In bocca al lupo ...

... crepi il lupo <- the italian equivalent to break a leg

So Ive left France sometime ago, those that doubted my commitment to cycling werent far from the truth as I havent made much distance in the last 10 days or so, but more importantly have had a chance to stop, look about and get a feel for Italy, which I love. France is a beautiful and diverse country - but I finally feel like the adventure is underway.

Ive been on the coast for sometime now, after a day in Nice which was plenty long enough I continued onto Monaco... a place well suited to a 2nd West World sequel, Yul Brynner as a psychopathic malfunctioning robotic croupier chasing cyclotourists. I didnt like it much, no surprises I guess, people choosing to buy their way out of society. Aesthetically it was a welcome relief from the gaudy cote d'azure but it had a very seedy undertone... an animatronic Grace Kelly could provide light relief from the fancy cars and huge boats. But my feelings were reciprocated, Monaco didnt like me much either - I was stopped from entering a street by a policeman, no evident restrictions and cars were driving into it from the same direction, so I assumed, correctly I believe that my cycling shorts and pannier lashed washing was not deemed appropriate for a street adorned with Prada, Lalique boutiques. In no mood for defeat so defiantely and somewhat pettily took a promenade down the street as a personal challenge, dismounting the bike I walked along the pavement, farting, swearing, heckling bad fake tans and making sure that every ponce sampled the heady aroma of cyclotourist... it was at this point that I decided it was best to leave Monaco, obeying a simple rule taught to me by a wise old man, 'when you have finished actively attempting to wind up the population of a principality/ tax haven it is the time to leave' - it was never catchy but had a resonance for me in Monaco.

Crossing the Italian border was an anticlimax. Hoping for fanfares at least, marching band, a laurel and hardy handshake. No joy, an EU sign with Italia - no strip search or passport control. EU technocrates pah. Mood improved shortly after, travelling through the town of Ventimiglia where I knew I had arrived in Italy ...

... the noise, smells, the scooters jockeying for space at the lights, best of all the language - converstaions could be heard and seen from 100 metres away. Dont get me wrong, I like France, it is a beautiful country, but Italy has something else. Many a morning in France, I would buy a croissant and pain au chocolat for breakfast, find the town square and munch away on this hearty and nutritionally rich meal whilst watching a game of Petanque. I dont understand Petanque, the objective seems pretty simple - closest ball to the jack wins I guess, but I could never grasp the order in which people played or who won... there was little to no reaction to any shot, each one of them could have won or lost it as far as I could see. It wasnt long in Italy before I saw my first game of the Italian equivalent, sadly I dont remember the name of it, but its something like Bouche.. anyways, each and every shot, no matter how good or bad was celebrated like world cup final penalities... I was no wiser to the rules, but it didnt matter. A sweeping generalisation, but France for me has 'etiquette' whereas Italy has 'bravado'...

Met up with Pauline near Genova, a fellow cyclotourist who is undertaking a truly epic journey which can be followed on her own blog, www.polinavelo.blogspot.com providing you can speak French...

Genova was typical of many youth hostel locations, right up in the hills at the end of the longest days cycle... but always easier when a warm bed is waiting. I didnt stay in Genova very long, although long enough to meet Jackamo (apologies for spelling) a local who could recite names and positions from any 1977 division1 English football team - trying to move the conversation on a little I asked about more recent results in Italy, not interested.. 1977 or nothing, although admittadly he knew the prices of fags and lager in Ealing, West London in 1978... I liked Jackamo, a thorough man indeed.

The Italian riveria is different from the French, generally hillier and less developed - theres still stacks of money and very big boats every now and again but the wrinkled overtanned and overfed bodies of the Cote D'Azue where behind me and cycling was really enjoyable.

Cinque Terre (Five Lands)... a beautful, if very touristy area. 5 villages on the coast, near Le Spetzia - none of which are easily accessible by road. Staying in the youth hostel in Bassio I was fortunate to hook up with some fellows tourers from Australia.. Miles, Hilary and Katie, was good to 'kick back' and enjoy some home cooking and daft banter. After a couple of nights in the hostel headed down to Riomaggiore to a small, cramped but cheap apartment for home cooked food and plenty of dirty old lazing on the beach. This was the longest times off the bike so far, 4 days... I need to do more of this, the bike is a fantastic way to travel.. but it can whip through places pretty quickly, its only when I get off the bike and attempt conversation in insanely bad Italian that I can get a sense of a place - noone knew anything about late 70s english football in the Cinque Terre sadly.

Ive been very fortunate in Italy so far... 2 invitations to stay with 'locals'. The first, in Viareggio, thanks to Ivana and Antonella - also to Isabel and Roberto who kindly entertained me with fantastic food, Roberto's great guitar playing and a guitar recital courtesy of Carlo Palagi's silky skills. From Viareggio, continued along the coast for two days to my second inviation in Gavaranno with Chris, a friend of a friend whose laptop Im tapping away at now.

