One small revolution for man - back to France

That's it.  The circle of Europe by bike is complete and so is our cycle adventure.  Since the last installment we finished off Luxembourg by buying a diamond, then headed on to celebrate at the home of Champagne in Epernay.  The section between was largely chosen as it was the shortest route from Germany to Paris, and although largely boring its directness meant that we were not the first to choose this path.  We had seen precious little to remind of the World Wars on our journey but this region appeared to be pretty hard hit in both.  There were a number of cemeteries, their eerie white crosses stretching off into the distance, many memorials to American liberators, and towns that seemed to have been rebuilt in a hurry without too much thought for aesthetics.         

Upon arrival in Epernay we shunned inferior pretenders Moet, we headed straight for what could only be a superior bubble at Mercier.  After taking photos of anything baring the moniker (and the Bentley in the parking lot) we headed into an extremely flashy tour of the brewery (or 'Champagne House', la de da).  Our pin stripped guide took us in a glass sided lift 30m underground into the cellars - carved from the chalk by hand into 18km of tunnels for this brand alone; there are over 200 million bottles aging away under the streets of the town.  A laser guided train crept its way between the dusty bottles as we learnt about the two stages of fermentation and that, who knew??, Champagne is made from a combination of three grapes, two of which are black.  They have white juice however, so by removing the skins the wine is also white.  

Paris was the final stop and apt to be finishing in the town where the most famous tour of them all comes to an end.  We followed a cycle path along a canal lined with kilometers of graffiti before bursting forth into the heart of the city.  In a hectic afternoon we madly sought a hotel (which took 10 attempts all over town), and sent our bikes off on the train to London which didn't give us a chance to be too sad about the end of an era.  

The next day was a trip out to the Palace of Versailles, which as expected showed why the locals were revolted when starving to death under the watchful eye of those in such opulence.  Hasan, one of Claud's friends, joined us for the weekend.  We took a 4 hour walking tour of the city with highlights such as a urine soaked bridge baring the carved heads of 300 of the King's drunken mates whose sketches were taken at a party, many tales of decapitation and stake burnings, and an endless stream of art that Parisians 'ated' and wanted to take down.  This of course included the glass pyramid of the Louvre, the Eiffel tower, and anything else commissioned after the Renaissance.  

Every night we made our way up to Sacre Coeur - the highest point in the city on land and an amazing basilica overlooking the city.  Surrounded by restaurants, tourist shops and hawkers it still manages to carry off a fantastic atmosphere.  Buskers play in turns on the steps with the whole of Paris as a backdrop, and people sit above listening and drinking in that completely unNZ way of using the booze to enhance rather than obliterate the moment.  

A tour of the Louvre was high on every ones' priorities.  First we elbowed our way towards the Mona Lisa to tick that one off the list, then onwards to see things we actually wanted to but no doubt Parisians 'ated and wanted taken down.  Italians clearly had the edge in old school oil painting and sculpting, Pannini's paintings of paintings a favourite.  A re-creation of Napoleon's apartments were all red patterned cloth walls, deathly large chandeliers, and gilt everything else that were even more extravagant than the Palace of Versailles.  Not a surprise from the man that proclaimed the Pope, God's man on the ground, unworthy of crowning him emperor (so he did it himself).  

So that's that.  Over ten months of biking has come to an end.  We covered 13,731km over 814 hours of riding.  Any poignant musings or lessons on how to improve your lives? you may ask.  Of course there are many but unfortunately none of that will be discovered in this forum.  Tickets on sale soon for the lecture tour... 

Now its time for a real holiday so we're off to Turkey for 2 weeks after packing up and seeing friends in London.  Then on to Aussie for more visiting before finally touching down in NZ again on 8 October.  Thanks for reading if you have been thus far.  We'll send an update on how those turkeys in Turkey do it when we find out.

Love C & D                                        

Luxembourg

We sit in Luxembourg City, having our first day off the bike for 2 weeks, hence the lack of contact. Tonight will be our 4th night in Luxembourg, not bad considering its only 80km long. Its a great country for cycling, with cycle paths all over, quiet backroads, and of course everything is just so close together.

