-
After a nice hot shower when I was getting settled, a Dutch family with two kid's took the pitch left of me. They let me borrow their hammer for my pegs and we chatted for a while, before I went to pay for the camping and look for some food. There wasn't much to eat around there; I bought some overpriced crackers, jam and eggs off a vending machine. Ate some of crackers with jam and boiled the 6 eggs, of which I ate three and saved the rest for the next day. At about 21:00 I retreated into my tent, arranged my stuffs for a swift departure the next day, applied some sudocrem and hit the sleeping bag.Esneux - Lac-de-la-Haute-Sûre
118,3 km
1706 mUnknown Camping
Lac-de-la-Haute-Sûre, Luxemburg
16 July 2013An early rise and a keen take off after the leftover crackers.
It was shivery and a thin fog covered the area. Wearing arm warmers and my windstopper jacket, it was a charming morning ride. I took it easy and enjoyed passing through gorgeous villages and environments, going up and down over small, yet sometimes steep hills.
Next to a tiny railway station I had a drink in the sun and ate some dry bread which I'd bought at a bakery earlier.
From the Fanta stop until the French border there wasn't much interesting to see, but once I crossed the border, the scenery got much more beautiful, and there was a cycling lane. At one point when I looked to my left, I had a delightful view of small lakes, beautiful flora and peaceful animals. While at my right was a massive nuclear power plant with three or four immense cooling towers. I was astonished by this huge contrast and decided to take a panorama photo with both sides in it. As I took the picture and mounted my bike to get going, a gendarmerie car pulled over and two officers came out. They same me taking the picture and damanded I delete it. They told me it was not in my right to take photographs of the power plant. I said I didnt know and reluctantly deleted the photo from my camera. When they had wished me a nice trip and left, I doubted to take another picture, but in the end I didnt.
I was on the height of Metz and the scenery got more beautiful every meter. The meters kept coming though. I had planned a shorter 90 km ride for that day, but when I noticed I wasn't anywhere near where I wanted to be after 100 km, I decided to keep going. Then at about 115 km my Garmin 500 crashed and the activity was lost. Luckily I roughly remembered how much I had ridden and climbed that day. From that point on the road also started to get worse. The last 20 km was over an unpaved road with many dangerous rocks and roots sticking out. The scenery was stunning, but it was a most tiresome ride.
After a much longer than I had hoped ride, my legs were sore and I was tired. It was very hot and dry, and I hadn't had any proper food since the first day. When I arrived at the campsite in Burtoncourt, I decided to take the next day off to recover. This was no easy decision as I had originally planned my first resting day on the 7th day.
I was too lazy to ride 20 km for food at the local supermarket, so I ate my boiled eggs and a Petit Salé which I had bought at the camping shop together with some bread. I lay down in the sun and enjoyed the day. Later a Dutch lady, of age 52, set up camp on the pitch next to me. The had a touring bike with panniers. We talked a lot and she was very enthustiastic about my journey. She herself had taken the night train to Bern and was cycling back to Holland from there. We shared experiences and she offered me some wine, which I refused. I wanted to stay sober during this holiday.
At the reception of this camp site was WiFi connection. The first time I could contact my friends and tell them a bit about my adventure so far. That day my parents called me for the third day in a row and I got irritated. I hadn't lived with my parents for years now and even lived abroad. This trip was for me to get away from the life I had in Holland, not to be connected with it all the time. I told my dad that I was doing well and asked him not to call anymore. I would send e-mail updates from time to time to let them know I wasn't yet raped or dead.
A small bite of bread before I went to brush my teeth and cream my balls. I was ready for a good night sleep.Lac-de-la-Haute-Sûre - Burtoncourt
140 km
2100 mCamping La Croix Du Bois Sacker
Burtoncourt, France
17 July 2013The next day I slept till after 9:00 and treated myself to a nice and long shower before I took off to the supermarket. My legs were a bit sore from the days before so it was a refreshing 20 km ride and I felt that this easy spin would help me recover.
Fuck yeah! Food!
