London-Kos-London via the Blockhaus and Stelvio (and some other hills)
Draft of an article written for Arrivée magazine
Having taken the pledge at www.flightfree.co.uk/ but also being rather partial to the idea of joining the wife for a late summer week on a Greek island, there was really only one transport mode that Richard Evans of the Kingston Wheelers Audax Chapter was ever going to consider...
London to Kos stage 1: London to Newhaven, Monday 16 September 2024
88km 900m
I'm riding to Greece! Because I don't want to fly. My holiday on Kos starts two weeks today so it's time to leave. It'll be train and ferry assisted, here's the plan: ride to Newhaven, ferry to Dieppe, ride to Paris, train to Nice, ride to Bari, ferry to Patras, ride to Athens, ferry to Kos. What could possibly go wrong?
stage 2: Dieppe to Paris
209km 1,350m
The avenue verte provides a wide variety of route types and surfaces from silky slick tarmac on former rail lines to quiet lanes winding between sleepy villages, stony paths in St Germain en Laye forest, and manically busy bike lanes in central Paris where traffic is as bonkers as ever... until one reaches the serenity of the car-free voies sur berges of the river Seine where joggers, skaters and tango dancers reign supreme. Wonderful!
stage 3: Nice to Loano
150km 1,370m
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| Couchette with a view: Paris-Nice |
Following a super comfy night in my SNCF couchette to Nice (€40 with the bike – how civilised) the ride was rather more challenging. Yes I knew it would be hilly on the corniche. And hillier still with two entirely gratuitous bonus climbs that both feature at the end of the one-day classic Milan - San Remo race: Poggio and Cipressa.
I was less ready though for the horrendous traffic jams in Monaco and a routing error (can't get the staff) down a rough path with about 100 steps.
Also last time I looked the weather was set fair for today – sunshine and light winds. It actually turned out rather wetter and breezier. A rainy overnight forecast forced me most reluctantly to hole up in a hotel rather than camp out in the bivvy bag.
First time I've ever cycled in Italy. Some great cycle paths here. However, as I’d been warned, drivers pass close. Just two waited patiently behind me for a safe place to give me space as they overtook... they were both German.
stage 4: Loano to Varese Ligure
170km 2,110m
My coastal route on the SS1 Via Aurelia alternated between bike paths and the highway and fed directly into Genoa’s frantic urban motorway system. I backtracked gingerly out of that vortex of certain death.
The city centre is a glorious mix of architectural styles and is the birthplace of Christopher Columbus. After that I turned inland for a late bonus climb almost 1,000 metres up to the Passo del Bocco followed by pothole dodging down the long, dark, chilly and stressful descent to Varese Ligure. One found oneself in need of a restorative that only a hotel bar can provide. Luckily they had a warm room for me at the Albergo Amici.
stage 5: Varese Ligure to Poggibonsi
205km 830m
An easier day awheel today started with a glorious 50k descent back to the coast. No major cities to negotiate and almost no rough stuff.
The weather has improved too: no rain, less windy, mostly sunny and warm. I’m hoping it'll stay dry for my first night out in the bivvy bag.
Ride fuel is mostly pizza, panini, gelato, coffee, bread, cheese, tomatoes and olives. And a melon a day keeps the doctor away.
Just one bad news item: my right sandal has chucked in the towel. This pair only did ten years of monthly 200k+ audax rides + 3 x Paris-Brest-Paris + 2 x London-Edinburgh-London + 1 x circumnavigation of the planet (book still available!) so I might have to put in a claim to Shimano for a new pair. That said it's still wearable and rideable for the time being... let's see if it'll get me to Kos...
stage 6: Poggibonsi to Spina
189km 3,300m
There are times when one questions one's sanity doing stuff like this. Not today though! I'm properly into the hills now, the past few days have been a mere prelude to the symphonic beauty that I am suddenly immersed in. This is joy on a bike, my first ever visit to Tuscany.
Many are riding these hills on electric bikes which I see as a good thing – they’d likely otherwise be in coaches or cars spewing filth and noise and snarling up the roads. Too many angry young men thrashing about the place on noisy motorbikes though, when will they grow up, calm down and get proper bikes?
I ride a while on strada bianchi through the Chianti vineyards with a local proudly astride a beautifully restored 1970s aluminium Alan – he’s training for the Eroica sportive next month and we pass through Gaiole, home of that event. I can smell fermenting grapes as we pass village wineries.
stage 7: Spina to l'Aquila
167km 2,420m
1,176 km done in the first week and I’m into Umbria now, well on target to get down to Bari on Friday evening for my sailing across the Adriatic to Greece.
I managed to connect into our weekly family zoom chat this morning so they could get live coverage from the road... how exciting for them! My brother Jonathan who has lived in Italy says that Umbria is even more stunningly beautiful than Tuscany and I should be sure to eat some wild boar and truffles. I remind him that I'm a veggie now to which he ripostes with professorial logic (being a university don) that the animal is dead anyway and someone's going to eat it so might as well be you.
