A number of dog walkers gave us unusual looks as we started preparing to leave. Lachlan was keen to here the results of the cane experiment, but was disappointed to find out that I had slept with a bottle sticking through the cane into my back. All-in-all the cane wasn’t too bad, except for a few parts that stuck into our ribs.

A car came towards us and the man said something in Italian. I spoke back in French and Simon spoke back in broad Australian. Lachlan was just nodding like he could understand. I roughly understood that the man was asking if we were moving on soon as a truck was coming to pick up the cane. Little did the man know, we had spread his neat bundles of cane out under our tent. After rolling the cane back up and discovering the pesky bottle under the tent we were back on the road, well almost. As I pulled up to the end of the driveway my front brake cable snapped. Although it was an annoying problem I was grateful that it didn’t happen while we were careering through Cinque Terre a few days prior. With no bike shop in sight, we decided to press on with care – Me with loose spokes and no front brake and Lachlan with two and a half gears and a wobbly back wheel. Simon’s bike looked decidedly new in comparison. We fixed my rear brake downed a coffee and pressed on.

We’d done about 20k of pretty normal riding on average roads when it all went pear shaped. I half turned to look at a funny sign name (as we’ve done hundreds of times over this trip) and in the process had a little tyre love tap with Lachlan who was in front of me. Normally this is no drama, you brake a little and continue rolling along. I grabbed the brake, but obviously got a different response from that I was expecting. The next thing I know my handlebars are crossed up and we’ve got the second crash of Euride08. I was on my feet before I’d realised what had happened, then was surprised Simon had avoided crashing into the back of me, and then walked up the road crouching and wondering how bad my knee was going to look. I turned around and saw the boys talking to some class of ambulance. I could have timed the prang worse, we were right across the road from an emergency response centre. Sometimes I feel like my life is one big fluke like that, but still, to have three spokes go, two flat tyres, a brake cable snap and a crash all in about 24 hours I was due for a lucky break! A doctor said my knee should be fine but to stay off the bike for a couple of days. Since my front wheel was now bent in half that wasn’t really an option anyway, so we trained the remaining 40k or so into Florence. We found a cheap but funky hostel. If you can’t be with family, there are worse places than Florence to spend Christmas. We can’t wait!

It almost seems like every major city in Italy is dedicated to tourism, and that you wouldn’t run into people that actually live there. Massa was no exception, with half the hotels closed for the winter and the rest hors de prix. It was just 40km to Pisa with the road as flat as a tack, with hardly a whisper of wind, and a double kebabie pitstop, perfect. Yes, that’s right, two kebabs each, in less than 15 minutes.

We stumbled upon the piazza del duomo more quickly than we expected to when we pedalled into Pisa. A legion of souvenir vendors detracted somewhat from all four of the beautiful buildings in the square - “Those guys? Yeah, I think they’re allowed to sell that stuff here”. Simon, trying to prop up the tower with his massive quads was an instant hit with the Japanese tourists. We also ran into a surprising number of bicycle tourists. Okay 2 others independent of each other, but we found that’s still a lot in one place at one time in the middle of winter! We enjoyed the warm sun while it lasted, and followed the river east out on the way to Florence.

As the sun set, we tried knocking on a church door hoping to pitch a tent in the back yard but got a shrugging, head shaking move along. We found a spot near the river and set up the tent on a pile of cut cane. It was Lachlan’s idea of DIY insulation from the cold, wet ground. A bastard bloody dog threatened to expose our hiding spot, barking up on the rise for 2 hours, but we got away with the campsite and after cooking the first pack of pasta in the tent we ate the second packet raw, it was just as tasty.

We packed up the tent and headed out of the yard we had stayed in last night. When changing Sam’s front tyre, Simon remarked how dangerously loose 2 of the spokes were. Sam decided not to fix them at the moment as it was another cold morning and we hoped to get going soon. We shared breakfast of pasta left-overs. Sam dug in first, leaning over to eat from the bowl and dripping some fluid from his nose onto the pasta. Simon and Lachlan went hungry.

We were heading through Sestri Levante, when we joined up with a group of cyclists who appeared to be racing on their expensive Italian racing bikes. Not one to let a challenge go by we jumped on to the peloton, the group seemed happy to have us there as we chatted with them and kept up with the pace. Soon enough we arrived at a tunnel just out of town. The 15Kms of coastal road was mostly single lane tunnels between 1Km and 2Kms long. It had traffic lights at either end of the tunnel to allow traffic to run at certain times of the hour. We had just missed our green light so we waited with the few cars that were parked. The lights went green on the 5, 25 and 45 minute mark and push bikes were strictly forbidden. Pushbikes are supposed to take a mountainous road around the tunnels. Some of the cyclists that we were following before approached us to tell us, in broken English, of the dangers of riding through the tunnels. Doing some rough calculations we could only spend 8mins (max) in one direction before we needed to find safety and at the start of each tunnel we would have to wait for all the cars to pass us before we set off. It was decided that we were going to take our chances, we just needed to peddle our legs off.

The green light was on and the last car entered the tunnel. With adrenalin pumping we jumped on our bikes and sped after the red tail lights that were slowly shrinking into the distance. We rode flat out to try to keep the red beacons in our sights but, with the tunnel over 2Kms long, they were gone and it was just 3 blokes on bikes riding for their lives in a poorly lit tunnel. As the cars were slow to enter the tunnel at the start it had reduced the amount of time we had to make it to safety and with less than a minute remaining we burst out of the tunnel into beautiful sunshine. From then on we decided to limit the distance in the tunnels to under 2Kms.

After the short sprints through the tunnels we arrived at Levanto. The coastal roads ended here so we had to take a short train ride to the start of the Cinque Terre trail. We had hoped to cycle the trail but they are strictly walking paths with many steps. We had a choice to catch the train to the next village on the Cinque Terra trail or cycle to the top of the range and then drop down into the final two towns. With the thought of adventure we took the challenge to cycle. On the first hill out of Levanto we had to peddle up a 19% grade road. It was a difficult climb, but worth it. The amazing view of the coastal towns was everything we had been told about. Late in the afternoon we rolled into Riomaggiore to watch fisherman at their trade as the sunset into the Mediterranean. It was a beautiful finish to an exciting, but tough day… or so we thought.