The rest of the day was spent chillin' at the lake. In the evening when I was using the internet in front of the reception, and enjoying the view of a gorgeous ginger girl, the camping owner came up to me and asked if I needed a map of the region. I said that would be nice and he came back with two maps; one of Lorraine and one of France. I was very grateful, and would be many times more. Before going to bed, I drew myself a little route on the maps and wrote down the important intersections in a tiny notebook, which I'd bought at the supermarket earlier.Resting day in Burtoncourt
20 km
307 mCamping La Croix Du Bois Sacker
Burtoncourt, France
18 July 2013It was a beautiful morning. That day of rest and food did me well. With still quite some food left, I woke up at 4:30 with the goal to hit the road at 6:00, so I'd have plenty of time to stuff my face and let it rest. Indeed at 6:00 my tummy was filled, teeth brushed, stuff packed, ass chamois'd and in the saddle.
I very much enjoyed this morning with fresh legs. The streching fields and tranquil cattle spread out peace and quietness under the rising morning sun.
Almost at the heigth of Nancy. I was on the right track, without forrest visits.
Black 'n yellow, black 'n yellow.
There it was, Lunéville! About halfway of the day's route and not hard to find at all. I read something about a breath taking castle-like city hall, so a short lunch break should be in place. I had saved a small piece of bread with saucage and a bit of fruit for this moment.
Major disappointment. Not even worth a banana break.
Nearing Baccarat, that day's destination. Supposedly a beautiful town with many small, specialised crystal factories. I was eager to see how Swarovski-like stuff was made. Also did I remember reading in Ian Fleming's James Bond novel 'Casino Royale' about the card game Baccarat, and wondered if it originated from this place. Note the green sign to Strasbourg. Green means highway.
Highway it was! I could've taken normal roads to Baccarat, but I was in for some action. It was fun at start, but after a while the emergency lane got narrower and narrower, until it practically didnt exist anymore. The side of the road where, obviously, I was riding was laden with small pebbles and rocks, which didn't add to comfort. Still I was trying to enjoy myself and had the 'great' idea to slipstream a truck. Even on the side of the road, the pulling wind of cars and trucks in particular gave a real kick. The first truck to come by was targeted. I built up some speed and when it passed, I moved a bit to the left to get into the trucks wheel. Full power I went rather fast, but before I had the opportunity to check my garmin for an actual speed, a car only a few meters behind me started honking like crazy before it dodged me by making a steep turn around me. Only at that moment I realised how stupid I was, creating danger not only for myself, but for anyone on that road. Quickly, with my heart beating in my head like drums, I moved to the side of the road, hoping for an exit rather soon than late. A few minutes later there was a strech of tarmac on my right leaving the highway. I went in hoping to get where I had to. It didn't take long for me to realise that it didn't go anywhere. I ended up with my front wheel in a cornfield, turned around and went back to the highway, which I followed for another three km or so before an exit came up. -
Not far from Baccarat I encountered this Adams Family house.
This bridge pretty much was Baccarat. No beautiful old factories, no impressive crystal, no casino's.
Arrived at the campsite just outside the (what apparently is a) city. My tent in the middle and the three other campers/caravans with old people around it.
After a short ride I found a small supermarket and a nice lady who sold fresh eggs from her house. I can't remember the exact price, but I do know that I was astonished when I got my change which was almost as much as I gave her. Another good thing about Baccarat was this little bench on the camping just in front of my pitch. Great to sit down for supper and act as if I was working my bike. With an easy day behind me and a rather boring location, I wasn't all too tired and decided to read some from an ebook which I uploaded to my phone, before I hit the sack.Burtoncourt - Baccarat
132.2 km
1006 m -
Camping Pré de Hon
Baccarat, France
19 July 2013After a good night sleep I woke up 6 in the morning and was eager to get out on the road. The day before was rather easy on the legs and the scenery, save in the morning, wasn't too appealing either. The night before I had outlined this day's route, which would take me out of Lorraine and into the Vosges massif. I couldn't wait to tackle my first proper mountains. I forgot to mention that the shower on this camping was a-fucking-mazing. profound temperature adjustability, quality water beam, loads of space, sufficient hangers, a small bench that didn't get wet and most important: It was extremely clean.
Just before 7:00 I was in the saddle, ready to push my ass up some Ballons. No need for wind jacket, arm or leg warmers promised a warm day. I like warm, so that was only a good thing!
The first mountain of the day!I think I was at about 200 m when I started that climb and it wasn't even steep, but it's a col nonetheless. Worth a photo.
