Alpine Adventures: Ski, cycle, swim.

 

Days on the road: 46

Kilometres cycled: 2165

Countries visited: 7

Punctures: 0

 

Since we last spoke, we’ve cycled through two more countries, got really wet and cold, climbed some bloody big hills, got even wetter and colder, been skiing, swimming, sunbathing, drinking, dancing, laughing and generally loving life. Here is the story of our journey from Munich, Germany to Ljubljana, Slovenia. Hope you enjoy.

 

So, there we were in Munich, the rain was pouring and the clouds were never ending. Despite our longing to get back on our bikes, the last thing we wanted to do was set off towards Salzburg and attempt to pass the unenticing mountains that lay ahead of us. Nevertheless, we loaded our bikes and hit the road, heading to our sixth country, Austria, and in doing so we would arrive in one of it’s most picturesque and history filled cities, Salzburg. The cycle there was typical of Southern Germany: hilly, scenic and well sign posted. Cycling down a hill on a cycle path at around 45km/h I noticed Tom In front of me. Clearly lost in his music and relishing the prospect of crossing another border, he failed to see the end of the cycle path, the beginning of the road, and the giant kerb that connected the two. The result of this combination of events was the both of us almost having a high-speed crash: Tom, through sheer shock and lack of control, and me through hysterical laughter. For the next 3 or 4 kilometres I looked like the personification of a Jack in the box as I continued cycling and laughing down the hill; needless to say the locals gave me more than a few weird looks.

Once again, our arrival into a city was a late one, but this time we had booked ahead and had made sure there was room at the hostel. We spent two days in the home of ‘The Sound of Music’, but unlike it’s cinematographic history suggests, there was a serious lack of musical activity, resulting in us spending the majority of time catching up on admin and Skyping with loved ones.

In the daytime we walked the city, taking in the sights and listening to the one set of buskers we stumbled across. More of a large town then a city it didn’t take too long, but it’s historical beauty more than makes up for it’s lack in size. Every corner we turned presented us with a photo opportunity, unfortunately however, the weather came and ruined it. Consequently, with the help of a fantastic book shop assistant, we spent our time planning our route through the Austrian Alps into Slovenia. We soon discovered that we would have to tackle three relatively high mountains, the highest peak a ski resort, standing at a daunting 1800m, the snow line sitting at a delightful 900m; we knew it was going to hurt, we knew it would be cold and we knew there was a possibility we wouldn’t get through. But we had planned, we were confident and we were ready. The Alps whispered our names. We loaded our bikes and took on our biggest challenge to date.

 

We had a rough idea about the lie of the land thanks to the elevation chart we created for our journey, however, our reliance and trust in this was limited due to our previous misdemeanours with Google maps. Our aim on the first day was to cycle around 80km to a town located at the bottom of our first pass; luckily it was a pretty flat ride, the sun was casting it’s rays on to us and we were blessed with our first Alpine valley. With the day going well, we were almost waiting for something to go wrong, but when we cycled through Huttau, our good luck continued. To our right stood a large marquee, to our left, around fifty Austrians dressed in traditional clobber, holding various brass instruments. On inspection of the marquee, Tom’s reaction could be likened to that of a child getting a sneak peak at their Christmas presents. He turned to me with a smile and uttered these words:

 

“Uh-oh!”

 

I knew what was in there, but I had to check. Inside the tent, rows of tables were clad with kegs of beer; at the back was a space for a full orchestra and to the left of that, a stage for a three-piece band. The reasons for the festivities? A celebration of the first day of spring. Consequently, all the local shops were closed and the whole town were off work, ready to party the night away. This is something we did not want to miss out on. Although, with no obvious wild camping spot and no campsites near the town we were a bit stuck as to where to sleep and stow our valuables. Once again, lady luck shone her light on us, her rays presenting themself as a slightly eccentric Austrian, who allowed us to sleep in his front garden, 100m away from the marquee. Perfect.

 

The evening kicked off with the orchestra being marched into the marquee. Accompanied by a huge applause from the audience and an armed guard, they ambled to their allocated space and began proceedings. Orchestrated by a flamboyant conductor, they played a selection of traditional Austrian tunes for over three hours, without a single break. We sat down, got some food and let the night unravel in front of us. Of course, beer was involved and a short period later, some young Austrians who were on a stag party joined and starting buying us drinks. We love the kindness of strangers.

Soon, a three-piece band hit the stage; trumpets, trombones and many other brace instruments were handed between the apparently inebriated Austrians as they performed an eclectic mix of songs, from classical to modern rock. Everyone on their feet dancing, most standing on the tables, some resultantly lying on the floor, and everyone else on the dance floor. Tomorrow, our biggest climb through the Alps was awaiting us, but still we carried joining in the festivities, when in Rome and all that jazz…

 

Sleep came and went in the wink of an eye, and soon we were packing away our tent standing next to a pile of snow and getting soaked by the freezing rain; the signs were not good! With no shops open, breakfast was not an option we could choose, so we cycled to the next town and stopped for some lunch in attempt to rid our hangover and fuel our mountain pass. We also hoped that magically we would fall asleep and wake up on the other side of the mountain…no such luck. The rain worsened, it got colder and 100m above, the mountain was being painted a cold shade of white. Feeling rather precious and in need of a warm shower, we decided to call it a day early and leave the pass for the following morning. The search for accommodation started and after finding a cheap hostel we felt our luck was changing, in fact there was a whole road of accommodation just around the corner, so we could pick and choose which one was best suited.

