Travels with Hobbes - The Velodyssey

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Location
España
I'm off the road and we're all cooped up trying not to go stir crazy and be overwhelmed by fear so I thought I'd dig out something I started writing up last year when I was confined to my floor with illness. I'm on lockdown too and there's only so many Spanish lessons I can do before my head explodes!

@florencethnurse , @tom73 I know that this is a busy time for you guys at the moment, but this might offer some light relief and a bit of inspiration for a happier future

It's lacking detail in terms of distances (but if you really want you could look them up) and after the first few days some of the sections blur into one.

This is the first part of my trip down to Spain to "do" The Camino to Santiago. This will cover the part from my front door down to the south of France. When I get through this, I'll post up my recollections of the Camino experience itself.

The only photos I have are those saved on Google Photos, so some postings will be a little bare.

As always I'd be happy to answer any questions and would like to stress that this is not a "Oh look at what I've done thread" but a "If I can do this anyone can" type of thread.

With the exception of my Ortlieb panniers I had no expensive gear, no GPS, no fancy touring bike. I had the time and the desire for adventure. That's all we really need!

Enjoy!


Heading off along Bel's Lijntje, an old railway line running from Tilburg (NL) to Turnout (BE)
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Well, what makes someone pack up and head south on a bike for an adventure?

Yep! That’s definitely a rhetorical question! When it’s put like that, who wouldn’t want to do such a thing?

My story was simple, and probably not all that original.

I’d had an idea to do the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage not because of any deep religious motivation (although the time earned off Purgatory wouldn’t go amiss!) but as an experience. Of course I’d read about it, watched the movie (“The Way” with Martin Sheen) but I think the real reason was that it was a clearly signposted route, followed by all kinds of folk of all different abilities and if they could do it, then so could I. But….. I have a bad knee and the kind of walking required would probably mean that completing it in one trip would not be possible.

So the solution was to bike it! But…… that felt like cheating.

So the solution to that was to cycle from my home (Tilburg, The Netherlands). Problem solved!

I used to run a bar (or more correctly, over a number of years the bar had begun to run me).

I’d finished up there at the end of 2014 and thought I’d do the Camino in Septemberish 2015. I took some down time for a couple of months and then went looking for a stress-free job. Not having looked for a job in about 18 years, I was initially happy to get some work in a logistics centre not too far from where I lived.

I was employed on what I believe is a zero hour contract which meant that I was guaranteed exactly zero hours per week! Sure, there’d be some hours, sometimes 30, sometimes 5. One week I was cancelled every single day!

After a few weeks of almost no work, I decided to bring forward my departure date a little bit. Instead of 4 months, I’d depart in 4 days!

And that’s what I did!

On Tuesday, May 12 I rolled out of Tilburg and headed south.

Now, I wasn’t totally unprepared!

My bicycle touring history was limited, but progressive. By that I mean my first tour was two years previously - a (at the time!) challenging trek along the Danube from Passau to Vienna where my bags were carried from hotel to hotel and the average distance was about 50 km per day.

My second tour I carried my own gear and I followed the German Romantische Straße from Wurzburg to Fussen.

This was going to be the first time I would be looking after everything - carrying everything I needed and sleeping in a tent for the first time in close on 30 years.

I had already started picking up some gear. I realised very quickly that the choice of equipment was endless! As were the opinions on offer! I eventually decided to equip myself in the same way that I am personally equipped - for comfort, not speed!

I got a three man tent for the simple reason that it might be nice to have a companion at times and 2 man tents are too darn small for 2 people and their gear in the rain. Yes, it’s heavy but when it rains and myself and my gear are dry the next morning I really don’t mind.

I got a cheap sleeping mat (with a pillow!) from China - a mistake I won’t make again! It lasted 3 days!

I got a decent 2 season sleeping bag which turned out to be fine for the trip.

I got a solar panel and a battery pack to keep my electronics charged.

