village, warm showers with a sea view too, can’t say fairer than that. We heart Devon!

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Put yourself in our shoes

Packing light is an essential part of adventure cycling. In an Ideal world it would be great to have a pair of shoes for every occasion stuffed away in your panniers but let’s face it, we’re not talking about an ideal world. So when we were packing for our 2011 European challenge we found it tough to decide what to take with us. We were both determined to ride with clipless pedals and without any money to buy new gear we had no other option than to take our battered old cycling shoes on the trip. They did the job just about but we needed something else to wear when we were off the bikes so we both packed a pair of the lightest trainers we could find, which happened to be canvas pumps. We quickly learned that even in good weather we would usually have to walk about in wet grass every morning while we packed up our tent and prepared for the days riding. Getting wet feet and slipping around like idiots soon became a regular part of life on the road, so when our good friends at natureshop asked us if we’d like to test out some of their new 2012 footwear range you can imagine our excitement! Just in time for a spring tour of Devon too.

What Adrian thinks of the Teva

So, let’s just say I’m sceptical about things which claim to be waterproof. Most kit which claims to be waterproof is either rediculously heavy and sweaty or simply doesn’t work, however I have found eVent fabrics to be pretty decent which is why I chose to test out these Teva Forge Pro eVent trainers.

I’ve been wearing these for 2 months now and I’ve managed to spill just about everything on them, including hot coffee and turd infested flood water at work, much to my relief they kept me nice and dry.

I’ve tested them camping and walking and I would say they’re probably the best trainers I’ve ever used for that kind of stuff. I’ve worn them on the bike quite a lot too, the only time I have got my feet wet is when I wore them in a down pore and the rain ran off my GoreTex trousers and into my shoes, at the end of the day they are trainers after all. Still even with water pouring into them they were reasonably comfortable and didn’t fill up with water like my so called waterproof socks did.

The only downside is they are a bit bulky as they do have quite chunky soles but I reckon it’s worth it for the luxury of having dry and comfy feet. They’re very grippy but don’t get caked in mud and they’re pretty light as well. So I have to say I’m a big fan of these shoes!

James’ view of the Glove

The Merrell Sonic Glove is a super light weight, comfortable trainer. The barefoot technology is something quite amazing – essentially your foot is flatter to the ground – so your posture is improved and your legs, hips and feet assume the position as if walking barefoot. Having worn these out during the Tour of Devon and few a few weeks prior too I have to say that these shoes are extremely comfortable and really do make a big difference to your posture.

In touring terms these shoes are perfect because they are light weight and compact so even in my giant size 11′s they fit neatly in to a front or rear pannier. One word about sizing – Merrell sizes tend towards the lower end of the spectrum – so if in doubt go for the bigger size. I had to send the 10.5′s back so keep this in mind. If you do have to get another size sent out Nature Shops’ returns policy is excellent offering free returns and P&P.

 

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Bikes Change Lives

Today I have once again had the pleasure of visiting the inspirational tea fuelled power house that is re~cycle HQ over in Colchester UK. And what a day it was!

It was a great chance to catch up with the fantastic people who make it all happen! A crack team of volunteers arrived early this morning in abismal rain and wind to load a shipment of bikes set for Malawi. As you can see from the pictures they use every last inch of space.

Most of the bikes that are donated go straight to Africa, if a bike arrives and meets the standard then it is compacted by removing parts such as pedals and kick stands, then the handlebars are turned so they can be packed as tightly as possible. The bikes will then be rebuilt and serviced when they arrive in Africa by local people who re~cycle help to train and educate.

Some donated bikes are in a very poor condition but nothing goes to waste at re~cycle! Every nut, bolt, spoke and spindle is painstakingly salvaged and used as spares.

Some bikes such as modern racers and vintage collectors bikes are not suitable for the African market so these go to a separate workshop where they are serviced and sold locally, generating income to keep the charity afloat.

I was over the moon to see not a penny of our fundraising going to waste. It was also fantastic to hear that re~cycles plans for the future include strengthening their network of African partners and helping to meet the increased demand for shipments through setting up more collection depots. They deserve all the help they can get and we will certainly be behind them every step of the way!