 

That was the plan. Apparently though, Austrians that live in the Alps never, ever, work. Not one bed-sit, hostel, hotel or campsite was open, we were stuck and both feeling like death had paid us an early visit. Our soaking wet feet dragged us to a café where we attempted to warm up and hatch a plan. Looking and smelling like tramps I was surprised that anyone wanted to talk to us at all, but soon enough we were the talk of the town (5 people in the café). A weird, drunk and middle aged man offered us his sofa for 25 euros, although the offer was tempting, there was something dodgy about it all so we politely declined and contemplated our final option: climbing the mountain. We checked with the waitress if hotels and hostels would be open at the top:

 

“Excuse me waitress are hotels and hostels open at the top?”

 

“Yes, there are definitely hotels and hostels open at the top of the mountain.”

 

This was met with nods of approval from the other 4 people in our presence. We also concluded that as the mountain was still open for skiing, there MUST be places open. In fact, we envisaged pulling up on our steeds, arriving at a buzzing après bar and celebrating our first climb with a well-deserved beer. Mood lightened by this vision, we hit the road as quickly as possible and were excited about reaching our make belief land of wonder.

 

Hell is not a hot place. The devil doesn’t reside in an eternal inferno. He lives and operates on a mountain in Austria, taking no pity on hung-over cyclists attempted to make it through his humble abode. Every 20m we had to stop and prepare ourselves for the next short round with the 15-20% gradient. The climb lasted for around 3-4 hours, was relentless and unforgiving and our inability to buy snack supplies only served to make it even more atrocious. Still, every time we looked at one another we had a rueful, slightly insane and definitely sadistic smile on our face. Embracing the challenge, we carried on through the snow line, driven on by our need for food, drink and bed. Eventually we hit the welcome sign and our first site of a ski lift. We were there. We had done it and we were proud. Now the easy part was upon us, choosing the best value hotel and enjoying the reward of beer and pizza. However, this would have to wait. The ski resort of Obertauern was like a glass snowball that hadn’t been shook in years. Every door we knocked on echoed with emptiness, the silence was deafening and I’m not ashamed to admit that I was almost in tears when I contemplated the thought of wild camping in the snow, with no food or water. We carried on cycling through the town, no words were exchanged between our glum selves and we persisted in trying to find some accommodation. Thankfully, we finally struck gold, we managed to find the one hotel that was open in the whole resort and it so happened to be a 4* spa. Taking pity on us they offered us a discounted room, including a six-course meal and access to the swimming pool, sauna, hot tub and other amenities. Like pigs in poo we settled into our room before destroying the all you can eat salad bar and dusting off the remaining 5 courses. Beer had never tasted sweeter and bed had never been comfier. We were asleep before we hit the pillow.

 

 

Morning came and with it we were blessed with blue skies and fresh snow. There was only one thing for it. We decided to forget our budget for a day, hire some equipment and hit the slopes. There was no way that we could cycle to an open ski resort and not hit the powder. Although the slopes were limited, the experience was more than worth it and neither of us could believe what we had actually done; our beaming smiles a reflection of the pride and happiness we were feeling. Another 6-course meal awaited us and the excitement of the impending down hill that lay ahead made for a near perfect day.

 

Waking to clouds and snow is not good for cyclists. But it would be ok as we were going downhill, really downhill. Oh no, wait, we had another headwind, actually no, it was more of a head-gale, thanks weather! We should have been burning down the mountain; concerned at the dizzying speeds we were reaching and smelling the burning rubber of our brake pads. Instead, we ambled down, freezing and wet, not needing to break due to the strength of the wind. We hit the valley and had to cycle in low gears in order to keep moving; the smiles were no longer on our faces. Headwinds are the worst thing for a cyclist; no downhill reward, but all the effort of a tough hill climb.

 

Eventually we made it to our next stop at the bottom of our second climb, one that would be steeper and shorter, and also one that would prove to be more enjoyable and less eventful, once we eventually started it. It was the day of my Mum’s 50^th birthday; homesickness was only heightened by the horrendous down pour and the fact that we had nowhere to stay and a huge climb ahead of us. Neither of us wanted to go up in the sleet and cold. Luckily, the owner of the restaurant we had taken shelter in, had a Grandmother who could put us up for the evening. A kind Austrian Granny who looked after us well and took a particular shining to my poor attempts at speaking German to her.

 

We had an appointed with our third and final climb and with it, our seventh country, Slovenia. With that big yellow ball beaming on our backs, the cycling was more enjoyable, despite the increase in gradient; it’s truly amazing how much difference the sun makes to your mood and this is only more true when you are outdoors every day. At the bottom of the mountain was a signpost for Wurzenpass with a big red line through it, clearly indicating that we couldn’t go that way. However, we took the risk and started the climb, determined to get through to our next country that day. A couple of hours later we were slightly worried; not a single Slovenia car had come past. We started to contemplate the possibility that the border crossing may be closed for some reason; did we need visas for Slovenia? Surely not…regardless, we were getting through that day, even if we had to cross through the forest. Soon after summiting we found the reason why cars weren’t passing over from Slovenia…the road was closed for road works. No problem, we will just stroll through the dug up road and ignore the builders labouring away. Unbelievably, that is exactly what we did, with no questions asked. Clearly the red tape surrounding English construction sites does not exist in Slovenia. The downhill began and it was one that we could enjoy, no rain and plenty of sun.

 

Originally, we were concerned that we wouldn’t get through the Alps in two weeks; with loved ones visiting us in Italy, we had a deadline to make. Our concerns were unnecessary; we crossed them in less than a week, allowing us plenty of time to relax and enjoy the sights and sounds of Slovenia. A full cricket orchestra now accompanied the bird song, the sun pleasantly warmed our backs and even the air smelt different. We kissed goodbye to the cold and snow of Austria and let our excitement about what Slovenia had planned for us grow. Cycle over the Alps…tick (well…nearly).