I had done some practise riding with full pack and had tested everything on a two day trip to Antwerp. It was my plan that I’d take several weekend trips over the summer and refine my gear, but when I decided to drop the non-existent work and head away, I had the main things I thought I needed.

So I left.

But there was one thing I did not get to do before I left.

The Camino de Santiago (The Way of St. James) is actually not one route, more a collection of different routes all ending in Santiago de Compostela in northwest Spain. Commonly, it’s taken to mean a route originating in St Jean Pied de Port in southern France. But there are many historical routes from all over Europe. It had been my intention to start at a traditional starting point in the Netherlands, and get my first stamp in my “Pilgrim’s Passport”. But now, I was eager to head south and didn’t want to head north to Haarlem. The evening before I left I was hit by (divine?) inspiration and set out for the local Trappist Monastery (& Brewery) where I received my first stamp!

I liked the symmetry - as I set off on a trip to mark my new life, I was doing so with a symbol from my old (I used to sell lots of their beer!)

My Travelling Companions:
Rocco, the Bike.
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Yes, I’m one of those people who names their bike. Sue me!

Rocco was a gift from a friend and sometimes competitor who had a spare bike sitting at home. He’s a hybrid of unknown origin but we have developed a bond over the years.

Hobbes, the Tiger
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For those that are familiar with the Calvin & Hobbes comic strip you’ll know who he is. For those that aren’t you should check it out - humour, observation and a whole lot of entertainment.

I’m not the most comfortable of people in photographs, and I’m not a big fan of selfies, so Hobbes records our travels photographically.
 
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Day 1 Grimbergen, Belgium, Tuesday May 12

Similar location, different trip
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This was an easy day’s cycling. The first stage I had covered many times before so it was familiar and the sun was shining and whatever wind was blowing wasn’t bothering me.
Exotic animals already!
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World class trolling on the Bells Lijntje at the Dutch Belgian border. Belgium were in the World Cup (WK), Holland not! - taken on another trip
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Navigation by bike in the Netherlands is straightforward - even for somebody as directionally challenged as me!
Typical cycle path - from another trip
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You can follow main roads town to town, normally on separate bicycle paths or follow the knooppunten - numbered routes that bring you through the countryside.
Satan's Brewery (taken from another trip)
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They use knooppunten in Belgium too, so navigation was easy enough, though finding the campsite in Grimbergen was tricky because they were setting up for their Kermis (funfair) and lots of traffic diversions were in place (for bikes too!), but we got there just in time and set camp seemingly surrounded by Polish campervans.
Belgium! (Taken on another trip)
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Dinner was from a Belgian frituurtent (chip shop) and if every day could end that way, then every day would be a perfect day.
A different campground at a different time - but still Belgium!
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Elsewhere in Belgium....
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A local canal, taken at a different time
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Day 2 Unknown location just over the French border

Taken at a different time and a different place included because it's bright & cheery! 😊
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Wow! This is real travelling! 2 days on the road and 3 countries visited!

No, I wasn't lost! Another time on the Dutch coast
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Today was a bit tougher. More hills! And the new ecco runners I had bought seemed to be hurting my ankles.
An actual correct photo! That's Brussels in the background
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One of the great things about bike touring is that I have the time to stop and admire boats! I love boats! ^_^
( A different trip)
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Finding the campsite again wasn’t easy, but this time because it was in the middle of nowhere in the countryside. But what a campsite! In a forest and this time away from the mobile homes and campervans. I went for a shower and came back to a rabbit staring intently at Hobbes who was guarding the tent. The following morning, the dawn chorus was glorious! And to add to the general interest, there were dozens of chickens happily clucking around.
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Just to fill this out, a couple of pics taken on my morning commute.
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Day 3 Peronne

After crossing the border I had run out of knooppunten to follow and my plan was to buy a French map today. Great in theory, but this was Ascension Thursday and everywhere was shut!! At least it meant that the roads I was travelling on were not busy, but gone were the calm and comfortable cycle paths I was so used to travelling on. (Holland spoils cyclists!)
Taking the long way home from work!
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Today was wet. And stormy!