Please give generously to Re~Cycle by clicking here

You can also now donate by text message (UK only). It’s quick and easy! Just text RBBR99 followed by the amount you want to donate (e.g. RBBR99£20) to 70070 and your donation will be added to your next phone bill.

Thankyou!!!!

Ade and Jim

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Part 15: Home

Zagreb was eerie and quiet, It’s Sunday morning. We park our bikes against a wall, take stock on our losses and figure out where to stay the night. We’re amazed by how thoroughly the thieves have gone through our stuff, right under our noses. They’d even taken care to remove cash from our wallets then carefully place them back in our bags. We’d been fleeced good and proper. We carry on looking. Phone, cammera, yep, gone. They’d even taken Jim’s jeans. We were livid, scratching our heads in bewilderment, how didn’t we wake up? Did they really gas our cabin? The truth is we’ll never know but we arrived in Zagreb feeling pretty down about it all. The weather had taken a sudden winter-ward snap. The cold fog was sucking the life out of us as we sat dejected on the pavement.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end!

OK so it could have been much worse, we still had our bikes, passports and enough time to ride the final leg to Lljubliana. We vow never to take a night train again and put our shoes, jackets and gloves on. One, two, three, four. Five bags. Ride on!

We soon find the perfect antidote to our Bosnian blues. Hostel Funk. Once we are revived with coffee and burek our hosts pass around foot long rifas. We don’t loose much sleep over our ordeal! After so long on the road it’s easy to forget what day it is so we were over the moon to discover our visit had fallen on their legendary Halloween party. Just what we needed. We went off to the second hand shops to buy warm clothes and knocked together a couple of superb scary-ish outfits while we were at it. Harry Potter and the Mask of Zara. When we return the decorations are up and music is pumping. Now this is happening!

As we peddle into Slovenia on the following damp November morning it felt as if everything was changing. The colours. Bright yellow to deep red and everything in between, lush deciduous forest. Pumpkins smile at us as we pass garden gates. Grey clouds stretch over our heads. The pastel shades of Austrian architecture return. Alpine tranquillity approaching with ever turn of the pedals. Our moods return to optimism. We’re going home!

The days are filled with reflection, the mountainous valley walls are flipped in reverse to our side in the cold waters of the Sava as the past 14 weeks reel through our minds. From Burnham Street to the Balkans. We recall our favourite characters, people who we will never forget. The kindness that kept us going, riding on to see who else was waiting for us. The frontiers we’d crossed, steeped in history and culture. The places, the struggles, the hope, the victories. Getting lost and finding ourselves.

We arrive in beautiful Ljubljana smug and exhausted. We fly home from here. Home. If you start to feel most at home when you’re in motion then maybe home is just a state of mind. Whatever home is I’m not entirely sure of any more, but I’ve felt at home in places I’d never even imagined of a few months ago.

Our spirits are high as we reach the final days of our journey. Two of my closest friends arrive to party with us. I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate. Slovenia’s capital doesn’t disappoint! We find our selves in a crazy squatted military barracks drinking Rakija with the locals, smiling, laughing, putting the world to rights.

This is how it was supposed to end.

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Part 14: Majdas Touch

Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why have you left us hanging for the last 77 days, 19 hours, 57 minutes and 21 seconds…

Well, it turns out that life on the road is WAY simpler than life in the ‘real’ world. We’re truly sorry for the delay in getting this final post together and published but I’m certain that if you read this post you will be satisfied that we completed the trip in proper Really Big Bike Ride fashion…

So we last posted from Dubrovnik, the fortress city of Southern Croatia, our next move was to hit a couple of the islands, including Mijet, which means ‘honey’ and cycle through the National Park – very beautiful, very quiet and very expensive. So far so out of season. After a couple of nights immersed in the wonderful tranquillity of these splendid islands, we made the journey back to the mainland and headed for the border.