 

 

Slovenia: the only country with Love in its name, and it has certainly been kind to us so far; we couldn’t recommend it more as holiday destination. It has everything; towering mountains, rolling hills, numerous rivers, dense forest, shimmering lakes, snow, sea, caves and genuinely friendly people.

 

Our first night was incredible; we found the most secluded wild camping spot, by a flowing river, with views of the green and white peaks and not a single scrap of human existence visible. Dinner was followed by a naked plunge in the freezing river, one that was much needed after three days without a wash. A huge fire then kept us company for the evening as we watched the sun set and the stars rise. This is what we had dreamt of, we lay there falling asleep, the sound of the river gently soothing us into our dreams.

 

Awoken by the sound of the river and the warmth of the sun, we turned to one another with smiles on our faces. With no plans, we pulled out the map and pointed to the nearest lake, one that Tom had previously researched. Meandering down beautiful cycle paths we headed to Lake Bled, already relishing the thought of swimming in it, regardless of it’s relatively low temperature. Prior to our arrival however, we had to embark on an adventure of a different kind and a definite highlight of the trip so far. The cycle path soon turned into a mud path, then into rocks and then into a field. We had taken a wrong turn, but we don’t like to go back on ourselves. To our left was the river, and to the left of that was the road we needed to be on. So, in true Alexander Supertramp style (if you haven’t seen ‘Into the Wild’ you must watch it), we picked our bikes up, rolled up our shorts and tackled the logistical nightmare head on. This was the adventure Tom and I signed up for, tops off, crossing rivers and heading to wherever we wanted to go. Back on the bikes with a short cycle ahead of us, we stopped for lunch and discovered another one of the countries highlights, pizza! They are tasty and unbelievably huge, perfect for two calorie burning peddlers.

 

Four o’clock and we arrive at Lake Bled. It takes our breath away; in the middle of the 2km long lake is a Monastery, and opposite that, a castle. People are strolling around it, laughing and joking and the smell of hot pine trees fills the air. Our senses are in overload and the beauty around us is doubled by the perfect reflection shimmering on the lake’s surface. In the distance, snow capped mountains set the scene perfectly, their snow melting and flowing down its rivers, keeping the lake level as the sun relentlessly evaporates the water. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I challenge anyone to go there and not be completely and utterly blown away by this place.

 

We spent two nights at a campsite on Lake Bled, eating every meal on the waterfront, casually sipping away at some beers and shocking the locals by constantly jumping in and out the water like two naughty children. In the whole two days we were there, only two other people went swimming, purely down to the fact it was absolutely freezing! In spite of this, we still managed to go for a midnight dip and that was an experience I will never forget, it was seriously cold.

 

From there, we travelled to another bigger, and even more impressive lake, this one had a sensational waterfall feeding it. Again, we took another wrong turn on the way and ended up doing a bit of rock climbing with our bikes, footage of which will be shown on of the upcoming videos. We spent two nights there, the first was a chilled one, but the second was extremely eventful. We spent most of the day chilling out, reading books and visiting the waterfall. In the early evening we started a huge fire and decided to have our first spit-roast of the trip. Something we had been equally excited and worried about, and I’m not sure on Mum’s would approve… a whole chicken takes a long time to cook, but it was an overwhelming success and we surprised ourselves with how tasty it was. As a side to the chicken we had pasta and veg, this was cooked on our little stove and almost resulted in our first hospital trip. The water was boiling away and things were going swimmingly. All of a sudden we hear a burst and look down. The pressurised fuel tank had set on fire. In our drunken state many people may have expected us to panic and run away. But we calmly wet a tea towel and extinguished the inferno. Luckily no damage was done, but it wasn’t until after the event that we realised how dangerous it could have been. The bottom of the canister was facing our tent, and if it had exploded it would have set our little home on fire and destroyed everything, let alone the damage it could have done to our bodies. A seriously close shave!

We drank with some Polish people who fed us homemade 80% Vodka, nicknamed Justin Bieber; the only reason I can think for this peculiarity is that the damage the drink does to your insides is equal to the damage the annoying pop brat does to your ears! Eventually we hit the sack, completely unaware of the day that was waiting for us.

 

By cycling to the second lake, we had to enter a valley, there were only two ways out; one was going back on ourselves, and the other was a big mountain climb through the Julian Alps. Our desire to not backtrack was being tested by our hung-over state and our lack of motivation to climb yet another mountain. After much deliberation we decided to climb, and what a decision it was. Our hangovers soon dissipated and with near perfect weather we climbed at a good rate, our fitness having vastly improved thanks to the other three passes. We passed another ski resort and from there on it was downhill; this time, there was no headwind, no clouds and hardly any cars. We hit 68km/h whilst cycling along roads that ran alongside multi-coloured mountains, we saw our first snake (much to Tom’s dismay) and we received thumbs up from passers by. Our unexpected mountain pass had resulted in the best day cycling we have had so far and within no time at all we had cycled 80km and arrived in Slovenia’s capital, Ljubljana. We stopped at an internet café to find a hostel and stumbled across Lonely Planet’s number 1 hostel in Europe, Hostel Cellica; a converted prison in the middle of an ex-military base. If you do ever come to Slovenia, this is a must, its quirkiness and value for money are second to none, and the city itself is awesome. It’s made up of cobbled streets, boutique shops and appropriately placed graffiti. And that’s where we are now, next stop is Italy and then along the Croatian coastline for a few weeks before we head to Istanbul, Turkey. Hopefully we’ll be seeing a lot of friends and family in Turkey, so if you are interested in joining, please let us know.

 

Thanks for reading.