Some roads have been badly damaged by seismic activity, creating striations easily wide enough to swallow up a front wheel, so riding with extreme caution is called for.
The hotel didn't do dinners and I was too tired to go out, so the kindly receptionist made me a delicious cheese salad to have with my beer which was just perfect.
stage 8: l'Aquila to Popoli
116km 2,330m
Leaving the city (alt 714 m), I’m soon climbing alone in silence on a smooth surface, steady gradient and best of all zero motor traffic, far from the angry tangle of tarmac tagliatelle constricting the ancient heart of l'Aquila. If I had planned this route myself I would be worried why no-one else is coming up here. All I can hear is the reassuring mechanical whir of the Italian campag transmission, the clanging of cow bells and the dulcet tones of Jack Dee and friends in my earphones: the I'm sorry I haven't a clue podcast... until I'm caught by a couple of other riders who turn out to be Jamie and Neil from Brixton and Peckham. Small world.
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I’m properly into the mountains now, up above the treeline in a barren rocky wilderness. Previous days have been mere foothills. We grab a coffee from a van at the base of the Gran Sasso (big stone) where I jettison some luggage before climbing together to the summit at 2,128 m.
Simon Warren, 100 climbs author, waxes lyrical... "The Gran Sasso is a hidden world, devoid of habitation, whose expansive scenery is straight out of the realms of fantasy. Famous as the place used to imprison Mussolini during the Second World War before he was freed by the Nazis, it's also home to the Rome Observatory and, of course, an absolutely brilliant road to ride... with about 6 km to go, the gentle early slopes end and the gradient gets steeper until it spikes at 11%. At a small car park there's a slight plateau where the road bends right, ramps up again, then twists and turns on an 8% pitch all the way to the top, which once reached reveals even more dramatic views back down the valley. Simply unreal."
Back down at the base there’s another van doing local cheese on great slabs of sourdough toast which we devour before going our separate ways. The rest of my day was downhill. Well almost. 42 km of freewheeling then one more lump to clear before a final speedy plunge down to Popoli where I'd booked a room... for next week! Che idiota! Tonight they are fully booked. The kindly receptionist got me booked into another hotel just down the road.
Popoli is the birthplace of Corradino d'Ascanio, inventor of the Vespa, who died in 2020. There is a giant knitted Vespa in the Central Square to celebrate his design classic.
stage 9: Popoli to Lanciano
103km 2,355m
It’s another short but hilly day in the spectacular Apennines. A fast 15k descent precedes a right turn off the main road and 11k gnarly climb up to Roccamorice where, peering inquisitively into an interesting-looking sculptor’s workshop, I get invited in by Orlando. He proudly shows me some of the hundreds of olive wood pieces, some quite saucy, that he's carved over the years – I particularly liked the young lady reclining naked above the Pope.
Then I am onto the main business of the day: the Blockhaus. Rating 10/10 in Simon Warren's book, he can barely contain his enthusiasm: “...if you really want your legs to hate you then you must use the route the 2017 Giro took, from Roccamorice where the real fun begins. After leaving the village, and for 10 solid kilometres, the slope hardly drops below 10%, and with this remorseless assault over, you still have another seven kilometres to get to the top. Up on the high slopes, there's little in the way of vegetation and nothing to shelter you. Far above the plains below, you pick your way to the collection of transmitters that you can see on the hilltop. Navigating the rocky landscape, you reach the safety of the Rifugio Pomilio and assume you're finished. You're not. As you climb past this remote outpost, the road - which is closed to vehicles, but thankfully paved - narrows, winding round the curves of the hillside, via a number of false summits. You must press on and on across the ever-narrowing surface, until finally it runs out and you reach the Madonnina del Blockhaus. Epic.”
Summits like this, above 2,000m, seem quite other worldly to me. There’s a forest of radio masts and satellite receivers, and at the end of the road, la cappella Madonna della Neve - the Chapel of Our Lady of the Snow. And a shepherd tending to his mixed flock of sheep and goats.
The descent is fast and furious and I'm on the brakes for so long I have pins and needles in my fingers as I stop in a bar for coffee and cake.
At four o'clock I turn onto a new road and suddenly I can see the Adriatic coastline! Bari is feeling very much closer now, though still three days away.
stage 10: Lanciano to Riccia
156km 3,060m
Today was less epic but no
less sublime. Out of the high mountains but still rugged and lumpy,
uppy and downy. Mostly on quiet lanes, no traffic, occasional pretty
villages.
stage 11:
Riccia to strada provinciale 91 somewhere near Loconia
155km 1,850m
All change!