The first night we spent in Vianden, a little village on a river, with a castle above on forrested slopes. Our jealousy for Euros that speak multiple languages hit a high when we asked our English speaking camp owner what the main language is here. They have their own national language, but offical forms etc are in French, while German is widely spoken as a second language. Language hogs.

After that we biked to Ettelbrück and dumped our panniers for a day of exploring the hilly north. First was a massive 1000 year old castle that has been under restoration for the last 30. An hour and a half was spent wandering the ruins and not so ruined, while admiring the stunning views of a twisting river valley on three sides below. A ride through a wind farm, which was conspicuously quiet compared to our own, took us to Esch-sur-Sure. This village was described in our guidebook as one of the prettiest in Europe so we had high expectations. Unfortunately it was not quite so, and we were left wondering if this was another instance of the author not visiting the country concerned (see Columbian Lonely Planet story from earlier this year in papers). No excuses if so, as you could whip around this country in a quick day.

First glimpses of the capital look promising, so off to discover that and report back soon.

Much love
C&D

Germany

We entered the Fatherland having already covered the Mother Country and Hastings` sister city, so all we need is a trip to the Bronx to hang with the brothers and we`ll have the whole family.

A torrent from the sky had us arriving in the Black Forrest bedraggled and glad to be visiting friend Paul in Kandern, who has a roof, and chairs. Paul and his partner Sarah, along with thier twin girls Sonne and Lucy, live at a community for mentally handicapped people, where the residents live a highly productive life manufacturing various products in workshops of a non-sweaty nature. Paul landed charge of the bakery when the baker "miester" left after some deep political intrigue, so we spent an evening making bread. Only a small batch using 15kgs of flour was required as it was holidays at the community. Much fun was had using all the industrial machinery and house sized ovens.

From there we have follwed the Rhine from its pristine clarity at Lake Constance, through days of industrialism that has us reminiscing of China and turning the river a murky Waikato colour. The Germans have along the way rivaled the Chinese also in terms of helpfulness, and on one day it seemed every time we pulled out the map a local was on hand to give advice based on his or her intimate knowledge of the regional cycle paths.

Our route took us to Freiburg, and onto Schiltach, which was an extremely atmospheric place of half timbered buildings crammed together around various platzes. After the Black Forest had literally taken us by storm - it rained the whole way - we stopped in at Baden Baden, a place Clinton described as "so nice you had to name it twice". It really was worthy of a double naming and could be the flashest place in the world. Without our white linen trousers or pearls we felt a little underdone in sun bleached shirts and jandels. The town centres on two sets of baths, one built on the site of a Roman bathhouse where nudity remains compulsory. Crys of "Is that a house?!" rang out as we came in along a river lined with mansions more like a grand hotel or cathedral. Even the info centre is in a columned building with 14 frescoes on the facade.

Sauerkraut, beer and wurst were had in the Schloss (castle) of Heidelberg. Claud said of the sauerkraut "that was one of the worst things I have ever eaten" and mused that perhaps it was some torture technique perfected in (dont mention the war). Back on the Rhine, it was the aforementioned industrial hell for 2 days before hitting wine and castles between Mainz and Koblenz. Apparently the highest concentration of castles anywhere in the world and a UNESCO World Heratige site. We saw 13 in one day, and that was only between the spear tipped raindrops lancing us in the eyeballs.

Then it was up the Moselle valley for more vineyards, and to Trier, home of Karl Marx and a popular visit for hordes of Chinese. The parallels just keep on coming.

Switzerland - easy on the eye, hard on the nose

From our partisan support of New Zealand in the Tour we headed to the land of neutrality. Switzerland is so neutral it doesn't even have its own language, and we spent a confusing week juggling French, German and occasionally English. Those at one end of the country struggle to talk to those at the other, which seems a rather odd and highly complicated way to run a place. And the whole place stinks of cowshit, which was surprising as we saw almost no cows at all...

Geneva was our first port of call where we visited the UN for a guided tour of the highly exciting conference rooms. Perhaps the most entertaining aspect was the children under 10 on our tour asking questions such as whether a country can receive nomination twice to be on the Security Council. Answers were duly written in their UN notepads. At 10 we didn't even know the UN existed. Across the road, the Red Cross Museum provided us with a days education and we even saw the first Geneva Convention and Nobel Peace Prize which was awarded to the founder of the Red Cross.