Viareggio to Gavaranno is about 1.5 days cycling, so I decided, having already blown the weeks money on an overly oppulant lunch of seafood (Italian food is definately king), that Id save a few quid and sleep on the beach under the stars. The sky was clear and I was feeling pretty knackered. Spending my remaining 5 euros on chocolate and a 3 euro bottle of Merlot, which is pretty posh for me these days, having got through a fair amount of Riomaggiore alimentarie's 1.8o euro red wine - if anyone is passing through, its near the station, throughly reccomended, fresh pesto and great walnut cake too.

Unfortuntaly, my hopes of a deserted beach under the stars were shattered by an all night surf fishing competition... but having lugged the bike along the sand I was in no mood to turn back.. no camping on the beach read the signs, but in my opinion, camping means a tent - which given the weather I wasnt planning to use so I lay down. Ive been having some pretty strange dreams recently, although the fact I remember them means Im getting good sleep, I think thats right anways... but someone must have tried to wake me, or move me at some point as I have a vivid memory of attempting to scare something away, a do-good-er Italian fisherman perhaps - with what I was hoping to be a blood curdling howl, but what came from my mouth was a zombie like and slighty camp moan of 'Goooawwaaay'. Seemed to do the trick as I wasnt bothered again. Havent done much free camping as of yet but in future I should make a little more effort than just dumping the bike and falling asleep in the middle of a fishing competition.

Budget - Accomodation = Food *wild camping isnt so bad after all

Fearful of the Carabiniere awaking me me the following morning with a pistol whipping, I left the beach at around 5 am and under dynamo powered bike lights continued under the stars for Gavarrano. Ive always enjoyed cycling at night and watching the sun rise over the hills was beautiful.

Reached Gavaranno at around lunchtime, greeted by my first sunday lunch in a long old time... gawd bless you Chris.

Italy, so far has been great, friendly, lively, tasty, exciting, funny. Tomorrow Im heading east to Ancona to catch a boat for Split. Its not easy to cross Italy without hitting a few big hills and the next few days will be no exception - but Im looking forward to it. Ive been following the coast since Marseille now and getting away from developed / populated areas will be a good change, more over a chance to head away from the obvious tourist parts for a while. The plan, as always is a little sketchy - should reach Perugia in a few days and then a few days after that the eastern coast of Italy and Ancona, where I finally head out of western europe...

Niiiice

This is the last post from France, one day in Nice and Im off to Italy tomorrow, via Monaco, providing I dont put everything on black...

Having cycled out of the hills of the Central Massif I was almost immediately greeted by the hills of the Ardeche. As you may have seen the weather in Southern France has been very bad in recent weeks, areas flooded and campsites evacuated, which gave me the perfect excuse for my first nights hotel luxury in Bagnol sur Ceze. Even had a tv, a foreign object to me these days - and feel better for it.

The weather at the top of the hills in Ardeche as I crossed over the Valley into Le Beage was not cycling friendly. The winds nearly knocked me off a few times, must have been approaching 50 kph headwind at points as it was all I could do to make 8 kph in bottom gear on the flat. A little further on at 1300 metres I was in the clouds with thunder nearby... but bar a few choice expletives aimed at the wind, I got through it pretty relaxed... knowing theres a big descent to look forward to always helps. The views were spectacular although the clouds stopped me from seeing too much.


From Aubanas, headed roughly south east into Marseille. The last 20 km were pretty bleak, a number of industrial complexes and an airport but arrive in Marseille was great as it meant I could see the sea. The Mediterranean was always a milestone, a new sea. Marseille was the first and last large French city I visited, the first cosmopolitan centre, probably France's most cosmopolitan centre with many people from all over the Meditterenean basin, most notably north Africa. I enjoyed the variety - a city boy myself. The town I believe was heavily bombed in WW2, much of the centre is commercial and the Port is surrounded by the usual mix of tack and restaurants. Staying in the hostel had a chance to meet with a few people which was cool, as the previous few weeks of camping in the rain didnt make for much socialising. Took the Marseille metro and rediscovered my enjoyment for public transport - nice to slip into anonymity for a day or so, as opposed to cyclist with his home on a bike that usually causes some funny looks.

From Marseille, I cruised the coastal route to Nice where Im staying now. I had hoped the Cote

D'Azure, which starts east of Toulon would allow for plenty of swimming, but in reality, bar a stretch east of Frejus, the place is pretty tacky really. I guess Im just beyond the summer season now, so maybe the place doesnt have the same buzz.. never been one for beach holidays anyway. Did get some swimming in though, which gave the locals a chance to sample my ludicrous cyclists tan, my knees/ arms and face are bronzed but the rest of me is still UK pasty pale. I was never going to fit into the Cote D'Azure, bearded, scruffy and cap wearing (number 2 after loss of the first), I look like an extra out of the Dukes of Hazzard, add a dirty push bike with clothes hanging off the rear rack drying in the sun and the glitterazzi avoided me like the plague, which suited everyone I think.

Got my first puncture in Frejus, not bad going, the tyres have been good for 1600 miles on this trip and others without a single punture. Occurred on the beach front which made for many helpful strangers, the gesture is appreciated, but prefer to do these things myself...