We caught a train out of Riomaggiore and arrived in Massa late in the evening. From the train station we headed into the city to find a suitable place to stay, but there was nothing in our price range. A few locals pointed us in the direction of a hostel by the shoreline but it, like most things on this trip, was closed. We were lucky to find an hotelier with a soft spot for Australians. He offered us a great deal on a room for the night and even asked us to share coffee and chocolates with him and his wife. A mixed up pizza order and a sneaky kebab (sorry sambo) later we really were done for the day. A soft warm bed in an old three story mansion really was the grand finish to a grand day.

We were glad we decided to take the caravan last night – gee was it cold! Today, however, is looking a little better. We warmed up pretty quickly as we tried to keep up with “Sunday riders” on their fast road bikes. We climbed up and over each hill dividing small towns with perfect blue skies and a warm sun, it was a wonderful day for riding. Keeping up with fit men on expensive road bikes was taking its toll and it wasn’t long before we had to take off the thermals. There were plenty of riders out today. If you counted up the collective value of the riders bikes – Bianchi, Colnago, DeRosa, Pinarello, etc – it would rival the GDP of some countries.

Considering the hilly terrain we had travelled a good distance in a relatively short period of time so we stopped for a short break to finally fix my gears. The clicking and clunking was annoying and I wanted to fix it up for good! But my skills on the computer keyboard don’t translate as well as I had hoped to bike maintenance. The result of my tinkering ended up breaking the shifters for the rear derailleur. I was now left with the two gears on the front crank – three, if I pull the wire that run underneath the top bar of the frame. It was not quite the desired result I was after.

The hills continued for the rest of the day, including a steep 15% grade hill climb over a mountain that seemed to rise directly out of the Mediterranean. The pass was 300m above sea level and less than a kilometre from the shore. But the effort wasn’t without its rewards. When we came down off the mountain we dropped into a beautiful small fishing village called Rapallo. The temptation to stay was great, but Simon’s long winded synopsis of a B-Grade movie made Sam and I look for any opportunity to leave the area.

The sun was setting, we had nowhere to stay, and we had no food. Lavagna was a very small town with barely any open hotels, let alone open grocery stores. We had to find a campsite before nightfall, after that time it would be almost impossible to find a suitable place to sleep. With our minds racing back to the illegal campsite in the construction site a couple of days earlier, we were determined to find somewhere safe and legal. We a small house just out of the middle of town with a large front yard. We knocked on the door, but got no answer from inside. We stood in the yard and debated if we should stay or leave. It was now almost dark so Sam decided to go back down to the house for one last effort to see if the owner was home, if no-one answered we would move on. But on this occasion we were lucky. The owner was home, and better still spoke was able to speak French with Sam. He agreed to let us stay in the front yard for the night. Within 10 minutes we had setup the tent and started cooking some pasta we found earlier in a small local store.

We snuck out of our cheeky camp-site at the earliest moment of daylight and continued along the well maintained bike path until, about 5 Kms later, it ended abruptly and we were forced onto the main road with little-to-no siding for us to cycle on. As the cars whizzed past us on our left, on our right was beautiful Italian coastline of the Riviera di Ponente region. It’s a mixed up area with steep cliffs that drop off into the Mediterranean separating flat areas of coastline where small towns have popped-up to support the summer-time rush of tourists, but this was winter. The summer-time tourists of youthful people and families have been replaced by octogenarians sitting on the seaside benches getting their twelve minutes of sun chatting about who won cards last night. Many of the shuffling characters stopped, stared, and muttered a few words to themselves as they past our bikes leaned up against sea-wall, but they dared not talk to us like they might catch a disease. Maybe it was because we had commandeered one of the precious seats in the sun to eat our breakfast or maybe it was just because they’re old! None-the-less, we enjoyed the beauty of the region. In each cove was a town, a little piece of magic squished in-between hills that pushed out into the sea.

As we peddled on we were starting to realise that we weren’t going to reach our target of Imperia. We stopped for another brilliant Italian espresso to chat about our options. We got talking to the waitress, Flavia, who confirmed that Imperia was too far away from our current location in Savona. The coffee stop turned into a beer stop and we dropped the idea of getting all the way to Imperia. With very little hope at finding a camp-site that was actually open we looked for another area to set up our tent, but the coast-line was sheer cliff. With some amazing luck we ran into a caravan park that promised a shower and a warm bed. We cooked some food, charged our necessary items and got to bed.

It was only on the morning that we left Nice that I realised we were already about to leave France. We were all a little disappointed that the French stint was over, but we got a cool parting gift. We found the bike store owner we’d met the previous afternoon (who was the mechanic for Lance Armstrong apparently), and got some local riding jerseys! We climbed over hills overlooking alcoves with countless multi-million dollar yachts. Before long and almost without realising it we descended into Monaco. Of course there was a heap more yachts, a few Ferraris and (probably) the real Astana team, but apart from more stunning coastal outlooks, we were only mildly impressed with Monaco. With that, another ten km, and an embarrassing crash into a bench, we found ourselves in Italy! The first things we noticed were a lot of bike friendly tunnels, both with traffic and bike only ones! Not all of the old coastal railway has been converted yet, but I imagine the Northern Coast of Italy will be a pleasure to ride in about five years. Accordingly, there are stacks of enthusiastic push-bikers who whistle as us. We haven’t exactly figured out what that means yet… With sunlight fading fast we spotted a half constructed building in between two resorts and a marina, and took turns looking innocent on the bike path while the others ran the gear down inside. You always wonder who or what else you might be sharing your accommodation with when you pitch your tent in something like that, but along the coast we didn’t really have another option. That night we probably got away with our cheekiest campsite yet, right next to a marina that charges god-knows-what per night.