Then it was off to Bern, via Montreux. For some reason "Smoke on the Water" has often been stuck in our heads on this trip, so a detour to Montreux where it all went down was a must. Bern is not often included in the "must-visit" list of world capitals - without any classic monuments or a particularly chequered history - but we loved it. We were there on a Sunday, when all the shops were closed and the town was left to the tourists. Fountain highlights included one with an ogre that was eating squirming children headfirst, and another that squirted randomly from between paving stones waiting to soak those that fail to notice the telltale wet patches on the ground. Buildings are uniform grey, but brightened up with flowerboxes on every single window.

Another feature of Bern is the swift river that runs through the middle, which in summer is packed with people jumping in for a quick ride down. It's hard to think of another world capital with a river through it that you would want to swim in. We too tried to float down it but it turned out all thsoe grannies had made it look deceptively easy. Claudia was so cold she couldn't breathe, and Damien slammed his knee on a rock, so we got out, bedraggled and ashamed, after 100m.

Onto Interlaken for a quick look at more famous mountains - the Eiger, Jungfrau, and the Monch. But having had quite enough of mountains for the moment we stayed firmly in the flat (ish) valley. On through the rolling rural countryside, nothing in particular to see but very nice to bike due to fantastic bike routes all over the country using back roads or dedicated bike paths. Perhaps the 'high'light was seeing a crop of dope 8 feet tall and 100m square right beside the road. No doubt someone would claim it was for hemp.

After that brief interlude it was onwards to Lake Constance, where we hit 3 countries in a day and made our entrance into Germany. We have now made our way to Heidelberg, where we are sheltering from yet another cold and rainy summer's day. Tales of Germany and baking bread in a mental institution to come...

VIVA LE TOUR!!

A riddle: On a narrow and deserted road, two cars are travelling towards each other at 100km/hr. Regardless of how far apart they start, where will they meet? See bottom of page for answer.

We last left off having just climbed the Galibier and since then we've continued a harrowing journey through the Alps. The Col d'Izoard was next to be knocked off our wish list, although it didn't go down without a fight and deployed several battalions of flies with orders to harangue the intruders and try to lay maggots in their ears. We reached the top a little fly blown, and were careful to keep our mouths clamped shut on the descent.

Then it was a two day trek to Digne-les-Bains to watch our first stage of the Tour live. To get a decent spot we had to turn up at the finish line before the race had even started 200km away. After all, what better way to recover your legs than standing still in the heat for 6 hours? It turns out that going to the Tour is not so much about the biking as the free stuff. The finishing staight was piled by advertisers the whole time we were there, competing to have their brand the most visible. The weapon of choice was caps - first would come a wave of yellow ones, then the green ones would cover them, only to be replaced by yellow in an endless cycle. Some people ended up with 5 or 6 stacked on their head, while others surreptitiously deposited them in their (free) bags to ensure not to miss out on the next round. Quite why you would want 5 yellow caps advertising a bank, 6 green ones advertising a betting agency, and a spotty one lauding a supermarket is beyond us. But it amused us and passed the time until.... THE RIDERS CAME!!! But the bastards were too fast and we had to check on the internet later what actually happened. Turns out the flash of black and white was New Zealand's only rider in the Tour, and he came 4th!

That whet our appetite and we charged north for another 2 days to meet the Tour at l'Alp d'Huez. If one mountain can claim to be THE Tour mountain, this is it. The course changes every year but this hill climb has been included 26 times since its introduction in 1952 (and for those that are wondering, yes, these facts do actually reside inside Damien's head). It's a dead-end road up to a ski-field and as an 1100m climb with 21 hairpins, always ensures a good end to a stage.

But we weren't going to let them have all the fun - the day before the race we joined tens of thousands of other cyclists in pilgramage to the top. It wasn't until we pitted ourselves against others that we realised how fit we were. D in particular took great pleasure in looking very unracy with billowing shirt sleeves on a mountain bike with pannier rack, while overtaking cyclists with shaved legs whose outfits were precisely coordinated with their expensive bikes, helmets, and shoes.