Nice tarmac, blue sky and hills in sight. Everything got better from here on. It required some self-restraint not to pedal too hard though, as I wanted to actually climb something. However, I took it easy because enough road remained to cover.
This beautiful barn and TdF decoration, announcing an upcoming col, made me smile.
And the col itself.. Nothing special really, but after a petite descent the road started to elevate.
On top of that next hill was a beautiful quiet pond. I sat down for a bit and ate a banana or two.
My arrival in Haute-Saône made me shiver in a positive way. Real altitude couldn't be faw anymore.
Indeed it didn't take long to arrive at a proper mountain. The sun was hot and frankly the dense vegetation didn't throw its shadow very far. At this point it was about 32 degrees and I enjoyed every bit of it. Blowing drops off the tip of my nose felt satisfactory and sweat dripping down my balls even more.
About halfway up the Ballon de Servance, this Frenchman overtook me with a brief "bonjour". It was my pledge to keep up with him. I didn't want to go into his wheel, because I probably couldn't return the favour and at our speed it wouldn't really make a difference anyway. So I went in persuit with a few meters of distance in between us. Not did we ride very fast, but carrying up all that luggage didn't make it much easier either. What I didn't know was that the steepest part of the climb was yet to come. After a little more than a km of pursuit, I shifted into the smallest chainring and raised my cadance. The guy in front of me still had a spare cog while I was inhaling wasps at a swift rate. When I was about to give up the road started to get easier on me. Not enough to recover, but at least I was able to keep going. At the top I was exhausted. I wanted to follow this guy down, but he was out of sight before I knew it, and probably for the better. I took a while at the summit to drink some and freely spin my legs before I went for the descent.
The descent was beautiful and a good opportunity to put the handling of my packed bike and its tires to the test. I noticed this sign, which says it's prohibited for cars to travel these roads. More than halfway down, luckily on a straight part, I ran into a car. The Dutch couple in it didn't know they werent allowed to drive there. Obliged by my advise they turned around. I should've asked them for some water, mine was running out.
Not too afar there was some running, but even if there was an easy way to get there, which there wasn't, I was at low altitude. You never know what's in that water.
I started the climb toward La Planche Des Belles Filles, but I was tired, still had about 35 km to go and didn't have more than a few gulps of water left. I turned around with a grimace. It was a despisable moment, for I had very much looked forward to climbing up there. I had to get going and find something to drink rather soon than late. Luckily the road was in a slight decline from there onward.
Almost down in the valley I passed a small loggers village with some cute wooden sculprutes. The campsite shouldn't be far. But I couldn't find it. At a garage I asked the way, where they told me I had to go back up the road a few km and take a left. I remembered the road, but didn't think it would lead to anywhere when I passed it the first time. Dehydrated I rode back 6 or 7 km, the 1% grade killed me. I took the left into a forrest and found a restaurant. I decided to sit down and recover before my continuing to the camping. With the grumpy old barman I ordered a big coke and sat down on the dirty terrace. Only three more older men were there, obnoxiously staring at me. Never seen a brown fella in lycra before? I couldn't care the slightest bit. I was just happy to sit on a chair with my legs up and a cold beverage in my hand.
10 minutes later I was on my way. I passed a lake where I spotted this little creature taking full advantage of the shimmering sun. I think it's a beautiful photo.
When I had reached the camping, I was welcomed by a dirty woman in her late 20's. She and her also hippy-like boyfriend ran the place and so extremely friendly that I didn't mind their dirty, worn clothes and missing teeth. I asked how much for a single night with just my bike and a small tent. It seemed to me it was the first time they had a cyclist tourer around as the girl didn't know and turned to him. He pondered for a while before telling me that €3 would suffice, but they wouldn't accept my money before I had found a nice place and set up camp. I walked around and found the campsite to be a bit messy with many old rusty caravans and unattended foliage all over the place. I put up my tent on the least bumpy pitch I could find and just sat there in the grass for a while. Then I went over to the decayed sanitary building, where the camping owners were playing with a hose and spraying eachother. They then also told me that it was a natural camping. I didn't know what that meant so he explained that they didn't have electricity or warm water. I hate cold showers, especially with tense muscles after a demanding ride. But hey, can't have it all right? Fuck that water was below freezing point! I just couldnt do it so I only washed some parts of my body. Back at my tent I decided it was time to pay for the night and find a supermarket. The camping owners were nowhere to be found, so I hit the road and followed a sign to some big store where I stocked up on water, fanta, coke, crackers (as they were out of bread!?), eggs, apricots and a can of something with chicken.