We left St Maxime at the start of a beautiful morning. To our right was the gulf of St Tropez and across the water was the small village that gives the gulf its name. The road we are taking follows the rocky French coastline, not too dissimilar to the coastline we saw in the south of Spain, only slight less mountainous! Still this didn’t stop us from seeing beautiful red cliffs that plunged into the sea and in the background snow capped mountains in the distance behind the cities of Cannes, Antibes and Nice.
For the most part we were wearing just a cycling jersey and a pair of knicks (cycling pants). The sun was wonderful and the wind was relatively calm to the previous few days in this area. On the beaches we could see debris and seaweed washed up from the big swells. The waves were still around every now and then though, as we found out just outside of Cannes. Following the road next to the water we saw some surfers out riding the waves, which occasionally broke up against the barrier on the side of the road, splashing salty water onto the road. Unfortunately for me, I was a victim of one of the waves. Sam riding just ahead of me was lucky enough to duck under a wall of water that saturated me and my bike, twice!
Covered in a crusty layer of salt (well, just me) we peddled through Cannes and then onto the cute town of Antibes where we found a cycle path that led all the way into Nice. However, we didn’t quite make it to Nice. On the road to a bike store we met a local, Jean. After hearing about our dilemma with accommodation, he offered a mattress in his house for the night, and we, of course, accepted gladly! He and his wife, Caroline, were amazingly generous and accommodating. I’m sure it was a bit of a surprise for Caroline to have three Australians sitting in her home when she returned from work, but the entire time they made us feel welcome.
Over some nice wine, biscuits, cheese, olives, and other local food we listened to Jean’s stories. Well travelled and well read I was wondering at how one person can do so much. Inspiration for us to, maybe one day, lead our lives in a similar vein.

The morning’s weather was not kind to us, as we woke to the familiar sound of rain. We hung around inside hoping the rain would clear up, but alas this would prove not to be the case. So we said goodbye to Sammy and Bene, and said a big thanks for all their hospitality and then headed towards the coast. After about 300 metres we were already saturated and were surprised to see the amount of localised flooding. We managed to find a bike track out of Hyeres with the weather conditions this proved to be a good option as it allowed us to relax and talk as we rode. Throughout the day winding in and out along the coast road we realised the flooding was not localised, but widespread up and down the coast. We left the bike path close to Rayol Canadel as it started to become unsealed and washed away in parts due to the weather. We decided to pull over for a late lunch using the excuse for a long lunch to warm up and dry out a little. After a the long lunch the rain looked to have stopped for a while and we headed out to continue riding, the rain had subsided but it was still very cold. With some climbing and winding in and out with the coast we quickly warmed up, just in time for the sun to come out at about three o’clock. We rode into to St Tropez to find that the flooding was worse than we expected. Roads were closed, shopping centres were flooded, and boats that were morred in canals were like river rafts in rapids. We rode through the closed roads as the water was not flowing it was mostly still, but it was very deep at times. All of the camping grounds were closed and most of the places we would set the tent up on the sly were flooded so we pressed on around the bay as the sun set towards Ste- Maxime where the flooding was not so bad. It was good to get out of the wet clothes and tuck in to a warm baguette with brie, tomato and avocado.

Everyone keeps saying around here that we’re unlucky with the weather in this region. From all accounts it is normally warm and dry, but this year it has snowed and rained more than ever. I think we’re still doing ok though, as these are the first few days of set in rain that we’ve encountered, and we’ve been lucky enough to be keeping out of it with Bene and Sami. They took us around to see what we could see in the cyclonic conditions. The same beach of the picture perfect sunset we witnessed on the way in is now buried under about half a metre of seaweed. I saw some real live flamingos for the first time of my life, and we witnessed the best windsurfing spot in Europe. Bene cooked up some great meals and started to understand some of our euride lingo and jokes. Simon and Sammi hit it off, discovering their shared love of surfing and rugby. We watched movies, chatted and read books. All in all it was a great rainy weekend in with good company. Thanks guys, looking forward to catching up soon!

An early wake up to a beautiful day in Marseille, as we rode out of the hostel the sun was warm but the temperature was brisk. We rode past an early morning football game with frost on the grass. As we climbed the hills out of Marseille we were climbing in the shadows of the mountains. The further we rode out of town and up the mountain the fewer houses we saw. The cars that were on the side of the road were covered in frost and there were many cyclists on their way down the Mountain. Once we reached the top of the climb where the morning sun was warm on our knuckles and the crisp mountain air was starting to warm, we descended into the sea side village Cassis where there were even more cyclists. A lady stopped and chatted with us and told us places to visit, and the best roads to ride on the way to Toulon. We were stopped again by two older men cycling in La Ciotat who were keen for a chat and showed us to the local bike shop so we could get a local team jersey.

From La Ciotat we rode through many sea side towns where the roads were very accommodating to cyclists. We passed many large groups and individuals for the rest of the day. The clouds started to roll in from the ocean as we entered Toulon and the main square was full of Christmas stalls and the streets were covered in decorations. From there we followed the bike track all the way to Hyeres, where we watched the sun setting over the ocean. From the beach we met up with an old friend of Lachlan’s, Benedicte where we going to stay for the night. Benedicte went out to get some salad for dinner, and in that time we got talking to Sammie (Benedicte’s boy friend) and he asked us if we enjoyed rugby because there was a big game on tonight, we all said we loved rugby and he went to see if we could still get tickets. It was the one of the big games of the season, Montpellier V’s Toulon. When we arrived at the stadium, a man gave us three tickets to the outer, it was turning out to be a great day. A game filled with Australian and New Zealand players including Sonny Bill Williams, was very enjoyable, with Toulon winning 30-9.

