Beth and Mark's Gap Year 2014: Tour de France (and a bit of Belgium) 17 Aug

17/8 Trier

After leaving Candice at Baden Baden we take the German train challenge and see if we can take 5 trains in 4 hours to reach Trier. Some of the transfers are quite tight, and although it was always clear which platform we had to go to, it wasn't always clear just where they were. Platform 2 always seems to be adjacent platform 1, but thereafter you never quite know what you get. Sometimes platform 1 extends and becomes platform 14, sometimes in a station with 10 platforms there is a mysterious platform 105 hidden around the corner and sometimes you go to somewhere you think is platform 4, but it is really 4a. Occasionally we had the luxury of lifts at the platforms to assist us, but typically there were at least 2 sets of steps to negotiate to effect a transfer. A daunting task, but somehow we managed. Beth even thought on occasions that taking the cases for a walk around the station could be achieved between transfers. I was more conservative and preferred to wait for the connecting train at the platform even if we were 5 minutes early. Our closest call was actually when we didn't even have to change platforms, just walk from one end to the other. It seemed to be longer than some of the walks we have taken.

Trier was something of a disappointment upon arrival because our first glimpse after emerging from the railway station was of a scruffy, down at heel town. Our disappointment was amplified by the two kilometres we had to walk to our hotel. As it turns out though, the old town centre was only minutes away from our hotel, so accidentally we had stumbled upon a great location to stay (normally we would try to stay a bit closer to the station). Not only that, but the town centre was quite beautiful. The moral of this story is to never judge a book by its cover, especially when the cover is just outside the station gates.

Trier (which is the most westerly German city) is a spa town built on the site of an old and important Roman city, with a remarkably intact set of Roman buildings including the city gates, an immense bath house, a sports arena and sections of the ancient city walls. But in amongst this collection of Roman antiquity was also a very beatiful old German city, with a city square that impressed Beth as the quintessential Germany that she had expected but not encountered on our tour to date. Cobbled pavement, intricate and colorful facades, a fountain and of course a cathedral all contributed to this picture postcard image.

We only had one night in Trier, but in that time did our best to place a foot on every cobblestone in the place. We even walked the almost deserted streets after dark, when they were at their magical, twinkling best. You might imagine that given our limited time our focus whilst wandering would be old buildings, churches, Roman artefacts and such, and whilst a goodly amount of our time was so spent, it seems that shoe shops are also an important feature of any town, and not to be missed. Whilst we may not have quite trod every stone in Trier, I am pretty sure we visited each shoe shop at least once.

18/8 Cologne

From Trier we head to Cologne, where we have decided to spend three nights. The train trip from Baden Baden via Trier has been interesting. We have gone from a relatively affluent area to what seems a more gritty and industrial part, and that is reflected in the landscape. There are still pretty little villages on the horizon as we zoom past, but the views are interrupted quite frequently by factories and power stations and the towns we pass through are grey and crumbly. The old disused steelworks near Saarbrucken is no doubt a monstrosity, but there is a certain beauty in the abandoned rusty pipe work being slowly reclaimed by vegetation (albeit weeds). This is no tourist spot, but it would have been nice to get off the train and take some photographs.

I am not sure what I expected of Cologne, but it is not what confronted me. Despite Beth's constant encouragement I had not really read much of the Lonely Planet guide to Cologne. I knew it had a big Cathedral, but not much else. When I got off the train and started to head for our hotel, I felt like I had landed in a scene from George Orwell's 1984. There was wall to wall people wearing vacant stares moving quickly but seemingly aimlessly in all directions. I was conscious of the overwhelming presence of the enormous scaffolding clad Cathedral, which was blackened with soot and age and cast a giant shadow across Cologne. After about 10 minutes of jostling, the crowd thinned a little and we reached the neighbourhood of our hotel. You will probably not be surprised to hear that this did not appear to be the best neighbourhood in Cologne. Neither will you be surprised to hear that as we approached the address of our hotel, two sex shops came into view, and yes, sandwiched between the two of them was our home for the next three days. Oh well, once inside the neighbourhood became invisible and it was quite comfortable and close to the city, so we just needed to make sure that we did not linger too long outside the entrance.