Lots of love
Phil and Tom xx

 

Days on the road: 29

Kilometres cycled: 1564

Countries visited: 5

Punctures: 0

 

That’s right, we have made it this far without any punctures (not to our bikes anyway, I’ve punctured my sleeping mat twice). Since our last blog, we have cycled lots (as you would expect), had a few scary experiences (military air bases and wolves), seen some unbelievable scenery (sometimes from an unexpected vantage point), met some truly amazing people, and had another musical experience worth writing about. Here is the story of our journey from Amsterdam, Holland, to Munich, Germany.

 

On day 11 of our journey, we bid Amsterdam a fond farewell. Cycling in a rough south easterly direction, heading for the river Rhine. The weather had been kind to us, and would continue to do so for a while to come. Following cycle routes, we crossed endless fields, ran parallel with tranquil canals and crossed glistening rivers. All the time playing count the striking windmills…there were lots!

 

 

We carried on our path and collected some BBQ style dinner for our first wild camp of the journey. With good weather and 70km under our belt, we were both excited about what lay ahead. A flat piece of forest would be our home for the night, and as if in a film, two deer ran past us upon our entry to our short-term home. Shortly after pitching tent and rustling up some food, Tom and I heard a weird noise coming from a distant, one which can only be described as ‘The Black Smoke’ noise from Lost. Looking at one another with fear, Tom mentioned that we may be pitched next to an Army base, or in fact, we may be pitched in an army base! Although this is a story that can be described with words, we happened to catch some of it on camera…it’s well worth a watch!

 

 

Our alarm went off early, but The Black Smoke had already woken us up. The mist and wet tent did nothing to help us get out of bed, but eventually we rose and hit the cold wet road. The weather cleared and we were headed for the German border and our 5^th country, this was our motivation for the day, but to be honest, when the weather is that good and the scenery is that picturesque, there is no need for motivation.

 

We followed a cycle path and finally hit the Rhine; the dramatic change in scenery presented us with our best cycling day at that point. The concrete cycle path snaked through succulent grass, running perfectly alongside the fast flowing, shimmering Rhine. Confident ducks lined the sides of the roads and the wind was behind us; we cruised along at a comfortable 30km/h and made good progress. We hit the 80km mark, set up camp in another forest, made our first ‘wild fire’ and ate a wholesome dinner. Ahead of us lay a paranoid sleep where we would stir at every leaf movement and twig crackle. Surprisingly, we survived the night and continued on our way.

 

 

After two days camping, we looked like tramps. An image only compounded by our smell and our impromptu lunch stop outside Lidl. Germans do not like smelly campers. Our plan was to cycle the 100km (according to Google maps) to Dusseldorf, where we would stay with a friend, Anna. We eventually got there at 9.30pm, 125km later. Apparently, the laws for cycling on the motorway in Germany are exactly the same as they are in England. True to nature, Tom and I found this out the hard way and soon realised that the shouting and tooting coming from the German cars was not a gesture of congratulations, more one of “get the hell off our road”.

After surviving our brief encounter with the Autobahn, we stayed in Dusseldorf for a few days, working away at our video for our trip to Africa (keep an eye out for it), and doing other ‘admin’ items.

During our time in the stunning Dusseldorf, we managed to go out to a small ‘night club’ in search of a musical experience like no other. After all, Germans are famous for their epic raves. However, the opposite could not have been truer and Tom has specifically asked to be quoted on this one:

 

‘The German Liquid Envy, full of a mega-mix of 90’s crap, interlaced with overpriced drinks and a condescending young crowd barely through puberty’ 

 

Other than that, it was a great night! No, seriously, it was. Good company and a good laugh; but certainly not the melodious experience we are searching for.

 

                                                                                  

Our main navigational tool so far has been our i-phones and google maps. Let’s just say it’s less than reliable and our mileage has been slightly increased due to following inaccessible routes. We have spent hours following roads that lead us to wrong places, up steep hills and down farmers’ ‘roads’. Needless to say, we are now on paper maps and our legs (and bikes) are much happier for it. However, on one of our many diversions, we were cycling along a riverbank and came across a small and welcoming airfield. Tom suggested we checked to see if we could have a quick flight, an idea that I instantly dismissed in my head. An hour later, we were sitting in a glider and being propelled into the sky at a staggering rate, 0-100km/h in under 3 seconds. Being supported by nothing but the dynamic reaction of the air against the wings of a massive paper aeroplane is a fairly scary experience, and that initial fear was only intensified by the following conversation:

 

“So, how do the parachutes work?” Tom and I asked with obvious trepidation

 

“Just pull on here,” uttered the pilot in broken English

 

“What this part?” we quizzed

 

Looking us both in the eye, the pilot said with sincerity “But when you pull it, don’t lose it, it’s very expensive” completely ignoring our previous question and not indicating what part to pull

 

“What about the hatch, how do we open that?”

 

“OK, we’re ready to go” said the pilot whilst getting into the glider

 

“What about the hatch?” Tom uttered with fear but to no avail. He was going. 

 

“Bye Tom…good luck mate”  I said, delighted that Tom was going first!

 

Luckily, the need to use the parachute never arose, and we both had fantastic flights, enjoying the German scenery from a different perspective. 

 

If the experience was a cake, then the icing on said cake was Tom getting an additional ride in a microlight, this time for much longer, and the cherry was getting it all for free. We can’t thank the guys at the airfield enough; it made an average day one of the best we’ve had so far.

 

 

With smiles on our faces, we continued our navigation of the Rhine and worked our way from town to town; Stuttgart our end destination. The weather was amazing, blue skies every day, but nevertheless, wild camping can be a tricky and tiresome pastime. Luckily, we had discovered a web site called warm showers; a fantastic community of cyclists who kindly act as hosts for other touring cyclists. The result of this was 4 out of 5 nights sleeping on a stranger’s sofa; little did we know how much we’d enjoy these experiences and how unbelievably nice the people would be. A huge thank you to Wolfgang (Cologne), Ruben (Koblenz), Stephan and Nadine (Mainz), and Elisabeth and Kristian (Mannheim). Your hospitality, beds and kindness were a blessing and we are completely indebted to you.