Jour 34

Un rĂ©veil matinal pour une belle journĂ©e Ă  Marseille; et comme nous quittions l’hĂ´tel, le soleil Ă©tait chaud mais les tempĂ©ratures vivifiantes. Nous avons roulĂ© près d’un match de foot, tĂ´t le matin, oĂą la pelouse Ă©tait gelĂ©e. En grimpant les collines autour de Marseille, nous pĂ©dalions Ă  l’ombre des montagnes. Plus nous nous Ă©loignions de la ville dans les montagnes, moins nous voyions de maisons. Les voitures sur le bord de la route Ă©taient couvertes de givre et nous croisions beaucoup de cyclistes descendant la montagne. Une fois en haut de la cĂ´te, oĂą le soleil rĂ©chauffait nos doigts et oĂą l’air glacial devenait plus doux, nous sommes descendus vers le village cĂ´tier de Cassis, oĂą il y avait encore plus de cyclistes. Une dame s’arrĂŞta pour parler avec nous et nous indiquer des endroits Ă  visiter et les plus jolis routes Ă  prendre pour gagner Toulon. Deux hommes plus vieux nous ont encore arrĂŞtĂ© Ă  La Ciotat pour discuter et nous montrer le magasin de vĂ©lo pour que nous puissions acheter un pull de l’Ă©quipe locale.

Depuis La Ciotat, nous avons traversĂ© beaucoup de villages de bord de mer oĂą les routes Ă©taient adaptĂ©es aux cyclistes. Nous avons vu beaucoup de groupes et d’individuels pendant le reste de la journĂ©e. Les nuages avançaient de la mer alors que nous entrions dans Toulon et la place principale Ă©tait pleine de stands de NoĂ«l et les rues couvertes de dĂ©corations. De lĂ , nous avons suivi la piste cyclable jusqu’Ă  Hyères, oĂą nous avons regardĂ© le coucher de soleil sur la mer. Sur la plage, nous avons retrouvĂ© une ancienne amie de Lachlan, BĂ©nĂ©dicte, chez qui nous allons dormir. BĂ©nĂ©dicte est sortie pour chercher quelques salades pour le dĂ®ner, et pendant ce temps, nous avons parlĂ© avec Sammie (le petit ami de BĂ©nĂ©dicte) qui nous a demandĂ© si nous aimions le rugby parce qu’il y avait un gros match ce soir lĂ ; nous avons tous rĂ©pondu ‘oui’ et il est sorti pour voir s’il restait des tickets. C’Ă©tait l’un des plus gros matchs de la saison, Montpellier-Toulon. Quand nous sommes arrivĂ©s au stade, un homme nous a donnĂ© 3 tickets Ă  l’extĂ©rieur, ça devenait une vraiment bonne journĂ©e. Ce match, plein de joueurs australiens et nĂ©o-zĂ©landais dont Sonny Bill Williams, fut très apprĂ©ciable, avec la victoire de Toulon 30-9.

While lying in the tent inside the disused watershed we could hear wind blowing a gale outside. Thanks to our good efforts yesterday we only had to ride 6Kms to get to the centre of Arles. We grabbed a baguette and quick coffee and started heading out of town. On the way out we stopped by an old stadium where a French-language school tour group from Moreton Bay College had assembled. We had a quick (Brisbane) chat then got pedalling. The tail-wind was a God send. Finally we’d had a bit of luck with the wind. We shot out onto the highway and with the 40Kms winds blowing over our shoulder. No longer were the trucks pushing us around on the side of the road, instead they were giving us a helping hand in the direction of Marseille.

On flat ground Simon hit a top speed of 63Kms\hr. I was wondering if it might have something to do with his over-sized Gortex jacket acting as a sail! The side of the road was wonderfully wide and gave us enough room to ride side-by-side to have a chat, whilst still spinning at 30Kms\hr. But this didn’t last long. As we drew closer to the Mediterranean the siding of the road sometimes merged with the busy highway of cars and large trucks. After a few hairy moments we finally it to safer smaller roads that wound around a massive inland bay called Etang de Berre. From there it was a simple up-and-over the hills surrounding Marseille. Our first impression of Marseille was that it was a large, dirty city. We only discovered its beauty when we reached the centre of the city, around the marina. A beautiful sunset and a brilliant full moon topped off a pretty good day’s ride.

Jour 33

Alors que nous Ă©tions allongĂ©s dans la tente dans le hangar dĂ©saffectĂ©, nous entendions le vent qui soufflait violemment dehors. Grâce Ă  nos efforts de la veille, nous avions seulement 6 km Ă  faire pour atteindre le centre d’Arles. On s’est jetĂ© sur une baguette et un petit cafĂ© et avons commencĂ© Ă  sortir de la ville. Sur la route, nous nous sommes arrĂŞtĂ©s vers un vieux stade oĂą un groupe d’une Ă©cole française de Moreton Bay s’Ă©tait rassemblĂ©. Nous avons eu une discussion rapide (sur Brisbane) puis nous avons repris la route. Le vent dans le dos Ă©tait un don de Dieu. Enfin nous avions un peu de chance avec le vent. Nous nous sommes lancĂ©s sur la voie rapide avec ce vent Ă  40 km/h soufflant sur nos Ă©paules. Maintenant, les camions ne nous jetaient plus sur le cĂ´tĂ© de la route, mais nous aidaient et nous poussaient dans la direction de Marseille.

Sur le plat, Simon a atteint la vitesse record de 63 km/h. Je me demandais si je ne devais pas faire quelque chose avec cette trop grosse veste en Goretex, qui fait l’effet d’une voile! Le cĂ´tĂ© de la route Ă©tait incroyablement large et nous avions assez de place pour rouler cĂ´te Ă  cĂ´te et discuter, en roulant toujours Ă  30 km/h. Mais ça n’a pas durĂ© longtemps. Comme nous approchions de la mer, les bas-cĂ´tĂ©s se fondaient Ă  la route chargĂ©e de voitures et de gros camions. Après quelques moments un peu dangereux, nous avons finalement atteint des routes plus petites qui s’enroulaient autour d’une Ă©norme baie intĂ©rieure, appelĂ©e Étang de Berre. A partir de lĂ , nous avions juste Ă  passer les collines qui surplombent Marseille. Notre première impression fut que Marseille Ă©tait une grosse ville sale. Nous avons dĂ©couvert sa beautĂ© en gagnant le centre-ville, autour de la marina. Un beau soleil et une pleine lune brillante ont couronnĂ© une bonne journĂ©e de voyage.