On the edge of this lake I sat down on a pile of rocks and enjoyed a well earned dinner, after which I made another lap about the campsite to find the owners, without success. Time to brush my teeth, quickly plan the next day's route and sleep like the dead.Baccarat - Champagney
138.9 km
1702 m -
Camping La Louvière
Champagney, France
20 July 2013I slept long that night. I knew I shouldnt have because I had a long ride ahead of me, but the next day would be at the place where I had originally planned my first resting day. I could've kept on going, but I decided that the first resting day counted as an extra one. So the next day I would have a well earned resting day at a lake. I ate some crackers with jam ('merkins call that stuff jelly right?) and went to brush my teeth with sub-zero water, before I started to pack.
Clean pitch and ready to mount the 'saddlebag'.
Enough drinks to not run out of hydration for long a ride. When all was packed and ready to go I went to look for the owners. I still hadn't paid for the night. It wasn't all too early yet there was complete silence. No camping owners out there or other campers for that matter. It was 8:45 and I couldn't afford to stick around much longer. Not that they'd go bankrupt over the €3, but I'm not the kind of person to steal. Especially from nice people. It crossed my mind to leave the money in front of the owners' caravan, but I had no idea which was theirs. With honest remorse I hit the road that day a criminal.
With my stomach not too suffused, after an hour in the saddle I stopped at a LIDL to hook up on some pains au chocolat. There I saw this, in well shape, Peugeot, which I'd quite like as pubber.
I remember my father disliking to cross this part of France by car when we'd go on holidays, but I remember enjoying very much these roads and views from a cyclists pair of eyes. It was a beautiful day and I felt strong. The sky was blue, yet it wasn't too hot, and sometimes a delightful small cloud would protect me from the sun for a little while. These were good moments to pedal slowly and sip from a water bottle. The first 50 km were rather flat, slightly descending actually, and my average speed was close to 30 km/h, which was the fastest I'd ridden since with a laden bike.
There I had entered Lods, Un de Plus Beaux Villages de France (One of France's most beautiful villages). It was breathtaking indeed. Immediately after I exited the village I started one of many steep climbs. It was hard but very doable and I enjoyed the effort.
After every climb came a gorgeous valley.
Lausanne. I was closing in on Switzerland. Pontarlier was not far from where I was going, so it was a good sign to see its name come up.
Hard to see on the photo, but this climb was steep indeed.
The salt on my arm as proof of hard work. As you can see, my legs were always tidily shaved.
This building was extended at least three times. It was at this point when my Garmin went out of battery. Because I hadn't have the chance to charge my Garmin 500 the night before on that natural camping I was tracking with my Garmin 800, which didn't have what it takes. Before I switched to the 500, which had sufficient battery power left to finish the day's ride, I checked where I was and found out that I'd taken quite the detour. No real problems, but with 140 km and some steep hills already in the legs it would have been nice to relax for a bit soon.
It didnt come all too soon. This climb was not an easy one, but it was the last. The rest of the route was going down all the way to the valley where lay Lac-Saint-Point, my lake of destination. The name confused me a bit, as the name of the village next to the lake where I was heading was called Saint-Point-Lac.
Down at the lake I got stuck in a queue... After that was sorted, I entered the camping and was helped by an incredibly nice and beautiful girl, who opened the shop next to the reception for me, which was actually already closed for the day. She gave me one of the last free pitches. I was lucky to get one as it was a busy period she said. I bought some canned stuff and some fruits and veggies to eat, a big bottle of water and a refrigerated can of orange juice.
After setting up camp I sat down in front of my tent a bit and refuelled. I was starting to get a cyclists tan and I was proud of it.
Then before bed I hung out at the lake and with some swans.*Champagney - Saint-Point-Lac
171.8 km
2119 m *
kjlem
Clockwise
Rodolfo
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JonD
markxrat
edscoble-
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About
Story of my tour through 7 countries in Europe
Posted by
@Machine
Prologue: I did this tour in the summer of 2013. I've been writing this up the last couple of months but havent been able to find much time to do so. At first I intended to write the whole thing before posting it here, but that might just take another year. I figured if I posted a start, it would encourage me to start writing again. I hope you guys enjoy, I know I did.