After recovering from our initial shock we ventured out to discover the city a little and to get some dinner. Thankfully the crowds had died down (we think that we were unlucky when we arrived to catch the evening commuter peak), so moving about was a little easier. The weather was less than pleasant so we didn't wander much, just hung around in shoe shops for a while until it was time for dinner. Searching for restaurants is a tricky business, there are so many things to consider; price of course, placement of tables, windows and doors to minimise ingress of smoke; the general demeanour of clientele and staff is important; the food on offer; and the general ambience of the place. All these things must be assessed in the blink of an eye as you cruise past. In this case the now teeming rain and a general lack of establishments open meant that we skipped those other considerations and run into the first bar we came across. Whilst "seedy dive", is probably overstating things, it certainly was not the most salubrious establishment we had ever visited, but the service was good and the food fantastic and plentiful, so we were well satisfied.

Several years ago we spent a night in Naples which still causes me nightmares filled with noise, grime and chaos. Despite assurances since my moment of torment that Naples is a beautiful place, I am permanently scarred and unlikely to return. I have to admit that I was experiencing something of a Naples moment with Cologne, but we had three days here and Beth was not keen on me remaining in my room in the foetal position for that long, so we decided to take a long walk along the Rhine River which flows through Cologne. Although the weather was again inclement we had a lovely walk an experienced some beatiful gardens, some bridges, views back to the city, and of course the magnificent River Rhine. Just one morning of walking had rid me of my fears, and even got me thinking that perhaps Naples does need to be visited again (but not for a few years).

The afternoon we devoted to the Cathedral, and it is so immense that it really did require the whole afternoon. The Kölner Dom (Cathedral) was the tallest structure in Europe until Mr Eiffel built his tower in Paris, and it took about 600 years to complete. We climbed the bell tower of course and watched for the bell to be struck on the hour. To our disappointment, the huge bell we were watching remained still and a tiddly little one beside it tolled the time to the city of Cologne. The cathedral and the tower were wonderful, but the most interesting part of the afternoon was spent in the cathedral treasury. You expect a treasury to be filled with gold and jewels, and this one did not disappoint in that regard, but the treasures taking pride of place were the reliquaries of various saints and the Magi Kings who followed the star and saw in the birth of Jesus. A reliquary is a container (generally quite intricate and beautiful) for the relics (usually a bone or two) of people important to the church.

Because we were in the area and we had exhausted the tourist delights of Cologne, we decided to take a day trip by local train out to Bonn, the capital of Germany from essentially the end of WW2 until the reunification of Germany in 1990 when the capital returned to Berlin. On our way back to Cologne we would visit the small town of Brühl which boasts a couple of beatiful palaces and gardens, a favourite place of Charlemagne I believe.

Bonn is a small city which gives no real hints as to its important place in 20th Century German politics. Instead it is very keen to let its visitors know that this is the birthplace of Beethoven, whose image appears at every street corner. Even the graffiti depicts this famous son. No mention seems to be made anywhere that apparently Ludwig was not all that fond of his home town. A very pretty city, again on the beautiful Rhine River, which of course meant another nice long walk along the River and then a return stroll through the suburbs back to town. Brühl is one of those very rare beautiful places which tourists seem not to have discovered yet, and the few hours we spent there really did not do it justice. The town is pretty Ho-hum as small German towns go, but the palace and it's gardens are magnificent.

21/8 Aachen

Our final day in Germany is spent in the historic city of Aachen. Again we accidentally booked accommodation a long way from the station, but unfortunately there was no happy discovery of a great location (it was also a long way from the old city), neither was there any compensating joy with a luxurious room. This was the smallest hotel room I had ever encountered. Luckily the experience in Aachen made up for all of this. This is another spa city with Roman roots, and is perhaps most famous for it's cathedral which has been the coronation place for all the German kings since it was built by Charlemagne way back in the 8th Century, when he ruled his kingdom from Aachen. The old city is beautiful, and the cathedral is also beautiful, but quite curious because of all the additions made in different styles over the ages. It is not unusual for churches to exhibit a couple of district architectural styles, but I think there are about six distinct styles in this one. We were too stingy and time poor to take the guided tour of the cathedral, and chose instead to just look at the original chapel built by Charlemagne. Sadly there is no real trace of Charlemagne's castle, but Charlemagne himself is still in Aachen where he died some 1200 years ago. His remains are said to be contained in a golden sarcophagus behind the altar of the chapel. As he has endured at least 3 reinterments since his death, I am not sure that you can be totally confident that tbe remains in the box are indeed his. For those of you who do not know of Charlemagne, he was the king of the Franks (which included most of current day France and Germany, but was promoted by the Pope of the day to be king of the Holy Roman Empire, thus making him the king of most of the European continent. So I guess he was the EU back then.

