Week 4, Humbled by the elements, cycling through the pain & Champagne to Mustard. Total 1601 km’s

An early start from my makeshift campsite on the side of route N 77 north of Troyes, frost covers the ground like a white sheet, a thin layer of ice hugging the rolling fields of the French countryside, my fingers numb from packing my frosted tent away. Destination Troyes, to publish the weekly blog, grab a quick meal and continue south in the direction of Dijon. I roll into Troyes and head straight for the pharmacy to stock up on Deepheat (muscle relaxant cream) & painkillers which at this stage are my closest allies against the morning cold and my heavily strapped up knee.

I’m sitting in this pokey little internet cafe publishing the weekly blog when through the door bursts a fairly eager looking rather large fellow with his (9 or 10 yr. old) son and heads straight for me rambling away at a frenetic pace in French, now unfortunately French is not one of my strong points but I hear the man out before interjecting with some vaguely French retort surmising the fact that I have no idea what he’s on about. After a fair bit of gesturing and fumbling about we come to an agreed understanding that he had seen me earlier on in the day many miles away and he gathered that I must be doing an extremely large journey by the looks of all my gear. Taken aback by the magnitude of the trip as he glared over my shoulder at the now visible route on the PC monitor, translating to his son that was glowing with excitement at the thought of a man travelling so far on a bicycle. We must have shared a half an hour exchange without a single word of a shared language, a lovely example of when body language and the will to communicate and convey a message openly can cross language barriers. I feel we both walked away from the exchange richer men.  

Leaving Troyes was once again trickier than finding the route out of smaller towns but after a bit of circling about and backtracking I finally started to head in the right direction on my desired road for the day towards Chatillon a gorgeous town in the north east of the Bourgogne province.

 I was eager to get south of the frost and make my way to warmer weather so I had been pushing quite hard and had not had a day off since leaving Brussels, I set up camp that night in the forest thinking that I might be getting far enough south to beat the morning ice, little did I know that I would wake in the middle of the night to a freezing cold sensation, I had rolled over in my sleep and my hand had touched the now frozen walls of my tent, crystalised on in the inside, I was far from beating the frost and had a few miles yet to get through before I would be waking up with any feeling in my fingers and toes.

Spoilt by some beautiful countryside I rolled into Dijon after a good days ride, Dijon (like the mustard). Another great city nestled away in the eastern half of the province, architecture from the med evil period that is truly spectacular, I would have liked to stay longer but my quota of 400 km’s a week was beckoning and Lyon was calling out to be conquered. I slept in an empty campsite just outside Chalon-s-Saone that night another evident reminder that it was winter and the locals had closed all the camping facilities for the colder months, a reality I was well aware of by this stage. I had popped into a  Boulangerie (bakery) which was soon becoming a favourite past time of mine cycling through France and grabbed some stunning baked goods and made tracks for my deserted campsite for the evening.

Back on the road towards Lyon where I had arranged accommodation with a Local bloke Tifen, that was a bicycle mechanic in a workshop that recycles old bikes and gets them back into the community at an affordable price. Bicycle culture in Lyon is alive and buzzing and there are some stunning old school steel frames bobbing about. The workshop has in excess of 1500 members with a yearly subscription fee of 20 – 30 Euro’s depending on what you can afford. The workshop and all it’s tools are then at your disposal provided you can squeeze in the door and find a spot to work. A fantastic community project that helps to foster an already buzzing bike culture in this groovy city in the south. A couple of days off in Lyon soaking up some French culture and a little splash out on some gorgeous French cheese and wine before I would be back on noodles in the tent.

Week 3, freezing nights in the tent, Belgian chocolate and dodgy knees. Total 1184 km

Week 3 kicked off camping on the border between Holland and Belgium, a secluded little spot in the woods about a km north of the border and close to a small town called Zundert. I woke up at about 5 in the morning with heavy rains smashing against the walls of my tent, the odd leak or two dripping ice cold water over me as I started to gather my things and pack my panniers waiting for sunrise. I rustled up a cup of coffee to keep my mind off the conditions outside that I would soon be cycling in. I found out later that day that it was 1 degree Celsius that morning, plus rain and a wind chill factor and you’ve got yourself a rather chilly start to the day.