Just another 40 early misty chilly kilometres remaining to be ridden in the hills with a couple of climbs up to 1,000 metres, and then I'm suddenly plummeting down towards the flatlands and the heat. Surely the going will get easier and faster now I think ... but I'm forgetting one thing: it's windy down on the flatlands... very windy! On the bits with the wind behind me I'm breezing along at over 40 km/h but when I turn into the wind I can barely make 10. Thousands of wind turbines are spinning at top speed all over the landscape.
A supermarket provides a hearty and healthy lunch of bread cheese tomatoes olives and 72% dark chocolate. Roadside bars offer shade, panini, cold drinks and gelato.
The roads are long and straight and hot. And almost devoid of traffic. Until today I had wondered if there were any flat roads in Italy at all. A car or lorry passes every five minutes or so. Despite the whole width of the road being available it passes fast and close.
Fantastic fast finish on an arrow straight road heading east with both the setting sun and wind behind me. Dozens of old abandoned houses scattered around the landscape, one of which provides a useful bivvy spot for the night.
stage 12: Loconia SP91 to Bari
110km 530m
Dogs. I am not a doggy person. The feeling’s mutual, they don't like me much either. I can tolerate a well behaved respectful mutt under the control of a responsible owner. But that's not the kind of beast that roams free across the south of Italy. I forgot to bring my dog stick from the round the world ride ten years ago, but it wouldn't have been much use against a pack of four anyway. Luckily when they sprang their attack I was on flat fast-rolling tarmac and just managed to out-sprint them. I hope Greece is better in that regard.
I'm not a big fan of unpaved roads either. So I generally plan routes to avoid them as far as possible. However there are substantial unpaved chunks of today's route which appeared at the planning stage to be paved but actually turn out to be rough stony tracks. Not amusing when I'm trying to make a ferry deadline.
Even the tarmac when present today is mostly less than perfect, for instance through olive groves where trees cast their shadows across the road and disguise potholes, requiring extreme caution. I crashed on a club run in Surrey 12 years ago caused by exactly that problem, finishing the day at St. Helier hospital.
Despite the setbacks I arrive safe and in good time for the superfast ferry service to Patras leaving at 19:30. Scheduled arrival time 13:00 tomorrow. Then just 200k to Piraeus for the Sunday evening ferry to Kos. Looking forward to a rest by the pool when I get there!
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| These ferries are a lot posher than when I last used them (1986) |
stage 13: Patras to Xylokastro
102km 560m
Following a comfortable 18-hour fast cruise (42 km/h measured on the Garmin!) our ferry docks on time in Patras at 13:00. The heat is intense.
It's always a bit slow getting out of any unknown big city and Patras is no different. But once I pick up the old national highway 8 I'm flying along with the wind behind me on smooth tarmac practically to myself because the cars and lorries are all on the new motorway.
The road skirts the Gulf of Corinth to my left through a series of small seaside towns. I stop at 50k in Rizomylos for iced coffee and baklavas. There are no dogs, and drivers wait patiently behind me for a safe place to overtake. This appears to be a cyclist's paradise.
After 100k it's getting dark and I’m half-way to Piraeus so I find a small hotel and check in for the night. It's high time for a shower and a full kit wash. Dinner is Greek salad followed by baked aubergine/mozzarella/tomato. Portions are huge. Either dish would have been enough on its own.
stage 14: Xylokastro to Piraeus
123km 670m
Today was more stressful than it needed to be. My fault entirely. I only had about 100k to ride, or so I thought, so was taking it easy. A bit too easy it turned out. I took time out to visit ancient Corinth – well you have to don't you if you're passing through – then stopped for waffles and coffee and tuned into the family zoom meeting. Then there's this roadside fruit stall with melons to die for...rude not to…
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| Corinth Canal |
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| Ancient Corinth |
Then I thought it was probably time to press on. The route became a little more tricky as I approached Athens which slowed progress. A couple of road closures and a bridge down forced some hasty re-routing after which I’m riding a dramatic roller-coaster road by a sparkly turquoise Aegean Sea on the right.
That eventually deposited me at an unexpected ferry crossing, I'd thought it was a bridge. Planning error 1. Not a biggie. 15 minute wait, 5 minute crossing, 90 cents. I'm now on Salamina island. It's a 10k ride across the island to another ferry which I was expecting to take me directly to Piraeus. Just like it had shown on the map. But in reality it turns out to be a ferry to Perama then another 10k to ride. On big busy urban roads which I'd rather hoped to avoid. Planning error 2.
Finally Piraeus is reached and Google maps lady sends me to the blue star ferries office to check in for Kos. That’s straightforward enough but finding the ferry is not so easy, there are dozens of ferries and docks but no signs to gate E1.
The first beer was medicinal.
stage 15: Kos!
3km 3m
The ferry docks into Kos on
schedule at 07:50. I've
arrived! And so has the broken sandal!
2,045 kms
cycled. Plus about the same again on one train and three ferries.
23,949 m climbed. So over 10m/km. Officially hilly.
Time
for a rest.
