Thirty six hours through Montenegro

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Signs are there to be climbed!

After climbing all morning through the beautiful mountains of Bosnia, the first thing I thought as we free wheeled down the road on the Montenegrin side was; it’s not as beautiful as I expected. Kind of harsh I admit! The landscape was rocky, dry, and quite bare. Not the Montenegro I remember of 2015. Of course, first impressions are often wrong.

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Happy to be back in Montenegro

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Overlooking a dam on our way into Niksic

After snacking on left overs, we rolled into Niksic in search of potato burek (second lunch) and an ATM. We found both, with the potato burek possibly being the best we’ve ever had (big statement I know!). While in the bakery, unashamedly scoffing our second helping, a guy came over to talk to us. Petar was a local Warmshowers host, and after chatting for a bit, he offered to show us a scenic route to Podgarica. We happily accepted.

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Petar showing us the way

What followed was up there with some of the best and most scenic cycling we’ve done. We followed Pieter up a small, smooth road (Montenegro has ridiculously good roads) as it wound itself gently up the mountains. The views were magnificent and I felt dwarfed by the sheer beauty of nature all around us. By the time we reached the Ostrog monastery it was late in the day, making Podgarica as we had planned was looking unlikely. It was one of those moments where you choose just to embrace the moment and go with the flow of what is being offered up. Petar showed us the church and explained a little bit about his religion. Although neither of us are the slightest bit religious, I do appreciate the sacredness of churches, temples, mosques, and the beauty of the architecture and art work. The icons in orthodox churches are impressive. And it has an air of mysticism I did not expect.

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The amazing road

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So fun and so beautiful

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After Petar had a quick chat with a priest, we all ended up being invited in to eat in the monastery dining room. I can only imagine this is where the monks eat? There was some praying and then we were served up delicious food, including quite a lot of wine. Some people joined us, and it turns out the woman was an Abbott from Russia. So that’s how we ended up sharing wine and food with a Russian Abbott and some monks in an orthodox monastery in Montenegro. You never quite know how your day will turn out on the road…

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A church at the monastary

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At the Monastary

Later on we explored the high monastery, which is impressively cut into the stone. It is a really beautiful and spiritual place and a site of Pilgrimage for Christians, as Saint Basil of Ostrog’s body is there (rather creepily in an open coffin). He is apparently the saint of Miracles.  Petar, being the generous and humble guy he was, organised for us to stay in the monastery dormitory that night. He also stayed as he is currently in between jobs and had no plans. I love how he could just spontaneously join us. We spent the evening drinking tea and talking; about religion, the difference in our lives, relationships, travel, anxiety, love…Petar is not one to waste time on trivial matters and it was refreshing to talk to someone obviously so smart and interested in everything.

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The high monastary, built into the rock

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Impressive!

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Exploring by night

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Outside the monastery where we slept

In the morning singing from the church reverberated over valley in a wonderful and other worldly manner. The sun shone, promising another perfect autumn day. It felt like we were outrunning the bad weather again. The three of us left early and headed down the mountain and valley into Podgarica, the Montenegrin capital. Here we ate lunch in a park by the university that Petar had once attended.

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The road down

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more beautiful road..

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On the road to Podgarica

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Podgarica

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Outside the church Petar showed us in Podgarica

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Church and bike posing..

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Inside the church

It was now time to head to the Albanian border, just over 20km away. Petar decided he may as well join us right to the border. Unfortunately he hadn’t brought his passport, otherwise I think we would have continued cycling with us! The road out of Podgarica was awful at first, fast and busy, but luckily improved as we began climbing out of the valley and back into nature in the late afternoon sunshine.

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Looking towards Albania..

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Towards the border

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Lovely in the late afternoon!

At the border we said our goodbyes. Meeting Petar was certainly the best thing that happened to us in Montenegro. It made our brief 36 or so hours here so much richer, and showed us places we would otherwise not have seen. We may lead very different lives, and come from very different backgrounds, but this ride was a reminder of how human’s are kind and open, given half a chance.

