Whatever Happened to Romain

We  never saw Romain again - we hope he made it to London ok.

The day after we ran away from him, we met up with a couple from France, they were both riding reclining bikes, and the first we saw of them was only a blur, passing us at high speed down a long sweeping hill.`

Joel shot past first

Closely followed by Irene

Joel and Irene are French and live in Brittany, but have big plans to sell up their house and travel the world. (They were quite heartened when they found out now old we are - gives them at least another ten or twelve years on the bike).

We caught up with them,( they were stopped at the bottom of the hill) and immediately hit it off with them, as you tend to do on the side of country roads. Later, we had stopped for our morning treat of cake/tart/whatever looked sweet and tasty, when they came into the Boulangerie as well.

"We have been looking for you, we forgot to take a photo" said Irene

They sat down and we chatted away, they had flown to Bucharest and were riding up the Donau back to Brittany

"Have you met a TV Reporter from Bulgaria " I asked them

"Non" said Joel looking puzzled

Then a look of astonishment and terror took over his face

"Not Romain" he gasped

"Yes, we have been running away from him for a day or so" I replied

" Oui, Mon Dieu! - we had Romain for four days, we could not get rid of him"

"He had no food, no tent. we felt sorry for him" said Irene, "But in the end we had to tell him, this was no good, he was spoiling our every day, we ended up like you, running away from him".

Romain was sleeping in churchyards and any rough shelter he could find. He had no shelter at all and we are now wondering if he has managed to survive the trip, as the last couple of weeks have been wet and quite cool.

We spot Irene and Joel again - thats them on the left.

(it was them who told us we were in Switzerland!!)

We kept running into Irene and Joel for the next few days, but they were so full of fun and laughs there was no thought in this instance of trying to dodge them.

Rhine Falls from above

Rhine Falls from below

We last saw them at the Rhine Fall's a couple of weeks ago and having left the route for three or four days we expect they have gone well ahead of us.

Another French couple, who we have christened Frank and Fran (yes, we have been surprised by the number of our friends and acquaintances travelling in Europe over the last few months - a fleeting resemblance is all we need) are now revolving in the same loop as us, today we met for the fourth time, at which point Val said:

"We think if we introduce our selves, we may not meet up again" to laughter all round, and anyway, we like to see our Picton friends on the road with us!!

Even though the introductions were not made, they too seem to have moved into another orbit.

The unspoiled Loire.

Being back on the Loire is like meeting an old friend, the river is unspoiled and has an "outback" feel to it, then suddenly around the corner or on a hilltop in the distance, there is a Grand Chateau.

We camp along the Loire, 

in the shadow of this Castle

And sip our wine as the sun goes down in a blaze of glory.

In three days we will be in Orleon, meeting up again with the Sainmont Family, who we met on the banks of the Loire in 2008, and subsequently hosted one of their son's, Johan, in New Zealand on several occasions, as well as his Mother, Klaud and younger brother Alban, when they visited him in NZ in 2009.

The Briare Canal overpasses the Loire

Philppe met us on the outskirts of Orleon

Alban Sainmont made fantastic pancakes on Saturday morning

Val's Snippets, no 8.

A cold wet lunch in a roadside shed

in France

The last two weeks have been unseasonably wet and cold, while not at risk of exposure, we have been working hard to keep dry and cheerful. Hence a gap in posts on the blog

Drying the tent has become a daily occupation - most of the rain falling at night - 

Autumn.
1956 or thereabouts,
Petts Wood Preparatory School,
Monday morning, nature study.

We trundled into school, in our purple and yellow uniforms, carting bags of "nature" gleaned from the sparse hedgerows and woods of suburban London.

Misses Porter and Worthington inspected our finds, the rarer the better, unaware that our efforts heralded the decline of many species.

So on this Monday morning I will show signs of Autumn. Rowan  berries, elderberries, rose hips, as well as apples, plums and peaches blown from their branches by early storms. Blackberries, (similarly under ripe) acorns and the delightful helicopter seeds of sycamore and ash. There are few wild flowers now, but I could show a fine collection of coloured leaves.