Tuesday night we were too cold and wet to notice Lachlan had snapped yet another spoke, so that was a nice little surprise jobbie for this morning. We tightened up our brakes, swapped the tent over to my bike, scoffed two pain au chocolat each, and then scissor-paper-rocked off for the last two. Luckily for lach’s spokes Simon and I took them out. Yesterday we met up with Pascal and his mates for a few beers. I met Pascal grape-picking in Vinsobres this autumn, and it was great to catch up with him again. We’re trying to get to Marseille for the weekend, which puts us close to 200km over two days. Riding wise today was pretty stock standard. Garmi threw in a few muddy tracks and Simon very nearly lost it, luckily I had it attached to my bike or Garmi would be in the river. For a change we did have a cranking tailwind for an hour or so. It turned into a howling side-wind as we turned up towards Arles, and we all got blown off the road once or twice. With a cross-wind like that you’ve got the bike leaned into the breeze. When a truck momentarily takes out the wind as it passes you feel like you’re being sucked in and then you have to avoid getting thrown into the ditch as the wind hits once again. What I loved today though were the colours. We’re in swampy marsh-lands at the moment, and the long grass looks great in the afternoon sun between the rich green grass and the blue-grey wind-swept sky.

We accosted a young man as he stepped off a bus, and he pointed us down a service road and said we should be able to find a field to camp in. Even better. We found an ivy covered irrigation pump shed better protected than the last one we squatted. Luckily too, from in here it sounds like a cyclone out there. There are no gusts of wind because it’s constantly blowing 100km/h! Anyway, we’re warm and happy and off to Marseille tomorrow.

Jour 32

Mardi soir Ă©tait trop froid et humide pour que l’on remarque que Lachlan avait cassĂ© un autre rayon, ce fut donc une jolie surprise ce matin. Nous avons resserrĂ© nos freins, fixĂ© la tente Ă  mon vĂ©lo, englouti 2 pains au chocolat chacun, et jouĂ© Ă  pierre-feuille-ciseau les 2 derniers. Heureusement pour les rayons de Lach, Simon et moi avons gagnĂ©. Hier, nous avons retrouvĂ© Pascal, vendangeur Ă  Vinsobres cet automne, et c’Ă©tait cool de le revoir. Nous essayons d’atteindre Marseille ce week-end, ce qui nous pousse Ă  faire 200 km sur 2 jours. Rouler sagement aujourd’hui, Ă©tait plutĂ´t le niveau moyen. Garmi nous a amenĂ© dans quelques passages boueux et Simon l’a presque perdu, heureusement qu’il Ă©tait attachĂ© Ă  mon vĂ©lo, sinon il serait dans une rivière. Pour changer, nous avons eu le vent dans le dos, pendant une heure environ. Il s’est transformĂ© en un vent latĂ©ral violent alors que nous nous dirigions vers Arles, et nous avons tous Ă©tĂ© dĂ©viĂ©s une fois ou deux. Avec un vent de cĂ´tĂ© pareil, le vent s’appuie Ă  la brise. Alors quand un camion coupe momentanĂ©ment le vent en nous croisant, on a l’impression d’ĂŞtre aspirĂ©, puis jetĂ© au fossĂ© quand le vent revient. Ce que j’ai aimĂ© aujourd’hui malgrĂ© tout, ce sont les couleurs. Nous sommes dans une rĂ©gion marĂ©cageuse en ce moment, et les herbes hautes sont magnifiques dans le soleil de l’après-midi, entre le vert riche de l’herbe et le ciel venteux bleu-gris.

Nous avons accostĂ© un jeune homme alors qu’il descendait d’un bus, et il nous a indiquĂ© une route secondaire en disant que nous devrions trouver un champ pour camper. Encore mieux. Nous avons trouvĂ© un abri de pompe d’irrigation recouvert de lierre, encore mieux protĂ©gĂ© que notre abri prĂ©cĂ©dent. Heureusement aussi, depuis l’intĂ©rieur, on a l’impression d’un cyclone Ă  l’extĂ©rieur. Il n’y a pas de rafale de vent puisqu’il souffle constamment Ă  100 km/h! Enfin, nous sommes au chaud et contents et nous serons Ă  Marseille demain.

Today we took a day out to explore the city of Montpellier. Walking along the streets has easily made this city my most favourite city of Europe. The buildings are beautifully restored. At each corner there is another row of wonderfully decorative sandstone structures. The people are young and friendly and the general vibe of the city makes me want to stay just a little longer. In the afternoon we enjoyed a few beers with Pascal, a friend of Sam’s from grape-picking in the south of France earlier in the year, and a few of his mates. Simon and I are working on our French, but it hasn’t really progressed past the bonjour and merci. It made it kinda difficult to create a full sentence in French. Sam continued to work as our translator.

Christmas is getting close. We can tell, not only because of the massive Christmas trees we keep passing in each town, but also because we can keep the beers cold by putting them outside. The temperature is getting pretty low at night and its making the tent-option less and less attractive. But hey, c’est la vie.

Jour 31

Aujourd’hui, nous avons passĂ© la journĂ©e Ă  explorer la ville de Montpellier. Marcher dans les rues a facilement fait de cette ville ma prĂ©fĂ©rĂ©e en Europe. Les bâtiments sont admirablement restaurĂ©s. A chaque coin, il y a une nouvelle rangĂ©e de structures en grès merveilleusement dĂ©coratifs. Les gens sont jeunes et amicaux, et la ville en gĂ©nĂ©ral m’a donnĂ© envie de rester juste un peu plus longtemps. Dans l’après-midi, nous avons bu quelques bières avec Pascal, un ami que Sam a rencontrĂ© pendant les vendanges un peu plus tĂ´t dans l’annĂ©e, et quelques uns de ses potes. Simon et moi travaillons sur notre français, mais il n’a pas beaucoup progressĂ© en dehors du “bonjour” et “merci”. C’est un peu, disons, difficile de faire une phrase entière en français. Sam continue de travailler comme notre traducteur.

