Frame = Cadre
Pedals = pedailles
wheel = roue
spoke = rayon
saddle = siege
brakes = freins
I could go on for hours.
I went to a dozen bike shops today looking for a new frame... my other french lesson was that, for the french at least, monday is the new sunday. or sunday #2. or something. anyway, maybe only half of them were open. I only found one used touring frame, and it came only as a whole bike - the guy wanted 300 euros for it, which to me is a bit steep. there is also a store that specializes in touring gear here (new only) and they were also closed - but the guy at the shop nextdoor, which is connected in some capacity, seemed quite symqthetic and seemed to convey the idea that they might cut a deal on something for me because helping touring bikers was something they were into. fingers crossed. Otherwise its a regular road bike, and I have some concerns whether one can handle the extra stress of weight all day over 4000 km.
Today I also bought some new tools and a sleeping bag. I bought the bag at an outdoor store here that was remarkably cheaper (though apparently of comperable quality) to MEC. I might go back and exchange the sleeping bag (50 euros) for an even lighter one which packs up smaller than any bag Ive ever seen, but is only good down to 10° - its only 40 euros. They also have tiny 1 man 1.5kg tents and 2 man 2kg tents for 89/95 euros, but I'm still considering the no-tent tarp only option.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Merde.
So it happened like this.
I was in a forested area about 60 km north of Paris, just south of Senlis, looking for somewhere to make lunch. It is remarkably hard to find public green space with any kind of water in it (to wash my pot, in this case) in France, so I was looking for a while. Eventually I came across a small creek and decided it was the place. Stopped, locked up Rex, grabbed my stove and some food and trekked it down to the stream. Cooked,, ate, came back to the ultimate nightmare. No bike, no bags, no nothing.
Needless to say I freaked out. Many profanities were screamed to the empty road and the sky. A couple of unhelpful people refused to drive me to the nearby village, so I walked there, a pretty pathetic sight all mopey, trekking up the road with a camelback bladder of water in one hand and a mesh bag with a pot and stove in it in the other. Doing a quick account, I found I was in posesion of nothing but the following items:
My possessions as of present consist of:
one pair of socks
one pair of shoes
one pair of bike shorts
one pair of pants
one wool shirt
one hat
one utility belt
my passport, credit cards, debit card
swiss army knife
lighter
camping stove + fuel bottle
one water bottle
2 liter water bladder
pen
notebook
I literally had the clothes on my back.
Things got a little better at the next village. The people in the town bar felt really bad and called someone who drove me to the police (actually the Gendarmes - local milita who provide police services to the countryside). They took my statement and told me how to find a train to paris, which I did, still dejected. I gave the cops my email and the phone number of Marie, my the lovely and friendly owner of the couch I'd arranged to surf.
Into Paris, where I found an email/phone center, cancelled my travelers checks and got in touch with Mike Kushnir, a vancouver friend living over here. Mike came and met me and took me out for a beer. I got in touch with Marie and - to my serious surprise, found out that the police had called and my bike had turned up with some of my stuff - I could go check it out the next day.
It was a mixed blessing. The theives took my sleeping bag, hammock, tools, food, and some random small stuff. They left me my panniers and clothing, my book of maps (with both sentimental and practical value), thermarest, and ramdom small stuff.
But the bitch is this. Rex is dead.
The bastards ditched him i a field close to where he was jacked from - they had, get this, cut the rear triangle (seat stay and chain stay) in three places to get the lock off. Really now, c'est vraiment stupid - the bike is rendered un-ridable, and thus of any value to them, AND cutting through the bike like that would have taken way more effort than simply stealing the panniers which contained everything that they did decide to take, and probably more effort than just cutting the lock.
I have no idea how I did not hear this happening.
SO.