A pleasant Sunday afternoon crossing into Bosnia and we make our way towards Mostar for a few days rest. First impressions of Bosnia are that it’s a lot like Wales, in more ways than one. We deviate slightly from our intended route and end up in the sticks, after a few hours in the saddle in soggy weather, we call into the first restaurant we see – as we approach the doors are closed, shutters pulled down and the open sign turned to closed. We manage to speak through one of the windows to a youngish girl of around sixth form age and are told that it’s a public holiday of some sort and that there’s no food to be had. Fair enough. We push on further through the village and find a shop, purchasing a couple of chocolate bars and a packet of biscuits – this sets us back 5 euro.

Arriving in Mostar we’re soaking wet and are desperate to get a hot shower and a good meal. We meet a Kiwi couple and Ian proceeds to wax lyrical about his very own Dawes Galaxy that has a fixed gear on each wheel, proclaiming the simplicity of the set up to be a revelation. Except we agree when it comes to climbing a hill. Or going down one for that matter. We check in to a 94% rated ‘hostel’ formerly Majdas Rooms. We’re given hot soup, fresh towels and a low down of what to see, what to do and where to eat. So far so good. We drink a few beers; make a little conversation with our new friends David (American, from New Jersey, living in Hungary, total computer genius, rare dude), Veronique (French, travelling around Europe, three days sick, leaving tomorrow), Josie (Scottish, 19, busking her way around Europe, Classically trained musician, all round legend) and the Canadian who blagged our heads a little bit. We’re having a great time until Majdas comes home. Between us putting our shoes on and leaving for dinner Madja has made us Public Enemy No.1 and asks us if we want to leave the hostel. We’re shocked. It makes no sense. We’re very confused but we’ve just checked in and we’re not going anywhere. For the next two days Majdas makes a point of either being rude, threatening or ignoring us altogether. Its weird. Really weird. We’re not sure what we did to upset the lady but something about us she did not like and boy did we know about it.

Mostar though is truly beautiful and offers some interesting cultural experiences. We visited the famous bridge Stari Most, walked the Minaret, climbed the bank that was used as a sniper tower on the front line during the siege and bought lots of knitted wool socks. We enjoyed Mostar and would certainly go back to jump from the bridge. That is if we hadn’t had such an awful experience on the night train. Do not catch the night train anywhere in Eastern Europe unless you absolutely have to and definitely know where it’s going and if there are any changes.

Having cycled for nearly 100 days and had such amazing luck throughout we felt that booking a train would be pretty straight forward. We had I guess in a way let down our guards. EPIC FAIL. We boarded the night train an hour late with excitement and a touch of trepidation. We settle into our seats and decide that it might just be OK. That’s when the giant ex-military SAS style train conductor asks for our tickets, which we happily hand over having already paid the supplement for our luggage and bikes, turns out this geezer has other plans which involve us handing over a further 10 euros in cash. The last of our hard currency. He reeked of booze and was quite cross and shouty. Thanks then.

We sit back, pissed off, not certain that we’re going to make it Zagreb in one piece or not. Our worst fears are quickly confirmed when the train pulls into a station and we’re told that we have to change to another train, that is waiting at the platform – since we’re already an hour behind time we absolutely cannot fuck around and need to get all 10 of our bags and the bikes on the train sharpish.

We’re on our second train in a carriage with a reasonable looking chap feeling a little harassed so we open our little picnic hamper and share our bottle of wine and snacks with our new friend and begin to feel a little better about our prospects. We’re on the train for a little over an hour when we’re politely informed that yes, the train will soon be arriving at its destination and that we’re to be ready to disembark pronto. Alas, we’re not yet in Zagreb, but somewhere in North Bosnia and we’re to get on a bus. With our bikes parked right next to us in our seats. Great. The fun never ends for AJ and James. This is only the first leg of our four wheeled sections. We have to leave this bus and get on to a coach with a really irate driver who really would rather we weren’t on his coach and that we didn’t have so much luggage especially two bicycles. Who catches a coach with a bike in the middle of the night anyway?