My wife, sister and brother-in-law arrive
in the afternoon
to join me for a week's
holiday. A
pleasant and relaxing interlude. A few holiday snaps...
Kos to London stage 1, Sunday 6 October
3km 3m
The sandal is repaired so another adventure can begin!
Here's the route plan: Ferry to Athens, ride to Patras, ferry to Venice, ride to Dunkirk, ferry to Dover, train to London.
Kos to London stage 2: Piraeus to Patras
209km 1,130m
Four ferries and a headwind!
A 12-hour overnight ferry deposited me at 08:00 in Piraeus whence I retrace the outward journey: a mad Monday morning traffic 10k dash to Perama, another ferry, 12k crossing island of Salamina, ferry number 3 back onto mainland, then 187k to Patras to board the midnight ferry to Venice. I don’t want to miss it because there's not another one till Thursday.
It was gorgeously bright and sunny but a block headwind all day required resolve and fortitude. And some degree of swearing. Fewer stops for roadside treats and pics. Head down and grind out the kms. In the event I reach Patras at 21:30.
It's 33.5 hour cruise up the Adriatic to Venice. ETA 09:30 Wednesday.
The long ride home has begun.
Worse things happen at sea
So I board the Venice ferry at about 11, an hour before departure time, and go to the reception desk to see if there are any cabins available. Sold out. No problem, I've got my inflatable mat and sleeping bag. I find a quiet corner with a socket to recharge the phone and settle down for the night. Lovely peaceful night. Calm sea. Slept soundly. There's nothing like a 200k bike ride into a block headwind to ensure a good night's sleep.
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| This looks familiar! |
Wake up about 8 and go out on deck to discover that we are still tied up in Patras. We haven't moved all night. There's a problem with the ramp explains the receptionist. It should be fixed in two or three hours...
Kos to London stage 3: ferry to Venice and a short night ride
8km 6m
Tuesday
So we finally set sail from Patras 13 hours late, at one o'clock on Tuesday afternoon. They keep us sweet with a full ticket price refund and free grub at the self-service restaurant which is just as well because the quality is disappointingly low. I had been expecting better on an Italian flagged vessel.
Assuming no further breakdowns we should get to Venice late Wednesday evening rather than early morning. ETA 10 pm I'm told. So I'm now looking at cycling out of Venice on Thursday. But Thursday's weather forecast is stormy. It may be wise to hole up for a day in Venice.
Wednesday
There's no WiFi on board ship. Yesterday we were hugging the Greek coast and threading between islands: Kefalonia, Lefkada, Paxos, Corfu...so there was a strong 5g data connection, good for whiling away some hours reading the paper, WhatsApp updates and general trivia. Today I decide to book some Venice accommodation but we're in the middle of the Adriatic with no signal.
There are regular announcements in five languages (Greek, English, German, Italian and French in that order which I find odd given we're on an Italian ship sailing to Italy) to inform us that the self-service restaurant is open for breakfast/lunch/dinner. Off we trot to the canteen to get our snouts in the trough. Just like school dinners.
Half a dozen engineer types in oily overalls are wandering about clutching tools and muttering into walkie-talkies. It doesn't inspire confidence in this elderly rust bucket. Most toilets are out of order too.
www.sea-distances.org shows 621 miles from Patras to Venice. I'm surprised to see that's about 90 miles longer than Santander to Portsmouth. Just in case you were wondering. Like I was.
I'm reading Jane Austen's Emma to pass the time (so thoughtful of her to publish on kindle) when suddenly there's a text message: welcome to Croatia! A signal, hurrah! We're practically flying up the Adriatic at 40 km/h so it might not last long. But happily just long enough to phone and book a €40 mobile home on a campsite 8k from the Fusina ferry terminal. Result.
I'm out on deck in late
afternoon sunshine reading my book when a girl I reckon about 25
passes wearing a black hoodie with "liberté égalité fckofdé"
printed on the back. Hmmm. Attitude. She has a small dog on a lead.
They pause for the dog to squat and take a piss in the middle of the
deck. Then continue on their way. Brazen. Others must have noticed
too but no-one says anything. Probably as gobsmacked as I was. A few
minutes later she's back and sits down at a table near the slowly
spreading dog's puddle. Perhaps she's back to clean it up. But no,
she just sits there. What if anything should I do? I ponder a few
moments then decide on a helpful approach and offer her some tissues.
She declines, telling me that this deck is the dog's domain. My
protestations that someone could slip fall on deaf ears.
Runway lights guide us into Venice where we dock shortly after 9 and there's a short but anxious wait...will the ramp function and let us off? Yessss! No checks or formalities so I'm straight out and onto a quiet road to the campsite where a nice clean small but perfectly formed mobile home is ready for me. One night or two sir? I'll decide in the morning.