NoĂ«l approche. Nous ne le remarquons pas seulement Ă  cause des sapins gigantesques que nous n’arrĂŞtons pas de voir dans chaque ville, mais surtout parce que nous pouvons garder les bières au frais juste en les mettant dehors. Les tempĂ©ratures deviennent vraiment basses la nuit, rendant l’option-tente de moins en moins attrayante. Mais bon, c’est la vie.

We could hear the cars below driving in the rain before we woke. As the sun rose behind the clouds and the rain trickled down the panes of glass we woke from our slumber to our first day of what looked like full rain. As we exited Beziers we were thoroughly wet. My glasses were fogging up making it hard to see and our Goretex jackets were working over-time to keep us dry. We set a course towards Sete, a beautiful sea side town and along the way we stopped at Agde for a fresh baguette and some left over pasta and a break from the rain. The ladies at the bakery invited us in out of the cold and offered us a coffee. They wanted us to stay the night in the town as the weather was nasty outside, but it was still early in the day. After the quick meal and coffee to warm us up we were back on track to Sete. As we rode along the coast with the wind in our faces the weather was creating massive waves out to our right but we could not glance for too long as to not lose concentration and cause a three bike pile up! But we headed in to Sete and again hid from the wind and rain, with the refuge of a hot coffee and warm shelter. Both of the seaside towns we passed would have been beautiful places, if the sun was shining. You could imaging in summer that they would be bustling with activity.

From Sete we headed back through wine vineyards and a rolling countryside toward Montpellier. About 15kms from our destination we found a bike path that we ended up riding almost all the way into to the town centre. This was a blessing as it allowed us to relax a little, not having to worry about the small shoulder and winds blowing us around. On arrival in Montpellier we headed straight to the hostel Sam had previously stayed at… it was closed and will be for a month! It also turned out that most of the inexpensive hotels were booked. The sun had gone down and the wind was blowing a gale when we stumbled on a very inexpensive hotel in the middle of town. Luck had gone our way. We were all keen for a shower and a hot meal and glad to get out of our wet clothes.

Jour 30.

Nous entendions les voitures rouler sous la pluie avant mĂŞme de nous lever. Pendant que le soleil se levait derrière les nuages et que la pluie dĂ©goulinait sur les vitres, nous sommes sortis de notre sommeil pour ce qui paraissait ĂŞtre notre premier jour pluvieux. A la sortie de BĂ©ziers, nous Ă©tions complètement mouillĂ©s. Mes lunettes Ă©taient embuĂ©es, ça devenait difficile de bien voir et nos vestes en Goretex faisaient des heures sup’ pour nous garder au sec. Nous avons pris la direction de Sète, une jolie petite ville cĂ´tière et le long du chemin, nous nous sommes arrĂŞtĂ©s Ă  Agde pour du pain frais, le restant des pâtes et un petite pause au sec. Les dames de la boulangerie nous ont invitĂ© pour un cafĂ© hors du froid. Elles voulaient que nous restions en ville pour la nuit Ă  cause du mauvais temps, mais il Ă©tait encore tĂ´t. Après le repas rapide et le cafĂ© pour nous rĂ©chauffer, nous Ă©tions de retour sur la route de Sète. Comme nous roulions le long de la cĂ´te, avec le vent dans nos visages, il se crĂ©ait d’Ă©normes vagues sur notre droite mais nous ne pouvions pas jeter de trop longs coups d’Ĺ“il, au risque de perdre la concentration et faire une pile vĂ©los! Nous avons atteint Sète malgrĂ© tout, et nous nous sommes Ă  nouveau cachĂ©s de la pluie et du vent, avec un cafĂ© chaud et un abri. Les deux villes cĂ´tières que nous avons traversĂ©es auraient Ă©tĂ© des endroits merveilleux si le soleil avait brillĂ©. C’est facile de les imaginer dans l’animation et l’activitĂ© de l’Ă©tĂ©.

A partir de Sète, nous retrouvions les vignes et la campagne vallonnĂ©e menant Ă  Montpellier. A 15 km de notre destination, nous avons trouvĂ© une piste cyclable qui arrivait pratiquement au centre ville. C’Ă©tait plutĂ´t bienvenue puisque ça nous permettait de nous relaxer un peu, sans avoir besoin de nous inquiĂ©ter des accotements trop petits ou du vent qui nous fait dĂ©vier. En arrivant Ă  Montpellier, nous sommes directement allĂ©s Ă  l’hĂ´tel oĂą Sam avait dĂ©jĂ  sĂ©journĂ©… il Ă©tait fermĂ©, et ce pour un mois! Et en fait, tous les hĂ´tels bon marchĂ© Ă©taient complets. Le soleil avait dĂ©jĂ  disparu et le vent soufflait vraiment fort quand nous sommes tombĂ©s sur un hĂ´tel très bon marchĂ© au milieu de la ville. La chance Ă©tait avec nous. Nous Ă©tions tous bons pour une douche et un repas chaud, et ravis de quitter nos vĂŞtements trempĂ©s.

After celebrating with the Spanish pilgrims til the wee hours of the morning and thoroughly enjoying the rest day in the castle at Carcassonne, we were keen to hit the road again. We were eagerly awaiting the winds that greeted us the other day as head winds, to assist us today as a tail-breeze but as we set out, again the wind would be at our faces. As we headed out of Carcassone we looked to leave the hills behind with only a few rolling mounds and winding roads through the grape vines and canals that covered the country side. We stopped for lunch beside a bridge and finished off last nights dinner, as we lathered our baguettes with pâté, pesto and chorizo, a car pulled over and a gentleman stepped out and greeted us, it turned out he was a couch surfer that we had contacted about staying at his home, but he was only heading back to Carcassonne after a business trip, but recognised the flag and three blokes and their bikes and stopped for a chat.

The afternoons ride was a steady pace into to Beziers were we stopped in the afternoons setting sun for a coffee in the main square, while deciding what to do next. We decided to stay in Beziers for the night to have a look around the city, and rest up to head on to Montpellier tomorrow.