So after finally crossing the border into Croatia and having our passports checked by the immigration people we are edging closer to our destination. We think. We think wrong and have to make one final ridiculous change that involves making a mad dash across several sets of train lines in the darkest of nights to climb aboard our fifth and final connection of the night. Happily we are helped with our luggage by two local chaps who seem very nice and are interested in Premier League football. We scramble across the tracks and onto the train in the nick of time. We settle into a carriage close to the bikes complete with sliding door and curtains. We doze off for what seems like a few minutes… Unhappily the two chaps who helped us with our stuff on to the train have also helped us off the train with some of the more valuable of our belongings including Adrian’s Kindle, camera with all our shots of South Croatia, Bosnia and Montenegro, £50 cash and a BlackBerry mobile phone. Oh, and my jeans. My favourite jeans from Bershka in Barcelona. And my waterproof shorts too. Great. Thanks. Oh and they gassed us too…

MAP coming soon.

Give generously to Re~Cycle here

You can also now donate by text message (UK only). It’s quick and easy! Just text RBBR99 followed by the amount you want to donate (e.g. RBBR99£20) to 70070 and your donation will be added to your next phone bill.

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Part 13: Unlucky for Some

How much fun was Albania? I’ve just reread AJ’s post and its taken me back there. Awesome! Like so much of our journey Albania for me most clearly demonstrates how we get along and as lucky as we do. The trick is to have a loose idea of where you want to go, what you’d like to see and then get on and see what happens. As you’ll have read Albania took us for the ride and not the other way around, sort of grabbed hold of us and swept us away of its own accord, much to our enjoyment and satisfaction. You really have to just roll with it, and because we did it’s easily the most exciting place that we’ve visited.

So this week eh? We’ve really had to get down to it to be honest, for the following reasons; its gotten very cold, we’ve had torrential rain for a week and I nearly hospitalised us both with poisonous water. Oh and we’ve hit three countries back to back and completed the challenge. Not bad going if I do say so myself.

After such a hectic and wild introduction to the United Kingdom of Albania we made a snap decision in spite of a fierce head wind to chip over to Kosovo for a Friday night for a change of pace since we were so close to the border and it would be rude not to. Now there are a couple of things that I can tell you about Kosovo; the roads are very narrow and the drivers pretty ridiculous, the hotel grading system is slightly misleading and the water… DON’T DRINK THE WATER! After a very restful night in the Jakovo Hotel (four stars, 30 Euro for a twin room, I won the toss for the double bed by the way) and a slap up meal in the Piano Bar – the best restaurant in town and still easily within our budget, we left Gjakove heading back to our adopted cousin Albania, and more specifically the Valbone and the Albanian Alps.

The day started much as any other, cycling, eating, cycling, eating, cycling, you know the sort of thing you do on a cycle tour of 20 European countries in 100 days. We stopped like any other day at a small town with a mountain spring to make porridge and fill up on ‘fresh’ water. We continue toward the border anticipating a big climb that never materialises, we stop at a hotel within sight of the border for some lunch, the whole of the local police force appear to be there, we dine for less than 10 euro for two courses and the owner treats us to free coffee, we tip heavily and cross into Albania. This is the most beautiful border crossing anywhere I’ve seen, the Albanian Alps spike up to the right and the road runs away to the left into a gorgeous valley – its a fast road too and we’ve got it all to our selves. We race all the way to Bajram Curri, gateway to Valbone. At this point the road is nothing more than a dirt track and its 25 km up a step gorge to our destination and daylight is fading, we get moving with the knowledge that wild bears still roam these parts and our progress is speedy for this reason. After 15km I begin to get stomach ache and slow right down – it’s minus three and we have 10 km to go. It’s painful.