I crossed into Belgium and made my way down to Antwerp where I proceeded to get lost, now it’s one thing getting into a city on a bike but it’s always a bit trickier getting out. The network of motorways and freeways which don’t allow cyclists are far more set up for motorists and generally better sign posted than the smaller more cycle friendly routes. Throw in a language barrier and cycling on the wrong side of the road and every city becomes a project to get out of.

I must have asked a handful of people for directions in English and Afrikaans which is my second language and a lot closer to Flemish than most, without any progress, finally I struck gold when I met “Lucky Luc” a 58 year old local gentleman on his daily 30 km ride about town, we got chatting and Luc kindly offered to escort me out of Antwerp and set me on my merry way south, but not before taking me out for lunch to sample some traditional “Belgian Fries” with mayonnaise and proceeded to tell me how the world had mistaken the Belgian fry for the French fry. We must have cycled close on 15 km together before Luc and I parted ways, feeling a changed man with my new found knowledge on the history of the fried potato I cycled off into the sunset.

Entering Brussels to do laundry and plug back into the grid for a couple of days after camping in the woods, I decided to do the clichéd tourist thing and get myself some overpriced Belgian chocolates and beer, sit in a bar near the Grand Place for a day and soak up the ambiance and architecture of the city whilst filling in a few postcards.

My luxurious lifestyle was short lived and I soon found myself pounding the pavement of the N5 south through Charleroi and fighting a steady headwind en route the French border, I spent that evening wearing the lion’s share of my clothing inside my sleeping bag and still freezing my ass off, I had been experiencing some pain in my right knee and had pulled over and set up camp on some recently ploughed farmland behind a wind break. Did not sleep well that night and tossed and turned cursing my aching knee, I rose to some reggae music on my phone to lift the spirits and deliberated about going outside to get my coffee mug out my pannier for at least half an hour before braving the morning frost and starting the day.

Mixed emotions as I crossed the French border, crossing into country number 4 had brought jubilation and some serious pain in my right knee, an old skating injury that was flaring up in the cold was starting to bother me and the pain had gotten to the point where I had to get off and push the bike for 3 or 4km’s into the town of Rocroi. I needed to rest the knee, have a good hot shower and regroup, so I scouted out a budget B&B and checked in for the evening.

That rest did me the world of good as I set off from Rocroi rejuvinated on a freezing cold morning with spirits high and a heavily strapped knee drenched in Deepheat, it was onwards and upwards from here. An 85 km day in the saddle that ended with a good nights camping and a hot mug of soup, I woke early  the following morning to the Beatles and “Baby you can drive my car” to start a 105 km haul of which 35km was a detour in the pouring rain( thanks to the French police ), which sees me camping on the side of the N77 about 50 km north of Troyes in the province of Champagne.

And congratulations to Ryan, one of the Global Wheeling Foundation trustees and his wife Tam who gave birth to a healthy young lad called Matthew while I was in Brussels and whom I will be nicknaming  Brussel Sprout.

Week 2, London to Amsterdam and beyond...

My farewell to the UK saw me cycling 124 km’s from London to Harwich to catch the 11-45 pm ferry to Hoek van Holland in the Netherlands. A long day in the saddle that ended well after dark due to a  detour to be able to pop into Re-cycle, a Non-Profit organisation based in Colchester that collects and distributes second hand bicycles to various locations in Africa, where I met Derek and a few of the volunteers. A fantastic organisation that has recycled and distributed over 35 000 bikes to Africa in the last 10 years, looking forward to building on the relationship and fingers crossed we raise enough funds to bring over a container to Cape Town.

Arrived at Hoek van Holland at about 8 am the following morning, after a well deserved sleep on the ferry, spent the first 20 minutes of the day doing some bike maintenance removing the front mud guard that had been damaged in London traffic and was rattling like crazy and the next 20 minutes wrapping my head around cycling on the right/wrong side of the road. Met a Canadian fellow heading north, so we set off on one of the many Dutch cycle networks a completely separate road system only for cyclists we followed the west coast and hugged the coastline of the North Sea up to Haarlem and then cut across into Amsterdam a 92 km haul in the wrong direction. But hey; what would a trip to Holland be without a visit to the Dam.