The situation now is this. I have places to stay in paris as long as I need, and I now need to set about the task of turning up a new frame. All of the other components on the bike are sound, so it will be a matter of sourcing out a frame, and then transferring everything over to the new one. There will probably be some problems dealing with incompatibilities between french and english threaded things (bottom bracket, headset) but the rest should probably go over ok. I kind of doubt I will find a true touring frame used, the right size, and for a decent price so I might have to settle for a road frame (I can at least swap Rex's front fork over to keep the cantilever mounts up front). Some pretty rad friends of mike run a bit of a ghetto bike mechanic opepration and have tools I can use to do some of the work. I've also got to source out a new sleeping bag, some tools, and potentially a tent, though I am considering just getting a tarp and using it to put up some kind of sketchy lean-to to sleep in when I need it - its hot enough over here that a tent is really only for rain protection, not warmth.
The bullshit aside, I'm still having a great time. I've made peace with getting shit done, spending (hey, I'm spending a LOT less than if nothing had turned up - I will be the first to admit I got lucky), and I'm loving paris.
The city is huge and trafic is mental - I've been having a ton of fun riding (borrowed bike) around town. The drivers here are all over the place but by now I'm at a point in my riding where big crazy cities dont scare me one bit, and I am agressive enough to MAKE the space I need on the road (after confirming by eye contact that the driver in question KNOWS I am there). Its a rush, I'll admit. I made it out to the world naked bike ride here, which was a blast - until it got busted up by the police, who arrested 2-5 people and were just about lynched by the bike mob.
There is a butcher (who does deli-ish stuff too) and a baker on virtually every block here and quality, fresh, and cheap-ish food is easy to find (bread price, for example, is controlled by the government). I've never had so much good cheese in my life and I think I am forever spoiled. Eating at home will either never be the same or my cost of living is going to triple. I've yet to really visit a single 'famous monument' but as with most of my trip so far its the living culture that has interested me far more than the dead, and, as with the rest of the trip so far I've somehow stumbled across a good people who are both having fun, making do, and working to make the world better. There is this breed everywhere, it seems, and its truly something inspiring to find. I'm doing my best to spread the vancouver bike love - and the east van flavour too.
This week will consist of getting my shit back together, while trying to be a bit of a tourist, and attempting to spread bike polo to the masses (I think I can get a game going so long as I am able to provide mallets - which means tracking down pvc tubing and ski-poles. Its a legacy I would be overjoyed to leave behind in town).
As before, I miss all you jerks and am homesick everytime I get an email from the velolove or bikepolo mailinglist (god damn you!)
I was in a forested area about 60 km north of Paris, just south of Senlis, looking for somewhere to make lunch. It is remarkably hard to find public green space with any kind of water in it (to wash my pot, in this case) in France, so I was looking for a while. Eventually I came across a small creek and decided it was the place. Stopped, locked up Rex, grabbed my stove and some food and trekked it down to the stream. Cooked,, ate, came back to the ultimate nightmare. No bike, no bags, no nothing.
Needless to say I freaked out. Many profanities were screamed to the empty road and the sky. A couple of unhelpful people refused to drive me to the nearby village, so I walked there, a pretty pathetic sight all mopey, trekking up the road with a camelback bladder of water in one hand and a mesh bag with a pot and stove in it in the other. Doing a quick account, I found I was in posesion of nothing but the following items:
My possessions as of present consist of:
one pair of socks
one pair of shoes
one pair of bike shorts
one pair of pants
one wool shirt
one hat
one utility belt
my passport, credit cards, debit card
swiss army knife
lighter
camping stove + fuel bottle
one water bottle
2 liter water bladder
pen
notebook
I literally had the clothes on my back.
Things got a little better at the next village. The people in the town bar felt really bad and called someone who drove me to the police (actually the Gendarmes - local milita who provide police services to the countryside). They took my statement and told me how to find a train to paris, which I did, still dejected. I gave the cops my email and the phone number of Marie, my the lovely and friendly owner of the couch I'd arranged to surf.