O'Sheas Irish Pub
Eindhoven, The Netherlands
Late 2012
''Six more Irish Car Bombs!''
''No I cant take any more, seriously I've got some training to do tomorrow.''
''You a pussy?'' ''Yeah come on, you care more about your bike than your friends?''
''Oh what the heck.. I can skip training once. Where's that Guinness?!''
''There you are mate! I don't get it. What's so exciting about riding this bike all the time. I mean I know you have to train for that charity event and I've great respect for that, but doesn't it get boring after hours and hours in the saddle?''
''It never gets boring. I'd ride my bike to Paris if I had to. You know what, I'll do you one better. This summer after the exams, I'll ride my bike to the southernmost place in Spain.''
''Hahaha you're crazy! We'll see about that! Now drink up!''
The next morning, or should I say afternoon, when we woke up, a friend brought it up again. Like when I had the drunk idea of getting my last name tattooed in Arial Black on my foot, I didn't go back on my word, and confirmed that I would do it. After a bit of Google Map'ing, cycling to Málaga seemed like a better idea, as there's a Ryanair connection directly back to Eindhoven.
I started reading about touring and asking questions about it everywhere. I didn't know what to bring, how to bring it and how to get where I wanted to get. I decided to get racks and panniers, but when I traveled all the way to Amsterdam to a store called ''De Vakantiefietser'', the man told me he didnt want to put racks on my carbon frame. I started doubting if it was the right thing to do, but still kept looking for racks that could fit my bike. However there were some possibilities, I decided not to go with racks & panniers after all. I saw nice frame bags on the internet and opted for using one in combination with a rucksack. People strongly recommended me not to put any weight on my back, or anywhere on my body so to speak. The dilemma was that I wanted to have a rucksack with me which I could use off the bike, as well as to do shoppings. Here I got the idea of strapping a rucksack to my seatpost and saddle, like a big saddle bag. I ordered the frame bag and bought the rucksack I wanted. When I was in Amsterdam I had already bought a small handlebar bag. The luggage setup was complete. All I needed now was the stuff to put in the bags. But stubbon as I am, I wanted lighter wheels for this tour. Carbon wheels with a semi-deep profile to be exact. Again, for very logical reasons, I was strongly recommended not to do so. Did I already mention I'm a stubborn guy? I hooked myself up with a pair of second hand Reynolds Attack wheels. That was somewhere late in June, around the same time my framebag arrived after having spent most of it's existence in customs. By that time I had collected most of the equipment and stuff I wanted to bring on my trip (Many thanks to LFGSS members who helped me compose this. Especially edscoble and my irl friend known here as Rodolfo). Meanwhile collecting my gear and equipment, I bargained a Garmin Edge 800 and started making routes in Garmin Connect. It was time for a test ride. I didn't have time for a test ride. I really wanted to do a test ride. I did a test ride. The test ride was one of 15 km. All the same it was an obliging test ride, as I had everything packed the way I wanted to pack it for the tour. The test ride went smooth.
The setup (Even those who like this thread may tl;dr scroll down here if not interested)
''Me and my bike just before the test ride''
The bike
Planet X SL Pro Carbon
Shimano 105 5603 Triple groupset 9sp 12-27 Casette
Reynolds Attack wheelset
Michelin Endurance Pro 25c tires
Prologo Scratch Pro Ti 1.4 Saddle
Look Keo Easy pedals
Garmin Edge 500 on stem
Garmin Edge 800 on bars
Front light
500ml & 750ml bottle in carbon PX cages
Topeak Micro Rocket AL pump
The handlebar bag Ortlieb Ultimate 5 Compact
Smartphone
Photo camera with GPS function, great for touring!