Misses P and W would be pleased -  Nine out of ten - I think


I could also mention a tiny bat that landed on the tent, and the chaos caused by a family of badgers in a river.

The morning  air is chill, and we dive into the tent at about 7 pm, as it starts to get dark. The woodlands show a slight tinge of yellow/orange, and I feel no compulsion to dive into the canal water for a swim.

As we head for Paris -

Judith has booked an apartment in Paris for our last few days in France... How posh. I can hardly wait to sit on chairs, sleep in a bed and , as Don once remarked, look OUT of windows (as opposed enviously into them)

She has also booked opera tickets, Figaro, what bliss. BUT what to wear. I have considered layering up my shorts, faded and torn Macpac, over the new purple ones.These could be teamed with my over the knee horizontal striped socks (Polish from the town of traditional dress). The new pink, well really cruise, shoes would clash nicely. How about a black  Ice Breaker jersey, ( see I am big on labels), with designer mends, clinched with my cycle towing belt (to tow the bike when very tough going), a broad black webbing number. My little blue balaclava could top off the outfit, pulled on low  to form a little 'cloche'.. Very French.

Although Judith is rather taller and thinner than me, having read this, I am sure she will kit me out in something tasteful and suitable. Photos to follow.

3000kms

We have just about passed the third thousand Kms  mark. Toady we linked up with the Loire, very exciting as we loved the Loire valley way back on our first bike ride. The canal Central brought us across from the Soane, and was more engaging than expected, and proudly passed over the Loire on a high canal  bridge, to become the Loire Lateral Canal.

Back on the Loire

We share a lovely "Wild Camp" on the Central canal with a young French cyclist named Matthieu 

We drop into church now and then and tend to fancy the plainer decor, such as this one in Paray (les (something will check and update later)

Val chatting with a lovely French lady, who just came up to us for a chat.

Treats have been many. In Gray, on a grey day, we met Claudine at the Info Canter. After loading us with glossy leaflets, at 12 01 she suddenly invited us to her home for lunch. Only briefly hesitant we hopped in the car and sped for 20 Km's to her house, met her Mother, and ate a splendid 4 course lunch, took a whirlwind trip round her farm and sped back to Gray for her to reopen the office at 1.30 pm. Her daughter is due in. NZ soon, and I hope we meet her there.

We were hosted by a young couple, (who were Warm Showers guests of ours )in a tiny village near Vesoul. The weather was cold, and when not playing with their delightful baby we snuggled round the fire (the first for this season) read books and enjoyed the WiFi.

Daniel and Annie were also extraordinary hosts. They have made interesting life style choices, no cab, no TV, no property, and live in a small fifth floor apartment with no lift. Ten years ago they started cycle touring, and to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary plan to bike from New York to Patagonia next year.

Auf Weidersein and Bon Jour

Overlooking Britzingen, Black Forest, Germany

Moser's house, Britzingen.

Our German friends in Britzingen, in the Black Forest region, have anti nuclear protest posters all over their bikeshed door - they are within a 30km radius of one of the older Nuclear Power Stations in France, and following the Fukishima disaster, the French have promised to close it down in 2016. Some repairs have been done to the base of the plant and the feeling among locals is that France just may carry on after the promised closure date.

Germany shut down 5 or 6 of it's older Nuclear sites (it still has around 30 operating) and despite predictions of power shortages, this has not happened. The thing that struck us immediately on entering Germany was the proliferation of Solar panels on both domestic housing as well as farm and industrial buildings. Incentives for doing this have now been removed, but there is a really significant generating output from this source - and do they get as much sun as we do!!

The Germans are keen cyclists, as seen by this photo at a rural train station when we caught a train to Basel, there are cycle tracks all over and while maybe not quite as complex as the systems in Holland, would not be too far behind. It was a pleasure to cycle there, the motorists are most careful and courteous.