Into Paris, where I found an email/phone center, cancelled my travelers checks and got in touch with Mike Kushnir, a vancouver friend living over here. Mike came and met me and took me out for a beer. I got in touch with Marie and - to my serious surprise, found out that the police had called and my bike had turned up with some of my stuff - I could go check it out the next day.
It was a mixed blessing. The theives took my sleeping bag, hammock, tools, food, and some random small stuff. They left me my panniers and clothing, my book of maps (with both sentimental and practical value), thermarest, and ramdom small stuff.
But the bitch is this. Rex is dead.
The bastards ditched him i a field close to where he was jacked from - they had, get this, cut the rear triangle (seat stay and chain stay) in three places to get the lock off. Really now, c'est vraiment stupid - the bike is rendered un-ridable, and thus of any value to them, AND cutting through the bike like that would have taken way more effort than simply stealing the panniers which contained everything that they did decide to take, and probably more effort than just cutting the lock.
I have no idea how I did not hear this happening.
SO.
The situation now is this. I have places to stay in paris as long as I need, and I now need to set about the task of turning up a new frame. All of the other components on the bike are sound, so it will be a matter of sourcing out a frame, and then transferring everything over to the new one. There will probably be some problems dealing with incompatibilities between french and english threaded things (bottom bracket, headset) but the rest should probably go over ok. I kind of doubt I will find a true touring frame used, the right size, and for a decent price so I might have to settle for a road frame (I can at least swap Rex's front fork over to keep the cantilever mounts up front). Some pretty rad friends of mike run a bit of a ghetto bike mechanic opepration and have tools I can use to do some of the work. I've also got to source out a new sleeping bag, some tools, and potentially a tent, though I am considering just getting a tarp and using it to put up some kind of sketchy lean-to to sleep in when I need it - its hot enough over here that a tent is really only for rain protection, not warmth.
The bullshit aside, I'm still having a great time. I've made peace with getting shit done, spending (hey, I'm spending a LOT less than if nothing had turned up - I will be the first to admit I got lucky), and I'm loving paris.
The city is huge and trafic is mental - I've been having a ton of fun riding (borrowed bike) around town. The drivers here are all over the place but by now I'm at a point in my riding where big crazy cities dont scare me one bit, and I am agressive enough to MAKE the space I need on the road (after confirming by eye contact that the driver in question KNOWS I am there). Its a rush, I'll admit. I made it out to the world naked bike ride here, which was a blast - until it got busted up by the police, who arrested 2-5 people and were just about lynched by the bike mob.
There is a butcher (who does deli-ish stuff too) and a baker on virtually every block here and quality, fresh, and cheap-ish food is easy to find (bread price, for example, is controlled by the government). I've never had so much good cheese in my life and I think I am forever spoiled. Eating at home will either never be the same or my cost of living is going to triple. I've yet to really visit a single 'famous monument' but as with most of my trip so far its the living culture that has interested me far more than the dead, and, as with the rest of the trip so far I've somehow stumbled across a good people who are both having fun, making do, and working to make the world better. There is this breed everywhere, it seems, and its truly something inspiring to find. I'm doing my best to spread the vancouver bike love - and the east van flavour too.
This week will consist of getting my shit back together, while trying to be a bit of a tourist, and attempting to spread bike polo to the masses (I think I can get a game going so long as I am able to provide mallets - which means tracking down pvc tubing and ski-poles. Its a legacy I would be overjoyed to leave behind in town).
As before, I miss all you jerks and am homesick everytime I get an email from the velolove or bikepolo mailinglist (god damn you!)
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Today
France is amazing.
Virtually as soon as I crossed the border, everything changed. The roads are long, windy, and well marked. Camping here is easy. The countryside is beautiful.
Its misty in the morning and hot and sun-bleached in the afternoon.
I cooked my breakfast at a spring which is the source of a river that flows all the Netherlands (L'Escaut), which was in a quiet glade - it was somewhat mystical.