Wallet with cards and cash
Small notebook & pen
Arm & leg warmers
Warm gloves
Keys
The frame bag Revelate Designs Tangle Frame Bag size Large
Terra Nova Laser Comp 1 tent & 14 glass fiber pegs in the big compartment
The rest in the smaller compartment:
2 spare tubes
2 sets Lezyne patches
Tire levers
Rimtape
Spare spokes
Park Tool internal spoke nipple wrench
2 Missing links
Squirt Lube
Allen keys
Screw driver +
Multi tool
Tiny piece of rag
Roll of sandwich bags
Zip ties
Electrical tape
Mini pliers
Kabrus alarm padlock
£1 PX Lock
The rucksack strapped to saddle & post Osprey Talon 22
Exped AirMat Basic 7.5
Vaude Piekan Light sleeping bag
Pair of Teva shoes
Lightweight nylon zip-off trousers
Cotton t-shirt
Swimming shorts
2 Boxer shorts
Pair socks
Flip flops
Ray Ban shades
Micro towel
Tiny light shaver for head
Sandwichbag1: Toothbrush sawed in half, toothpaste, bar soap(inside other bag), wash cloth, sudocrem, Assos chamois creme, tiny bottle of Assos washing liquid
Sandwichbag2: Needle & thread, betadine cream, plasters
Sandwichbag3: Chargers for phone, GPS devices and camera battery
Sandwichbag4: 2 tiny candles & pack of matches
Spork
Army knife
Sawed off camping spatula
Tiny camping stove
2 lightweight pots (tousers went in one and microtowel in the other)
Salt
Passport
Few clothespins
Bin bag
6 Cans of snus
Me
Assos bibs
Icebreaker Merino undershirt
Jersey which I received when participaring in a charity event
Cheap summer gloves
Cheap short socks
Bont Vaypor shoes
Helmet
Photochromatic cycling glasses
Gore Bike Wear windstopper jacket in jersey pocket
[size=24]INSERT ROUTE HERE[/size]
My parents house
Eindhoven, The Netherlands
14 July 2013
I had worked the night before in the restaurant. Although I left early in order to get some sleep, I didn't sleep very well. I woke up every 20 minutes to check if I hadn't forgotten to pack anything, as tend to forget things. Of course I hadn't. I checked at least a dozen times before I even went to work in the first place.
It was 6 AM when the alarm rang. I barely slept but I didnt feel tired at all. I felt a tad bit nervous, yet the desire to get out there completely overruled that emotion. I noticed that my parents were more nervous than I was myself. My father had already made me promise that I wouldnt camp out in the wild, so I had to stick to campsites.
I jumped out of bed, which got me light headed for a few seconds, then went down to eat something. I knew I had to eat but I couldnt get anything down my throat. Eventually some yogurt with rolled oats and two oranges did the job. The bike was stalled in the garage, already packed. I took it out into the garden and did a final check to see if everything was alright mechanical wise and luggage wise. I applied some more Squirt Lube to the chain, which wasn't necessary at all. I knew that after I would shower, I would put on my cycling outfit and leave soon after, so I didn't go to shower until I had everything triple checked. It was a quick shower really. After all this time I couldn't wait any longer.
8:20 was the time as I walked my bike out of the back yard onto the street next to my parent's house. Last kiss to my parents and a photo before I took off. A new adventure had begun.
The first 80km of that day's ride weren't too exciting, as I had ridden the road to Hasselt(BE) before. Yet it naturally felt different, as I knew I wasn't going to return when I got there. I didn't take many photo's that ride since the view was not much new to me personally. However I did take a few:
Entering Belgium like I had done dozens of times before. Still worth a picture, crossing my first bikepacking borders.
With about 100km in the legs I found some shade in these cherry trees, where, if you look good, some burgers 'n steaks were enjoying a slight breeze in the sun, while whipping their tails to fend the flies. Sadly for them, without success.
In the shade of the trees I undid my legs of it's warmers and enjoyed the sweet cherries that were in plentitude. I almost ate too much, for they were delicious.
There I started to see some difference in altitude. Something which I wasn't quite used to in my flat country.
Arrived at Liège, I chose to avoid the city center. For some this may seem a strange thing to do, but that city, however beautiful it may be, didn't attract me much as it was still so close to where I'm from. I rode though the eastern part of the city, down to Esneux. As I thought I had arrived at the campsite, it seemed I first had to climb a rather steep hill. The first real hill of this trip came by surprise, but not unwanted.
The first campsite setup. It was the second time for me to mount the tent, but it went just fine. Luckily because there was a family watching me doing it and I didn't want to feel clumsy doing it.