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Thanks for everything!

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A pedal through the changing cultural landscape of Bosnia Herzegovina

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Bosnia Herzegovina. I am not really sure how to start this blog. There is so much I want to say and express. It is probably one of my favourite places in Europe, rich in history, culture and natural beauty. And it would be impossible not to mention the recent tragedy of the war and genocide that followed the break up of Yugoslavia in the early 90’s. But I guess I am going to pair it right back to how we experienced this varied and often complex country. It is far beyond the scope of this blog to delve into the complexities of the history and politics of this region. Although I will not completely omit them either.

 

We arrived in Bosnia Herzegovina over the Drina River, cars with Bosnian and Serbian number plates crossed the border seemingly without issue, and it was hard to believe that this area was once the site of major fighting. We pedalled a short distance into Bratunac to find food and an ATM (typical just arrived in a country activities). While I was in the supermarket Astrid got chatting to a man who invited us for coffee. When first in a new place it’s always so lovely to be able to speak to someone about the country, to try and get a sense of it. Our new friend had spent 25 years living in Britain and had only recently returned. He was frustrated by the corruption and slowness of getting things done, and he expressed a sadness about the huge divide that now exists between Serbs and Bosnian’s, which he said in his youth had not been the case. To clarify; there are three main ethnic groups in Bosnia Herzegovina; Serbs who are mainly orthodox Christians, Bosniaks who are mainly Muslim and Croatian’s who are Catholic. One can see how these ethnic divisions can easily be exploited.

 

With history and politics swirling around in my head we headed off, the sky felt heavy, the air was cold and damp. It felt like autumn had really arrived. Our road towards Sarajevo took us through an area that had been involved in intense fighting between Serbs and Bosnian’s (we went quite near Srebrenica). There had been massacres of entire Bosnian villages in this area.

 

Later, while eating lunch by a Church, we spoke about our first impressions of this new and complicated country. Firstly, there are many taps, which we loved. Water being freely available is a cycle tourist’s dream. Next, the Serbian nationalism in this area was potent. Almost every village had a Serbian flag. Many houses were literally painted in Serbian colours. I mean, nationalism and flags always make me a little uncomfortable at the best of times, let alone in the context of the recent history. Then there were the deserted villages and obvious shrapnel damage to the houses…what happened there? One shudders to think. We passed a Muslim graveyard too, a whole field of white pillars, eerie and silent in the damp afternoon. There were a few mosques as well, nestled amongst some of the villages we cycled by. How must it feel to be a Muslim in this part of Bosnia Herzegovina now?

 

The autumn afternoons were becoming shorter and not long after we began a gentle but steady climb, the light began to fade. In the last few days the weather had certainly changed; the Indian summer felt over. It was already mid October and the fact that it was only now getting cold was such a blessing. Finding a place to camp had an added difficulty here in Bosnia as there are still landmines from the war. From what I hear no one has been maimed or killed in quite a while (and the areas where they are appear to be signposted) but we were still wary of going off piste too much. We found an old mountain road, which definitely looked like it had been in use after the 90’s and pitched up on it, next to a creek. Over dinner I looked at the map on my phone; we had 96km to go to reach Sarajevo, including two big climbs. Our plan had been to reach it in two days, but with the drizzly, cold weather, another night in the mountains didn’t massively appeal.

 

The next day was Sunday and therefore pancake day, a tradition we had started in Iceland. Astrid has perfected the art of the vegan pancake over the last few months and it’s always lovely to have a break from our usual muesli with water and banana. Over pancakes and coffee we discussed the possibility of making it to Sarajevo. It’s always a bit exciting setting a challenge like this. Especially if there is a warm bed and a cold beer at the end of it.

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chopping banana for the pancakes..