I had my first 100km day.
I only spent 3 euros today.
Tired but feeling very good.
Virtually as soon as I crossed the border, everything changed. The roads are long, windy, and well marked. Camping here is easy. The countryside is beautiful.
Its misty in the morning and hot and sun-bleached in the afternoon.
I cooked my breakfast at a spring which is the source of a river that flows all the Netherlands (L'Escaut), which was in a quiet glade - it was somewhat mystical.
I had my first 100km day.
I only spent 3 euros today.
Tired but feeling very good.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Okay so here is the second leg on Gmaps Its friday evening, a day off in Gent on saturday, sunday's ride to just outside of Luze, qnd then this morning's cross to France. I'm posting right now from Valenciennes; I crossed the border at about 10 this morning after sleeping in a farmer's field (I was still looking for somewhere to crash close to midnight - desperate, exhausted, and having lost and then re-found my camera at a dodgy spot I had considered stealth camping). Yesterday was a day of highs and lows. I had trouble finding my way out of Gent (getting into cities is much harder than getting out - especially when your map is scaled 1:200000), got lost a couple of times, just about lost my camera, didn' make the mileage I wanted, and had trouble finding somewhere to sleep for free. On the other hand, I took a rural route thad had me, for the first time, really working on some climbs and with some exhillarating decents. I've got my packing system worked out efficiently now, and I know I can survive even in a shelter crisis. The weather was nice and I was smiling a lot. So 50/50 I'd say.
Anyhow, let me get back to my belgium story. Last I told you, I had crossed into belgium. I made for Antwerp, and spent several hours there trying to acquire a map of the area and food supplies, then crossed under the river in an awesome pedestrian/bike tunnel that must be a KM long. Was trying to make some serious mileage so I stayed on the smaller highway and pushed it to just outside of a small town called Lokeren, where I spent the night in an unfinished house. Belgium is a wierd country - all of the cities, and even the smaller towns, have really busy central shopping districts full of expensive boutiques and crowds and fashionable people (as opposed to the dutch who, despite their other good traits have little in the way of style -- my apologies to any dutch folk reading this!!) Then, only a few blocks away everything else (houses and shops) is shuttered up, and depressed looking. I'm not sure if it is some kind of economic contrast or that the belgians are just ultra private and like to lock themselves awlay from the world...
The next day I got up early and rocked into Gent. I had been planning on spending the night and had gotten in touch with a local girl, Lore, through couchsurfing and hqd somewhere to stay - it was a good thing, because one of my knees started to hurt really badly almost immediately and a day off the bike was badly needed. Looking for internet, amongst the heavy and overwhelming medieval 'skyscrapers'. Eventually I spotted (as is becomming a technique) an interesting looking person (dreadlocked girl on a bike) and asked if she knew where I could get online - Alla, her name was, rode me to the internet shop, gave me her nu,ber, and told me to stop by for coffee and a joint if I wanted.
It was a good thing I did - good conversation ensued, and, even better she introduced me to her neighbor Stijn who has biked and camped in france. We got along well (he's an environmental policy consultant - I like the ring - and the implications of that) qnd he GAVE me a high quality (Michelen) book of maps of france - the whole country, qnd suggested some routes to me. It was one of those amazing chance encounters.
Eventually I rolled on, explored the city (and its cursed cobbled streets), saw the castle, and swung by Lore's place, just in time to catch her before she headed out to work. She had another surfer staying, Mauro from Italy, and together we went out and tried some belgian beers. The next morning Lore sent me off with orange juice and tasty chocolate Gent wafers.
All in all one of the cooler cities I've been to - very laid back and postive vibe, amazing architecture and old feel (tons of squares to sit in) and hip and hippie kids everywhere (cute girl on bike overload. Seriously higher cute:bike ratio than amsterdam).
