Specialized TriCross Sport was my bike / weapon of choice for my trip through France. With the exception of the saddle (too narrow, race saddle, not built for long days sitting) I would not change a thing about this bike, it was really brilliant and even Simon commented on how light it was compared to is Long Haul Trucker, but that is a lovely steel frame :) Somehow I always (almost always!) managed to be second to the top of the Cols, think that's engine not bike :)
This has been a once a decade opportunity, whether I would do it again in a hurry, well, probably not. Its damned hard work, and I really cant sleep in a tent on a pretend mattress anymore - the old injuries make it just too hard to sleep well. But man, what an experience. The highs and lows were amazing, and those lows teach you so much about yourself, and what happens in the deep dark places when you go there - and how dragging yourself out of those low places - f'rinstance, climbing 10K of hard hill straight out of camp, after no sleep, stiff and sore from the day before - and packing a tanty half way up because its hard work. We all have our moments, and having a great mate like Simon there to be a part of it was kinda cool :)
And the payback, for example, when you spend 4 hours climbing 30k of hill, to get a 35k downhill that feels like heaven really should feel, well, that's just too much for words, beyond my capability for words anyway.
And then being tested again, cycling from the train station in Lyon to the airport into a howling gale on narrow fast and busy roads - scary as all hell, but the feeling of personal triumph upon arrival, huge. So, the trip is nearly over, and in an hour I will be watching as Heathrow slips away behind us as we head for LAX. Its been a challenging, fun and wonderful few weeks, and Im so glad I did it.
Do yourself a favour - if you can, don't hesitate, do it. Or wait 10 years and come with me when I do it again, this time without panniers and on a road bike :)
Friday, June 3, 2011
Oh, finally great coffee - and in London!
It's been weeks of black slop foist on me - and yes I fully get that I'm a coffee snob :)
Had a meeting at Carluccio's in Kensington High Street this morning before heading to the airport, ordered ristretto and got a god shot - nice way to start the journey home.
Now, in about 34 hours time, I can get one in New Plymouth!
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Had a meeting at Carluccio's in Kensington High Street this morning before heading to the airport, ordered ristretto and got a god shot - nice way to start the journey home.
Now, in about 34 hours time, I can get one in New Plymouth!
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Location:Cranwell Rd,,United Kingdom
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Oh, that was nice
That was a very nice duck liver, thank you Mr duck :)
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London is still London - go figure
Had a huge day of walking and shopping yesterday - after a 1,000k's of cycling, I'm not used to walking anymore and my legs are very sore. That and the pollution is killing my sinuses again, after weeks of rural France had cleared them again - but I will stop whinging now :)
So, first stop today was Hamleys, just left after successful visit, should see a 6 year old girl very happy when dad gets back on Sunday...and the bulk of shopping is done, just great scotch to collect in Auckland.
Lunch coming up for work, then more shopping before I catch for drinks and dinner with my old buddy Scott. Last time he and I caught up here in London it was a truly memorable evening, ending with kebabs and trying to shift a huge pile of bricks around a car at 2AM. Given I'm flying back tomorrow afternoon I suspect I will be a little more circumspect tonight :)
And it's 615PM, I have a lovely Chablis and an accompanying duck liver and brandy pate. This is the London I remember, away from the tourists and enjoying great food and wine. Scott is finishing work and will be here in an hour. Life is good.
And tomorrow at 4PM I step on to NZ1 and start the journey home, and I really cannot wait. 3 weeks is the longest I've been away, and it's way too long.
Breakfast and great coffee at Chaos on Sunday morning, oh god I've missed great coffee :)
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So, first stop today was Hamleys, just left after successful visit, should see a 6 year old girl very happy when dad gets back on Sunday...and the bulk of shopping is done, just great scotch to collect in Auckland.
Lunch coming up for work, then more shopping before I catch for drinks and dinner with my old buddy Scott. Last time he and I caught up here in London it was a truly memorable evening, ending with kebabs and trying to shift a huge pile of bricks around a car at 2AM. Given I'm flying back tomorrow afternoon I suspect I will be a little more circumspect tonight :)
And it's 615PM, I have a lovely Chablis and an accompanying duck liver and brandy pate. This is the London I remember, away from the tourists and enjoying great food and wine. Scott is finishing work and will be here in an hour. Life is good.
And tomorrow at 4PM I step on to NZ1 and start the journey home, and I really cannot wait. 3 weeks is the longest I've been away, and it's way too long.
Breakfast and great coffee at Chaos on Sunday morning, oh god I've missed great coffee :)
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Et, Londre
It's changed, and it hasn't. The core of everything I lived with for nearly 10 years is still there, as much of it has been for probably 100 years or more, but the facade has changed, albeit yet again briefly.