We climbed all morning, a steady but constant gradient winding ever upwards into the Bosnian mountains. There was little traffic. We passed a few villages but mostly it was forest. Occasionally there was drizzle but the worst of the rain held off. It was cold and we both wore full waterproofs. Hard to imagine a week ago we were in t shirts in the sun. At the top of the first and hardest climb was a restaurant and we gratefully scrambled inside to get out of the cold and have something to eat. I looked at the kilometres. We still had 80km to go and it was 1.30pm. To hell with it: I emailed our host in Sarajevo (who owns a hostel) and told her we would probably be showing up later that day.

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checking the kilometres..

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A village in the mountains

A cold descent followed, through forest and then across windswept alpine meadows. I pedalled hard, trying to keep up with Astrid. After an hour we stopped and checked our map – we had done just under 30km. We could do this. I was starting to really enjoy the challenge, as was Astrid.

 

We stopped once more to stuff Burek into our faces and then climbed hard out of the valley. As we neared Sarajevo the traffic got heavier. I got surprised by a huge descent and found myself braking because the cars were going too slow. We flew off the mountain, through beautiful gorges and into another valley. It was cold and beginning to head towards dark. We put on more layers and braced ourselves for the traffic and the icy wind.

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Downwards..

At a petrol station we pulled up with 12km to go and the weather coming in. We needed a break though. It is sometimes these last few kilometres that can be your undoing. So we had a hot drink and ate a pack of crisps. Then we attached our lights and once again joined the traffic. It got a bit scary then, it was dark and busy and we needed to ride through quite a few tunnels. Riding close together we kept our nerves and our lives, and were soon in the city, amongst trams and traffic lights and people. One final insane climb and we reached our goal; The Doctors House Hostel, owned by the wonderful Cat who is also a Warmshowers Host. Cat wasn’t in but we were greeted by Riccardo who was not only doing a workaway there but also happened to have just cycled east Africa on a bamboo bike. Life.

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Cat’s wonderful hostel

We quickly settled down for an evening of beer and bike chat. It felt wonderful to have succeeded in our cycling challenge. My body ached in all the right places and I felt tired but elated. We now had several days off the bikes and one of our friend’s was arriving the next day.

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View over Sarajevo

Sarajevo. What a city. I visited 2 years ago with Misch (one of my oldest and closest friends), and ever since then I’d been keen to show it to Astrid. To me it feels like one of the most interesting places in Europe; the strong Ottoman influence meeting the distinctly European one, the beautiful architecture, the surrounding mountains, and of course it’s place very much in the centre of 20th century European history. The city of today dates back to the 15th century and the Ottoman occupation. When that empire began to crumble and lose its grip, it was occupied by the Austro-Hungarian Empire. During this occupation the city was industrialised and rapidly developed (it had the first tram in Europe). While the shooting of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in Sarajevo was the catalyst for WW1, it was certainly not the cause. Europe at that time was increasingly unsettled, with the major players all vying for power and new territories (not to mention colonies). After being part of the two Yugoslavia’s, (the Kingdom of Yugoslavia and the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia) when Bosnia Herzegovina declared independence, Sarajevo was subjected to the longest siege in the history of modern warfare. So definitely a place that has a varied and complicated history!

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Fuelled by falafel and a long sleep we packed up our bikes the following afternoon and headed the short way to meet Doug, who had kindly rented an apartment for us to stay in while we were all in Sarajevo together. After a lot of excited hugging and a cup of tea, the three of us headed off to explore the city. It was fun just to wander around the old bazaar, exploring narrow lanes, popping into tiny bars and marvelling at the architecture. The sounds, sights, smells, made me feel like I wasn’t in Europe at all. Then, walk a few hundred metres and we were surrounded by huge impressive buildings from the Austro-Hungarian period, complete with wide streets and trams.

 

 

Over the next few days we explored the old bazaar, watched the sunset from high above the city, visited the very disturbing museum of war crimes and genocide, went dancing at Kino Bosniak (highly recommend Monday nights!), had a fight with a stick (stick 1, Jude 0 – Astrid and Doug had to patch up my face), drank probably too much raki, went to an amazing vegan restaurant and had many chats late into the night. It is always so wonderful when friends visit and we both thoroughly enjoyed Doug’s company. All too soon it was time to bid Doug farewell, however with the hope we may see him again in a few weeks for Astrid’s birthday.