Intermezzo a Venezia
The weather forecast is still stormy so I decide to stay and take a bus into town to see the sights. I've been here once before many years ago to visit brother Jonathan who was living just up the road in Padova. He had a tip for me: "Richard, try to sniff out some ‘bacari’, hidden gems in Venice... authentic tapas type bars doing local wines and snacks. Most tourists don't know about them... not always easy to find...stay off the beaten track and you’ll love it."
It's midweek and mid-October and yet the beaten track is heaving. Heeding the fraternal advice I get off it and find myself in a maze of tiny quiet streets and piazzas leading to lunch at the Cantina do Spade bacaro, mostly sea food-based and simply divine with a glass of local Sauvignon. Possibly two.
After lunch I meet up with Nick Allen (provider of the Appenine outward route) and his charming wife Judith. Is he stalking me? No he insists, he's here to see art. The Venice Biennale. Contemporary art, includes events for art, contemporary dance, architecture, cinema, and theatre. Yeah right. A likely story. He's very happy to take a break for a glass of wine. And so a pleasant afternoon is whiled away chatting mostly about long bike rides. Judith I'm sorry, I hope you weren't too bored.
The weather forecast is looking good for tomorrow. No excuses, I'll have to go for a bike ride. Uphill. Dolomites. The Monte Grappa. It's a biggie. 20 kms, 1,550 m. Simon Warren rates it 8/10. The holiday is truly over now.
Kos to London stage 4: Venice to Valbrenta
115km 2,100m
Butter. Is there anything more annoying than an ice-cold rock-hard individually wrapped pack of butter which destroys your toast when you try to spread it? Well, apart from wild rabid dogs chasing you up the road that is? Today I discovered a solution (cold butter not rabid dogs) and am happy to share. You can have this on me!
Sit on it! Yep, that simple! Picture the scene. You have just arrived at your hotel (or campsite in my case today) breakfast table and the butter is rock-hard. It's come straight out of the freezer. I think some places they might even use liquid nitrogen for a giggle. Naturally you're in your lycra bib shorts which transmit heat very efficiently. So you put one pack of butter under the right buttock and one under the left and while they're warming up you drink your juice and eat your Weetabix and by the time you've done that the little packs have defrosted to perfect spreading temperature.
Right got that off my chest. Well apart from... why do they use those little packs anyway? Wasteful packaging. Why can't they just put a little room temperature portion on a saucer or in a small bowl?
Ok, so, back to the day job. And what a job it was today, straight back in at the deep end. Or rather the high end. The Monte Grappa, a monster!
It kicks off easily enough – roads across the pan flat Venetian plain are busy but there's a great network of cycle routes and paths and some really impressive engineering in places.
I turn northwards after 20k and the Dolomites loom large on the horizon. The roads are straight, as is the canal side path I’m on for an hour or so. Progress is swift. Venice to London. The Orient Express!
I'm in bright sunshine, a cloudless azure sky, and it’s about 10 degrees cooler than my last ride on Monday across Greece. All is easy going for a few delightful relaxing hours. Until I hit the mighty Monte Grappa, where hundreds of paragliders fill the skies.
I can't better Simon Warren's colourful description: "Marking the end of the Venetian plain to the south and the start of the mountains to the north, there are ten recognised road bike routes to the summit. I chose the ascent starting from Semonzo... a multitude of hairpins weaving through the forest on a punishing 8 to 9% slope. This, believe it or not, is the easy part, as after roughly nine kilometres, where you are allowed a brief breather, the road then ramps up and things get quite nasty. Following a sharp right turn, the gradient hits double digits and your legs will burn as you fight your way out of the trees onto the grass-covered upper slopes. Your reward for this toil is a slight descent and the absolutely colossal views out over the plains below, which I guarantee will stop you in your tracks. Once you've soaked these up, it's time to tackle the final bends on your way to the giant monument at the summit; although these are never easy, they are a degree kinder than that punishing middle section."
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| The Pog obviously made an impression here |
The late afternoon descent is chilly and slow on steep dodgy road surfaces, and I’m shivering at the bottom. Google maps reveals a handy nearby hotel-restaurant, perfect… except it turns out they’re no longer doing the hotel bit. Good restaurant though, a delicious bowl of pasta and porcini. And they're happy to let me bivvy on their covered terrace. Result. Open at 6 for breakfast.
Kos to London stage 5: Valbrenta to Naturno
172km 1,120m
Superb early coffees and pastries at the restaurant-not-hotel following a comfy bivvy on the terrace with white noise courtesy of the river Brenta raging torrent just below.
A
clear starry night gave
way to a cold foggy
dawn,
increasingly
picturesque as the sun gradually broke through. I'm on a cycle path
beside the Brenta, surrounded by majestic mountains towering over me
on both sides. Wonderful.
There's some world class cycling infrastructure on display as I pass through Borgo Valsugana, and evidence of a good level of anarchic English by local graffiti artists.