It'd been 10 years since I spent any time here. Today after landing I checked in - staying at T5, easier that way - and first went to Oxford Street to shop. So much work going on; street, tube, you name it. But the streets are still packed, but the accents and languages have changed.
Today I've heard a lot of Russian and French spoken, and seen lots of burkas. Ive walked the length of Oxford and Regent streets, seen that Hamleys is 250 years old - whoa - and the tube is 150.
I've felt jostled and cramped, but then after 12 hours if feels like home again, how very odd. After 2 weeks of back country cycling, wearing real clothes - clean clothes, and boxers! - again, I feel a bit like a bumpkin :)
So, with shopping in tow, I'm curried, a couple of London Prides to the better and about to catch up on sleep. Think I need that catch up!
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It'd been 10 years since I spent any time here. Today after landing I checked in - staying at T5, easier that way - and first went to Oxford Street to shop. So much work going on; street, tube, you name it. But the streets are still packed, but the accents and languages have changed.
Today I've heard a lot of Russian and French spoken, and seen lots of burkas. Ive walked the length of Oxford and Regent streets, seen that Hamleys is 250 years old - whoa - and the tube is 150.
I've felt jostled and cramped, but then after 12 hours if feels like home again, how very odd. After 2 weeks of back country cycling, wearing real clothes - clean clothes, and boxers! - again, I feel a bit like a bumpkin :)
So, with shopping in tow, I'm curried, a couple of London Prides to the better and about to catch up on sleep. Think I need that catch up!
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Le Sigh - some things really are sent to test us
So, it's 0720 here in Lyon. I'm sitting in the lounge, waiting for my BA flight to London. So far this morning:
1. Up, showered, shaved - novel! - dressed, packed, collected bagged bike, paid left hotel. Or rather squeezed past the Germans smoking right outside the door. Pardon got me a down the large nose look - accidentally smacking 23kg's of bike into the back of the Teutonic tosser on my last trip through got him more animated. Sorry mate, honest.
2. Realise there are no carts. Large suitcase, small case, laptop and bike bag. Bum. Sling bike over shoulder, wheel other two, I must have looked like a tall tortoise. Get to terminal, up escalator, wait for 20 minutes whilst Gallic shrugging fails to change ticket tape at check in. Check in. Go to wrong departure gate.
3. Go through to right gate check point. Put clobber on conveyer. Walk through metal detector. Back, take shoes and belt off. Try again - success! Asked to open small case. Officer points to plastic bag containing two pedals, two wheel skewers and a pedal spanner. Shakes head - and takes out spanner. Huh? Give me a wheel skewer, I could have a pilot at my mercy in seconds, but a pedal spanner??? You have to be kidding me. Nope. Wave goodbye to best pedal spanner I've ever owned.
Le sigh.
It's amazing how dehydrated I still am after the last couple of days - I keep craving and drinking cold water.
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1. Up, showered, shaved - novel! - dressed, packed, collected bagged bike, paid left hotel. Or rather squeezed past the Germans smoking right outside the door. Pardon got me a down the large nose look - accidentally smacking 23kg's of bike into the back of the Teutonic tosser on my last trip through got him more animated. Sorry mate, honest.
2. Realise there are no carts. Large suitcase, small case, laptop and bike bag. Bum. Sling bike over shoulder, wheel other two, I must have looked like a tall tortoise. Get to terminal, up escalator, wait for 20 minutes whilst Gallic shrugging fails to change ticket tape at check in. Check in. Go to wrong departure gate.
3. Go through to right gate check point. Put clobber on conveyer. Walk through metal detector. Back, take shoes and belt off. Try again - success! Asked to open small case. Officer points to plastic bag containing two pedals, two wheel skewers and a pedal spanner. Shakes head - and takes out spanner. Huh? Give me a wheel skewer, I could have a pilot at my mercy in seconds, but a pedal spanner??? You have to be kidding me. Nope. Wave goodbye to best pedal spanner I've ever owned.
Le sigh.
It's amazing how dehydrated I still am after the last couple of days - I keep craving and drinking cold water.
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Oh err that were a day
So, today we started together and finished a long, long way apart.
Yesterday, well, that was a long, challenging but satisfying and at the end very fun day. Today was all over the place.
We left the chambre d'hôte around 830, no breakfast - we were lucky to finally get a room - and hit the road for Avignon. Simon had decided to accompany me into Avignon, and to be honest I was grateful - the busy roads were really scary and navigating those into such a busy city had me a little nervous after 2 weeks of traffic being the odd tractor and a goat.
Navigating in to a big city has its challenges, as does going out, as I discovered! We hit the back roads towards Lirac and Tavel but there was still traffic, but thankfully much less. We finally found an open cafe, breakfasted and coffee'd (Simon is REALLY quiet riding pre coffee!) and then set forth for the Rhone and Avignon.