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Raki time!

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Patched up face..

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At Kino Bosniak

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cake!

After a day recovering from late nights and Raki at Cat’s hostel, it was once again time for Astrid and I to hit the road south. We had a two day pedal to Mostar in front of us and had read on the internet that the road wasn’t particularly nice for cyclists. I must say I was pleasantly surprised; the road wasn’t too busy and the end of the day brought one of the most stunning descents of the trip (unfortunately not many photos exist of this descent!). Our warmshowers host Orhan in Konjic would not hear of us camping, but instead gave us a room in his lovely hostel for the night. Konjic seemed like a great town to explore, but by now Greece was calling. In just a few short weeks 15 friends are meeting us for Astrid’s 40th. It would be rude for us not to be there.

 

 

We followed the Neretva River through narrow canyons, which included 8 tunnels (luckily not scary death tunnels). The last part of the day we were blasted by a ferocious headwind, which was exacerbated by being in a narrow valley. The riding was hard and we took it in turns to act as a wind break, the kilometres slowly ticking by. Our next host had a permaculture plot just outside of Mostar. Our kind of place. We had intended to stop there for a day and maybe help with some of the construction, or the garden. Sometimes things don’t go to plan though. The wind brought a huge storm which more or less raged for two nights and a whole day. Instead of gardening we pitched our tent inside Bambi’s greenhouse and spent a day drinking tea, eating, cuddling kittens and playing board games with another cycle tourist, Goren, and Dafni and Shilo, a couple walking through Europe, looking for some land to buy in order to start their own permaculture farm. I love how random the road can be and we definitely thoroughly enjoyed our time living in a greenhouse.

 

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Pomegranates!

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Happiness is a kitten and making pancakes

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Pancakes!

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The “little cat”.

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Had a great time with these folks!

Mostar also has a history of siege and division. During the war, the city was initially besieged by the Serb dominated Yugoslav People’s Army, and later by the Bosnian Croats from the surrounding mountains and buildings. I’ve seen footage of soldiers and civilians running across the medieval bridge (before it collapsed) under fire. It was strange to walk across it now in the cool evening air with only tourists around taking selfies. The old part of Mostar is magical but to me not quite as magical as Sarajevo. It is beautiful though; all Ottoman architecture, cobble stones and hidden bridges.

 

In Mostar we really began feeling that mental fatigue that creeps up on you unexpectedly. We had planned one night in a hostel after our time in the greenhouse and then a steady pedal over the mountains to Kosovo. For a few days we’d talked about maybe changing our route as time was running away from us, but had decided, no, we would head to the mountains. The morning we were to leave I felt so incredibly morose. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then Astrid turned around and said; “why don’t we just stay here today and ride through Montenegro and Albania instead? And spend your birthday at Lake Ohrid?” As soon as she said it I felt such relief. It’s funny, sometimes until someone verbalises something, you don’t know that it’s exactly the thing you need.

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Sniper Tower

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heading up to the roof

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Art in sniper tower

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Sniper tower was supposed to be a bank..

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On the roof

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Sunset beer

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View over Mostar

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More view

So we rested up in Mostar (attending to life admin which we’d very much neglected) before hitting the road south refreshed. Only we didn’t get far. It began to rain, then it began to pour. By 2pm after having explored Blagaj and the Dervish house, we were both soaked and freezing. There was no sign of the rain stopping. If we’d been somewhere like Iceland, where basic accommodation was often close to 100 euros, we would have had to suck it up. Here in the Balkans, we could pay much less than that for a warm apartment with a kitchen, fast wifi and a hot shower. So we did that and ate delicious curry and watched a BBC program. I just realised how British that sentence sounded..

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Dervish house in Blagaj

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The swollen river

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Last time i was here I ate where the water is now!