I actually enjoy cycling in the rain (so long as it’s not cold) - it’s the getting wet that I hate! And today was one of those days where it rained, then stopped then rained some more. Then the wind picked up and it rained hard. So I was getting wet…. but slowly.
Taking the long way home from work!
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At one stage as I cycled along the crest of a gentle hill the wind was threatening to blow me across the road. A couple of kilometers further along there were some trees along the roadside representing the only available cover so I raced for them planning on sheltering until the gusts had passed. Just as I stopped a heavy branch was blown right off the tree and crashed onto the ground a little further up the road - in the general area of where I would have been! This solo cycling can be exciting!

Taking the long way home from work!
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Arriving into Peronne, still raining, I was already looking forward to having a shower and some dry clothes at the local muni (Municipal Campsite). This was well signposted and easy to find being located very close to the town centre. As I cycled closer to the campsite I became aware of a car behind me hanging back, taking the same turns as me. As I turned onto the street that the campsite was located on I was a little worried to see nobody else around and this car still driving very slowly behind me.

A Dutch Sunset
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When I stopped at the gates of the muni, the car stopped behind me and now I was getting really worried. I looked desperately for a way to open the gate, so desperately, I completely failed to notice the fact that there were no signs of life in the campsite. When I heard the car door opening I braced myself for a mugging and immediately felt terribly guilty when an elderly gentleman introduced himself and pointed to his wife still in the car who had spotted me and encouraged him to follow me in case this was my destination because, yep - you’ve guessed it - the campsite was closed!

Wet, rapidly cooling down, and with no research done for possible alternatives I could feel my spirits plummet but this elderly man soon fixed that. Explaining in great detail where there was another campsite he soon had me on my way again.

And that right there is why I like travelling on my bike so much - we are so much more approachable on our bikes.

Our Hero in Austria
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Still in Austria.....
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An hour later I had set camp, showered, the sun was out and I was sitting beside the river eating delicious food served from a trailer.
Somewhere in Holland
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Apologies for all the incorrect photos. It gets better after Paris, I promise! 😊
 

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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Day 4 Peronne - Amiens - Paris (Train)

On the advice of the very friendly guy working in the campsite, I headed off the following morning following the river Somme in the direction of Amiens. My plan, such as it was, was to avoid cycling into Paris (where drivers are well known to be crazy) and instead head in by train. I had a hostel booked for a couple of nights for exploring the city of Paris.
A cold February night!
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The route I was following was little more than a path, but I had been assured that it was fine for a bike. Well, I don’t want to impugn the reputation of all French people, but I think this guy was having a laugh. Somewhere I encountered what could only be a field of deep mud. I mean a foot deep. The bike stopped. I put my feet down. Pushed off and left not one, but both of my trainers behind!

In fairness, I wasn’t alone. There was another guy ahead of me, on a road bike, in all the gear. At least he could pick his light bike up and walk with it. I couldn’t! I was brought back to my old history lessons about World War I. There was lots of talk of the mud around the Somme. It’s true what they say - if you really want to learn about something, you should experience it.
On the way to Ireland.....
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To say progress was slow would be an understatement. It was non-existent. I was stuck. Physically, I was glued in place. Mentally, I was not ready for this. I’m supposed to be cycling. Sun shining. Easy. What the hell is this???

I laugh at it now, but I was really getting frustrated. This wasn’t in the plan! I wanted a cigarette, but had given up when I left. So I had none. And there was no prospect of me drawing on the sweet nicotine smoke as long as I was stuck there! So, I removed my shoes, shook what mud I could off them, and strapped them on top of my tent on my rear rack. In bare feet I started to push, drag, slide my bike along. A few times I nearly slipped down myself, but the bike was so heavy and so stable in the mud it actually supported me. I could take my hands off it and it would remain standing!