Gunther and Seigruen's youngest daughter, Johanna, gave us both a good haircut the night before we left, it was high time, we were looking a bit scruffy.

On leaving our new friends we went with Sigruen on a visit to her workplace, an organic market garden farm, operating to the Demeter standards of production, Very interesting and she is passionate about her work there, as are all the others who work there as well.

We had three nights in Britzingen, one day spent with a train trip to Basel in Switzerland, only 35 kilometres away. Quite a lovely small city with a historic and picturesque old quarter, and a couple of interesting Galleries.

Last view of the Rhine

A simple sculpture on the French Border

First night in France, camped on the bank of Le Canal.

Sunset from our campsite

We are really enjoying the Warmshowers contacts on this trip.

At the present moment, after three nights camping in France, we are staying with Gael and Roseann in the small village of Franchevelle, set in what might be called the "outback" of France. The region is the Haute Saone region, which is nestled in the corner of France bordering Germany and Switzerland, an area that over the centuries has been plundered and wrecked by various invading armies, hence no magnificient Chateaus and Castles. More popular for outdoor people, who find attraction in it's mountains and forests.

Gael and Roseanne, have a five month old daughter, Maiwinn, are both Science Teachers, though in different schools, one in Lure and the other Vesoul, a trip of some kilometres each day. They are both involved in a climbing and alpine club, Gael plays in a Rock Band, and Roseanne, as well as Science, also teaches Drama and is involved in local amateur productions as well as performing multiple roles in drama pieces she writes, with musical accompanyment from Gael on Guitar and another band member on bass, providing as Gael puts it "Some relief from the emotion that Roseanne draws from her audience (they perform in peoples homes, to groups of around 20 people. A very talented couple.

Their home was originally built in the 1700's, but has been renovated and updated to a very comfortable and modern house.
Apart from this, we know both of them from a cycle tour they did in NZ back in 2011, when they stayed a night with us in Picton, the first time we have met up and stayed with any of our guests from the last  6 years. so it like meeting with old friends again.

Tomorrow we are heading for another small town outside Orlean, St Pryve, where we will be meeting up again with the Sainmont family, on whose lawn we camped for a night last time we were in France.

One thing that is familiar from other trips in europe, are the slugs. These slimy little fellows just love blue tarpaulins and green tents. Each morning there is a clean out exercise, two slugs curled up in a drinking mug, four have squeezed their way under the lid on one of the pots and Uh Oh, did'nt see that one on the lid when I boiled the pot for morning tea - he will have to go in the lunch box as he is cooked to a turn.

Other than these critters, there are really no creepy crawlies to contend with, some lunch camps have attracted the occasional ant, which ventures up a baggy shorts leg and nips the unsuspecting wearer in a soft and sensitive spot, but really that's the worst of it.

One thing that is really noticeable in the Europe we have traversed - the lack of birds - morning chorus starts around 9.30/10am with a Caw-caw-Caw from 5 or 6 European Crows, then sometimes in the woods the faint chirp of one or two smaller birds, but the silence is deafening. On the rivers, hundreds of White Swans, along Canals and streams quite a few Grey Heron and more than a few Canadian Geese on occasions, wild ducks there are, not sure if there is a shooting season, but they hardly bother to get out of the bike's path, they are so quiet.

For the first 3 days after arriving in France, I could not help feeling a bit disgusted with the general untidy look of the place after Germany's ultra clean and cared for, and almost fenceless landscape (and there is no doubt that keeping animals off the paddocks and controlling run-off from rainfall shows up in the clear, clean water in streams and rivers).

 France has fenced farms, stock running in the paddocks and more untidy looking farmyards, around here anyway, but after a few days I got used to it all and now find it has a charm of it's own, the rivers and canals run muddy after rain, 70% of the elictricity is generated by Nuclear Reactors and the French Cockrel is still strutting around the chookhouse without a care in the world.