The rain stopped. We now had a couple of day’s cycle on a rail trail. Probably one of the last things I expected to find in Bosnia Herzegovina was a rail trail. But thanks to an EU project, an old rail line had been converted into a bike path. It’s amazing and we would highly recommend it (especially the unpaved part). The trail winds it’s way through rural Bosnia Herzegovina, passed tiny villages (with no bakeries!), along the Neretva river and then high up alongside the mountains, through hand cut tunnels. The engineering of this rail line was amazing. The cultural landscape had shifted again as we headed south of Mostar. Now instead of the Bosnian flag and mosques we were seeing catholic churches and Croatian flags. Croatia and the former front line was just over the hill. We rode passed signs warning against landmines.

 

You can actually ride all the way to Dubrovnik on the rail trail, although we turned off early, having already explored Dubrovnik on our way to London. We pedalled through what felt like ghost towns, with ruined buildings and hardly an occupied house. The rail line from the Austro Hungarian era closed in 1975 after the abolition of narrow gauge railway, but it was the war in the 1990’s that really laid waste to the area. This project to bring tourists back into the area is brilliant as cyclists, just by the nature of the way that they travel tend to spend local. I hope it will bring many cyclists to explore and revitalise this beautiful part of Bosnia Herzegovina.

 

On our last day we shopped at the local market in order to try and spend the last of our Bosnian marks, ate a huge amount of Burek, decided to cycle via the Croatian Coast (we were enjoying the warmer weather), rode 500m and then changed our minds and headed for the mountains and Montenegro instead. Just another typical day on the road south.

 

Music, Cycling, Beer…The END..kind of

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Getting on the ferry at the Hook of Holland

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Beer and concentration. I think I was writing the blog!

The ferry from the Hook of Holland to Harwich was lovely. We met several cyclists, all from the UK returning from shorter journeys on the continent. Beer was shared and stories told. It was good to see the cycle touring spirit alive and strong in the UK.

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Securing the bikes

By the time we docked it was early evening, I took in a breath of the fresh sea air and tried to take it all in. Reaching Europe way back at the Greek border had felt momentous, this felt even more poignant. Not only had we reached our final country, but we had also reached our new home. I look forward to getting to know you Britain.

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First few miles in England

The English landscape was immediately refreshing with its rolling hills and woodlands. I love Holland but it is rather flat, the undulations came as a relief. A few miles from the ferry port a pub offered camping for five pounds. After setting up it was time for a warm flat beer to celebrate arriving at country number twenty four.

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Five pound camping at the back of this pub!

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Warm flat beer anyone?

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First breakfast in the UK

It took us a day of steady cycling to get within striking distance of Cambridge. Gone were the well marked bike paths of The Netherlands. We were back in car country. Sadly England is not the most cycle friendly land we have come across, odd given its very strong history of cycling. Still, it’s not the worst place to pedal – although don’t try looking at the sustrans website as it will result in an instant headache and much confusion. No wonder there is a twitter feed ‘lost in sustrans’ (sustrans is supposed to be a cycling website). Our first day cycling through the English countryside had us on quiet hedged roads, through charming countryside and picturesque villages. Locals were friendly and it was a novelty to be able to speak English and cycle on the left side of the road!

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Beautiful England

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Morning market

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Lunch time

In the evening, struggling to find somewhere to pitch our tents for the night some lovely ladies on horses offered up the Parish Common (although if anyone objected we were not to tell it was them who had suggested it). But as night fell and we cooked our pasta, a few dog walkers curiously gazed at us but didn’t seem to mind our presence. It was a beautiful little spot, a pocket of wilderness in the otherwise quite gentrified countryside.

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The roads in England are small!

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Could this be somewhere to spend the night?

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Happiness is finding somewhere to call home for the night

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Parish Common camping. A table is such luxury!

A busy morning cycle saw us reach Cambridge to be reunited with Courtney who we had not seen since long ago Dushanbe. We had been looking forward to this reunion for months. Not only would it encompass the end of our journey, but also the Cambridge Folk Festival.

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Dushanbe reunion!