You know you're at a massive sporting event (the biggest in the world actually) when the road turns into a stadium. We'd been warned about the Dutch who come a week early to claim their spots, and sure enough they were there in their thousands, probably reducing the population of the Netherlands by a third. Orange is their colour and partying is their game. Kilometres of roadside were given over to tents, campervans, tables and chairs, sounds systems, flags, banners, balloons and all things orange. We were squirted by water pistols, offered beers, and sung at. Another favourite pastime was road painting. People were out with brushes and rollers, adorning the road with their favourites names (and in some cases, large penises), and not a metre of road was spared.

Come race day, we made our way to hairpin #13 with a view of the twisting road back down the hill. In place by 9am; race expected 5.30pm. However, getting in early is essential - in 2004 over 1 million people crammed themselves into this 13km of road. When the riders arrive they are preceded by 20 motobikes to cut through the throngs. The imminent arrival was indicated by 5 low-flying helicopters and we spent a few tense minutes staring down the road for our first glimpse. A lone rider, Carlos Sastre, had attacked at the bottom of the hill and was charging his way solo towards the top. Flanked by motorbikes, he was grimacing in pain and dripping sweat as he rode past a minute ahead of his chasers. Julian Dean (the NZ rider) was in the large group at the back and got a very manic and slightly terrifying 'GO KIWI' for his troubles. We'd been waiting for 8 hours after all and we weren't going to miss our chance.

The spectators here were much more focused on the race and huddled around their radios awaiting news of who had won. Again, the Alp d'Huez provided some drama, with Sastre coming in from 5th place to win the stage and lead the Tour by over a minute [and eventually winning the Tour de France in Paris 3 days later - ed.].

That was it for the mountains for the Tour, but not for us. Three Cols later we're in Annecy with broken thighs and in need of a proper holiday. In the two weeks we've been in the French Alps we've ridden 20 Cols, six of them over 2000m, and done over 13,000m of climbing - that's from sea level to the top of Everest one and a half times! Next stop Geneva, and there'll be less about biking in the next one, we promise.

Love C&D

Answer: Next to the cyclists!

10,000km and counting

WARNING: THIS BLOG CONTAINS GRATUITOUS CYCLING CONTENT

The last period has been boredom punctuated by significant milestones to briefly alleviate our state of mind, finishing off with a trip to Tour de France nerd heaven.

Our descent out of the Dolomites started well, with a 60km bike path through a cliff-festooned valley. The path was more of a road, with on/off ramps, solar powered flashing road signs, and lanes. From there we went west via various lakes that were not particularly inspiring (Idro and Iseo) and got rained on quite a lot. The milestone in this section was hitting 10,000km of biking for the trip. Even having done it, it seems almost impossible one could cover such a distance on leg power alone.

Back at our previous nemesis of boredom, the Po River, we busted out 2 big days to cover some ground. 126km to Pavia, and 168km to Turin. This was our longest day so far, so again we were briefly excited, if a little tired. Two days in Turin to recover, eat gelati ($50 on icecream in 2 days), and people watch. The Turinese are an interesting bunch with builders straight out of a Village People video, punks with spray painted hair, and clothes that would get you locked up at home, either for indecent exposure or lunacy.

Then it was time to get back into the Alps and have a go at some of the climbs from the Tour de France that we all (ok perhaps not all) have followed with rapt attention. There is always drama surrounding the Tour, either by design as when it started in 1903 as a publicity stunt for a newspaper, or mistake like an Englishman riding himself to death in 1967 on a concoction of amphetamines and cognac and uttering the famous last words "put me back on the bike". We are spending a few days in Briançon to relive a few of these dramas on the climbs surrounding the town.

This started as we crossed in from Italy via Sestriere at 2033m where Lance (nobody dare ask Lance who?) won himself Tour number 1 of 7. Next day was a ride up the Col de Lautaret 2058m and the Col de Galibier, which at 2646m became the highest point we have biked to. After the sweltering lower down we woke up to fresh snow on the hills around our tent and a freezing blustery day. Donning thermals we did a 20km gradual climb to the Lautaret where the clouds cleared for us and there were mountains all around, with hanging glaciers and all. An absolutely stunning area, followed by another 8km climb up a barren and spectacular road to the Galibier. This is one of the classic Tour mountains and houses a memorial to the creator who once declared that the perfect Tour would be one where only one person finished (or survived??). Not much lingering at the top, just a dash down out of the freezing wind.