 

Our best days cycling so far soon came to us. It started as normal: waking up, pumping our tyres, loading Dusty and Jasmine and setting off. Pretty standard. Prior to this day, the scenery that bordered the river was beautiful; endless fields, blooming trees and cute villages. Nevertheless, it was starting to get a bit samey and we craved a change. Today the Rhine carpeted the floor of a huge valley, reflecting the idyllic images of palaces, castles and towering rock faces. Every corner we turned we were faced with another breath taking scene, constantly accompanied by effervescent birds singing their songs, warm temperatures and perfect blue skies. God (or whoever designed it) had a good day at the office when he designed this part of the river.

 

Eventually the valley ended, and with a tail wind and the start of an epic sunset we pedalled with ease down the Rhine that we were used to, taking in the scenery as we went along, constantly checking one another’s faces to see if the smile had disappeared. In the distance a bar by the side of the river came into a view. With a gabble of chattering people outside, we could feel the atmosphere as we approached, and, as if on cue, a bird of prey (I’m guessing golden eagle) swooped from the sky, hit the river and came out with a fish (I’m guessing Salmon). A pretzel and a glass of wine was the perfect combination as we sat and digested the enormity of our day so far.

Little did we know, but the highlight of our day was still to come. After our enjoyable rest stop, we continued our cycling toward the city of Mainz. Cruising at 30km/h, we felt strong and content as we approached the main bridge. As we climbed, we were gifted a view that can’t be put into words….so here’s a picture. It was the perfect end to a textbook days cycling. Job done.

 

 

 

140km outside of Stuttgart, we looked on google maps for a wild camping spot. Happy with our aim, we darted off ready to spend another cold night in camp. The morning went well, and after 30km, we made the decision to ‘man-up’ and get to Stuttgart in one day. We’d been spoilt up to that point, flat roads, good surfaces and no rain. In fact, 5 minutes after making the decision to go for it, Tom said “wouldn’t it be amazing if we could cycle the whole world and never get rained on”. You can guess what happened next! With 100km still to go, the clouds opened and began their inaudible duet with the hills of Southern Germany. Once again following google maps, we ended up in a forest, with a 15% gradient slope and mud for a road. At a way junction there were signposts in 4 directions, 3 of them with cycle routes indicated; obviously, we followed the one that didn’t have a bike sign on it. Ten minutes later, we were at the bottom of a valley, with no roads in sight and no sign of human life. We were concerned and stressed; knowing we still had a hard day ahead of us only compounded this fact. We were back in boy-scouts, armed with our compasses and our trusty steeds. We felt like school kids as we nervously navigated our way through the forest to a road, using nothing but the polar directions and lady luck. We found our bearings, a small village and a few friendly smiles. A sweet German lady offered us directions to the nearest big town which was on our route.

 

“Yes, you can turn right here, then past the vine yard, left and then stay on the road” the sweet old lady informed us.

 

“Thanks so much. Is it hilly that way?” we asked out of curiosity

 

“No, we don’t have big hills around here. It’s fine”

 

4kms and one hour later, we were left contemplating if the sweet German lady was a mean bitch, a mental cow or just plain stupid. The hill was massive and we were livid. In the back of our minds we didn’t think we could make it, but like the rain and the hills, we continued.

 

Many hours later, we started to go delirious. We could no longer feel the pain in our legs and our speed had reduced dramatically; laughing sporadically, talking to our bikes, dancing to songs in our heads and cycling down hills, in the dark, at 50km/h. We had lost it.

 

Nevertheless, we were making progress and Stuttgart was in sight. Eventually, we passed the sign notating the start of Stuttgart city and I jumped for joy out of my leather bum holder. My celebrations were premature. Stuttgart is bigger than we thought. Another 20kms went past and we were in sight of the hostel. Only trouble was it was 10.30pm and there was a massive hill in front of us. We both contemplated the horrible thought of not being able to check in, but as luck would have it, we managed to secure a room and a much-needed night’s sleep. We had done it and celebrated with two tiresome beers. This was not an enjoyable day, but the reward was one of massive pride in our achievement. We still smiled.

 

 

Morning came and with it so did two beautiful Welsh ladies. Our first visitors on the road and they certainly set the bar high. The weekend with them was full of beer, dancing, card games, laughter and general Stuttgart malarkey. The best day was Saturday, for starters, a hung-over visit to the zoo, where I saw my favourite animal for the first time in real life, the Polar bear did not disappoint. For mains, a delicious meal courtesy of Miss Mabey. And for dessert, a trip to The Traditional Jazz Hall, Stuttgart, an underground, smoky and old fashioned jazz club. The band performing, Lindford swing affairs, were tremendous, and the supporting dance troop were simply incredible, dressed in traditional 40’s outfits and following the music perfectly. The band finished, but our night had just begun. We started talking to the lead singer and the drummer, and, long story short they invited us to a lock in at the club. Beer continued to pass lips and it wasn’t long until we were up on stage ‘jamming’ with them. Here is a snippet:

 

 

The music was interspersed with talk of great jazz players and music in general. In became abundantly clear that music is extremely important to Germany as a country, and it has been ever since the War ended. Unfortunately I have to make assumptions and generalisations in this part, but for some years, many Germans felt suppressed and found it hard to have a national identity. The recent World Cup did much to dispel this, but prior to that, music, and in particular jazz, gave people an opportunity to find a release, to forget about national identity and to just live in the moment. I guess that’s what music is about and this night certainly allowed us to experience that feeling. We learnt, or re-affirmed, that a great musical experience isn’t about how many people you’re with, it’s not about the style of music or even the quality, it’s about the ability of the music to make you go into a place where you forget who you are, lose your inhibitions, and are free to be whatever you want to be. A huge thank you to the guys at the jazz hall and the girls for giving us that night. It was awesome. 