22/8 Bruges

We have enjoyed our little jaunt around Germany, but the cakes are taking their toll, and it is time now to get back some fitness by cycling from Bruges to Paris, about 300km as the crow flies, but because we are not crows, it is going to take us 600km.

As soon as we set foot in Bruges we are reminded of the magic we experienced three years ago when we visited here. This is a truly remarkable and beautiful place. Bruges, which was an incredibly rich and thriving city, essentially fell asleep in the 16th century when its port (the chief reason for its prosperity) started to silt up. Basically the city became so poor that inhabitants left and investment in city development became impossible. This probably made Bruges a pretty awful place to live for a couple of hundred years, but the great thing for us is that we now have an almost entirely intact 16th century city, which has been .kissed by the prince of tourism and is in the process of living happily ever after. As we are only in Bruges 1 night, we do nothing touristy, just wander around and soak up the atmosphere of one of my very favourite places.

After catching up with some laundry, it was time to board our boat Fenix, an early 20th century gravel barge converted to carry passengers which will be our home for the next couple of weeks. We will sleep on the barge, and each day as we cycle toward Paris, the barge will go ahead of us and moor somewhere, and we theoretically catch up with it later in the afternoon. We then board the boat, have dinner, go to bed and do the same thing again the next day. The boat has 4 crew. The captain (Rhea), a general roustabout crewman (Rhea's partner Bas), the cook (another Bas), and the boat's owner Els (who does cleaning, shopping and the like). There are 17 passengers, 12 Austalians, 4 Canadians and one American. We also have a Dutch guide Jakob, whose job is to ensure that we don't get lost and to keep us informed about points of interest along the way. Importantly, he is also responsible for ensuring that we find good coffee and lunch stops.

Three years ago we did a similar bike trip from Amsterdam to Bruges, which was a real joy. However at the very start of this tour our hearts sank when we heard predominately North American accents when we came aboard. Whilst we don't have a dislike for Americans, they are typically (I find) quite loquacious and gushing, which in numbers can be a bit overpowering for introverted souls such as Beth and I. As it transpires we had not quite read the accent right, and the boat was full of Canadians (and not Americans), with whom we got on famously and had a fantastic trip. Needless to say when we boarded the Fenix to the sounds of Aussie accents our hearts sunk again. Whilst we don't have a dislike for Australians, they are typically (I find) quite.....Never mind. Hopefully history repeats itself and we have grand time.

Once on board we are shown our cabins (marginally larger than a size 10 shoe box), introduced to the crew and made acquainted with the ship and how it is run. Then we are allocated bikes which we take for a test spin to ensure they are comfortable and properly adjusted. These are good, solid touring bikes built for comfort, not speed. I am very pleased with mine, for no reason other than it's very distinctive bell which set it apart from all the other bikes which look exactly the same. You know how you have made a fool of yourself by trying to jump in the wrong car which looks just like your in the car park (or is that just me?). Well imagine if the car park had 17 others cars just like yours, how much a fool could you make of yourself then. I was thrilled with my distinctive bell.

Our test ride along the canal in Bruges was really so our guide Jakob could get a feel for our riding skills and ability to travel together as a group. To say we were a diverse group would ba an understatement. We had some people who struggled to keep a bike upright, we had one rider who had just come from doing four legs of the Tour de France, we had a 90 year old (yes you read right) who went pretty well on the flat but slowed (not surprisingly) on the hills, we had some who couldn't resist the urge to travel on the left and for some reason didn't understand Belgian stop signs, and nobody seemed to understand the concept of staying together as a group. I felt for Jakob, but he had clearly seen this all before and seemed unfazed.

Our shoebox was very cramped, but the bunk beds were reasonably comfortable and we slept well, although to compensate for the constant list of the boat and avoid a rush of blood to the head, Beth slept the wrong way around and became adept at turning the light on and off with her toes. Movement in the morning needed to be very regimented to avoid collision injuries. I would normally take first shower whilst Beth stayed in bed. Once I was finished it was necessary for me to return to my bed and stay there motionless and without any protruding limbs until Beth had finished. Then one of us would leave the room to allow the other one the space to do likewise. Unfortunately breakfast was not quite so orderly as our cabin manoeuvrings, in fact it was quite chaotic. 12 hungry Australians (with the Canadians not far behind) with limited food and limited space is not a pretty site. Luckily I had Beth with me, who can become quite fierce when someone stands between her and breakfast, so I was not often the hyena picking at the carcass of breakfast after the lions had finished. Breakfast was also the time where we were provided with provisions to make our own packed lunch, and this also induced something of a frenzy.