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Folk festival fox

Soon our tents were pitched under a tree and while people bustled around us still setting up, tea was brewed and we eagerly caught up on the last few months. There were many stories to share, especially about surviving the northern hemisphere winter mostly in the outdoors. It was interesting, although Courtney also loved cycling Europe, she too felt like something was missing. An edginess, a rawness, something. We all kind of missed the adventure of the world’s more far flung places and the challenges that come with that.

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Checking out the festival guide and making tea

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The first of many festivals we hope!

The four of us quickly settled into festival life. After a prolonged breakfast, usually involving eggs, copious cups of tea and reading we would eventually meander over to see the music. There was much dancing, cider drinking, exhausted moments of napping at the back of the crowd, dirty barefeet, beautiful music and generalised festival happiness. I suspect Cambridge will not be our last festival in the UK.

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Hooray!

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Vegie sausages and beer

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Once the long days of festival fun drew to a close the four of us packed up and cycled into the suburbs of Cambridge to meet Steve and Roxy. I went to school with Steve and had randomly remembered that he now lived in the UK. I had thought, why not catch up for a beer with an old class mate? What we got was much more than a beer! Steve and his wife Roxy generously invited us all to stay with them. What was even cooler was that Roxy is an avid cyclist and works for the Cambridge Cycling Campaign. Once again the universe provides!

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BBQ with Steve and Roxy

We were welcomed with open arms and promptly set about gently messing up their home as only post festival cycle travellers can. Later we caught up on life since school over a BBQ and a few beers (how very Australian). It was also really interesting for Astrid and I to hear about Steve and Roxy’s experience of living in the UK as we were soon to follow in their footsteps.

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A bike park house in Cambridge

The following day I did something I should have done ages ago – organised some of our photos. For anyone interested there now a slide show on our Flikr Page https://www.flickr.com/photos/foonsonbikes/albums/72157656344837999. Its rough and still needs a bit of work but it does show a bit of an overview. The main reason for this sudden and uncharacteristic spurt of organisation was because Roxy had asked us to give a talk about our trip to her colleagues at the Cambridge Cycling Campaign.

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Speaking at the Cambridge cycling campaign meeting

So in the evening the 6 of us pedalled into Cambridge, and Astrid and I, as well as Courtney, gave a small presentation about what it’s like being a cycling traveller. Thankfully when you are in a room full of bicycle enthusiasts it isn’t exactly hard to convince people about the merits of bicycle travel. No one looked at us like we had two heads or needed to be locked up. Everyone was full of excitement and sharing our stories felt completely natural.

Afterwards we went to the pub and continued on in a less formal setting aided by ales. We weren’t the only ones sharing information though. It was a great opportunity to ask everyone about how we should cycle into London from Cambridge. We got a lot of good information.

Steve and Roxy kindly let us stay the following day. We had planned to leave but somehow (the ales?) just couldn’t face the road. Instead Courtney and I baked a cake and we all drank copious cups of tea. It was such bliss to do almost nothing at all. The seemingly most mundane tasks are wonderful to the long term traveller. Give me a kettle, a toaster and wifi and I am endlessly happy these days.

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We took over the kitchen

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And made a bicycle birthday cake!

London however was calling. We left the next day but not before partaking in the age old tradition of punting. For anyone who doesn’t know what this is (I didn’t before) this involves sitting on a wooden boat (preferably with wine and cheese) while one person stands on the back and uses a long stick to propel the boat forwards. This takes some getting used to and a specific set of skills not readily found in the cycle traveller. Courtney and I prevailed and eventually got the hang of it. We punted up and down the Cam river, admiring the likes of Kings College. It was almost as idyllic as it sounds. The un-idyllic part was the occasional crash caused by either us or one of the other groups of beginner punters.

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Punting

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Punting is best when you have wine and someone else does the work!