At some point, I really can’t recall the length of time, I emerged out of the thinning mud onto some grass. Then I had to clean the bike with a few twigs I found. When I had done the best I could do with my limited tools, I turned to cleaning myself as best I could. I think it was then I realised that I was turning into some sort of a cyclist - the bike got cleaned before I did!
On the way home from Ireland
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Onward to Amiens. And my next lesson in cycle touring. From misery in the mud I was charmed by the approach to Amiens, past ponds and little streams and gardens and frankly, living versions of Monet’s water-lily type paintings. It was simply beautiful. In most other countries, these private gardens would be allotments, producing vegetables. Here, in France, they were full of flowers. And places for people to gather and sit and to enjoy all those flowers. Maybe there were vegetable gardens, but I don’t remember them. I just remember some absolutely beautiful scenes that a guy with mud up his legs, all over his shoes and still caked to parts of his bike was able to enjoy.

Remembering something I had read about churches, or more specifically, cemeteries, having a water tap, I pulled off and was able to wash myself, Rocco and the bags. Now I was feeling less like an alien invader in this beautiful, natural world artwork.
Boatwatching in NL
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In Amiens, I headed for the train station, shuffled the bike along a bemused queue of people to buy a ticket to Paris. Despite everything earlier I was still on schedule, although it has to be said more by accident than design.

I went out to the board to see what time my train was going to see that there was a strange word where the departure time was. My French is limited. In my defense, you never met my French teacher. I know that, because if you did, there was no indication from him that he knew any French. In any case my French was as limited in the same way that the river path along the Somme was limited. Somebody might say it was passable, but go ahead and try!

Roccalita, Roccado's sister on our way to work
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I tried to ask a few people, but nobody seemed to want to help. Eventually, I resorted to Google translate, Cancelled was the result. Now I was just mad! They had sold me a ticket, said nothing and now my train was cancelled. I wanted to go back to the ticket desk, but the queue was long and I really didn’t want to be dragging the loaded bike along the zig zag of the queue. Frustrated, I started to move to the door and then realised that there was an information office located in the middle of the lobby. I joined that queue. When my turn came (quickly! This guy was obviously very efficient!) he looked at my ticket and said something I didn’t understand. At this point, I assumed that there would be another train running soon - I just wanted to know when and if my ticket was still valid. I tried to explain this in my best French. He just got louder…. And quicker! I did my best lost, desperate tourist interpretation but I’m fairly sure that it’s part of the French educational curriculum to teach themselves how to ignore such pleas.
The greatest advantage of bike touring? Lots of food!
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I was in luck, however, when a woman behind him leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He sighed, turned towards me, grabbed a piece of paper and started to scrawl on it. “Ah”, I thought, “He’s writing a cover note to accompany my ticket”.

But that wasn’t what he was writing. He was drawing. His drawing consisted of a train on a railway track on the left of the page and a car on the right hand side. He held this up to me then quickly pulled it back and started scribbling again. He held it up again and the car was now closer to the train. And back to his drawing. Now the car was right against the train and back to his scribbling. The next time he held it up to me the train and the car were covered in big, bold scribbles and his display was accompanied by sound effects like a child playing with cars….when they crash."Crash! Boom! Bang!"

He looked at me and said “No more car”.

I really didn’t know what to say or do. I was stunned trying to process the scene. Then he said again, “Maybe an hour”. And smiled.

Outside in the fresh air, I thought I’d better call the hostel. They had a check in window and I was afraid I’d miss it. So I called them. They had no reservation for me! First no more car, now no more hostel! They looked around and it turned out they did have my reservation - it was for tomorrow! How’s that for planning! My one and only reservation of the trip and I screwed it up!. In any case, there was no problem - they had a bed for me.

And so I came to Paris with the plan to have a day or two to wander around.