It's the EuroVelo 7 Sun Route from Norway to Malta, a popular, well-used route and it's the weekend. All rider types are here. Families with kids, bikepackers, older couples on electric bikes, club riders, you name it. Three roadies pass me and I jump on the back for a free ride. They don't seem to mind and we get chatting. I'm in the south Tyrol now so it's German which brings an additional challenge.
The four of us are now cruising at around 30 km/h when a couple of guys pass doing 35. Our group jumps on. I strain to stay with the enlarged group for a few clicks. They're out for a day ride on lightweight carbon bikes with no bags, and their average age is probably about half mine. I consider going to the front and raising the pace to 40, but I don't want to show off so I let them go. How decent of me. Yeah right!
A hotel would be nice tonight, not had that luxury since I left Kos 6 days ago. But a quick look at Google maps shows they are all about triple the price here. Ouch! I settle on a plan to try and repeat last night's new trick, but before I get the chance providence steps in: a radbar!
It’s a snackbar for cyclists. Closed now of course, but offering a covered little enclave just perfectly shaped for my bivvy bag. And there's a restaurant open just up the road for dinner. Perhaps there is a god after all.
Kos to London stage 6: Naturno to Zernez
111km 3,320m
Well that ranks right up there as a world class bivvy spot. And half a k up the road there's a cafe open for breakfast. The day started well. But shortly after that there's a ping from the back wheel. Broken spoke. Don't want to be doing today of all days on a wobbly wheel, so stop and pop in a new one and check all the rest.
It’s a big day today: the Stelvio pass. The Queen Stage of this tour, the highest I've ever climbed on a bike, and at 2,757m, the second-highest paved pass in the Alps. I stop at a hotel in Gomagoi about 20k from the top where a young lady dressed in local garb serves me a large plate of soup and dumplings. Perfect fuel to power the climb.
Midsummer up here I’m told is hot, hectic and noisy with motorbikes, sports cars and caravanners all jostling for place on the hairpins. But by mid-October they’ve all retreated to their winter habitats and this vast and silent alpine playground is mine alone. All is serenely peaceful and majestic.
The Stelvio rates 10/10 in the top 100 climbs book. 25k according to the book but 60k uphill from the radbar. Simon says: “it's paradise, the holy land, nirvana – the mighty Passo dello Stelvio is up there with the seven wonders of the modern world… snow pretty much 365 days of the year, packed with 48 hairpin bends... the first 7k climb gradually before you hit the fabulous hairpins. As the route rises incrementally steeper, you pass the turn to Pratonuovo, and with the slope now at around 8%, you are faced with 10 tight bends in rapid succession. With 17 kilometres covered, it's then time to leave the forest and enter the amphitheatre opposite. Still deep in the valley and surrounded by jagged peaks, you creep your way up the precipitous mountainside, your surroundings getting exponentially grander with every pedal rev. Into the final three kilometres, you are faced with a wall ahead, the road feeling like a ladder as it endlessly flits back and forth… your breath taken and your mind blown, you arrive at the garish summit, a scrum of gift shops, cafés and tourists jostling for space, and bask in the glory of what you have just conquered.”
Above 2,000m I'm feeling light-headed and have to make frequent stops. It's icy cold and the air is thin. Lots of snow. Awesome. After such extreme effort I can sometimes feel a little emotional when I cross the finish line. Today is no exception. A bowl of goulash soup and a hot chocolate in the warm summit cafe hit the spot.
I don every shred of clothing for the long freezing descent. Luckily after that there's another 800m climb over the Ofen pass (2,150m) to warm me up again. I'm in Switzerland now by the way.
That's a biggie ticked off the bucket list.
Kos to London stage 7: Zernez to Maienfeld
125km 1,630m
So I come down to breakfast today and the butter portions are on ice but not wrapped...could get messy... And here's another thing: why does the hotel blurb so often boast "free breakfast"? Swiss hotels are expensive. Breakfast is included. Not free. But it's a good one so that's alright then.
Zernez is at 1,500m
altitude so it's a cold start at 3C, calling for two pairs of socks
in my sandals. Just a week ago I was overheating in Greece. Hot chocolate and pastries
after 20k to warm up, fuel up and psych myself up for the big climb
of the day: the 2,315m Albulapass. A 625m climb over 9 km, it's a
tiddler compared with yesterday,
but hard work nonetheless.
I'm heading for Liechtenstein and thinking of getting a hotel there if nothing wonderful pops up for a bivvy... when miraculously just that happens, 5k from the border.
It's a small hut and looks like a bothy, here to shelter weary travellers like me. I think. It's open and there's a big notice in German. I struggle through it and conclude it's a bothy. I let myself in and a light comes on, wow! There's a note on the door which I think means it will automatically lock at 8 pm. Presumably that's just from the outside but I wedge a sandal to keep it ajar just in case. At 8 I check, exactly that. So no-one can get in now. But it’s crucial I remember to wedge it open again if I need to go out in the night.