24/8 Bruges to Ghent

Still shell shocked from the battle of breakfast we assembled on deck with packed lunches in hand as well as all our clothing needs for the day to load into the panniers of our trusty steed before heading off. Our first days ride was to take us about 50km to Ghent mostly along the canal, which for Beth and I was going over old ground, because we did this part of the trip in reverse 3 years ago. Amazingly the group seemed quite cohesive and apart from a couple of minor mishaps, we reached our destination in one piece. The weather was overcast, but somehow we avoided rain, and the riding was very pleasant. Before heading back to the barge which was moored just outside the city, we parked and locked our bikes in the town centre and enjoyed a walk through the city led by Jakob. Ghent is a beautiful city, similar in many ways to Bruges with canals and old buildings, but a bit grittier and more workaday. Still plenty of tourists here, but they are outnumbered by the locals, which as Ghent is a university town, are predominately young.

25/8 Ghent to Oudenaarde

Day 2 takes us about 50km south to Oudenaarde. Again our riding is mostly along the waterways, in this case the Schelde River. The previous day we were all full of praise for Jakob for somehow managing to avoid the bad weather that was happening all around us. No such praise today, because heavy rain was our companion for much of the day. Jakob did redeem himself however with an inspired morning coffee break in an average looking cafe in a nondescript town that I cannot even remember the name of. What made it inspired was the coffee. For the princely sum of €1.60 we got a drinkable cappuccino, accompanied by an egg nog (heavily laced with some local rocket fuel), and a chocolate, all served with good humour by the proprietor. It almost made us forget it was raining outside.

Upon our arrival in Oudenaarde the rain persisted, so instead of exploring the city, we sat and drank coffee and chatted with some of our fellow riders until it was time to head to the boat moored out of town. Although Oudenaarde is a very old town with a rich history, it lacks the charm of Bruges and the vibrancy of Ghent, so whilst it would have been nicer if it wasn't raining and we could go discovering, at least we weren't missing a whole lot. One thing that Oudenaarde is famous for is its breweries, so given we were in town Jakob negotiated a tour for us (after dinner on the boat) of the last remaining traditional brewery making beer in copper vats. Tastings of course were included in the €7.50 price tag. For Beth of course, her €7.50 investment was recouped through acquiring knowledge of traditional beer making processes and the history of beer as related by our eccentric tour guide (over indulgence with the subject of his tour I think may have fuelled this eccentricity). For others in our party, the tastings offered a more attractive return on investment. I felt compelled to sample all three beers on offer, which as beers go were very nice, but this was enough for me, particularly because I knew I had stairs to negotiate getting to the boat. Others were less concerned, and our eccentric host seemed to think that it was important to empty the vats that he had just shown us. Some people didn't quite make it to breakfast the next morning.

26/8 Oudenaarde To Tournai

From Oudenaarde we head to Tournai, which is the oldest city in Belgium (whatever that means). Some of our number chose to stay in Oudenaarde a little later and visit the cycle museum there which did not open until 10:00am, well beyond our starting time of 9:00am. This means that rather than cycle today, they catch the train to Tournai and wait for us on the boat. A highlight of the ride today was one of the tougher cobblestones hills on the famous De Ronde Van Vlaanderen bike race. It was actually quite tough and only 5 of us attempted it. I would like to claim that stamina and superior fitness got me to the top, but I think a mixture of pride and dread fear of getting going again on the steep cobblestones kept me upright puffing and wheezing all the way to the top. Coming back down again to rejoin the group was quicker and easier, but still daunting over the slippery cobbles. Sadly, our friend the rain chose again to keep us company today, and was most attentive when flat tyres were being fixed (3 flat tyres today, the first of our trip), but this does not detract too much from a pleasant ride, and by the time we reach the boat, which is moored just in front of the beatiful medieval Pont du Trous bridge on the River Scheldt, the sun is shining, so Beth and I decide to make hay while it does and go for a walk through town rather than sit around on the boat munching on afternoon tea.

Tournai is a very pleasant little city with a big cobbled market square, impressive Hotel de Ville (we are now in the French speaking part of Belgium) or town hall and of course the obligatory large cathedral. The importance of this town historically demanded no less than a bishop, and of course you cannot have a bishop without a cathedral. As with many of the small cities and towns that we are visiting, you sense a long and interesting history, but they are not prettied up and the history is not flaunted to drum up tourist trade, but neither is it ignored. Historical buildings and monuments are well maintained and clearly the locals are proud of them. It is good to get away from the well beaten tourist haunts. The rain holds off after dinner, so the whole group follows our leader Jakob for another walk around town, which means we. Get to see what we saw earlier, but tuis time with some commentary to give it context.