So now I have to find one more map (unfortunately the book Stijn gave me is missing like 2 pqges - which happen to cover where I am now), pick up some food supplies, choose the next destination, and hit the road. Sometimes on these midday stops in towns I feel lilke I am an RPG character- roll into town as a stranger, get suplies, potions, dig up nuggets of valuable information. My bike is my horse, and I am a wanderer - its sweet.
Miss you suckers and jealous I'm missing the Bikarnival. Email me with stories of life at home!
Anyhow, let me get back to my belgium story. Last I told you, I had crossed into belgium. I made for Antwerp, and spent several hours there trying to acquire a map of the area and food supplies, then crossed under the river in an awesome pedestrian/bike tunnel that must be a KM long. Was trying to make some serious mileage so I stayed on the smaller highway and pushed it to just outside of a small town called Lokeren, where I spent the night in an unfinished house. Belgium is a wierd country - all of the cities, and even the smaller towns, have really busy central shopping districts full of expensive boutiques and crowds and fashionable people (as opposed to the dutch who, despite their other good traits have little in the way of style -- my apologies to any dutch folk reading this!!) Then, only a few blocks away everything else (houses and shops) is shuttered up, and depressed looking. I'm not sure if it is some kind of economic contrast or that the belgians are just ultra private and like to lock themselves awlay from the world...
The next day I got up early and rocked into Gent. I had been planning on spending the night and had gotten in touch with a local girl, Lore, through couchsurfing and hqd somewhere to stay - it was a good thing, because one of my knees started to hurt really badly almost immediately and a day off the bike was badly needed. Looking for internet, amongst the heavy and overwhelming medieval 'skyscrapers'. Eventually I spotted (as is becomming a technique) an interesting looking person (dreadlocked girl on a bike) and asked if she knew where I could get online - Alla, her name was, rode me to the internet shop, gave me her nu,ber, and told me to stop by for coffee and a joint if I wanted.
It was a good thing I did - good conversation ensued, and, even better she introduced me to her neighbor Stijn who has biked and camped in france. We got along well (he's an environmental policy consultant - I like the ring - and the implications of that) qnd he GAVE me a high quality (Michelen) book of maps of france - the whole country, qnd suggested some routes to me. It was one of those amazing chance encounters.
Eventually I rolled on, explored the city (and its cursed cobbled streets), saw the castle, and swung by Lore's place, just in time to catch her before she headed out to work. She had another surfer staying, Mauro from Italy, and together we went out and tried some belgian beers. The next morning Lore sent me off with orange juice and tasty chocolate Gent wafers.
All in all one of the cooler cities I've been to - very laid back and postive vibe, amazing architecture and old feel (tons of squares to sit in) and hip and hippie kids everywhere (cute girl on bike overload. Seriously higher cute:bike ratio than amsterdam).
So now I have to find one more map (unfortunately the book Stijn gave me is missing like 2 pqges - which happen to cover where I am now), pick up some food supplies, choose the next destination, and hit the road. Sometimes on these midday stops in towns I feel lilke I am an RPG character- roll into town as a stranger, get suplies, potions, dig up nuggets of valuable information. My bike is my horse, and I am a wanderer - its sweet.
Miss you suckers and jealous I'm missing the Bikarnival. Email me with stories of life at home!
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Pictures!
Ok, managed to find somewhere to sneak a few pictures online - this is just a few teasers I guess. More will probably have to wait until Paris...
check it out on my flickr page:http://www.flickr.com/photos/midnightsimon/
check it out on my flickr page:http://www.flickr.com/photos/midnightsimon/
The road so far...
I'm in an internet/phone center in Gent, Belgium right now, its sunny and early, and already I've ridden past three medieval churches and one medieval castle (complete with moat).
I had intended to make this a long post chronicling my three days on the road, but these wierd belgian keyboards have a bunch of letters in the wrong place, so its slow going (if you spot misplaced 'a' 'w' 'z' 'q' ',' or 'm's, now you know why).