It was a huge climb for sure, but with 10,000km under our belts it certainly doesn't go down as one of our hardest days. But it's scary to think that le Tour will blast up here in a weeks time at twice our speed, while climbing 4 mountains of this size and 200km+ in one day of 21. And we thought we were hard.

That'll do for now, we'll innundate with more Tour info after we've watched a stage next week.
10,578.1 km later
C&D

PS Awesome photos to come, stay tuned

Have thighs, will travel

We have just completed our first foray into the Alps. Since the last update we have covered so much interesting territory that only a very cursory rundown will leave this page below book length.

Our warm up for the Alps was a 1200m pass over the Appenines. From there we descended into Modena, the home of balsamic vinegar. We are now the proud owners of a bottle of 12-year-old, farm house attic matured, Aceto Balsamico di Modena.

Next was the Po River flats - 3 days of boring and blistering hot biking. But it was all worth it as Venice was the reward. Upon arrival Claudia was too excited to swallow her pizza and was sweating so much (from the heat rather than excitement) she declared herself capable of being a salt lick for a deer herd. We spent 3 days here walking mile upon mile through the labyrinth of alleyways that make up the city. Every turn was a picture perfect scene of little bridges spanning canals, gondoliers in stripey shirts punting their way between crumbling yet still regal looking buildings, or a square full of tourists literally covered in pigeons.

We headed up the St Marks Basilica Bell Tower for the only view of the 117 islands that the city covers. Orange rooves crammed onto every available space and surprisingly no canals visible from up here. We were rather taken aback when the bells hanging 5 feet above our heads started slamming their way deafeningly through some 6.30pm Ode to Brass and stood with fingers in our ears as the world shook around us. Thoughts of how this tower spontaneously collapsed in 1902 and had to be rebuit brick by brick were never far away.

We also took a boat trip (9 actually) out to the lagoon islands of Murano (famous for its glass), Burano (lace), and Torcello (mosquitos). Burano was the favourite with tiny canals lined by multi-coloured houses of bright yellow, green, blue, pink etc.

Then it was time to hit the hills and we headed north into the Dolomites. The first pass was only 700m and was the most bizarre and amazing bit of road we've seen. It took 18 hairpins to curl up a cliff lined cirque in the pouring rain and thunder that has accompanied us since Venice. The top 7 corners were hewn straight into the rock face with each corner in a small tunnel connecting the ramps of road between. As we came out of the cloud on the other side the Dolomites proper reared up in front of us. Adjectives have not been penned to adequately describe these mountains. Not much on this trip has rivalled NZ scenery but these go beyond. So for 2 days we have been marvelling at massive spires of rock (and Claudia's muscley thighs) towering in all directions around us.

We had to work for it though. The Passo di San Pellegrino took us up to 1918m (remembering Venice is on the sea!), with the steepest sections at 18%. The pros in the Giro di Italia flit up here on their 6.7kg racing bikes, but with 12kg of pannier alone clinging to your rear it was brutual. Immediately after this was a 1750m pass where the thunder and hail rolled in. We got a respite of sorts with 3km of underground through tunnels before bursting out into the heat again back at 200m in Bolzano.

Here it is like another country and you're more likely to hear a 'Gutten Tag' than a 'Ciao'. Signs are in German and a yodel seems dangerously imminent at all times. Last night we were pounded in our tent by another huge thunder storm, with puddles forming inside our vestibule. Now we are having a day off to let the legs recover and the gear dry out before a last push across the top of Italy into France.

Auf Weider-derci

C&D

All roads lead to Roma

Ave!

Here we are on the Italian Riveria, sipping wine from Orvieto and baking in the sunshine. Although don't feel too jealous - I (Claudia) got sunburnt through my top while biking, I've got 1001 itchy bites and we've got to put up with hairy near-nude Europeans who insist on ditching all but their speedos the second their feet hit the campsite. But these are our crosses to bear, just as work is yours.

Rome was a gluttony of sightseeing with all the usual suspects spotted - the Fountain of Trevi (had to settle for throwing our English pennies in as couldn't find our sesterti), St Peters Basilica and Square, the Roman Forum, Colosseum (next to Via Claudia!), various piazzas, the Vatican and Sistine Chapel, the Spanish Steps, and several gelaterias and pizzerias. Whew! George Bush Jnr even had a cameo whizzing past us twice in his excessively large motorcade (it included three helicopters).