Luckily I had passed a small shop shortly before stopping to buy a picnic supper of bread cheese tomatoes and beer. Cheers and goodnight!
Kos to London stage 8: Maienfeld to Orsingen
165km 410m
Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Austria and Germany today. Phew! Possibly a personal record.
A lovely toasty night in the bothy, good sleep apart from two things: the super sensitive movement detector which switches the bright light on for a full minute when I turn over or scratch my nose, and a recurring nightmare of locking myself out when I go to answer a call of nature.
It's a quick downhill 5k
into Liechtenstein for
breakfast, then I’m
on a broad
smooth tarmac path heading
downstream by the Rhine which is wide, shallow and fast flowing –
there’s no
shipping here. Switzerland is on
the other side.
I enter Austria and the river veers north-east towards a gap in the horizon with no mountains – Lake Constance.
The path crosses a bridge which gives the same width for cycling as driving. I'm mostly on a superb car-free cycle network, and where we are occasionally sharing space there are widespread 30 km/h limits and giant painted signs on the road to remind motorists who's boss.
After a quick bakery lunch in Bregenz I roll across an unmarked border somewhere into Germany. I only realise when I pass a DB railway station.
My route continues across the north shore of Lake Constance, passing through a series of small thriving holiday resort towns. It would appear that the season is not over yet. The bike paths are sublime and I pass hundreds of hotels. The afternoon bakery supplies a delicious slice of red fruit tart and a wholesome fruity oatmeal yoghurt thing. And a large creamy hot chocolate, they do them so well here.
So far so good.
Then it rained for three hours. I persevere on the self-promise of a hotel whatever the cost. But beyond Lake Constance there are few options. Whoops. Cold and wet I shelter in a bank ATM foyer and consult Google. A small local hotel, b&b and campsite are all closed – the season's ended here. Could sleep in the ATM, wouldn't be the first time. But it's a bit early for that. Finally get lucky at another campsite with a vacant mobile home for me. And a restaurant serving local specialities and beer. All is right with the world once again.
Kos to London stage 9: Orsingen to Colmar
163km 1,460m
It's a misty murky early morning start in the Black Forest, perfect weather for fungi doing their thing to keep the wood wide web connected.
I'm riding the radNETZ, a network of cycle paths completely away from motor roads, mostly smooth tarmac, but significant bits of wet and energy-sapping gravel and mud where it's like pedalling uphill through treacle. A couple of climbs to just over 1,000 m then it's pretty much 70 km downhill all the way to tonight's special destination.
In Freiburg I'm on a path by the river Dreisam in the cycle rush hour, it seems like the entire population is out on all kinds of bikes ferrying kids or cargo or themselves home from school or work, a heartwarming sight. I stop at a backerei for a slice of cherry pie and a hot chocolate which I immediately spill all over the table. Scheiße happens.
They've harvested the corn and built a wall with it, I'm
guessing 5m high and 100m long. A lot of corn. Cornwall!
Vosges rest day
55km 1,100m
A day off. Catherine and I ride 5k out to Wintzenheim for lunch with her son and his wife, followed by a delightful afternoon pottering in local hills and villages and through the vineyards. A beautiful area, Alsace. Pizzas and beers to finish. Top rest day.
Kos to London stage 10: Colmar to Kerprich aux bois
155km 2,110m
It's a heavily overcast
start through
a series of fairytale Alsatian villages and
back up into the
Vosges. The
cloudbase is low, and at 36k there's an optional bonus climb up to
the Col
du Calvaire.
No point doing it in the fog, I’m
thinking, but it
brightens up just before I arrive at decision junction where happily
a restaurant owner is pleased to look after my bags for an hour in
exchange for a lunch reservation.
 |
| my favourite sign |
After another hilly 50k it's tea time. I rarely rant about anything French...but here's a thing: I need to stop twice for the afternoon break here. Firstly at the boulangerie to get the plum tart, then at the cafe to get the hot chocolate. In Germany and Switzerland you get both and a table to sit at in the backerei. Furthermore the French hot chocolate is thin gruel compared with its lush German and Swiss counterparts. Sort it out, France!
Then I'm up the even easier
3/10 Col
du Donon and it's the last of Simon's for this tour. A
long downhill from there takes
me out of the Vosges and into the Moselle region.
A joint French-German war cemetery brings a lump to the throat. Alsace-Lorraine was German from 1870 to 1918 and German is still widely spoken here.
As darkness falls there's rain forecast so I'm glad to find a sheltered bivvy spot next to a canal lock house. White noise sorted for the night.
Kos to London stage 11: Kerprich aux bois to Mondorf les bains (Lux)
153km 686m
I continue on the Rhine-Sarre canalside route, EuroVelo 5, fast rolling smooth tarmac 30k to Sarralbe where two stops are required to complete breakfast because this is France.