The weekend went by and once again we were left to say some sad goodbyes. But it was a few days to remember and I’ll never forget them.

 

From Stuttgart we travelled to Ulm, prior to our arrival, we had a night of wild camping and with that a terrible nights sleep. At the base of a valley, a beautiful forest turned into home for The Porchester Cottage (our tent). It’s amazing how quickly forests become scary when it gets dark. However, it isn’t surprising they become scary when you are surrounding by shotgun fire, wolf like sounding dogs, camera flashes going off from outside your tent, and a flickering light at the top of the valley. Needless to say, it was a terrible nights sleep and we packed our tent away at record pace in order to escape the nightmare. The cycling the next day was hard and not even the home of the largest church tower in the world (covered by ugly scaffolding) could lighten our mood. However, the best hostel we have stayed in so far did exactly that. By chance we discovered the Red Brick hostel and couldn’t believe the welcome we got. A cute guesthouse, with an amazing host, clean and comfy beds, and the most relaxed atmosphere we had experienced so far. To make things even better, there was an honesty box, full of beer and sweets, AND, we got a heavily discounted rate on our stay. Thanks Anja for our one night there, we wish it were for longer. 

Our next stop was the home of Tom’s family friends, the Haubolds. Words cannot describe how much they did for us, but I’ll give it a go anyway. After a hard days cycling in the pouring rain and freezing cold, we arrived at their house, welcomed with biscuits, warm showers and a perfect dinner. The recipe for homesickness? The Haubolds! A beautiful family, who spent their time enjoying one another’s company, playing music together and walking their gorgeous dog. On our second nights stay there, the family gathered around the piano and sung a three-part harmony of Hallelujah, with the dog singing along and a proud father looking on, it was certainly a musical experience that will be remembered, and yet even more evidence of music bringing people together. We can’t thank you enough for everything you did for us during those two days; we are overwhelmed with your generosity and your genuine family ethos. Thank you.

 

From there we began our cycle to Munich, camping over night without any problems and getting to the Bavarian hub at a reasonable hour. After checking into a good value hostel, we ate at a famous brewery, got rather tipsy and ended up in a traditional German Irish bar. Tom bought some underage girls some drinks, soon realising they were underage and then I informed him they MIGHT be lesbians. I’m not sure what I based this on, but the short hair, tattoos and lesbian tendencies might have been something to do with it.

A soul band were playing and drinks continued to flow, and despite the abrupt locals pushing into us, the night was a success, culminating in a small and under stocked German electro club, a visit to McDonalds and a brief but successful visit to the casino (10 euro limit). An extremely ugly, and atrociously drunk Dutch man trying to get into bed with me was the crescendo of the evening. After a quick spooning I sent him to his bed and no more was said. I felt used.

 

Now, I’m writing this and getting mentally prepared for the next few weeks. We’ve made the decision to cross the Alps, through Austria and into Slovenia. It’s going to be cold, snowy, steep and steeper, but we know the advantages will out-weigh the dis-advantages like a big fat girl, sitting on a seesaw opposite…a midget*

 

 

*quote adjusted for family reading

 

Days on the road: 8

Kilometres cycled: 464

Countries visited: 4

Punctures: 0

 

So this is our first blog from on the road, it’s come soon after we left, but we thought ‘why keep you waiting?’

Let’s start by introducing you to two very special ladies, Jasmine and Dusty; two sisters that’ll be keeping Tom and I company over the next two years. They are black, quite heavy, and very robus. They are a bit dirty, could probably do with some body work and we’ll be riding them all the way around the world. In case you weren’t clear, we’re referring to our bikes, mine is named after none other than the smoking hot Jasmine from Alladin, and Tom’s is named after the one and only Dusty Springfield.

Our journey officially started on the 17th as we departed The Drafthouse in Clapham, South London, at 11.30. An overwhelming number of people attended which only added to what was an already emotional day. We both managed to hold it together, but there were a few moments where I almost broke down; most notably when saying goodbye to my whole family. We cycled the wrong way ‘on purpose’ and then back past The Drafthouse to milk our goodbye one last time.

With our friend, Ben Watkiss, leading the way, we headed towards our first overnight stop, a campsite called Thriftwood in Sevenoaks. After navigating our way up the steepest slopes in South London, and through an onslaught of Sunday drivers, we completed the 45km cycle, set up camp and enjoyed a few beers whilst watching Wales win the grand slam! The night passed and eventually we had to say goodbye to the 8 friends and family that had joined us for the trip. After a few beers it was more of an emotionally goodbye, furthermore for Tom as he had to say goodbye to his closest friends and his parents.

After the goodbyes, bed was calling us and in spite of the rain and the local chav music, Tom, his sister Sarah and I, tried to get some sleep in the wet tent we now call home.

Waking up before an alarm is never good, but when it’s freezing and pouring with rain it’s even worse. We repacked our panniers (after a knee jerk load shedding) and hit the road. Ahead of us lay 75km of road before we hit Canterbury where we would spend our last night in the UK. We needed fuel and decided to stop at The George Inn, Trottiscliffe, for some breakfast. Upon explaining our forthcoming adventure, the landlord gave us the breakfasts on the house.
We left the pub and instantly stumbled upon more kindness from strangers, this time it went by the name of Colin who would act as our guide for the next 20km and ensure we only cycled scenic roads. Such a nice guy who went out of his way to help us! We arrived in Canterbury after a beautiful cycle and Tom said his final emotional goodbye to his sister before she got on the train. We were alone and our journey was about to begin for real; tomorrow we would be in a different country! A massive thanks to Chris and Nick for letting us stay at their house, it was a much needed shower stop and the bed was much appreciated.