Vals snippets week 7

The second 1000 kms

The second thousand Kilometers took us from south west Czech repubic most of the way across south Germany. We follwed the Danube cycle path from Passau to the source, crossed over to the Rhine valley on a more energetic day, and along the Rhine to Basel. The biking has been splendid, and the bike paths well marked and mostly easy to find. We have been as high as 800 m, and the low point, in another sense was one wet day with thunder storms.

DELIGHTS, have been many.

More and yet more extravagant Rococo churches. I hear there is one in Austria to top them all, I need to go there.

 The spring at Blatopt, a tribtary of the Donau, was crystal clear and as blue as the postcards. Roger wll be pleased toknpw the perfect swim has been achieved, near the source of the Rhine. Besides flowing our of Lake Constance/ the Bodensee many springs contribute to the young river. I floated down for some way in cool green water. Our host Gunther, now tells me the he has floated for many kms, with his gear in a special water proof bag. Then he got out, and caught the train home.

A festival of barrel organs, it seems like a hundred, in groups of three, playing through a small town centre.
Finding ourselves in Switzerland. Some areas of the North bank of the Rhine are Swiss, cuckoo clock in style, festooned with red/ white flags and selling, (at a high price) knives and chocolate.


MY TURN TO COOK
What, three times on this trip???
Answer, go to the Netto, Lidl or Norma at a pinch. Note which door you go in, as if you come put of the wrong one your bike has vanished, and its quite worrying. Pick up all the packets of pre made foods, salami, runny Camembert cheese, fishy treats and things made of pigs bits. Find salad, not always easy in small quantities, eggs and spuds. Search hard for Gordon's gin and tonic in little tins, very worth the search, or wine. All this is so remarkably cheap I have come to like shopping.
Boil the eggs and spuds. Roll round the pot if you don't have enough water to cover them (cooking tip)
Open the packets, serve and have a little rest.

WATERSHEDS
I love the idea of a watershed. Imagine two little rain drops falling side by ide. One heads off to join the Danube, and arrive in the Black Sea. The other falls a millimeter way and heads off down to the Rhine, and the North Sea. We crossed that line the other day. It was not marked or celebrated, except by me.

People from the Cycle Way.

Herbert must have spotted us a couple of blocks away, I reckon he was one of those people who cruise around on their bikes looking for people to help.

By the time we were within earshot of him, we were stranded on a pedestrian island with  our bikes, and about to attempt a crossing on a five street intersection with no lights.

"You must come back here" he was shouting in German, but we had no problem making an appropriate interpretation.

We were in the city of Ulm, where we had pampered ourselves by staying in a "Pension", our first experience in this type of accomodation. It was only several hundred metres away from the famous Ulm Cathedral, which has the tallest spire of any Cathedral in the world (no I did'nt know about it either).

We booked in around 4pm, I took the opportunity to shower,  refresh and charge up our barrage of hi tech equipment ( - no our bikes are not electric, but there are plenty of them around), while Val took the opportunity to have a couple of hours cruising shoe shops without me hanging about.

Next morning we got to the Cathedral early and paid our money to climb the tower. Well I climbed half way and spent around 40 minutes checking out a display of all the worlds Cathedrals with smaller spires, while Val went on up to the top. Her description of the last section confirmed my decision as the right one for me.
We packed our gear and left the city heading for the University, where our guidebook told us there was a Sculpture Park. That's where Herbert came into the story.

"Mmm, the University, that is very difficult by bicycle from here, let me think" he had worked in the camera and photographic equipment world before retiring ten years ago and with various trips overseas, had polished his English to very good.

He gazed out through his spectacles towards the University, perched on a hill some kilometres away in the distance.

"It is quite a climb up there, it could be as much as 90 metres. Follow me I will show you a way" and took off.

For a slightly portly man he showed a good turn of speed and on our loaded bikes we only managed to catch up when he was delayed at crossing lights. A round about couple of kilometres on cycleways, found us perched on a long arcing overhead bridge, which looked out over the city and up to the university.