Kos to London stage 12: Mondorf les bains to Hargnies
151km 1,830m
It's a foggy and cold 20k to Luxembourg city, a super cycle-friendly place where on many streets we have absolute priority.
A stress-free pleasure to ride through, passing the finance ministry, ducal palace and a city centre park.
As I leave the city on the cycle priority network the fog lifts to reveal a low milky sun and it gets a degree or two warmer. I'm soon into Belgium where I think the entire population must be asleep. Even the main roads are almost devoid of traffic. Sunday truly does seem to be a day of rest here.
At 50k there's a fab one-stop bakery doing cakes AND coffee, hurrah!
My hosts also provide a delicious bowl of home-made veggie soup and fine beer on tap from the local Belgian brasserie.
Kos to London stage 13: Hargnies to Tournai
157km 960m
Today was a type-2 fun day.
My penultimate day started well enough in France. Very overcast. Decent bakery at 10k.
It started drizzling soon after breakfast as I crossed back into Belgium. Drizzle intensified to light rain, then heavier. For about 4 hours.
Good things: it's still mild and it's not windy. I've actually been very lucky throughout this tour with the weather, as it seems much of Europe has flooded around me. As usual sun is forecast for tomorrow.
As for the route it's a lumpy start still in the Ardennes, then suddenly for a few kms I'm on an old rail route – ligne 156 – déjà vu... I last rode this 8 years ago at the Borders of Belgium 1,000k audax, an event which I heartily recommend by the way.
By 11:10 I'm a sodden mess. A chip shack manager takes pity and opens up 20 minutes early for me. I sit and eat chips and look out the window. Still raining. Look at the weather forecast. Rain until 3. Reluctantly leave the chippy and set off in the rain.
Things get worse. My route, so carefully curated to stay on tarmac, turns into a rutted muddy quagmire. The puddles are small lakes. I dismount. It takes half an hour to splash and paddle through 1 km.
So I switch to main roads – and I've swapped mud for truckers. I'm on the N2 highway heading north towards Mons with the juggernauts. Breaker 10/4 it looks like we got us a convoy. I'm back into Belgium and into the industrial zones around Mons, it's all hard hats and hi-vis.
I leave the highway south of Mons and pick up another old rail route leading soon to a canal-side route where I pause to shelter and shiver under a bridge and eat the tuna sandwich I bought chez le boulanger this morning.
The canal bike route sign says 42 km to Tournai. Great! That's where I'm planning to stop today. The rain has eased up and everything is looking a bit brighter. But not for long. The path is closed 100m later. Just when I'm thinking I'm going to get 42 nice quiet peaceful uninterrupted flat kilometres the path is firmly fenced off with no diversion sign.
I find a 3k diversion without too much grief and plod on. There are another three similar path closures to further challenge my waning sense of humour. And even when I am on the canal path it's not the best. It's a budum path. Budum paths and roads are intensely annoying if they go on for any significant distance. 42 km is a significant distance (as marathon runners will testify).
Budum you may ask? It's where the road/path has been constructed from long slabs of concrete laid in a line. Over time each slab settles at a slightly different level to its neighbour. So every few tens of metres your bike bangs down or crashes up onto the next slab. And goes budum, budum, budum...
Kos to London stage 14: Tournai to Dunkirk
124km 300m
It's back to work day! More on that story later.
The sky darkens as I leave Ypres, even though the forecast is full sun. A few moments later the heavens open and I scurry into the nearest bus shelter.
I need to ride and approve a new route from Bergues to Dunkirk port. It's the final link in our new for 2025 Glaudax Flanders tour. We did a recce earlier this year and the whole route was brilliant, even if I do say so myself. Except for the last bit, from Bergues to Dunkirk port. That bit was terrible.
Dunkirk is a busy thriving cargo port and there are lots of multi-lane highways and lots of lorries. The route we checked and rejected was on those highways. We were lucky and grateful to survive.
The new route couldn't be more different. It's on a car-free path through a nature reserve. It works. Job done.
From Dunkirk town to the port always takes longer than expected. It's almost 20k, and almost always into the strong prevailing westerly headwind. Usually in my experience it's pissing with rain too, but happily not today.
And so I arrive at the port and take the next ferry to Dover. It’s getting dark and I really don’t fancy an overnight ride back home. So I let the train take the strain. The tour is over. It’s been epic.
Some stats (to Kos
and back)
- 3,934 km
- 46,000 m climbed (approximately)
- 26 riding days
- 0 bike punctures
- 1 sleep mat puncture (fixed with glueless bike patch)
- 3 broken spokes (need a word with the wheel builder...er...oh...)
- 1 broken SPD sandal, fixed in Kos for €10
- 2 broken lenses (out of 3) in my 10 year old glasses
- 2 train journeys (Paris to Nice and Dover to London)
- 6 ferries (2 Channel, 2 Adriatic, 2 Aegean)
- 1,186 photos
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