Jour 29

Après avoir fait la fĂŞte avec les pèlerins espagnols jusqu’au petit matin, et profitĂ© du château de Carcassonne le reste de la journĂ©e, nous Ă©tions prĂŞts Ă  reprendre la route. Nous attendions impatiemment que ce vent, qui nous avait accueilli de face l’autre jour, nous assiste aujourd’hui comme une brise dans le dos, mais comme nous l’avions prĂ©vu, le vent Ă©tait une fois encore face Ă  nous. Comme nous quittions Carcassonne, nous comptions laisser les montĂ©es derrière nous, avec seulement quelques chemins vallonnĂ©s et des routes venteuses Ă  travers les vignes et les canaux qui couvrent la campagne. Nous nous sommes arrĂŞtĂ©s près d’un pont pour manger et finir le dĂ®ner de la veille, nos baguettes au pâtĂ©, pesto et chorizo, quand une voiture s’est arrĂŞtĂ©e et un gentleman en est sorti en nous saluant. Il s’est trouvĂ© qu’il Ă©tait le couchsurfer que nous avions contactĂ© pour rester chez lui, mais il retournait seulement Ă  Carcassonne après un voyage d’affaire, avait reconnu le drapeau et les trois types sur leur vĂ©lo et s’arrĂŞtait juste pour discuter.

Le trajet de l’après-midi a suivi un rythme constant jusqu’Ă  BĂ©ziers, oĂą nous nous sommes arrĂŞtĂ©s dans le soleil couchant pour un cafĂ© sur la grande place, pour dĂ©cider ce que nous allions faire après. Nous avons choisi de rester Ă  BĂ©ziers pour la nuit afin de jeter un Ĺ“il Ă  la ville et se reposer pour atteindre Montpellier demain.

We woke this morning to a warm hostel bed, a nice change from a cold sleeping bag yesterday, and got ready to ride. Instead of getting on our bikes outside in the cold, we slid back into our hostel beds and stayed there until we decided that staying in the castle another day was a more attractive option, and we’re glad we did. Later we rode throughout the town enjoying the old streets, had a beer in a local pub watching the rugby and bought groceries for a massive feast at dinner. We had pate, baguettes, a healthy pasta dish, and a generous serving of wine.

While the 150 strong crowd of mediaeval Spaniards enjoyed their festivities we played drinking-Uno with a couple of Spanish girls we met earlier, a French girl, and our Italian room-mate. Who thought Uno could be so much fun? A bit too much drinking meant we lost track of time, but it was around 7 hours later that we joined the Spaniards drinking and eating fresh jamon. We were shown how to drink from a traditional sack of wine, where Sam mastered the technique drinking for 60 seconds! He was then thrown in the air by a few to the calls of CHAMPION and OLE OLE OLE.

Tomorrow should be OK, strong tail winds predicted we’ve heard.

Jour 28

Nous nous sommes rĂ©veillĂ©s ce matin dans un lit douillet Ă  l’hĂ´tel, pour changer du duvet froid d’hier, et nous Ă©tions prĂŞts Ă  partir. Au lieu de grimper sur nos vĂ©los dans le froid, nous nous sommes Ă  nouveau glissĂ©s dans les lits et nous sommes restĂ©s lĂ  jusqu’Ă  ce que nous dĂ©cidions que rester au château un jour de plus Ă©tait une option plus allĂ©chante, et nous sommes contents de l’avoir fait. Plus tard, nous avons roulĂ© Ă  travers la ville, en profitant des rues anciennes, bu une bière dans un pub en regardant du rugby et achetĂ© des provisions pour le festin du soir. Nous avons eu du pâtĂ©, des baguettes, un plat de pâtes salutaire, et un gĂ©nĂ©reux service en vin.

Pendant que les 150 costauds espagnols mĂ©diĂ©vaux profitaient de leur fĂŞte, nous avons jouĂ© au Uno et bu avec deux Espagnoles que nous avions rencontrĂ©es plus tĂ´t, une Française et notre voisin de chambre italien. Qui aurait pu penser que le Uno pouvait ĂŞtre aussi marrant? Le fait de boire un peu trop a fait que nous avons oubliĂ© l’heure, mais 7h plus tard environ, nous avons rejoins les Espagnols en buvant et mangeant du jambon. Nous avons appris comment boire avec une outre Ă  vin, et Sam a vraiment maĂ®trisĂ© la technique en buvant pendant 60 secondes! Après ça, quelques uns l’ont jetĂ© dans les airs au son des CHAMPION et OLÉ OLÉ OLÉ.

Demain devrait ĂŞtre tranquille, avec un fort vent de dos, parait-il.

The best thing about setting up the tent inside the abandoned tool shed is that in the morning it had finally dried out for once! We’d lost a water bottle and used the little water we had cooking the day before, so we rode pretty parched into the first town. Today was great. Friendly local artisan trades, several chateaux high up on hills, markets, and a long easy ride beside some river rapids. Arriving in Carcassonne we were met with a huge medieval castle. Huge. Garmi was directing us right inside to where the hostel was supposed to be, over the drawbridge and everything. We were pleasantly surprised to see that for once he was right!! We timed our stay in the castle well too, because this weekend there were 150 Spanish medieval enthusiasts stamping around in costume with drums and pipes and wine sacks and swords. Outside the castle in the downtown area, there were Christmas markets, light shows, and an ice skating rink. There were people everywhere and everyone was generally having a good time. We joined in and had a great night to finish off a great day.