Paris!!
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Two days in Paris

My first order of business was to get my Pilgrim Passport stamped. Paris features on many of the Camino routes and Notre Dame is the most famous church for a stamp. So I was up early the next morning and heading around the corner to that famous Cathedral. I was so early it wasn’t open yet, so I wandered around, along the Seine, looking at these strange green boxes along the wall wondering what was in there. All kinds of things as I found out later when their owners came along, opened them up and began selling everything from old records to book to postcards and all different kinds of things.
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Back at Notre Dame, the doors were open, the rope queue guides were out and the Texan in front of me was loudly proclaiming to his wife that just because the sign asked people to be quiet and respectful because this was a working church didn’t mean he was going to be quiet. He’d damn well behave as he wanted. Gee. I can’t wait to get to Texas. On a bike!

Anyway, Notre Dame is incredible! My faith was lost a long time ago. However, it’s not possible to be unimpressed by these places. Some people had a whole lot of faith to put these places together…. And keep them together. It’s also difficult not to be saddened by what these places have become - effectively tourist sites. This one particularly. There was one chappie who quite literally was running around snapping photos of every single thing he could. He spent no time investigating what he had just photographed. He just ran on to the next. Even the Texan must have been impressed because I didn’t see him running anywhere and I couldn’t hear him at all!

I wandered around soaking up all that was on offer. I don’t feel comfortable taking photos in these places. There was actually a service taking place in the centre of the Cathedral.

There was no sign of a desk for Pilgrims to get their stamps. Eventually I asked a young man in a cassock who seemed to be on guard. He intimated for me to wait just where I was, so I did, beside an alcove.

After a few minutes the service at the nearby chapel in the centre of the cathedral was over and a veritable team of priests and altar boys (and possibly girls - they moved so swiftly I couldn’t be sure) sped towards me and the young man clad in back. They turned into the alcove confusing me because at the speed they were travelling at they would hurl themselves against the wall. And that’s when the magic happened! Someone did something and the wall of the alcove swung open! A secret passage!! My young friend caught the most serious looking priest and started talking to him, occasionally pointing over at me. He strode over to me, bellowed something about Santiago and whipped the passport out of my hand disappearing down the secret passage. It swung shut and I was left standing there alone.

That was the only time in my life that I was tempted to rush out and buy a book by Dan Brown!

A few minutes later, the wall swung open and out strode my man! The only problem was he stopped the first male he saw, who happened to be with a woman, and presented him with my passport!

The poor fellow was bewildered! One moment he’s walking around a cathedral with his girlfriend, the next a secret door has opened and now a strange man in strange clothing is attempting to thrust some kind of a document into his hands, a document he really is trying to avoid. I rushed over and in my pidgin French attempted to explain the error. The priest just harrumphed, handed over my passport and disappeared back to his passage.

I have to admit that I was very, very excited by all this! Secret passages! Epic Cathedrals! This was certainly not my usual daily life! It had been a very long time since I’d had any official business in a church.

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My second order of business was to correct a few of my fundamental errors.

The first, was that I had bought an inflatable mattress from AliExpress. It even had a pillow included! It was already punctured. After 3 nights! I live and learn.

The second were my shorts. My red holiday shorts were ripped and the elastic had finally failed, so I needed some new shorts.

I had also sent off just using my rear panniers. I wasn't happy with the handling of the bike without two panniers on the front. I had a set of Ortlibs at home so arranged to have them sent further on and wanted to pick up a temporary solution here.

This was my first trip to Decathlon! And certainly not my last! A fantastic store and dangerous, too!

The final error I had made that I needed to correct was that on my first day, deciding that I needed a power bump, I inexplicably raised my saddle higher than normal. There was a logic in my head that the higher my saddle, the more power I’d generate,

I really have no idea what I was thinking! ^_^

I knew what I was thinking now, though! I was wondering why my ankles were so sore! They were in agony. I believe I stretched my tendons. Funnily enough, they were fine when I was on the bike. It was when I was off that the pain kicked in.

I took to soaking a pair of socks and strapping them tightly around my swollen ankles for some relief. I would do that for 2 weeks until the pain subsided!