Albert was an avid amateur Historian, with a story he just had to tell and he could not have had a more interested audience. Ulm was bombed heavily during the second world war, a big railway centre and cloth manufacturing industry. "My parents suffered hardship during the war" he told us. Ulm also had a prison for Political Prisoners and pointing to a lanmark away on the other side "Near there is a large memorial to the many German people killed by the Nazis - Communists, liberals, and anyone who opposed the regime, were imprisoned, tortured and often killed"

Another large wall nearby, was part of a large fort built during the Napoleonic Wars, as Ulm was a strategic spot on the Donau where battalions were stationed central to areas the French were likely to move. One of the "Tourist Stories" we heard on our 40 minute boat trip through the Donau Gorge was a Limestone feature the commentator said was Napoleon's Suitcase "On the occasion of a battle here, Napoleon had  to leave in such a hurry, that he is said to have left his suitcase behind".

We said a warm goodbye to Herbert and set off up the hill (which was more like 200 metres high)


later the same day.

We  took a side trip up one of the smaller streams feeding into the Donau, the Blau and were looking for somewhere to camp and also find a Wifi hotspot, which is like looking for gold here in Germany (Poland and Czech Republic, had it in every camping-ground). After getting caught in a bit of a rainshower coming out of Ulm, the afternoon had warmed up and we were also looking for an ice cream.

The young woman in a little parkside kiosk  served us icecream and spoke English, we asked;
 "Was there a place to Camp?"

"The only camping is about 5 kilometre from here, you go out on this way---"
sensing our lack of enthusiasm for this idea, she then said

 "But if you like, there is a place near the Campervan Park, just over the road on the grass beside the stream, there are no Police in this town and no-one would mind if you put your tent up there."

"That sounds good to us, what about Internet?"
" The only place in town where you can do Internet, is a bit of a rough Hotel on the other side of the town."
( she did not elaborate, but must have decided that we looked like her Grandparents and as she would not send them to this establishment, then we should not go there either.)

We were sitting at one of her tables in the open air, eating our icecream, when she emerged from the kiosk and said;

" If you like to come back after I close at 6pm, then will give you the password for the kiosk Wifi."
Of course we agreed and were sitting there doing the blog and catching up on news till well after dark.

Cycle Touring Does not Cost the Earth

On the cycle way, sometime during the next day, we were stopped checking the map, when I noticed two men some distance away, engaged in an interchange of notes. One was on a mountain bike, resplendent in the latest cycling couture, while the other was on a road bike, shabbily dressed and the bike adorned wih all manner of plastic shopping bags hanging on every available surface of the bike from handlebar to rear carrier.

"A kindly local, giving a cycling bagman the address of the nearest shelter", I imagined.
A short time later we turned onto a steep street, peddling like Road Runner at full pelt (but only clocking 2kph on the speed radar) when we came behind the same person, pushing his bike uphill on foot and clutching at his back as if suffering from an injury.

"Are you alright?" Val asked concernedly as she rode by. No reply, but he carried on behind us.
Rain was coming on, we holed up in a Bus Shelter to put on wet weather gear and while there the cycling bagman rode slowly past. I kept my eye on him and saw him dissapear into a churchyard.
And that might have been the end of the story, but No!

After staying the night at Munderkingden Camping ground, and attending the "Munderkingden Festival" that night - we asked several of the locals

"What is the Festival about?" The only consistent answer we got was-
"Drinking Beer " they said, laughing loudly.
"Do you Wanna Rock" the small but lively lead singer of the Band kept calling out (in English)  as the band hooked up their mikes, speakers and woofers,

"We're really gonna rock tonight" he called into the microphone as the sound man gave him the thumbs up.
We and several hundred others stood around with out beers and various types of fast food from the multiude of stalls - we tried a couple of local beers, a "Wurst Sausage" in a bun and a massive Donor Kebab, from the local Turkish Community Stall (containing at almost half a pig - and probably would have, had we not said "That's enough" in a horrified tone. I then made the mistake of biting into a green pickled Chilli,  which was on offer for free and it was only the beer that saved me from. putting on the rock and roll performance of the night)

Speaking of which, after warming up the sound system and giving us a few bars of "Good Golly Miss Molly", the band left the stage and all of us in huge suspense and they took off to a "very nearby" bar.