One minor navigational error later, a bit of checking once we were inside the ancient walls of this incredible city, and we found the Gare we were looking for. Tickets purchased, and mad dash to the platform - which is down then up. In a lift that barely fits a bike. And then the lift up to the platform - don't ask, long story - doesn't work, so it's lift the bike and full load up two flights of stairs to the platform.
And then my phone rings. It's Simon. I still have the map he needs, and my train is entering the station...
Oh hell. Grab map out of case, leaving bike, bags, wallet, passport, everything behind, mad dash down stairs to the lift to meet Simon, he doesn't get out of lift, I panic, think fast, throw map close to lift door and leg it back up stairs to platform and bike, grab it, run to far end of train - miles! - as short fat French conductor frowns at me, leap on board doors close, train departs...
Check for passport etc, thank god it's all there. Im missing a glove, dropped. Two minutes later very nice young man finds me and hands me glove - to effusive poor French thanks from me.
Txt Simon - he got the map! OMG, miracles do happen!
Settle in for boring non TGV train ride - TGV to Lyon St Expury don't take bikes. Means I have to ride the 25k from Lyon to the airport. Gulp.
Two hour train ride, listening to BBC and radio nz podcasts. Arrive, off, reassemble bike and head for crowded station. Every man and his small white dog is here, along with huge and well armed Gendarmes - the SNCF even has it's own armed force - so I lock bike to large pillar - considered locking to Gendarme, dismissed, rushed in to book shop, grabbed map of Lyon, paid, dashed out. Bike still there, evil types no doubt scared by my stubble and smell :)
Exit station, into a howling gale. I've lived in and landed in Wellington. This wasn't an "is the airport open" gale, this was "is the airport still there" wind. Every sense is imposed upon, as you try and open, read, fold and pack a map, keep an eye out for nefarious villainous types (might be wearing berets, might not) and stay calm.
Le sigh.
When Simon and I came in from the airport, it was early-ish morning, we had his computer capability, and it wasn't blowing a howling gale.
I didn't have these things. I had had breakfast 6 hours ago. I had a cheap map. I had me :)
The iPhone gave me compass direction, the map an idea. I headed east, found the hospital, but no way round it. Gagging for a wee, waited for full bus to pass - nothing to see here - and relieved (I've been in rural France way too long) I kept moving east. Finally found the route out, busy as hell but out.
5k found me the bike path. The cover I had had from buildings was now gone, and the side wind had me leaning hard right, compensating as it eased so I didn't wobble in to traffic - scary stuff.
Knew I was about 15k from the airport. And then the facade crumbled. A sign for the golden arches. Oh god, I was so thirsty.
I'm not proud of this, let's be clear. But desperate times etc. I went around the roundabout, and entered that center of everything that isn't French food. I ordered un grand mac, un filet, frites and two large drinks.
The first drink lasted all of 20 seconds. The Mac, about a minute longer. Pause for breath. Oh, free wifi!
After 45 minutes, I knew it was time to front up and leave; god that was a hard moment. Back to the chained bike, wind so loud you can't even think.
And 10k to go. God those were busy roads. Shouting at the wind helps, a little, not much.
Final roundabout 4k to go, oh, so very close, but such a busy, narrow road. Trucks passing so close at 100kph, every one who gives me room I shout really loudly "thanks mate" hoping kiwi karma really works.
And I make the roundabout at the airport. Oh god I'm nearly there I'm nearly safe. I cross the multiple roads into the airport, and just as I pass under the first structure, a massive roar fills my ears and I jump, physically - I've just crossed over the TGV line as one went through, I had forgotten the utterly visceral and prehistoric noise those things make as they roar past.
I sight the hotel, my smile huge.
The lobby greets me - ah the joy of walking into the lobby of a good hotel wheeling a bike, smelling really bad and unshaven :)
40 minutes to break the bike and pack it - see you again in New Plymouth old friend. And then a glorious very hot then very cold shower. Clean clothes - and boxers! - and down to the bar to work and drink hugely expensive beer.
The riding is done. My compadre is still out there, somewhere in Nimes tonight. Kia kaha Simon, it's been huge. Karen, we looked after each other, he is very capable and will be fine, and is fully briefed for your arrival.
This isn't my last post. But for now, the riding is over, and that's good and bad. I will cope, I'm sure.
BA to London at 8AM, French time - catch you soon.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Yesterday, well, that was a long, challenging but satisfying and at the end very fun day. Today was all over the place.
We left the chambre d'hôte around 830, no breakfast - we were lucky to finally get a room - and hit the road for Avignon. Simon had decided to accompany me into Avignon, and to be honest I was grateful - the busy roads were really scary and navigating those into such a busy city had me a little nervous after 2 weeks of traffic being the odd tractor and a goat.