Jour 27

Le truc bien quand on installe sa tente dans un hangar Ă  outils abandonnĂ©, c’est que ce matin, elle Ă©tait sèche pour une fois! Nous avions perdu une bouteille d’eau, et utilisĂ© le peu qui nous restait pour cuisiner la veille, donc nous avons roulĂ©, plutĂ´t assoiffĂ©s, jusqu’Ă  la première ville. Aujourd’hui a Ă©tĂ© vraiment cool. Des commerces d’artisans sympas, plusieurs châteaux en haut des collines, des marchĂ©s, et une longue ballade le long des rapides d’une rivière. En arrivant Ă  Carcassonne nous faisions face Ă  un Ă©norme château mĂ©diĂ©val. Énorme. Garmi nous dirigeait directement lĂ  oĂą l’hĂ´tel Ă©tait supposĂ© ĂŞtre, de l’autre cĂ´tĂ© du pont-levis. Nous avons Ă©tĂ© agrĂ©ablement surpris de voir que pour une fois, il avait raison!! Nous avons donc prĂ©vu de rester Ă  l’hĂ´tel, parce que ce week-end, il y avait lĂ  150 Espagnols en costume, fĂ©rus de Moyen-Age, avec des tambours et des cornemuses, des outres Ă  vin et des Ă©pĂ©es. A l’extĂ©rieur du château, en ville, il y avait des marchĂ©s de NoĂ«l, des sons et lumières et une patinoire. Il y avait des gens partout, et tout le monde avait l’air de s’amuser. Nous nous sommes joints Ă  eux et avons passĂ© une super nuit, après une super journĂ©e.

With our stomachs well lined and clean dry clothes we waved goodbye to the Isaias and headed off towards Carcassonne. We realised early on that we were in for a hard days riding with a head breeze and squabits of rain about. Trying to avoid the winds we decided that following the advice of the global positional system was getting a little boring and tried the old method of guess and see. This took us on many back roads, that then digressed to gravel paths and then further to muddy goat tracks, some how we popped out back on track and had managed to escape the winds for a hour or so as well as getting in some great but unexpected mountain biking! We were already behind our predicted times as around every corner was a great view but also winds that were making riding very difficult. We stopped to eat the lunch that the Isaias had given us after almost 60km and saw a storm coming down the valley we were in, we scrambled into a farm shed where we planned to wait out the storm and hope with the passing storm the winds would die down. This proved to be a presumptuous decision as the storm passed, the winds only got stronger, having trouble controlling the bikes in the winds before the storm we decided that it was to dangerous to head back out and set up camp in the shed. With the tent up inside the dilapidated shed we fired up the camp stove for some Spaghetti bolognaise and tried to have an early night, but it was an un easy sleep as we all continually woke to the sound of the howling winds occasionally accompanied by bursts of rain.

Jour 26

Avec nos estomacs bien remplis et des vĂŞtements propres et secs, nous avons saluĂ© les Isaia et nous sommes mis en route pour Carcassonne. Nous avons rĂ©alisĂ© assez tĂ´t que ça allait ĂŞtre une grosse journĂ©e avec un vent de face et des annonces de pluie. Pour essayer d’Ă©viter le vent, nous avons dĂ©cidĂ© que suivre l’avis du GPS devenait un peu chiant et nous avons repris la vieille mĂ©thode de “deviner et voir”. Ceci impliquait de rouler sur des routes secondaires, qui se transforment en chemin de graviers, puis en traces boueuses de chèvres. D’une manière ou d’une autre, nous sommes sortis de ces sentiers et avons rĂ©ussi Ă  Ă©viter le vent pendant environ une heure et Ă  faire du cyclisme de montagne inattendu mais cool! Nous Ă©tions dĂ©jĂ  en retard sur ce qui Ă©tait prĂ©vu, parce qu’il y avait de super vues tout le temps, et aussi le vent qui nous ralentissait. On s’est arrĂŞtĂ© pour manger ce que les Isaia nous avaient donnĂ© après quasiment 60 km, et on a vu un orage arriver dans la vallĂ©e oĂą on Ă©tait, on s’est entassĂ© dans le petit hangar d’une ferme oĂą nous avons prĂ©vu de rester jusqu’Ă  ce que l’orage passe et le vent avec lui. Ceci a Ă©tĂ© une dĂ©cision un peu prĂ©somptueuse puisqu’une fois la tempĂŞte passĂ©e, les bourrasque sont devenues encore plus fortes, et comme nous avions du mal Ă  contrĂ´ler nos vĂ©los avant, nous avons dĂ©cidĂ© que c’Ă©tait trop dangereux de ressortir alors nous avons plantĂ© notre tente dans l’abri. Après avoir montĂ© la tente dans cet abri dĂ©labrĂ©, nous avons allumĂ© le rĂ©chaud pour quelques spaghetti bolognaise et essayĂ© de nous coucher tĂ´t, mais ça n’Ă©tait pas facile parce que nous Ă©tions continuellement rĂ©veillĂ©s par le bruit du vent parfois accompagnĂ© d’averses de pluie.

It was a frosty morning outside in the small village of Rhodes. Sam and I had barely slept from the cold, dew, and ice that had formed on the outside and inside of the tent. Our sleeping bags were good down to zero degrees, but it was below that. Simon on the other hand was quite toasty in his Mt Everest-resistant sleeping bag and sleeping mat. Our water bottles on our bikes outside were still frozen, as was the Australian flag attached to Simon’s bike. We stood outside the tent waiting for the sun to come over the small mountain range to dry the tent, but the clouds prevented that from happening.

Trying to get warm we cycled towards Perpignan at good speed. Passing through village after village we were getting close to Perpignan when a car pulled over in front of us and waived his arm asking us to stop. He got out of the car and marched towards us to ask, “Is one of you Lachlan McKenna?”. In shock, it took me a little while to work out that it was Jean Marc Isaia, the father of an exchange student my family had hosted 13 years ago. Last night he had spoken to his daughter, Benedicte, who told him about our ride. It was only because he saw the half-frozen Australian flag on Simon’s bike that he stopped. He called his wife, Gisele, to direct us to their house who made us coffee, gave us lunch and all-round brilliant French hospitality.

In the afternoon Jean Marc drove us all over Perpignan and the surrounding areas to see the old village, wineries (including wine tasting), the local country-side, some bike stores, and Perpignan city - all in an afternoon! During this time Gisele was cooking an amazing feast at home which we dived into after we got back. A brilliant finish to a brilliant day. Thank you again Isaias!

Jour 25