27/8 Tournai to the town of nothing

Our next ride takes us to ???, which Jakob describes as "the town of nothing". No shops, no interestng history, no beautiful monuments, nothing. Presumably it is halfway between Tournai and Peronne, so therefore a good place to stop. The riding is very nice as we start to encounter the wide open spaces and rolling hills of Northern France. The little towns we pass through are also getting a little more interesting, but they seem all to be deserted. Jakob's explanation for this is that France packs up and goes on holiday during the summer. Despite the dearth of open cafés along the way, Jakob is doing a sterling job of pulling coffee stops out of his hat, often knocking on doors to negotiate a coffee fix for the group. He also manages to find good spots to eat our picnic lunch. Today the old abbey of St Amand provides a wonderful backdrop for lunch. Typically though, it is closed for visitors until after two, by which time we need to be on the road again.

Our plan today is to meet the barge before the town of nothing (about our 50km mark), to load up our bikes and travel with the barge to its mooring point. Jakob proposes though that those who are interested could pedal on for another 20km and meet the boat at its mooring place. Needless to say Beth's hand went up like a shot. About 6 of us volunteered for the extra ride, which was basically along the River and some adjacent billabongs (which are called something else here) and was quite delightful. About three quarters of the way along the trail, which seemed quite remote, Jakob made an abrupt turn to the right and a couple of hundred metres up the road we came to a very nice hotel opposite a beautiful lake. This said Jakob, was a place to rest, much nicer than sitting on a crowded boat. We sat for the best part of an hour, during which time beers were consumed (again I was only a minor participant, and Beth did not play at all). Not quite the same rate of consumption seen two nights ago at the brewery though, so we were all still in a fit state to pedal the last 5 kilometres to the boat. When we arrived at the mooring point we were quite surprised given our leisurely ride, that the Fenix was only just arriving. It seems that after leaving them earlier, the boat got stuck in mud, from which it took some time and much revving of the engine to extricate itself. Lucky it didn't have my weight to contend with, otherwise we might still be stuck there.

28/8 town of nothing to To Peronne

We are now in the part of France most ravaged during World War 2 and heading for Peronne, on the Somme River, where we will stay 2 nights. Again the riding is very pleasant as we pedal through little villages and up and down rolling hills through French farmlands dotted with war cemeteries. It is quite strange coming upon a beautifully manicured cemetery in the middle of a potato field. We stopped at a couple of cemeteries along the way, both the last resting place for mainly British soldiers. For some in our group, visiting war graves was the highlight of their trip, and they were eagerly anticipating a visit to the Australian war cemetery at Villers-Bretonneux the next day. These are certainly places to reflect on the dreadful human outcomes of conflict, and you cannot help but be touched by the sight of so many headstones each representing a life not lived nearly long enough, but for me they do little to really impress the horrors and ultimate futility of wars. We lunched at the second of these cemeteries perched on the top of a hill and in a farmyard, and alongside the road outside the cemetery grew a fine crop of wild Japanese raspberries upon which we gorged ourselves. Clearly our adversary the rain was little impressed by this gluttony, and so decided to send itself down upon us.

We rode a little in the heavy rain after which time it eased but did not entirely go away. We still had another 20 Km to ride, with a stop along the Somme River to visit the remains of some WW1 trenches before pedalling into Peronne to meet the barge. We reached the trenches about 6 kilometres from Peronne a little damp but relatively unscathed and in good spirits, which of course is a cue for more rain, this time heavy and incessant. For some reason, rather than take shelter under trees, some of our number decided it was sensible to push on through the rain. Not a popular decision with Jakob, who was struggling to contact the boat to confirm its location, and would have preferred us to stay put until things were clearer. But our new leaders (Jakob fell back sulkily into the pack) fearlessly and with no regard for personal safety pushed on towards Peronne. I think that perhaps they may have been infected by a germ of WW1 strategising which they picked up from the trenches. Needless to say, their policy of unrelenting advance was a bad one. We reached Peronne totally drenched (and let me tell you wet bike shorts are very uncomfortable), only to be greeted with the news that the barge had been badly delayed getting through congested locks, and would not be ready to meet us for two hours, and to make matters worse, opening hours for the locks meant that at best it could meet us 6 Km out of town, almost exactly where we had just ridden from. Had we waited, we could have pedalled the other way and met the boat a lot earlier. Instead we had to kill time soaked in Peronne and then pedal back 6 Km to the boat. Needless to say tempers were frayed, and not surprisingly, those most perturbed were the perpetrators of the dash to Peronne, and poor Jakob the guide was painted as the villain. Beth and I were mildly amused by the whole episode.