I left Amsterdam late- as is befitting a Vancouverite, and had a hell of a time getting onto the 'Landen Fietsroute' - the special marked network of paths that make a bike route from (in my case, though I believe there are up to two dozen nationally) Amsterdam to Rotterdam. Finding the fietsroute, to get on it, was one thing - staying on it was another. Let me warn you right now, beware these routes! You are so busy looking for the next sign to let you know ARE paying attention, some major intersections are mysteriously unmarked. To make things worse, my (specifically reccomended) map, showing the fietsroutes, was only available in the next-to-useless scale of 1:300000. Day one I managed about 70 km I believe (.. starting to seriously think about investing in a bike computer).
Rotterdam. Very differet from Amsterdam. You can feel it immediately, everything is spread out wider, there are more green spaces, the pace is more laid back, and modern archicecture is dominant (thanks to the near complete destruction of the city by bombing in WWII.
I rolled in at about 7 pm (after scoping out a 'you definitely should not camp here' euro nature park for potential places to sneakily camp), and fell right into Groen Voltage - another squatter meetingplace. Sone (sp?), behind the bar saw me outside looking confused, came outside, and asked me if I needed anything - Internet, he told me, was inside and free - qnd wouldnt you know it, they were starting a Voku in about 10 minutes. Cheap food and beer, good conversation - and, it quickly turned out, a place to stay (much thanks to Carly for offering up a spare bed at her place) - luck was with me again. One of the other kids at dinner also tipped me off to the local choppermakers who, after some confusion I found the following day (photos to come whenever the photos end up coming. Sorry guys - its bugging me too, though its probably helping me stop using photos as a blogging crutch). Joris, who's shop it was was a little apprehensive at first, but (as apparently with most dutch people) opened up somewhat after I forced my personality on him. It probably helped that I had a polo mallet on my bike (what the hell is that? - bike polo! here's some websites you should check out) and that told him a little about my trip and the bike folks at home. He told me about the FBI bike festival in Amsterdam in July (DAMN), and showed me two bikes he was bringing - the coolest custom chopper I've yet seen, and a stretch mini he was building for a Mini bike race(!!) at the FBI - get this - frame height restrictions, crank length restrictions, and ,ax 12 inch wheels. intense. I told him about the 'alley kitten' races at home, thanked him, and hit the road.
My detour to joris' shop cost me some time, and it was almost 2:30 when I hit the road. Some nice countryside and a couple of ferry rides were the days highlights - spots of heavy rain, and a long detour/ lost spell (as a result of the bloody fietsroutes) were the lowlights. I had aimed to make Antwerp that night - even had somewhere to stay set up courtesy of couchsurfing.com - but ended up frustrated at my low mileage and cruising the rural byways just outside of Roosendal at dusk looking for stealth camp locations. Stands of trees dense enough to obscure me and my bike, that are also accessible by road are harder than expected to come by. I eventually found a piece of neglected/ for sale property right next to the rail line in which I could hide out and set up camp. My sleep was punctuated by loud trains and dreams of tornadoes.
I took the previous day's lesson to heart and got an early start the following morning. Ditched the fietsroutes and road in the bike lane on the highway. And then, before I even knew what had happened to me I was in Belgium. In my peripheral vision I see a blue squqre with a ring of stars, 'Belgie' printed underneath. The licenseplqtes now all have little Bs on them, insteqd of NLs. Europe. No 'Borders.' I don't think I'd seriously considered that until I saw it in practice.
Anyway, looks lke my internet time is up, so I will have to finish this story later. Medieval Gent awaits!
I had intended to make this a long post chronicling my three days on the road, but these wierd belgian keyboards have a bunch of letters in the wrong place, so its slow going (if you spot misplaced 'a' 'w' 'z' 'q' ',' or 'm's, now you know why).