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I’d been to Paris before, but I was really charmed this time. I was getting used to travelling on my own and starting to enjoy it.
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I organised a train ticket to get me & Rocco to Morlaix where I would pick up the Velodyssey route south. I still wanted to catch a train out of Paris so I cheated a bit to bring me further away
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Starting the Velodyssey
Decisions! Decisions! (Belgium)
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Next morning bright and early I’m in the train station ready to rock and roll. I was early and just as well because the lifts to the platforms were out of order and I had to bring the bike and 4 panniers up 2 flights of steps.

My train was gone!

In a fit of oh so righteous indignation I had to bring everything back down again and I attacked the ticket office. In fairness to the guy behind the counter he was very Gallic, very calm and with the stereotypical shrug of the shoulders he showed me my ticket - 10 before the hour not the 10 after as I had thought.

Oh dear!

He was very good. He set me up with new tickets for new trains, a bit more circuitous now and didn’t charge me anything extra. I really wasn’t good at this reservations thing! At least I was in the right train station. I once went to the wrong airport!
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I was going back to Amiens, then changing for Morlaix. I had a few hours off in Amiens, so I cycled around again. I was so charmed by the place.

I was so charmed and awestruck by the approach to Amiens that I did not take one photo!!
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Then back to the station and onto a train that I imagine would not have looked out of place in Japan - complete with people pushing people in before the doors closed!

It was packed! And stopped at every station. I have to say everybody was very calm and no-one objected to the guy with the bike and all the bags in the way. The conductress was even apologetic.

Off to see the Rolling Stones!
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Arriving in Morlaix it was later than I had planned - obviously, and I was surprisingly tired. I knew there was a Youth Hostel in the area so I headed for that sans reservation.

There was an intercom where someone far away was able to interview me and let me in. Very efficient. I had a dorm to myself. Somewhere there were a few girls but I was more interested in having a shower, drying out my clothes (it had been raining) and getting some sleep.

Holland is great for boatwatching!
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I had planned on being further down the road, but given my complete inability to get on a train at the right time I was just glad to have a roof over my head and be out of the rain!

Up to this point most of my days were above 100km - a little high for me. That was mainly due to having a reservation (hostel in Paris) and minimal time to plan multiple camping options en route. With my swollen and very painful ankles as a consideration as well as many more camping options this stretch was going to be more easy going.

Camping in Arnhem
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On a different trip in France I have a very clear memory of stopping along a little river and sitting on a wall in the sunshine (it had been raining for five days straight) and enjoying a baguette, some cheese and a half bottle of red wine as the river bubbled and gurgled beneath me. Bliss!

A bridge too far, Arnhem, NL
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HobbesOnTour
Location
España
Morlaix to Nantes

Now, this is where it gets tricky, trying to put together a travelogue so long after the fact - everything starts to blur together.

The first few days stick in my head, but the details thereafter, at least for a while, are lost. Given that I rarely use my camera when it is raining, I can figure out the rainy days. But that is about it. So what follows are more stories of events or themes that have stayed with me from that time.

This first phase of the Velodyssey is through rural Brittany. And rural is the operative word. The route follows canals mostly, where the quality of the surface can be variable. But doable.
One of my favourite pics!
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The campsites that I stayed in were unusual if they did not have signs warning about potential flooding. One even had a siren mounted high on a pole if I remember correctly.

Now I was back to following a sign posted route the navigation was easier, except perhaps through the towns where the lack of direction (N-S vs S-N) on the signs could cause confusion, especially at roundabouts. It might be an issue if you’re cycling with children, but for an adult with a bit of patience it wasn’t really an issue.
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I didn’t have any maps with me and one day was surprised when asking at a tourist office for a local map showing the route (I couldn’t find my way out of the village) they had a map alright, but not with the Velodyssey marked on it. I wasn’t the only cyclist with that issue that day in that place.

My cigarette giving up gave up somewhere here too. And not for the usual reason. The fact of the matter was that I hadn’t had a poop since I left home. Normally, I’d be reasonably regular. As you can imagine, a few days of this and I was starting to become uncomfortable. Eventually, one fresh morning, after packing up my gear and hitting the road, I stopped at a bar-tabac, went inside, ordered a coffee, bought a packet of smokes and let the caffeine/nicotine combination do their work. Relief was pretty much instant!