We arrive at a lodge as a Swiss couple with a German woman are walking by, we ask if this is where the American, Catherine lives with Alfred and receive the affirmative – Professor Tabaku had told us of this place and we had a message from Sali for Catherine about a French woman who’d written about Albania and Lord Byron – we have a brief chat with Peter, his wife and Fransisca and escape to the warmth of the bar. Full to capacity we squeeze on the end of a table and order some beers. A chap on the nearest table catches our English and introduces himself and the table, Kevin, working in Kosovo on an assignment for the army, Matt working on his thesis about Kosovo and Dave keeping an eye the pair of them. We learn from Dave that the place is fully booked – it is a Saturday night after all – so we introduce ourselves to Catherine and Alfred who are deep in conversation with their builders about some work going on at the lodge. We are kindly offered the guest lodge 1km up the road and gratefully accept, ordering another beer and settling at the table with the other Brits. As all this is taking place I’m feeling terrible, certain that I’m going to be badly ill and sick at any moment. I excuse myself and dash to the bathroom. I was right, I was dreadfully sick and spent the rest of the night being sick with the shits too. Probably the sickest I’ve ever been – awful, properly, sicky awful. Fortunately, the whole population of guests are the kindest people on the planet and do everything they can to help me and make sure I survive. So in no particular order thank you to Catherine and Alfred for finding room for us on a busy, fully booked night, to Peter and his lovely wife for supplying us with electrolytes – the key to our recovery, to Francisica for generally being a saint and making sure we wanted for nothing and drank plenty of black doctor and water and giving up your spare bed, to Matt and Dave for being proper gents and giving up your room for us and to all the staff for making the best food, particularly the bread and soup, in the whole world. Thank you all, we have not only fully recovered but we are firing on all cylinders once more! I say us because Adrian having spent a wonderful evening entertaining the guests with tales of our journey to Valbona, became sick in the middle of the night, and so it was that we spent the next day and night bed ridden and suffering in the freezing mountains of Albania.

Heart rending stuff, I know, but we had to continue our adventure and the lodge was fully booked next day too so back on the bikes feeling less than human and into Valbone to see what we’d set out to. And what beauty did we see. The most magnificent and dramatic mountain landscape of all time – truly, madly, deeply breathtaking! A surreality from the confinement of our sick beds. Down we went ever so slowly down the twenty five kilometres of treacherous dirt track in the most beautiful part of the world I’ve ever seen feeling less than human and again to the town of Bajram Curri and beyond to the remote town of Fierze. For next day we were to sail the Lake Koman, a reservoir in a gorge in the midst of the Albanian Alps. We arrived to this town, bought provisions from the shop, made our way to set up camp when a young punk shouts ‘you no sleep here – this is my place, go!’ What?. We just want an early night and to catch this boat first thing, give us a break. He comes back again; ‘you no sleep here – this is my place, go! Why you no stay at hotel?’ What hotel? We follow this kid a couple hundred metres to the ‘hotel’. Ha! We accept our fate and praise serendipity – the boat leaves from this place – an hour earlier than we were told and the hotel is £2 a night. Hotel in Albanian loosely translates as a building, this particular hut was more tree house than hotel and the wonky external stairs missing a couple of steps and without handrail make for a more ‘Crystal Maze’ experience than that of a traditional accommodation elsewhere. Bear in mind we both still have the shits and are now sleeping an assault course away from the toilet. All I’ll tell you about the toilet at this exclusive and luxurious hotel is this; you know the scene in Trainspotting when Renton is coming off the gear and has to use the ‘worst toilet in Scotland’ – multiply that by one hundred. You’re not even close. Grim times, and a sleepless night.

Easy come, easy go. We’re on the floating minibus destined for the town of Komani and its 6am. It’s FEEZING. And off we pop. This boat is a local lifeline, delivering supplies to remote locations, picking up and dropping off passengers wherever they happen to be or want to go and making a little money from tourists along the way. But seriously a trip you have to make. Its incredible, stunning and without compare. This is the most amazing ‘mini cruise’ of all time. And at just 400 leke – its a steal! Stepping off the vessel we are both glad to reach the other side without incident, however Ade is suffering from some heavy stomach ache and its a good hour before we can leave the town and pedal the 60km to Shkoder. After 36km of very quiet single track road along a series of reservoirs and mountain lakes which conspire to create a very wild landscape, interrupted only by the numerous power lines that string their way from the hydro electric power plant at the foot of the dam where we alighted the tiny boat, we stop in a small town to grab some lunch. Refreshed with lemon chai and a ridiculous amount of meat and chips that we can’t finish we saddle up for the last of the afternoon sunshine bound for Shkoder, a decent nights sleep and a day off to straighten ourselves out. Shkoder is a grand little town with a distinctly Austrian feel to it’s Old Town and a very lush park and a vibrant café culture – close your eyes a moment and you could easily be in any cosmopolitan European city – everyone wears designer clothes and big sunglasses.