I drank some water. Disgusting tap water. I'm used to that delicious Dutch tapwater, which none can top. Then took a nice warm shower and rinsed my already salty clothes. Hung them to try on a tent cord, which wasn't so handy but I forgot to bring a loose cut of cord for this purpose.
It was time to do a little walking around town with my rucksack and find a supermarket. All I had brought for that day's dinner was a pack of spaghetti. Fuck me it was sunday.
That little walk turned out to be a 15km hike, being sunday 'n all. Oh well, I'll be honest, I also kinda got lost. It was for the better though, as I got to see some nice scenery.
The ride didn't affect me much physically, but that hike made me very aware of the muscles in my legs. I was a bit afraid that I would suffer from it the next day. But, at least I had food.
I boiled the pasta and added a can of tune, green beans, a raw bell pepper and a shitload of salt to that. Wasn't the best meal I ever had, but damn sure it was satisfying! I could borrow some chairs from the camping owners, which was a nice bonus.
Opposite of me was a nice Dutch family who took this photo of me enjoying my first bikepacking dinner. They were good people, but as I was still very close to home, I could sense their doubt about my goal. For my fellow Dutchmen it's not a very common sight to see a brown fella on a roadbike, let alone one riding it to the other side of Europe! After a fine chat and the joy of a proper portion of snus I decided it was time to get some rest. I brushed my teeth, took a good long piss and creamed my sitting surface with Sudocrem before I hit the sack at about 21:30. The bike was locked to a trunk of the hedge though the chain and chainstays, which was again covered with the alarm lock.
Eindhoven - Esneux (Liège)
143.8 km
831 m
Camping Les Murets
Esneux, Belgium
15 July 2013
5:30 Fito & Fitipaldis - Por La Boca Vive El Pez. ''Shut your fucking face, Fito!'' was my thought when I turned off the alarm on my phone.
8:00 I finally got up. It was chilly and I felt a bit stiff, but not of a disencouraging amount. I slowly got up and out of my tent, took a piss and ate some of the fruit and a small piece of bread which I had bought the day before. As I walked back to my campsite, I didn't really know where to start. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing, so I figured I started ordering the things I wanted to pack first. After a bit of packing, it striked me that I should first prepare myself to take off before packing. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, got dressed in cycling kit, save shoes and helm and went back to pack. This way I didn't have to bear in mind stuff that I couldn't pack for I still might need them. I had decided to use the same strategy from that moment on. All in all it took a while to get everything sorted and packed, mind that I thought well about what I did, so that the next time I could do it with my eyes closed.
Almost three hours later than planned I hit the road at 9:45. Nearing the Ardennes it started to get hillier and hillier. My only experience with climbing was on actual mountains. These short hill reps were of a whole different level and as the more south I went, the higher the I went. Meaning that the descents were shorter than the climbs. Despite it could hurt a little, I enjoyed it very much.
I crossed some beautiful villages and rode relatively quiet roads. Maybe too quiet even. I expected to see more cyclists in this region.
Later on in La Roche en Ardenne there were more people and a lot of cyclists around. I had a nice cold bottle of coke on a terrace and had a nice chat some with enthousiastic older road cyclists who obiously envied me because I did what they had always dreamt of doing. After a second bottle of coke, which I only ordered because the waitress was so hot, I took off to continue my journey.
I had already noticed the day before when I entered unknown grounds that my GPS routes, rather carelessly made in Garmin Connect, weren't always as they were supposed to be. This didn't matter much, as I didnt intend to stick to them exactly, but rather use them as reference to make sure that I don't stray off too far. As the Garmin 800 battery doesn't last that long, I used the 500 to track my rides and keep me informed. The 800 was only switched on when the need for guidance was there.
That guidance was needed when I didn't have a clue where I was going in some tiny village not far from Bastogne. I circled the church thrice and almost forgot which direction I came from. Thank god I have my Garmin 800, right? First it made me circle around the church once more, then it sent me towards an old, badly paved, dusty road. Nothing wrong with old roads though. I felt like an adventurer! Further along the road it got worse though.
Before I knew it I was outside the village riding in the tracks of a tractor. It was bumpy and slightly descending. Still no real problem, just a tad bit uncomfortable. What worried me more was that I didn't see any roads nearby. I couldn't see if the path I was riding would end on a road, another path or even in a field. Not sure if I would rather have ended up in a crop field...