They did come back though and Rocked the village pretty well, though at the time Val and I went back to camp, no-one, apart from several seven to ten year olds were actually dancing. (I had a sore toe and Val  was not able to get me onto the rough cobbled dance area to demonstrate the "Super-------t" Rock that is our specialty :-)

We were having a cool drink stop the next day, at a little shelter set up by the residents in a very small village, when an apparition appeared at the end of the table, and introduced himself saying,
"I'm riding from the Black Sea to London" in very broken English, yes it was the Cycling Bagman.
"My name R-roman" did I detect a slight stammer

After a bit of chat, establishing that he was Bulgarian and off to visit a friend in London, he parked his bike, pulled out of one of the plastic bags on the handlebars, a bit of wast cardboard, sat down at the table and proceeded to write his name, address, telephone  number and email address for us to file away.

"I T-T-T-TV Reporter" he said

"You are on TV? " I queried

"No I TV r-r-r-r-reporter", reached for the cardboard address information he had given me,  flipped it over and wrote "TV Reporter" , just to eliminate any doubt I may have had regarding his status. My imagination ran wild.

Roman took photos of us, got me to write out my email address and was then diverted by a new arrival.
"He's nuts" murmed Val to me, "Lets get going" .

It was one of the Villagers who had come to say hello, and was now getting the same treatement from Roman (Spelt Rumen by the way). At this point Roman's bike decided to fall over and I almost gave myself a hernia helping get if back up again - no wonder he was carrying a spare rim - amongst goodness knows what else, it was bending in the middle.

Roman got the local man to take a photo of him posing with us (We could be on Bulgarian TV by now!!!)
Another group of cyclists arrived and Roman pounced on them, which gave us a chance to chat to the local man, then an English family, who had previously lived in Christchurch arrived, so a bit of a catchup on cycleways and earthquakes before we got on our way.

Somehow Roman had got ahead of us - we peddaled furiously and shot past him

"Internet --Photo" he called into our slipstream.

We met him again at several intersections, as we gazed at the signpost he would glide up behind us
"Route 6 Rhine, France and London" he would say

"Yes, that's right" said Val " We are taking a side trip to look at an Abby" (this was actually true, Val had mentioned it earlier and could not have been more convenient.

"Bye Roman" We cycled off with the feeling that we may meet again along the way.
And we did.

Sitting in a Hotel Cafe alongside the cycleway, me drinking a beer and facing up the track, Val eating a magnificent Ice Cream and Fruit concoction, sitting oppposite, I looked up and saw him rolling down the hill;
"Don't look, it's Roman" I said holding up a hand to shield my face as he passed by only two metres from us, intent on keeping his rickety outfit upright.
We giggled like silly schoolkids, this was getting ridiculous - and it got worse.
Looking forward to a camp ground, shower and the works and knowing we were behind what could be our nemesis, we were on the lookout.
The campground was on the other side of the Donau, but clearly visible at around 300m. As I rode past I turned on my super vision and said to Val
"That's Roman, I'm sure, that tent and bike at the end. Do we go in or not"
Val was keen to wild camp and I wanted a shower, but no badly enough, so based on the grounds of a "possible sighting" we rode on.
Several sites were considered and rejected, until we came to a lovely meadow where the cycle-way crossed the river.

"This side, just by the bridge looks great, I don't think the local farmer will mind" I said as Val and I rode up to the bridge. It was not until we were at the approach and about to ride down the grassy slope alongside the bridge when I spotted someone on the bridge, leaning on the rail to take a photo.
"Quick, turn round, Roman's on the bridge, get going before he see's us" I exclaimed

We camped up a sidetrack in the most amazing Limestone gorge, an old Castle perched 150 metres on the rocky outcrop, it's outlook up and down the river and over our tent, where we had a peaceful nights sleep.
Next morning we passed the person on the bridge, it was not Roman.

The Roman Saga will be continued.