Caveman Cycling For Earth

The day starts like any other; we pick the slugs off the tent, I run a brush through my pony tail. Breakfast, some stretching and some pushups; a liesurely breaking of camp.
But when we get back on the bike path, it isn’t long before we realize – it’s the first of May, which is a special day for villages all across Bavaria. (more…)

It was Spring in Germany, we had a flat riverside bike path stretching ahead of us, and we were on bikes. Need I say more?
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I recuperated quickly from my nightmare getting to the Steigenberger Airport Hotel, and subsequently passed a night of Cloud Nine luxury. Lily fed me, and I had a badly needed shower. You should’ve seen the water run black from washing my hair! Not to mention my dirty clothes. And there was a bed with snowy white sheets, big enough for my 190 centimeters – and Lily too! In the morning I used her pump to fix my flat tire, and somehow we found a much easier way back to the campsite. Maybe it was because it was during the day, but it probably had more to do with Lily’s superior navigating skills.

Back at camp, I began preparing for a birthday feast the next day. (more…)

We woke up at dawn on a riverside beach – right on the bike path, nobody cared – so Lily could catch a train the rest of the way into Frankfurt to be with her mom, who was stopping through on her way back to Australia. I was to find a campsite outside the city that we could stay at for more than just one night – the plan was to head off for Budapest after my birthday, a few days away.
It was nice to be up early; I pedalled liesurely toward the city. A nice German guy and his dog cycled with me for a bit and kept me on track. Nearing the airport complex – the Frankfurt airport is one of the biggest in Europe – the bike paths actually continued, with signposts even, under and around all the hectic mess of audobon on/off ramps, which is normally an impossible nightmare to bike through. Go German cycle networks!
Then up ahead I saw a pair of loaded bikes coming my way! (more…)

Something had changed in me; I had given myself a taste of hurry and caught a glimpse into the insidious spiral it promised. I began to see into a deeper layer everywhere I went; people looking at their wristwatches at the bus stop, crazy stress at the train stations, traffic jams and impatient tram bells. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure, that hurrying and traveling by bicycle were uncomplimentary, antiprogressive, anathema, opposites, enemies, not meant to be in the same journey. Disagree if you like, but me, I’m livin’ the slow life.
I was still going to Madrid, but this time I’d take it easy, take a jaunt into Germany and pass through Luxembourg, and accord my Spring in France the time it deserved. (more…)

Including both times I crossed Belgium:

The plan was to zip back up to Maastricht to see a couple of people, then turn right around and rush across France and the Pyrenees a thousand miles in three weeks for La Criticona, the world-wide critical mass in Madrid. Once back in Limburg, I would only check in with Paul, a Belgian sailor mate I met while sailing across the Atlantic, and meet up with Patrick Buckley, son of the Irishman who welded my bike frame, who I’d promised to visit if I were ever in the Netherlands, then quick head back South. (more…)

Belgium – Paris – Belgium:

Rhone-Alps to Lyon, Lyon to Catalunya:

Lily borrowed a telephone at the @Milk internet cafe and we waited for our first host, Sven from Luxembourg, in front of the Panthéon, from where we caught a glimpse of the most horrifically touristified, and, if I may say so, most thrillingly famous sight-to-see in Paris, the Eiffel Tower. It may be overrated, but it’s quintessential — and it sure took my breath away that first time: we were in Paris, France. We made it! (more…)