29/8 Resting in Peronne

Our boat set sail the next morning as soon as the locks opened to deliver us into Peronne for our rest day by 9:00. Most of the Australians on the tour were taking a taxi out to Villers-Bretonneux to visit the Australian war cemetery nearby, and this would occupy their whole day. We decided not to do this, but instead to wander around Peronne and catch up on some laundry. Peronne is a lovely place, but more touristy than anything we had seen for a little while. The tourist demographic here is really those interested in WW1 history. We visited the museum, which was quite interesting and totally WW1 focused. We are simple folk and get quite excited when we find a laundromat (Laverie in these parts) and successfully get all our clothes clean, so we returned to the boat in high spirits. This evening our chef on the boat has his day off, so we all walk into town to eat together at a restaurant recommended by Jakob. For €20.50 we ate the most magnificent meal. Jakob has certainly worked minor miracles when it comes to keeping us fed on the road.

30/8 Peronne to Noyon

After our rest day we have all forgotten our trying ride into Peronne and enthusiasm abounds. Even our 90 year old who has proven to be a testy little chap not generally satisfied with many things, is quite chirpy (Beth has decided that there is some alignment between grumpiness and longevity. Being good all your life I thinks qualifies you for heaven, but I think that the grim reaper puts off collection of all those good souls which are grumpy for the sake of harmony).

Our destination today is Noyon. Hands up those of you who know anything about Noyon. I hope not too many hands went up, because mine would not have before this trip. I turns out that Noyon is an incredibly important place in European history. It is the place where Charlemagne was crowned king of the Franks, and is also the birthplace and early home of John Calvin, a leader, along with Martin Luther in the Protestant Reformation of the 16th Century, which in short sought to reduce the unseemly obsession with wealth and indulgence which seemed in large part to define the Roman Catholic Church of the time and to shift the focus towards a more simple Christian faith which required no gold.

Apart from its famous sons, Noyon has evolved from an ancient Roman settlement and is really interesting. of course it has a Cathedral (the one where Charlemagne was crowned in 768), but also remains of the original Roman ramparts, and some wonderfully old buildings in the city centre. Sadly Noyon has been ravaged by wars, and much of its glorious history has been reduced to rubble, particularly in the two World Wars. The casual visitor could be forgiven for assuming Noyon to be just another little French village with an impressive albeit battle scarred Cathedral.

Our cycle to Noyon starts to give us an appreciation of the things most valued by French rural folk. Jakob's knack for finding good coffee stops is severely challenged in these parts and we are forced to resort to the Tabacs, which are the only things which seem to be open. As the name suggests, the clear focus of these establishments is supply of Tobacco, but some also do coffee (only one way - black, strong and in tiny cups - no need to bother asking for anything else), most sell adult movies, and often there are other blokey, redneck sort of things for sale, sometimes there may be one or two women's magazines or children's books available (generally on the same shelf as the porn). Very occasionally we have been able to get a little milk in these establishments to tone down the coffee, but generally you are seen to be a pansy if you need milk, so it is not forthcoming.

Toilets generally in this area of France have also been an education, particularly for women. For men there is generally the traditional urinal, but strangely this is almost invariably placed in the common area of the toilets where there is a shared wash basin, so for women to get to their toilet, they must walk past the often in-use men's facility first. Once inside the cubicle, the adventure is rarely over, and there have been some interesting toilet configurations to contend with, the most challenging being the floor level squatting toilets. Despite them being challenging, toilets have provided us with hours of entertainment during our trip.

31/8 Noyon to Compiegne

The weather has finally started to improve for us as we head closer to Paris. Riding is more pleasant, but the towns are getting a little bigger and there is more riding on roads and contending with cars which is at times challenging, particularly given the proclivity of the French authorities to put stop signs in the strangest of places. Our friend Keith, the 90 year old has been (begrudgingly) upgraded to an electric bike after several days struggling to keep up on the hills, which is a blessing to the group because we can now all travel together at a reasonable pace, but it is very stressful for those cycling near Keith, because now he can sail through red lights and stop signs at speed. Any attempt to suggest that he may be riding dangerously is quickly howled down. "I've been doing this for 40 years, and I don't need any young whipper snapper to tell me blah blah blah". We have now all given up and just wince when he approaches traffic. This man will not die of natural causes, I am convinced.