Our alarm went off at a refreshing 5.30am, and our tyres touched tarmac by 6am. The cycle to Dover was a quick one, despite heavy legs and freezing temperatures. Things were real for us now; the realisation of leaving the country was sinking in. After an overpriced Burger King, we boarded the ferry and waved goodbye to the Motherland. The perfect blue sun and the disappearing White cliffs provided us both with the symbolism and the epic moment we were craving. With no real plans ahead of us, the world truly was our oyster, and only now is that fact starting to sink in.

Our extreme tiredness was illustrated by my bemusement when red lines didn’t appear under misspelt words in my handwritten journal. Eventually, the boat docked, we disembarked and headed out on a NE bearing. Our aim was to get to Bruges, however, we soon realised that we had lost an hour and were 10km further south than anticipated. This meant we had 86km ahead of us, and about 4 hours of light left. Just like the light, our confidence was fading and we started to think of where we could camp. After much debating we decided to ‘man up’ and cycle until we got to the most famous Belgium city. Baring in mind our furthest practise cycle was 60km, some might have considered this foolish, and come 4 o’clock, we thought the same. Our legs were heavy; we were exhausted and still had a long way to go.

We stopped for a revitalising lunch in the picturesque Vernes. Belgium is made for cycling. We started to eat away at the kilometres, and before too long we were on the outskirts of Bruges. The city is unbelievably beautiful, with medieval spires and iconic cobble roads; unfortunately, I spent the most of our three days there in bed with a chest infection and fever. Not a good start to our two-year journey!

On one of the rare occasions that I braved the sunlight, we soon discovered a distinct lack of music within the city. No live music was scheduled, there were no buskers and there was just one record shop. Our search for the ultimate musical experience would certainly not end in Bruges; in fact, it wouldn’t even start!

After three expensive nights in Bruges (without even seeing one midget*), we decided to embark on the journey to our next country, Holland. We have friends in Amsterdam that agreed to put us up for the weekend, so we had to be there by the Saturday. It was 211km away, we had three days and I was still feeling rough. Taking the beautiful North Sea cycle route, we were privy to some fantastic views and some annoyingly aggresive head winds. Feeling weak and struggling with the wind, we only did 70km before setting up camp in the aptly named village of Kamperland. We stayed on a campsite, but couldn’t find anywhere to pay, so…we didn’t.

After a freezing nights sleep (sleep is a loose term), we were up bright and early and ready for a big day.  We felt stronger and we ended up cycling 120km, our furthest yet. This was after discovering that my bike can’t go up steep hills made of sand! Home was a youth hostel called The Flying Pig, Noordwijk. We treated ourselves to an uncultured, overpriced, but hugely satisfying McDonalds, a few beers and some Jager; we knew we had a short cycle to Amsterdam in the morning.

Once in Amsterdam, we met our friend Annebet and couldn’t believe our luck when she said we could use her flat for the next three days. Unbelievably, my fever came back, so I spent the next day in bed whilst Tom was editing a video. Not exactly the rock and roll lifestyle we envisaged having in Amsterdam, but the rest was much needed. Ironically, finding drugs (antibiotics) in Amsterdam was an expensive and tiresome pastime, but nevertheless, perseverance got me some overpriced pills and I’m now on the mend (I hope).

During the time I was in bed, Tom headed out, eager to find some live music. A local bar played host to a singer/songwriter duo, Tessa Perry (New York) and Liz Clark (Cork, Ireland) performed a contemporary/bluesy/acoustic set, joined at times by Jonne Beenke, a regular on the Amsterdam music scene. Although flying solo, Tom still had a good night meeting the artists between sets and interacting with the others also there enjoying the music. We’ll post some links of there work soon. 

The music scene in Amsterdam is very similar to that of London. In fact, the songs are all the same! Holland’s film and music industry is mainly based on that of the UK and the US, so there’s no ground breaking new music to be found here…well none more so then you would expect in the UK. The people here use music in a similar way to us back in the UK; there are buskers making a living, people partying in clubs, some chilling in Cafés and most listening without even knowing it. Music is clearly an important part of society here, but in reality, it’s no different to how it’s integrated into our lives at homes.

The one night we both made it out, we went to a field hockey party that Annabet invited us to. 3000 hockey players, one bar, loud music and an 80’s style light dance floor; what more could you ask for? There was an amazing atmosphere, everyone dancing and drinking, and we lapped it up like two starving kittens attacking a bowl of milk. We cycled back into town and stopped of at a café for a local coffee brew, then sampled some of the Thai food in the red light district (strangely we were very hungry). Soon after we hit the sack for a much needed sleep.

The one major thing that the UK could learn from Belgium and Holland is the appreciation and utilisation of two-wheeled un-motorised transport. The roads are built for cyclists, they have cycle lanes on every road, which are flat and smooth, and the bikes take priority over the cars. We love it here and fear that we have been spoilt and are slightly concerned about the hills that lie ahead of us.

Thanks for reading, speak soon. 

 

 

 

Hi everyone,

For those of you that attended our leaving ball on the 3rd March, we can not thank you enough for you coming along and showing the generosity and support that you did. Good nights are made by the people around you, so we must thank you all for giving us the perfect send off! An amazing group of people were in that room and we are both extremely saddened by the likelihood that we won’t see the majority of them until Mar 2014!

A full blog on the night will be coming soon, but it’s important to say a few things right away.