There's probably only material enough for 3 complete buildings in Roma - the bronze ceiling of the Pantheon had to be requisitioned for an altar in St Peter's; the Colosseum marble floors have supplied various projects; and it sounds like the city has been in a revolving state of ruin for centuries.

From Rome we got back on the bikes and cycled north through Lazio, Umbria and Tuscany. The Tuscan countryside is justifiably famous although relying on our legs for propulsion we feel it's been under-reported in terms of its hills. Vineyards, olive groves and cyprus trees are the norm, interspersed with medieval hill-top towns. From a distance they resemble a castle on top of a hill, but encompass a whole town of cobbled streets, narrow alleys created by jumbled stone buildings, and the obligatory cathedral. The Gothic style came as a surprise but features large - lots of black-and-white striped zebraesque buildings with intricate facades of multicoloured marbles, mosaics and statues.

This is the paragraph on food. Our culinary tour of the world continues, and what beteter place than Italy? To this end we've learnt Italian, "Due espresso per favore!". What more do you need? Well, you need to be able to get 200g of cheese, salami, and proscuitto, and we can do that too. Our tried and trusted method of snack buying in Asia was to heft things, figuring more grams = more calories. Thus we were delighted to find you can buy pizza by the weight in Italy. Other favourites include gelati which comes in every flavour you can think of including local specialty wine varieties, and of course the wine itself. This must be the only thing that's cheaper than home, $7 NZD will buy you 5L if you're keen. A bottle of nice wine will set you back $10.

Aside from the wine Italy, in true Roman style, is plundering our coffers. A campsite here costs $40-50 NZD per night. Some tell you the showers are "free", others charge extra. At least after 5L of wine you don't really care.

Our last stop was Pisa, a seedy town with a leaning tower and zero ambience. It was a bizarre town with one main piazza filled with African touts and American tourists, and even a "native" North American Cherokee busking squad. The tower is astonishing and surrounding buildings are also amazing but its certainly not a place to linger (in fact we set our highest average speed today hightailing it out of there).

Tomorrow we're heading to Cinque Terre, five villages on the Riveria "clinging to the cliff faces or concealed in miniature inlets" (thanks tourist brochure). Then its over the Appenine mountain range (make it sound easy don't I?) which will take two days with the sun burning from the outside and lactic acid burning from within, down to Venice.

Ciao with love
C&D

2000km and Buns of Steel

We made it! 21 days of cycling, 2000km and only 2 days biking in the rain. We got to 8000km and have done over 500 hours of riding since leaving home. England was pretty, with its rural life and stone villages, but Scotland, well Scotland is where its at.

After Edinburgh we headed west to Loch Lomond which (despite the presence of millions of midges) was beautiful. Then it was through the highlands, where the scenery was highly reminiscent of parts of the South Island, and a welcome change from the rolling paddocks of England. The comparatively small mountains (highest in UK is Ben Nevis at 1300 odd meters, cf Mt Cook at 3800 ish) did a fine job of showing off some steep granite flanks and giving a general impression of grandeur, surrounded by tussock covered moors and the odd tarn, which of course here they call a Loch. On that, we have discovered that to the Scots, any body of water is ripe for the moniker Loch. Loch Linnhie is an inlet, Loch Lomond is a lake, and Loch Ba is a small alpine lake which we call a tarn. This led to a predictable renaming of our drink bottles.

Our route took us past Ben Nevis and its northern face which is not only steep but steeped in mountaineering history as its ice filled gullies have been targeted by generations of climbers. It was then onto Loch Ness (a lake, just so you know), where we did the obligatory monster impressions - no real sightings to report unfortunately. Two more days plugging up the east coast from Inverness had us arriving at John O'Groats as we had left Land's End - in the pouring rain. Very satisfying to reach the end point after being cut down just short of our last goal.