Amsterdam is a beautiful city with a bicycle culture second to none, more bicycles than people, I found myself running around like a kid in a candy store, they seem to use the bike as a tool to fetch and carry people, groceries etc. Certainly a paradigm we could learn from, the bike brings to Amsterdam a sense of cohesion a common denominator for its residents.

A few days in the capital gathering footage and set off south via Utrecht another stunning Dutch city with a tiered canal system littered with cafes and restaurants. From Utrecht to roughly 28 km’s out of Breda where I’ve set up tent in the woods next to a beautiful little stream about 200m off the main route south. The first of many camping sessions on this trip, it feels really good to be out of the urban sprawl and back on long winding roads with open spaces.

The mind feels clear and the body feels strong winding through the back roads of the countryside, time to think and take in all the finer details. Travelling by bicycle seems to be a great pace to move at, quick enough to get places but slow enough not to miss them. Will continue south towards Breda and onward to Belgium, if all goes well my next blog will be out of France.

Tags: London to Amsterdam and beyond., Week 2

Our Global Wheeler has been Spotted!

The journey is under way and Kayden has been spotted peddling through the cold of Europe as you read this post right now. Every km & mile Kayden peddles towards his end destination is pure brute force and determination for his reduction of carbon emissions. All the planning and hard work is now in motion. Lets us get behind Kayden and the Global Wheeling Foundation Non Profit Organisation and support this fantastic cause! Share this post with as many people as possible. Lets share his passion and the Global Wheeling Foundations visions. You can support by making a small contribution by donation and word of mouth, let us all get on board.

Week 1, Manchester to London 344 km’s

Arrived in Manchester, UK after a 22 hour flight from Cape Town via Abu Dhabi to start the big ride. My mate John that was due to pick me up from the airport had gotten the days mixed up and was stuck in Bristol after a gig, so it was flying solo for the first few days. Off to Evans cycles to pick up the new bike, met the lads that had assembled her, a huge thanks to Tom and Richard for all their help at Evans cycles they went above and beyond the call of duty and the service was fantastic. Dropped off bags and went for a full English breakfast and a pint of Guinness to celebrate my birthday and the acquisition of my new wheels and closest partner for the next two years.

A few days in Manchester couch surfing and ironing out all the minor niggles with the bike, two amazing fund raising gatherings, one in Withington and one in Wigan, a huge thanks to John Fairhurst, Rik Warren and Louis Barabas from Debt Records for playing some outrageously good music at the Withington gig and another heads up to Gaz for his persistent haggling of clientele for donations at the Wigan gathering.

Interviews on Unity radio and BBC Manchester, followed by an interview with Manchester Evening News saw me set off from Town Hall at noon on a wet and windy Sunday with Vaughn my co rider and sponsor from Quea consulting services joining me for the Manchester to London leg of the journey in some heavy rain. Thanks to those of you that came down to the starting point to see us off, the conditions were not the best but the support was fantastic.

Mechanical glitches in Stockport which saw me towing Vaughn a few km’s to a local bike shop to replace a part damaged by the airlines baggage handlers and a demanding day of cycling through the Peak district saw us roll into a beautiful country Inn for the evening in Buxton. Day 2 sees us continue through the Peaks on route to West Hallem for a family catch up and a well deserved hot bath.

104 km day out of West Hallem to Northampton saw us breaking the backbone of the Manchester-London stretch of the ride and a few shorter days from Northampton to Luton and a Luton to London stretch that saw us roll into Kings Cross on Thursday just after lunch, 344 km’s on the clock.

London is never with out it’s eventful evenings, one of which saw me getting locked out of my hotel room at 3 in the morning naked after opening the wrong door of my hotel room and wondering into the passage instead of the bathroom. Thanks to the woman in room 307 for throwing me a facecloth to cover up with and head down to reception to explain my situation. Kindly met by a young gentleman with a wry smile and a “don’t worry sir, this happens all the time.”

Week 1, Manchester to London was a gentle introduction to the trip and the bike is running fantastically well, I have fitted a dynohub on the front wheel and will be harnessing the energy created from pedaling and charging my mobile phone from the power generated which is quite an exciting prospect. So it’s east towards Harwich and the ferry to Holland from here catch up in a week from the Netherlands.