So from Shkoder to Bar, Montenegro and our 19th country. We are feeling a little better but still no where near the fitness we had been enjoying – we’re still only managing small meals and are not as strong as we’d like – but we have to make progress, cash is tight since we’ve had to stay indoors more than we would have done and we really have to push on; we’ve booked our flight home and have to be on that plane. A quick shimmy along the Dalmatian Coast seems like the perfect way to end our trip, sun, sea, sand and mountains. Ha! Torrential rain and all that cal more like. We’ve been drowned everyday for a week in some of the heaviest and prolonged showers we’ve ever seen, there is a thunderstorm on Friday that is so severe that we are forced off the bikes – a bicycle is a very dangerous thing to be connected to when lightening is reaching out to the earth with forked snakes tongue. Soggy and amused by the sheer force of the rain that is simply too much to bear we embrace a night in a very hard to find hostel in Budva, the ironically named Sun Hostel. We meet a man called Jerard, who has been everywhere and is en route to Albania in preparation for a road trip next year, so we give him the low down over dinner and a couple of glasses of wine. The next day looks more promising, blue sky can be seen from the breakfast table and we decide its now or never. After the heaviest ‘shower’ of all time we arrive at Kotor, a world heritage site and the rain ceases and the sun appears from behind the clouds. We opt to take a tour of the Kotorski Lake, now I have said already once in this post that Valbone is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to, and it is, but this is something different, something more charming and pleasing, Valbona is rugged, dramatic and awe inspiring due to its remoteness and fierce surroundings, Kotor is something else; the reflections of the mountains in the fjord, the tiny rainbow coloured boats moored at every house, the ancient and beautiful buildings and churches which are numerous make this place more than anywhere that I’ve seen the most complete and delightful environment. The water too – so clear, so calm – it has a very happy influence and brings peace of mind. Lunch is a complete hoot, a cruise ship has landed in town and the place is crawling with tourists – Brits mainly – enjoying the character and charm of the maze of streets that constitute the old town, we are the main attraction and repeat our story many times. One chap has us rolling with laughter when describing the cruise as a holiday ‘newly weds, over feds and nearly deads’ says he ‘and I fit two of those categories’ and we are lolling at that one. After having our photograph taken like zoo animals we move on, toward the town of Hercog Novi, 20km from the Croatian border. So you can imagine how excited we are, its Saturday night and we’re about to cross into the final territory to complete the 20 countries in just 86 days, so excited that we drank some beers in a fisherman’s tavern with a whole family of locals who watched not one but two films back to back and didn’t even notice us save for the fact we kept ordering beers and one of them had to get up to pour them. Yeh, rock n roll, I know. Rock and roll.

Sunday morning, crossing the border to Croatia, country 20 on our list and the successful completion of our Re~Cycle challenge. Well done us!

The more perceptive of you will see that we have a whole fourteen days remaining of the 100 committed to this adventure – I hear you ask; What will you do with yourselves in this time? Will you keep cycling? Or just kick back and relax? The answer is simple; we will continue cycling. Writing now from a hostel in Dubrovnik the ancient fortress city in Southern Croatia, we intend to hop around a few of the islands, flirt up to Mostar in Bosnia, eventually making our way to Ljubljana to fly back in mid November. But fear not! There’s more to come from the Really Big Bike Ride; we’ll be compiling lists of our top ten of everything, reviewing all the gear we’ve used and bringing you a report of the final two weeks of our trip – so stay tuned, there’s sure to be more amusing anecdotes from the best cycling blog in the whole world…

And if like we presume you are one of the sceptics that has waited until we’ve made it to all 20 countries before giving generously to Re~Cycle, now is your time to shine! You can donate from anywhere in Europe by visiting our just giving page. You can also now donate by text message (UK only). It’s quick and easy! Just text RBBR99 followed by the amount you want to donate (e.g. RBBR99 £20) to 70070 and your donation will be added to your next phone bill.

For our four way play through Kosovo, Albania, Montenegro and Croatia see MAP 12

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