Those bar-tabacs are interesting places. They were always open, no matter how early I hit the road. They always had patrons drinking alcohol (and full of smoke) no matter how early it was. And they always had sports on the many, many tvs that people were gambling on. And some of those sports were bizarre!

I got very excited when I saw one of these Camino mileposts! - I wasn't lost!^_^
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Recumbent Man
On my first night camping as I set up my tent I was approached by a fellow cycle-tourer, riding a recumbent and sleeping in a coffin tent. We had an interesting chat. I was very interested in his bike with 2 small panniers attached. The next night we bumped into each other again and the chat continued. He was heading as far as Nantes where his wife would pick him up. He was loving the freedom but starting to have issues with his tent. It was very small. And he was getting frustrated with his gps that seemed to be getting him lost.

The third night it seemed only right that we have dinner together when we met at yet another campsite. That’s where it started to go a bit wrong. The couple of beers with dinner were fine, but then he started on the Irish coffees and the poor chap really couldn’t handle them. Pleasant to and fro conversation turned to one way ranting, bragging and just general unpleasantness.

I paid my tab and retired to the tent.

Sometime during the night I heard shouting and screaming in French and surmised that our friend was either staggering back to his tent, or out for a late night pee and was expressing his displeasure with the occupants of another tent.

Now, these people were an elderly couple, on touring bikes, with what could only be described as a family sized tent. It was so tall you could stand upright in it, and it had a living room as well as a bedroom. I was amazed at their ability to carry it from place to place. I had tried chatting to them earlier, but the language barrier was too high. I had seen them previously, so they were keeping pace with me, which I found to be impressive.

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I had no idea what the shouting was about, but our friend continued to wander around yelling, presumably at himself at this stage because there was nobody else in the area.

The next morning he was late emerging from his tent and had the decency to look a little sheepish. He tried to get me to agree that the food was bad the night before, but I suggested that the Irish coffees may have been more of an issue. Then he started to blame the older couple for “attacking” him for no reason. I just couldn’t see an elderly couple getting out of their tent to accost a passing camper.

He wanted to know where I was heading to that night and desperate for a break from him I picked a place much closer than I reckoned I’d reach. He said he was going somewhere else to see an old car rally. Since Nantes would be the next day, this was our goodbye. Truthfully, I was glad to be getting away. So I got away.

I remember that day’s cycling as being very pleasant. Lots of canals. And then I came across the most basic of Munis - a field at the side of the canal, with a tiny block with a toilet and a shower. There was one picnic table in a corner and that was it. It was early, I had no food to speak of, but something about this place spoke to me, so I pulled up, went in and pitched my tent. I think it speaks volumes that I threw my gear inside my tent, emptied one pannier to carry my supplies, checked Osmand for the nearest village and headed off. I had no concerns that my stuff would not be there when I got back.


But man, that was a long 10 km! There was a vicious climb. But I found a minimarket, bought some food, stopped for a coffee at a bar tabac, then headed back to the tent. When I got back to the campsite there was now one more tent, a couple, and they had commandeered the picnic table. However, once they were finished eating they offered me the table.

I stopped and stared at this work of art hoping to be invited aboard.... Mais non!
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I recall a lot of flies (this was beside the canal) so I think that’s why I was inside my tent when I heard a shout of frustration from outside. Recumbent man was back and expressing his displeasure to be bumping into me again. I knew how he felt!

He actually gave out to me for not being where I said I would be - until I pointed out he wasn’t where he said he would be either. Then he was complaining again that he had no food. So, to shut him up, I gave him my breakfast - bread, sausage and cheese. With the food in his hands he continued to complain about everything else. He never even said thanks, but I was grateful when he set up his tent in the far corner of the field.

Next morning I was up at the crack of dawn and gone before he was even awake^_^.
 

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