You can't see it in the photo, but this road had a downward slope of 13%. At least that's what my Garmin told me. It felt much worse than that! I was downhill mountainbiking in a fucking forest in the middle of nowhere on my precious carbon fibre road bike with carbon rims and packed for an adventure. Adventure is what I got! While I almost tumbled down that forest I asked myself why oh why didnt I listen to Rodolfo and the others concerning the carbon setup. This was obviously the end of what should have become an amazing summer adventure. I kept going faster and faster, because braking too much affected my control over the bike. I braced myself and was ready for impact. Either one or both wheels would snap any moment, I would crash on a rock and break my frame.
Strangely none of this happened. On a more flat part of the course I managed to gain stability and stop the bike. I stood there for a while to catch my breath before I dismounted. When I got off I first checked my tires and rims, they were fine. Then the saddlebag which, surprisingly, was still correctly in place. When everything seemed to be intact, I started to realise that I was nowhere, with no real way out. If I had kept going I would've crashed into a tree. I planted my bike against a tree to have a look around, hoping to find a way out. I really didn't want to walk back up there. After a few steps I noticed the rocky soil underneath the grass and dirt. Luckily I had a fragile pair of carbon Bont Vaypors wrapped around my feet. I had to walk on the cleats to not ruin the shoes, which was a pain. When I looked in the distance I saw something that could be a house or a shed, so decided to lift my bike and walk there. I had to cross a small ditch on my way there. I couldnt risk jumping it with my bike in my hands so had to think of another solution. I neared the water and held my bike in front of me, holding it at the bars and saddle. Then I swung the wheels to the other side of the water and put them down on the ground. I could now push the bike so it would gently fall on its side at the other side of the water. Save that the bike slided down a little bit so that the wheels dipped, everything went according to my plan. Then I jumped across the ditch on a soft piece of grass. We made it to the other side and it felt as if I had discovered America. About 20 meters further I finally got out of the forest. What I had seen was indeed a shed, next to a beautiful old house. To get to the drive, I had to cross another bigger stream of water. Luckily there was a gorgeous cute little wooden bridge. As if it was made just for me. I regret that I don't have photo's of that place.
Now the drivelane took me to a hideously steep road, which required me for the first time to use my 30-27 gear. It was all worth it, for when I got up there and followed the road, I suddenly found myself exactly where I wanted to be.
The road from Liège to Bastogne was different than I expected, but without having seen many cobbles, I still did my fair share of rough roads.
From there on it didnt take long for me to enter Luxemburg, and the reservoir area where I planned to camp that night.
This sign told me I was close, but I didn't actually see the reservoir. I was told by a nice old man that to get there I had to descend all the way to get to the lake. I knew there were some campings around there, so decided to get down and set up camp after a long day. The steep descent though small villages was pleasant with its quality tarmac and smooth curves. Once arrived at the lake I was stunned by it's tranquil beauty. Usually such places are flooded by Dutch and German tourists, trashing the place. This reservoir was preserved and quiet. Some kids were playing on a bridge and only few locals passed by car, but no campsite to be seen. I asked the kids, who then told me I had to go back up to the village. They spoke fluent French with a strong Germanish accent. That steep hill with nice curves wasn't so pleasant when I had to climb it. In the village on top, some kind of street fair was going on, counting about 50 people. I went up to them and asked for the campsite, as I couldn't find it. They told me it was in the next village halfway down to the lake. I laughed at myself for needless climbing and set sail to the campsite. It was hard to find, but I eventually got there. A paper on the reception door read that I could pick a pitch and come by in the evening to pay.
The socket box was locked so I couldnt charge my stuff. No biggie, I'll do that when the camping owner is back. Time for a shower! No shower.. A coin was required. Maybe one of the old folks in the small cafeteria could help me out. One could indeed. He sold me a coin for €2, which I still find rediculously expensive. Back at the sanitary building I first undressed myself, because I didn't know how long the water would last and didn't want to spill a single drop. All prepped and ready to get wet, I tossed the coin in the machine and waited. Waited a little longer, and some more. I was flabbergasted, no water! Back into those sweaty clothes I headed to the cafeteria and spoke about it with the man who sold me the coin. He forgot to mention that only the showers at the other end of the camping were functional. He gave me another coin and I finally got to shower.