The ride from Noyon to Compiegne is very pleasant and takes us through forests and some very nice little French villages with stone buildings and cobbled lanes. All very pretty. It also involves a few hill climbs which test some, but the climbing muscles Beth and I have honed in the alps hold us in good stead here and we (particularly Beth) manage to be quite impressive.

A very interesting stopover (and lunching place) on the way to Compiegne is the armistice place. Hands up again those who know where the WW1 armistice was signed in 1918. For those with their hands still down, it was signed in a forest clearing somewhere near Compiegne where two local supply trains met. The German armistice contingent was on one train, and the allies were on the other. For three days these trains sat in the clearing whilst the terms of the armistice were thrashed out and finally signed in the ceremonial carriage of the allies train. A large commemorative plaque was later installed along with a statue of Marshall Ferdinand Foch, the French military leader who led an unrelenting allied team negotiating terms of the armistice. You probably already know that one of Hitler's key motivators was what he saw as unjust reparations forced on the Germans after WW1, and so in a nasty twist (in which I imagine he took great pleasure) after Germany took control of the French northern territories during WW2, he forced the French to sign an armistice in the same carriage in the same place, and then promptly ordered the whole site demolished.

The original armistice plaques have now been restored and a carriage identical to the one in which the armistice was signed is now in place at the site (unfortunately the original carriage did not survive the war), and there is a lovely little garden and museum, all basically in the middle of nowhere. This was an immensely interesting place to visit, and another intriguing bit of European history that I have learnt.

Compiegne is a beautiful little town which is home to a chateau built for Louis XIV and restored by Napoleon. It is a beautiful building with very nice gardens. Not quite Versailles, but very impressive. Compiegne is also the place where Joan of Arc was given up to the British, who then of course had her burned at the stake as a witch. Statues of Joan abound here. The final claim to fame for Compiegne is that it is the start of the famous (to some) Paris- Roubaix cycle race, and some in our group are quite impressed to be riding on these famous cobbles. Just another very unpleasant riding surface to me, but of course I don't utter those words for fear that I might also be burned at a stake.

1/9 Compiegne - Pierrefond Castle

We spend two nights at Compiegne, but the second day is not a rest, instead we ride 20 kilometres toPierrefonds castle. The original castle on this site was built in the 12th Century but almost totally destroyed in the 15th century, and it remained a set of ruins until the mid 19th century when someone decided to rebuild it. It seems that the brief was to rebuild as close as possible to the original, but it appears that the architect responsible was more in the" loosely based on fact" mould. The castle now standing is very beatiful and impressive, but apparently not quite identical to the original.

The cycle to Pierrefond is very beautiful and includes more of those hills and beatiful villages that we saw yesterday. Our coffee stop in the morning at the town of Vieux-Moulin was particularly delightful. We cycled through the streets of this beautiful little town (said to be a favourite place of Marie Antoinette) looking for a cafe, but alas nothing was open. Finally Jakob pulled up in front of the closed Auberge Du Daguet (a very fine looking establishment), and instructed us to wait there. He then disappeared around the corner. With Jakob, this often means he is taking a toilet break, so we all waited patiently astride our bikes. Five minutes later Jakob returns with the news that he has negotiated coffee in the restaurant. It turns out that he found the aged owner in his garden and convinced him that he needed to make us coffee. So here were we sitting in a swank restaurant being served coffee at €2 a cup by a old man in gumboots and gardening clothes. The old man was struggling with the coffee machine, so he went and woke up his son to come and help, which he did in good humour. The son we found out later is a superb chef. I am sure he found it amusing to be serving coffee at little return to some bedraggled bike riders off the street. You can never quite tell fact from fiction in these places, but evidently the room we drank our coffee in was often frequented by Marie Antoinette. The small chapel over the road was also evidently Marie's regular place of worship (when she was in the area presumably). Jakob had worked his miracles again, I think it may be Dutch bravado that helps.

2/9 Compiegne to Creil

We are now in the home stretch with Paris only a couple of days away. Our ride today takes us to Creil and involves more roads and more traffic. The towns are also getting bigger and more industrial and are starting to blend into each other. There are still pretty little town, but it is clear that we are getting closer to the big smoke.