We took a guided day trip to the Orkney Islands, and were treated to stories ranging from fascinating WW1 and WW2 history based around the Scapa Flow harbour that was often used to shelter the British fleet, to very small town gossip, such as the life history of a swan the bus happened to pass, and a slow drive by of a paddock so we could all admire a lone deer that was apparently pregnant. This was clearly a woman who loved her community and loved her job. One story told of a German U Boat that managed to sneak into the harbour through a small inlet and sink a British warship. This led to 1000 or so Italian troops being shipped in from North Africa and a sidestepping of the Geneva Convention in order to put them to work building barriers that now form the causeways that link the islands. We visited the last remnant of their camp, which was a small chapel they built complete with Madonna and Child fresco that the artists stayed on after the end of the war to finish. It seemed like a far cry from the emaciated and haunted looking images of Allied prisoners we are all accustomed to. The Orkneys were also the site of the first British citizen killed in WW2 by a stray bomb during an air raid in the harbour. This despite London et al already being the subject of raids.

There are also tons of archaeological sites on Orkney. We visited some stone block houses from 3100BC (earlier than the Pyramids of Giza) and a couple of random standing stone formations that the use of is still unclear. There is much more to be discovered here with a major dig currently underway, so for a tiny wee place there is much to keep the otherwise unengaged cycle tourist interested.

Now we are in London frantically preparing for our departure to the Continent tomorrow. Rome beckons initially but from there it is still completely vague except for ensuring our presence in the French Alps mid July for the passing of the preeminent cycle Tour.

Ciao in anticipation

C&D

Exploration of extreme UK

A cold and blustery hello from Edinburgh. Its been a solid couple of weeks since our days off in Bath and Oxford. From there we headed north to Stratford-upon-Avon - the birth, and final resting place, of the Bard. Had a very atmospheric time at his grave which is in a church, and in a town full of tourists, we were the only ones there.

From here we got into moor territory. Through the Peaks District, which was surprisingly unpeaky, but certainly more rolly, then over more and more moors of increasing bleakness towards the Yorkshire Dales. It felt like we didn't see a tree for days on end, and with a cold wind harassing us from the East, it has been a cold and temper testing experience.

On the plus side, we have managed to survive the bank holiday without becoming homeless. Apparently the correct way to secure accommodation for this period is to book some 8 years in advance, and hand over the deeds to your house as a deposit. So thank you to some kind campsites who took us in. Other exciting events include cycling past Banbury Cross, seeing Dolly the cloned sheep (stuffed now), eating haggis, and buying Wensleydale Cheese of Wallace and Grommit fame.

In the north of England we stopped in a Hadrian's Wall to see the northern border of the Roman Empire. Many Asterix history lessons were fondly remembered. Then it was on to Scotland but with no border marker whatsoever, we are not quite sure when we entered. We are now in Edinburgh, so it must have happened at some point. Today is a day exploring the city. Its a fantastic place with huge stone buildings crowding the streets and tiny alleys squeezing between them. We did a really interesting tour of the Scottish National Museum, which included the first edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. For nerds like us, that was pretty exciting.

Along the way we have been passing the time on the bikes by marveling at the oddity of English place names. They range from the absurdly normal such as Simon's Bath, Box, Choppingknife Lane, and Mousehole, to the straight absurd, like Nempnett Thrubwell, Wigglesworth, and Giggleswick. We had a telling warning just before reaching Scotland and whiskey country, when we spotted Booze, and just a short trip up the road - Crackpot. Perhaps we can start a new pseudoscience divining meaning from the associated experience of place names.

From here we shall battle our way north, into the Highlands and the ever present wind. We note that today is 29 degrees in Rome so are blocking out reality with visions of us there in a couple of weeks!

With a hearty cheer
C&D

Land's End - Bath

Hello

We are through our first week of biking and have made it to Bath. The start in Land's End didn't bode well. After leaving London in baking sunshine, we arrived to a downpour and a degree of sea mist that made it difficult to see exactly where the land ended. But since then (until today) it has been perfect blue sky all the way, and a bit of unexpected sunburn, which has been the subject of many a friendly comment from passers by.

The countryside has been painfully English, with Waikato-like rolling pastures the predominating feature. We have been trying with varying degrees of success to follow a cycle route marked out with signs that takes the back roads and the occasional dedicated bike path (think Central Otago Rail Trail in Waikato, with hills). This means covering twice the distance as strictly necessary as it weaves all over the place and we get lost every day, but avoid the traffic and get into the 'wilderness'. The brochures and books have described this wilderness as "dramatic" and "spectacular" but this is perhaps taking it a little too far, and would render many an NZ paddock "unmissable".