Navigating in to a big city has its challenges, as does going out, as I discovered! We hit the back roads towards Lirac and Tavel but there was still traffic, but thankfully much less. We finally found an open cafe, breakfasted and coffee'd (Simon is REALLY quiet riding pre coffee!) and then set forth for the Rhone and Avignon.
One minor navigational error later, a bit of checking once we were inside the ancient walls of this incredible city, and we found the Gare we were looking for. Tickets purchased, and mad dash to the platform - which is down then up. In a lift that barely fits a bike. And then the lift up to the platform - don't ask, long story - doesn't work, so it's lift the bike and full load up two flights of stairs to the platform.
And then my phone rings. It's Simon. I still have the map he needs, and my train is entering the station...
Oh hell. Grab map out of case, leaving bike, bags, wallet, passport, everything behind, mad dash down stairs to the lift to meet Simon, he doesn't get out of lift, I panic, think fast, throw map close to lift door and leg it back up stairs to platform and bike, grab it, run to far end of train - miles! - as short fat French conductor frowns at me, leap on board doors close, train departs...
Check for passport etc, thank god it's all there. Im missing a glove, dropped. Two minutes later very nice young man finds me and hands me glove - to effusive poor French thanks from me.
Txt Simon - he got the map! OMG, miracles do happen!
Settle in for boring non TGV train ride - TGV to Lyon St Expury don't take bikes. Means I have to ride the 25k from Lyon to the airport. Gulp.
Two hour train ride, listening to BBC and radio nz podcasts. Arrive, off, reassemble bike and head for crowded station. Every man and his small white dog is here, along with huge and well armed Gendarmes - the SNCF even has it's own armed force - so I lock bike to large pillar - considered locking to Gendarme, dismissed, rushed in to book shop, grabbed map of Lyon, paid, dashed out. Bike still there, evil types no doubt scared by my stubble and smell :)
Exit station, into a howling gale. I've lived in and landed in Wellington. This wasn't an "is the airport open" gale, this was "is the airport still there" wind. Every sense is imposed upon, as you try and open, read, fold and pack a map, keep an eye out for nefarious villainous types (might be wearing berets, might not) and stay calm.
Le sigh.
When Simon and I came in from the airport, it was early-ish morning, we had his computer capability, and it wasn't blowing a howling gale.
I didn't have these things. I had had breakfast 6 hours ago. I had a cheap map. I had me :)
The iPhone gave me compass direction, the map an idea. I headed east, found the hospital, but no way round it. Gagging for a wee, waited for full bus to pass - nothing to see here - and relieved (I've been in rural France way too long) I kept moving east. Finally found the route out, busy as hell but out.
5k found me the bike path. The cover I had had from buildings was now gone, and the side wind had me leaning hard right, compensating as it eased so I didn't wobble in to traffic - scary stuff.
Knew I was about 15k from the airport. And then the facade crumbled. A sign for the golden arches. Oh god, I was so thirsty.
I'm not proud of this, let's be clear. But desperate times etc. I went around the roundabout, and entered that center of everything that isn't French food. I ordered un grand mac, un filet, frites and two large drinks.
The first drink lasted all of 20 seconds. The Mac, about a minute longer. Pause for breath. Oh, free wifi!
After 45 minutes, I knew it was time to front up and leave; god that was a hard moment. Back to the chained bike, wind so loud you can't even think.
And 10k to go. God those were busy roads. Shouting at the wind helps, a little, not much.
Final roundabout 4k to go, oh, so very close, but such a busy, narrow road. Trucks passing so close at 100kph, every one who gives me room I shout really loudly "thanks mate" hoping kiwi karma really works.
And I make the roundabout at the airport. Oh god I'm nearly there I'm nearly safe. I cross the multiple roads into the airport, and just as I pass under the first structure, a massive roar fills my ears and I jump, physically - I've just crossed over the TGV line as one went through, I had forgotten the utterly visceral and prehistoric noise those things make as they roar past.
I sight the hotel, my smile huge.
The lobby greets me - ah the joy of walking into the lobby of a good hotel wheeling a bike, smelling really bad and unshaven :)
40 minutes to break the bike and pack it - see you again in New Plymouth old friend. And then a glorious very hot then very cold shower. Clean clothes - and boxers! - and down to the bar to work and drink hugely expensive beer.
The riding is done. My compadre is still out there, somewhere in Nimes tonight. Kia kaha Simon, it's been huge. Karen, we looked after each other, he is very capable and will be fine, and is fully briefed for your arrival.
This isn't my last post. But for now, the riding is over, and that's good and bad. I will cope, I'm sure.
BA to London at 8AM, French time - catch you soon.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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