Jakob has promised us again that three is not much to see in Creil, it is another town of nothing. We ignore him though and go exploring with some of our shipmates and discover that there is plenty to see, it is just not all pretty. Interesting though, and we enjoyed our wander through a rough and ready, authentic French town.

3/9 Creil to Auvers

Today's ride takes us to Auvers, the final home and resting place of Vincent Van Gogh. But before we go there we have a detour to the incredibly beautiful Chantilly Castle. This is an amazing place. It was bequeathed to the people of France on the death of its owner the Duc D'Aumale in 1897 on the condition that it remain exactly as it was when he died, and it appears that that condition has been largely met. Furniture is still in place, an incredible collection of painting adorns the walls (said to be the finest collection outside of the Louvre), and even the library is still full of the books collected by the Duc. The building itself is absolutely beautiful, but the gardens are also sensational and huge.

Chantilly is the centre of the world for French polo devotees, and while we were there they were preparing to host the European championships the next week, so the place was a hive of activity as everything was being trimmed and tidied. Sadly we only had a couple of hours to spend at Chantilly when we could have spent days.

You may be sick of coffee stop stories, but I must share this last one. On the way to Chantilly as we were cycling down a delightful country road with polo fields on either side, Jakob bought us to a halt on a bend and again ordered us to wait there. "There" was a car park full of fancy cars outside of a pretty flash looking stable. Jakob wandered back after a few minutes and whistled us in. Coffee this morning was to be taken at the Chantilly Polo Club. Luckily there didn't seem to be too many members present and we didn't look terribly out of place.

A huge day was topped off by wandering through the delightful village of Auvers and out to Vincent's final resting place. Van Gogh only spent three months here, but they were the most prolific of his life and produced some of his most admired works. It is also the place where he took his life as lovers often do (but I could have told him "Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you"). There is something special about wandering the same streets as this great artist and seeing the same sights which he transformed into beautiful paintings.

4/9 Auvers to Bougival

Today is our last day of riding, because tomorrow we will sail into Paris (much safer Jakob assures us than cycling), the cycling is mostly along the River, but again traffic is difficult to avoid. The riding is nonetheless pleasant, but unexceptional. Even the coffee stop was a bit Ho-hum. So to spice up our day Jakob offer the opportunity to visit the old Chateau at St Germain en Laye, which offers beautiful views of Paris, the only problem was that a steep climb was necessary. About half of us chose to go and be others went directly to the boat.

The ride up the hill was indeed steep and was made quite interesting by major roadworks which had the effect of mixing us quite tightly with unhappy delayed French drivers. Despite this we made it to the top and found Jakob true to his word. This was a beautiful place. Unfortunately the day was quite hazy and the views were not quite what get could be, but we still enjoyed it.

5/9 Bougival to Paris

Without a doubt the best way to enter Paris is by boat. Even though yesterday's smog has stayed with us today it is amazing floating down the Seine and seeing all the glory of Paris laid out before you. I have done Seine River cruises before, and they have been great, but to be entering the city via the River, on a small boat and in good company is a very special feeling which I will long remember. Strangely though (because I love Paris), once we were off the boat and wandering the streets I couldn't wait to leave this city. Paris as a destination is magic. Paris as a transit stop is a grubby, creaking and crumbling monster smelling of urine at every corner and infested by low lifes. Funny how the same place can wear a different set of clothes depending on circumstances. Despite my lack of joy at being in Paris, we managed to do some sightseeing and to visit the L'Oragerie of the Tuilleres museum which houses Monet's famous water lilies. This is something that Beth has wanted to see for a long time but we have never quite got around to it. It was well worthwhile.

I have not spoken much of our shipmates on this trip. One of them is a talented artist, who drew some clever caricatures while we were on the boat. I said of his picture of me that as a caricaturist he had been too kind, and he said it always worried him that the subjects of his pictures might be upset by what really is the truth, so he tended to be cautious. My word caricatures of our shipmates would not be too kind, so I think that best I leave those alone. We were a diverse lot, and although we were worlds apart we got along OK and Beth and I enjoyed the challenge of dealing with other people at close quarters for a change after just having each other for so long. Some of us exchanged details, and Beth and I fully intend catching up with two couples from Perth who we got along well with on the trip.

From Paris we head to Austria where we meet up with a close friend of Beth's and her daughter to gowalking in the Dachstein alps. It will be good to discard the cycle pants and pull on walking boots again.