I left Amsterdam late- as is befitting a Vancouverite, and had a hell of a time getting onto the 'Landen Fietsroute' - the special marked network of paths that make a bike route from (in my case, though I believe there are up to two dozen nationally) Amsterdam to Rotterdam. Finding the fietsroute, to get on it, was one thing - staying on it was another. Let me warn you right now, beware these routes! You are so busy looking for the next sign to let you know ARE paying attention, some major intersections are mysteriously unmarked. To make things worse, my (specifically reccomended) map, showing the fietsroutes, was only available in the next-to-useless scale of 1:300000. Day one I managed about 70 km I believe (.. starting to seriously think about investing in a bike computer).
Rotterdam. Very differet from Amsterdam. You can feel it immediately, everything is spread out wider, there are more green spaces, the pace is more laid back, and modern archicecture is dominant (thanks to the near complete destruction of the city by bombing in WWII.
I rolled in at about 7 pm (after scoping out a 'you definitely should not camp here' euro nature park for potential places to sneakily camp), and fell right into Groen Voltage - another squatter meetingplace. Sone (sp?), behind the bar saw me outside looking confused, came outside, and asked me if I needed anything - Internet, he told me, was inside and free - qnd wouldnt you know it, they were starting a Voku in about 10 minutes. Cheap food and beer, good conversation - and, it quickly turned out, a place to stay (much thanks to Carly for offering up a spare bed at her place) - luck was with me again. One of the other kids at dinner also tipped me off to the local choppermakers who, after some confusion I found the following day (photos to come whenever the photos end up coming. Sorry guys - its bugging me too, though its probably helping me stop using photos as a blogging crutch). Joris, who's shop it was was a little apprehensive at first, but (as apparently with most dutch people) opened up somewhat after I forced my personality on him. It probably helped that I had a polo mallet on my bike (what the hell is that? - bike polo! here's some websites you should check out) and that told him a little about my trip and the bike folks at home. He told me about the FBI bike festival in Amsterdam in July (DAMN), and showed me two bikes he was bringing - the coolest custom chopper I've yet seen, and a stretch mini he was building for a Mini bike race(!!) at the FBI - get this - frame height restrictions, crank length restrictions, and ,ax 12 inch wheels. intense. I told him about the 'alley kitten' races at home, thanked him, and hit the road.
My detour to joris' shop cost me some time, and it was almost 2:30 when I hit the road. Some nice countryside and a couple of ferry rides were the days highlights - spots of heavy rain, and a long detour/ lost spell (as a result of the bloody fietsroutes) were the lowlights. I had aimed to make Antwerp that night - even had somewhere to stay set up courtesy of couchsurfing.com - but ended up frustrated at my low mileage and cruising the rural byways just outside of Roosendal at dusk looking for stealth camp locations. Stands of trees dense enough to obscure me and my bike, that are also accessible by road are harder than expected to come by. I eventually found a piece of neglected/ for sale property right next to the rail line in which I could hide out and set up camp. My sleep was punctuated by loud trains and dreams of tornadoes.
I took the previous day's lesson to heart and got an early start the following morning. Ditched the fietsroutes and road in the bike lane on the highway. And then, before I even knew what had happened to me I was in Belgium. In my peripheral vision I see a blue squqre with a ring of stars, 'Belgie' printed underneath. The licenseplqtes now all have little Bs on them, insteqd of NLs. Europe. No 'Borders.' I don't think I'd seriously considered that until I saw it in practice.
Anyway, looks lke my internet time is up, so I will have to finish this story later. Medieval Gent awaits!
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Gmappin'
This was Tim's idea, but it's a good one, so i'm going to steal it.
Gmapped route so far - thats just under 3 days riding (gonna put in a few more K today). its a rough map, but I'll get it precise when I'm less tired.
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1010420
I miss you jerks!
Gmapped route so far - thats just under 3 days riding (gonna put in a few more K today). its a rough map, but I'll get it precise when I'm less tired.
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1010420
I miss you jerks!
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