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By the time punting was over it was time to leave town. For some reason my enthusiasm was low. We cycled about 10 miles before turning off a country road and following a small track to the edge of some dense woods. It was a lovely spot and the four of us shared the last of our wine and prepared our evening meal. Our peace was however soon disturbed. For the second time ever (the last time was in NSW) we were found by an initially hostile individual. At first he could barely comprehend what he had found and firmly but politely ordered us off the land which he said belonged to a farmer (his boss). He was quite civilised about it and we were allowed to finish our meal first. This bought us some time and the four of us used our considerable charms to draw our new friend into conversation. After 15 mins he kindly said we could stay and we were left in peace. Thank you.

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Heading out of Cambridge

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The camp where we got briefly disturbed

Our second last day started early as we wanted to be off the land before the workers arrived. Our route took us over rolling green hills, along cute back roads and into a cute village for cream tea. In the afternoon we reached the Lee Valley – parklands and canals not far from the M25 (the motorway that borders greater London). Due to our proximity to London I was a little apprehensive about finding somewhere to camp.

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Cream tea!

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On the road south

The universe more than provided. We asked some people who lived on the canal (we thought they looked suitably dodgey) if there was anywhere we could put our tent – ‘anywhere you like’ was the response we got. Soon enough, just over a small bridge we found a hidden clearing right next to the canal. Time to break out the Pims. Our ‘last’ night of freedom. There was even a place to build a fire. Incredible, here we were wild camping less than 40km from central London.

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In the Lee Valley

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A perfect last nights camp – with pims

It was a special night for us all because really it was the finale for everyone. Courtney who had basically cycled from Mongolia was soon to be swapping her bike for hiking boots, Vari who had come all the way from Reggensburg was shortly off to Latvia, and Astrid and I would soon be living a very different life. I tried to take the moments in fully, but these moments are often hard to capture as you are living them.

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Final day!

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Heading towards Waltham Abbey

Our final day dawned promising a lovely summer’s day. We had a quick bit to eat and cycled the 10km or so to Waltham Abbey. Here we were reunited with part of ‘the pod’ from long ago Malaysia. Charlotte, Ben and Kit had caught the train out early to meet us. What legends. It was a wonderful reunion followed by a champagne breakfast in some lovely gardens.

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Champagne breakfast. Ben your awesome shirt was so appreciated!

As we were preparing to leave Waltham Abbey I came across something I had been looking for for 2 days – onesies! It had been my dream to cycle into London wearing something outrageous. A onesie was my first choice. Sadly yesterday had proved fruitless in my search. But here, right in front of me were a a bunch of colourful onesies hanging on a rack. It was just too perfect. It hardly took any convincing. Soon Astrid, Courtney, Ben and I were clothed in our rather ridiculous new outfits, ready to cycle into the capital.

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Ready to go in our new ridiculous outfits

The cycle into central London was surreal. We followed the narrow canal path for miles, finally getting a glimpse of the iconic high rises. I was filled with a jolt of excitement. This was actually happening. More than 2 years of cycling and we were nearly there.

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South along the canals

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Not long and we were out of the parklands, stopping for a pint in a brewery (Crate) in Hackney Wick (soon to become one of our locals). Then with Ben’s expert navigation we pedalled through East london, took the walk way under the Thames and popped out in Greenwich. A small climb and we were suddenly 100m from the Greenwich Observatory. We both choked up a little as we slowly pedalled towards the lookout and then bought the Dirty Salmon and the Green Fairy to a stop. London spread out before us. This was it. This was the end. Although by now the concept of this being just a linear journey with a beginning, middle and end did not ring true. Sure, this was a kind of end, but also a new beginning. It was a moment in time. A moment in our lives.

Two years, four months, two days and three continents.

Time for a beer.

 

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We took a moment or four and then headed with our little team to Black Heath where more friends joined us. The afternoon was spent on the Heath sipping beers and enjoying the warm summer evening. It felt crazy and amazing to be alive, surrounded by friends, the sky streaked with pink, a new adventure waiting.

Love

Jude

P.S We plan to continue our blog. After this we head to walk across Spain, then onto the UK for a more settled adventure. We shall let you know how we go! Thanks for reading this part of our adventure. Love Jude and Astrid.