Firstly, a staggering £13,064.36 was raised for War Child at our leaving ball and this has made a huge dent in our overall target. Thank you to everyone that came along, bought raffle tickets and especially those who partook in the auction!

Secondly, we must say a special thanks to all of our sponsors. Without your help, the event wouldn’t have been possible and neither would our actual trip. So, from the bottom of our heart, thank you. Please check out our sponsors and visit their websites by clicking here.

Thirdly, there were a few special people on the evening that really helped us out. Namely Sophie, Hannah, Bear, Viv and the rest of the catering team, Ed the photographer, our parents, our siblings, and of course, the amazing artists that all performed for free. Every single one of you put so much effort into this event, and without them, we would have both had mental breakdowns about a week ago.

Penultimately, we need to thank War Child for the way they have taken us on board, the enthusiasm they have shown, their fantastic speeches on the night, and for letting us go to Africa. During Amanda’s speech, she referenced a video that you should all watch, it’s embedded below and we strongly suggest watching it; it gives a fantastic insight into the work that War Child do and the reasons why we are cycling round the world for them.

Lastly, and there are a few lost items that we have from the night. Two jackets and a watch, so if anyone has lost them, please contact Tom or me, and we’ll get them back to you (after a small donation is made of course).

Dear all,

Just one week to go until the big event – the Daring Dynamos Ball 2012!

This post contains important information about the event SO PLEASE READ
CAREFULLY

Firstly, if you or anyone on your table has any dietary requirements (vegetarians, allergies,
etc) please let us know asap. It is important we know this by Tuesday the 28th Feb 2012.

Secondly, there will be no bank card facilities at the venue so it will be CASH ONLY for
the bar, raffle and merchandise.

Date: Saturday 3rd March 2012

Venue: The Porchester Hall, Porchester Road, Bayswater, London,
W2 5HS (http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/place?
q=the+porchester+hall+london&hl=en&cid=17769355673302798312)

Dress code: Black tie (Girls, cocktail dresses are fine. Gents, suits are fine if you wish)

Guest arrivals: 5:30pm
It is really important that we get everyone in on time to avoid delays later in the evening -
we have a lot organised for you! So please allow plenty of time to get there.

The format of the evening is along the lines of:
• Welcome drink and chinwag
• Sit down for dinner
• Short presentation by Daring Dynamos and War Child
• Dinner
• Raffle and Auction
• MUSIC, MUSIC, MUSIC!! – see line-up below

The bar will close at 12pm and the music will finish at 12:30am.

Raffle prizes:
• 4no Onepiece’s
• Brooks his/hers shoulder bag
• Daring Dynamos Hoody
• Brownstock Festival 2012 VIP tickets
• Custom made H4TH hats
• Festivals for All Goodie Bag

• True Ingredients Sunglasses

• Other STUFF TBA

Auction prizes – further details and reserve prices to follow:
• Ski Holiday for Two
• Guitar signed by Ed Sheeran
• Bathroom suit
• Commissioned painting from Jessica Robertson
• Abstract painting by Phil’s young brother
• Prize TBC

The music… all of the artists playing on the night are doing so out of the kindness of their
own hearts in order to maximise the amount being raised for War Child!

As a way of supporting them and to enhance your musical experience I would recommend
listening to them before the event to familiarise yourselves. Many of you will know a few of
them already. In order of appearance….

Joel Bailey

Joel Bailey is a one man band, knocking out soulful, bluesy rock with a unique performing
style: vocals, guitar, kick drum, hi-hat and snare drum all at once.

Check out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNFkIbqCO1o

Buy his album here for just £4.74: http://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/bullet-point-thesis-ep/
id438268740

The Shindigs

The Shindigs are one of the most versatile cover bands around. Female & Male vocals
combined with superb musicianship; they cover a breathtaking range of material spanning
five decades of Rock, Pop, Funk, Soul Classics, along with a few choice surprises that will
have you shouting “TUNE” before you know what’s happening!

Check out: www.theshindigs.moonfruit.com/#/music/4552677461

Kristyna Myles

‘YOU KNOW HOW it is,’ she says. ‘One day you’re singing outside a Tesco Express
in the rain and the next day you are touring with Chris de Burgh and supporting Mick
Hucknall. Isn’t that how it happens for everybody?’ And the full-lipped, coquettish smile
says it all. It’s not cocky, it’s self-deprecating. She knows this is not how it happens for
everybody. Perhaps even anybody, other than Kristyna Myles. Oh and maybe…  James
Morrison and KT Tunstall. Not many more make the transition from high street busker to
international singer-songwriting sensation with a multiple album deal in the back pocket
of their worn-out boot-cut jeans. ‘I loved busking,’ she says now. ‘In a strange way it is the
purest form of music.

Check out: http://www.kristynamyles.com/music and

http://www.kristynamyles.com/virtualtour/

True Ingredients

Think Outcast meets Black Eyes Peas meets Snoop Dogg = LOTS OF BOUNCING!

A mixture of soulful vocals, urban hip-hop lyrics, heavy bass lines, rocking guitar sets
and banging beats, all combine to create an act that is more than impressive. They are a
group that we love, and we know they are destined for HUGE things very soon! So, you
can imagine our delight when, somehow, we have got the eight piece group to agree to
headline our leaving ball, and not only that, they will be hitting us with one of their amazing
DJ sets. We can’t thank them enough for agreeing to do this, and we know that they will
keep you all well and truly entertained. You can listen to one of their DJ sets by clicking
here.

Buy their album here for just £7.99: http://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/prepare-and-
assemble/id292171100

Check out the vids!

“Who’s next”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1zHLzmUW4o

Live 2012: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=US8N4BJAOgM

“Space and Time”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nv_i_MO57dY

Look forward to seeing you all soon!