For all the rolling countryside, the hills have been extremely steep - up to 30%! This may mean nothing to most of you but as an example, one of the hardest Tour de France mountains averages 7.8%. And they don't tend to carry panniers. So it may be 15 times as long but that's just quibbling.

The northern coast of Cornwall and Devon was really beautiful, with many a thatched roofed cottage and stone fenced lined roads. Local produce is very big here, and dairy featured highly in this region. Clotted cream was the favourite, and even came as an accompaniment to ice cream. Dairy on dairy - perfect after Asia. Have also been gorging ourselves on cheese.

Our accommodation has gone from hotels and bellhops in China to campgrounds here for the same price. One tried to charge us £19 but we showed them by biking for another 20 miles to the next one, which was closed, so then the one after that. We arrived at 6.30 at night, starving and burnt and slightly broken, but it was £6. So eat that with your £19 square of grass.

Today is cold and grey and we have been strolling around the old streets of Bath, looking at the stone buildings from the Roman days, and lunching at a quaint pub on locally grown lamb and lager. Like the English temperament, the lager was not too overt in any way, just slightly chilled and mildly fizzy. But really, again everyone is very friendly towards us, so we await another unsolicited bike cleaning.

From here its on to Oxford and north towards the Peaks district. Until then...

Ta ta

C&D

A'right, its London, innit?

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We have been in London for about two weeks, after a heart stopping immigration interrogation that gave us the distinct impression we were about to be put on a plane back to Beijing. They really hate it when you don't have a return ticket... Luckily we're filthy rich so they let us in.

Arriving felt a bit like coming home. We were welcomed at the airport by Kali and Mark, everyone spoke English (aw wite, innit?), and even if you have never been here, you know all the street names and have seen so many of the buildings its all eerily deja vu-ish.

Having nighttime options other than karaoke would have been enough to delight but of course there is a myriad of things here to keep us entertained. After realising our first tube ride cost as much as a whole day in Laos, we decided the secret to having a good time was to be blissfully ignorant and never do another mental currency conversion. This strategy has worked superbly and we have thoroughly enjoyed ourselves for a couple of weeks.

Between the hail and thunder we have managed to get to plenty of entertainment, starting with a stand-up comedy show where the best part was the comedians ripping into a group of conservative Americans in the audience. So what if they were school kids? They should learn from an early age that such attitudes deserve vehement derision. The Lord of the Rings musical was a spectacular show, with the most expensive set ever built. It was money well spent, although a little more could have been used towards the song writing.

We have made it to the Natural History Museum (dinosaurs etc), Science Museum (Apollo moon orbiter etc), and the National Gallery (Van Gogh, Da Vinci et al). All are absolutely huge and the buildings that house them are as impressive as the contents. Yesterday was a boat trip down the Thames to Greenwich, were East and West are divided. We had a mean time, and celebrated by going to what, in one respect, must be the first Mexican restaurant in the world. There was a great display of the evolution of clocks, as one man gave his life to trying to invent a clock that would work on a ship (the old school pendulum ones aren't so good in rolling seas) to use to determine latitude. One of his five attempts alone took 19 years. But he got there in the end so perhaps we can draw on that in darker periods on our next leg. More on that soon.

Too much to cover but of course we have wandered the streets around some of the justly famous sights like Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square (Tiananmen Square would eat it alive), Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, Covent Garden, Soho, Camden Market, and on and on and on.

Its hard to tear ourselves away but after eating all of Kali and Marks food, making some international calls, and lounging all over their house as they leave for work, our welcome must be precariously thin. So tomorrow we are catching a train with our bikes down to Cornwell and the southernmost tip of the UK - Land's End. From there its 1600km (1000 miles innit?) north to John O'Groats, the tip top of Scotland. That should take us a month or so. We bought a tent and cooking gear and plan to camp as much as possible to avoid the crippling accommodation costs. No doubt there will be some tales to tell along the way, and we shall do our best to keep things interesting, so stay tuned. PLEAAAAAAASE!

Baked potata ya mingers
C&D