France ... Ive been surprised how big and diverse a country it is. I have travelled 1050 miles here and feel like Ive sped through. Its a very easy country to cycle, I have even used national routes on the bike on the hard shoulder with no problems. There are always cyclists about, nearly all are clad in full team lycra colours and top spec carbon road bikes - appearing to take it seriously, particularly when overtaken by a scruffy looking hill billy biker with full camping gear (although that doesnt happen too often). I have visited France many times, can speak the language, the only surprise as such was the Massif Central, a beautifully and tranquil region I would recommend for anyone cycling or otherwise. Really looking forward to Italy, although still western European I havent been there before and really feel the trip is moving up a level...

A few stats for those statistically minded.
Distance so far, 1150 miles, 1050 of which in France
Highest Point, 1300m (in Ardeche near the source of the Loire)
Longest day 75 miles
Fastest, 45 mph - shouldnt be proud of this, but it was a very wide empty road and couldnt help myself.

So long, catch up in Italy...

Massive Central

Well since the last post I ve covered the bulk of my french travels... now in Le Puy en Velay in the south eastern part of the Central Massive. The last week or so has gone pretty quickly, travelling through both the Loire and Central Massive regions. Would have been nice to spend more time there, but budget and time haven't allowed for much dwelling in western europe.

After Le Mans, continued south ish into Tours stopping in a small village near Chateau du Loire, all quiet until the local bikers wedding ceremony turfed out with a few dozen superbikes screaming around the village. The piccies are pretty big, apologies if slow to load, I dont yet have the facilities to change the size online ... (if anyone knows how to do that please let me know)




Next onto Tours (left) which looked the part with plenty of bars, but was mostly well off french tourists, my first rest day of the trip was a bit of a dissappointment to be honest. Ever budget wary I kept a low profile... the weather has been so hot, upto 38 degrees according to one pharmacy sign its been difficult to muster much energy after a days cycling.

My route through the Loire valley was not the most picturesque as I was banging down south and not along the valley itself. There were many other cyclists knocking about and Im sure its as beautiful as many say. But throughout I was really looking forward to the Massive Central region which would be the first significant change in geography since leaving London... it didnt dissappoint

The Massive Central. Theres a Volcano park here, although I missed that following the valley of the L'Allier river. You cant escape the climbs however and I completed my first 2 'cols'. The gradients are reasonably gentle but continuous and unrelenting... the kind of effort that after a few hours leaves you questionning your health - why am I going so slow, am I ill, needed more sleep, do I need to drink more water (yes usually). I find singing madeup songs helps, as does reciting lines from Blazzing Saddles or Anchorman, if you can combine the two happy days. I was singing a song about Ron Burgendy's dog Baxter at one point although I dont think its entirally original, cant remember it now sadly.

Descending down into Issoire on Friday, I was down 'on the drops' (the curly part of my handlebars for the non cyclists) with approaching cars shouting encouragement, pumping fists and shouts of "Allez!". Makes a big change from cycling in London where many car drivers view cyclists as tax evading scumbags and leave very little room, if anything is shouted at you its unrepeatable. The French attitude to cyclists is great, the only time I ve had an issue with cars was in the Loire valley and yep, they had british plates and GB stickers, many towing cycling sucking caravans. Its a beautiful country to cycle.

The next day was the first really epic day's cycle, from Issoire to Le Puy en Velay. The longest day so far (75 miles), the highest (1020 metres), the fastest (40 mph). Wasnt intending to arrive here yesteryday, but it seems most rural campsites have closed now at the end of the summer season and I'd rather continue cycling than opt for wild camping... wild, or free camping, in my opinion cant be done until later on when noone can see you sneek onto the golf course and setup camp on the 18nth tee, so I prefer to cycle until near dark and take stock then.

It was getting pretty late and unsure when the hostel reception closed I had left myself an hour to travel the last 24 km into the city, which was pushing things. But ever optimistic, I hoped the days climbing would reward me with a downhill strech all the way into the city and for once yesterday I struck lucky. 20 km of freewheeling, rarely below 25 mph, mostly above 30mph with yet more encouragement from passing cars. One vehicle, packed with family pulled alongside during one of the faster streches with windows open, "Allez! Allez! Allez!", I relucatantly gave them a thumbs up, riding one handed at near 40 mph when I could see grandad leaning out of the car window to give me a pat on the back... it was a nice gesture but the last thing I need was a push, for all I knew he might have wanted a hug so I pulled away a little and gave him a cheeky wink. After the mornings struggle it was a fantastic way to finish the day.

Feeling like a king I fluked my way into the hostel.. very cheap at 10 euros / night including breakfast. I have fairly unregal accomodation however, a windowless room which for a sweaty cycle tourist with panniers stuffed with washing and camping stuff could prove an issue.

Need to get some more maps now, planning to be in Marseille in 3/4 days time which will be a great milestone, my first new sea. From there I plan to follow the coast into northern Italy.. I speak no italian whatsoever, a good time to improve the sketching skills.

Well this post appears to be diary of A to Bs - which is how the last few days have gone... not how intend the entire journey to go but was always the plan for this part of the trip. Stay classy San Diego.