The Pan-Eurasian Bike Trip

I read a book recently where the main character always described everything as "just so f$%&ing real", everything was just so f&%$ing real. We were seated in our suits on the side of the street when Adrian pulled up and the only way I can describe that moment is so F%&$ing real.  For almost 8 months that life on Cape Cod has existed solely in my head, it was almost imaginary, when suddenly out of nowhere a real and tangible character stepped out of taxi into the Idiots world and just said "hey guys".  I am a week in and I still look over and want to pinch Adrian just to see if this is really happening.  And craziest of all he came to ride! He was introduced to our lives quickly as upon arrival we discovered that there was no bike for him to ride, even though he had rented one that was to be delivered to the hotel, there was nothing.  Our first bike trouble day off followed as we waited for the rental company to drive the bike all the way from Madrid to St. Jean, welcome aboard Adrian, you´re officially the Third Idiot.    It was awesome to see someone get excited for their first day ride, trying to figure out what to wear, how much should I bring to eat etc. Adrian was on cloud nine with excitement to get out there and it was catchy, Levi and I both got that same first day feeling which was nice.  The weather could not have been better, there had been snow in the Pyrenees earlier that week but as we climbed, we could only find little traces on the side of the road, we were in tee shirts Basque-ing in the sun climbing into Spanish Basque territory.  It was a long climb, we took it slow, but it was obvious that Adrian´s constant training meant he was going to fit in find with the Idiots.  Finally we reached the summit, marked appropriately enough with a church (there is a lot of praying when you reach the top of the Pyrenees and realize that was only the first 26k), it was the nicest day Levi and I had seen in months, you could see all the way down into the far valleys.  The day was finished with Adrian staying in his first pilgrim hostel, also probably the least pleasant of the whole trip, a cramped room with shaky bunk beds and a demonic shower.  Last time we were there a pilgrim walked in, took a smell and said "Ugh this place reminds me of Iraq", still not sure what that means but it seems to describe the hostel perfectly.
Levi and I had been really worried about what the weather was going to do, and we were hoping that Adrian´s first day or two might at least be not too miserable. We didn´t even remember the last time we had seen weather as nice as the next few days (probably Russia), it was amazing.  The beginning of the camino is one of the most beautiful parts anyway, but we spent 4 days just cruising, eating outside, something we hadn´t done in months, it was great and Adrian was fine with the pace.  We took a day off in Pamplona, discovered a street that seems to mimic certain "look the other way" policies of countries of Holland and Jamacia. Everything was going great.
Fast Forward 3 days...
"Whew that was a close one, I was going to stop whether you did or not here."
"Adrian you don´t need to worry too much, I will always stop every 20 k so that we can get the feeling back in out toes."
"Has it been this cold before on the trip?"
"Not really, usually it is about 3 degrees Celsius warmer but raining and windier"
But it was cold, real cold as we climbed up the mountain pass and the snow began to really come down. Things had changed, it was impossible to be on the bike more than an hour without warming up for an hour.  We got off the Camino and on to the quicker road, we were going much farther each day because we no longer stopped for coffees in the street, or hunted out stamps at churches. We just rode.  Finally one day it really began to snow, actually accumulating. Levi and I decided to take a day off, assuming that it would just be a little bit and tomorrow it would be gone or cleared and we could continue our ride.  We awoke to 6 inches on the ground and suddenly the bike trip came to a standstill in Carrion des los Condes, try as we might we could not stay on the bikes for more than a half pedal before falling in the snow.  We were supposed to head into the mountains in two days, be in Santiago for Christmas with some of Adrian´s family on the 24th and be in Porto on the 28th, snow, or at least a snow storm wasn´t in the schedule and I couldn´t seem to make it fit. 

We did what we had to do, and really what any reasonable person would do, we walked to the bus station (not without Adrian taking a "graceful" fall off the bike), and joined the 3 other pilgrims waiting for the bus.  We went to Leon to monitor the situation and forget our troubles on Leon´s "look the other way" street, with days fading fast we decided to go about 100 km away from Santiago and ride in from there and then go directly to Finisterre on the coast of Spain, that way we would miss the unridable mountain passes, but still ride to the ocean.  It didn´t make anyone particularly happy but it was a workable option that didn´t involve a complete bailout (did I mention that the weather forecast is rather heavy on the word snow for the coming days?).
Today we found ourselves on the train, on our way to a town in the valley between two mountain ranges, where we have to transfer to get over the next set of mountains.  We are spending the night here at a pilgrim hostel, the attendant seems to think that the roads are clear enough that we can take a main road through the mountains tomorrow. Might as well try right? Just gotta get down before the snow storm for Monday moves in, but that´s why I brought my road bike.

There are many people that can be blamed for the situation I am in right now, and most of them have gotten their come uppance. Certainly I have gotten mine for carrying through with this "vision", my parents who so many years ago decided that instilling a good sense of adventure in their son by taking him on family vacations to Europe have suffered by having to worry constantly as we slowly made our way across Siberia, but so far there is one person who has made it out scott free, just reading the blogs and laughing...

"Morning guys"
"Hey Adrian" the over tired wait staff replied. It was August, Nate Tarvers and I were heading into senior year of high school and we were both looking for a way out of that inevitable immediate transition to college, but right now we were just thinking of how well coffee works in August to keep you going. 
"Hey Ell check out this article I snipped out of the New York Times this morning." Adrian said with that wonderful positive enthusiasm that I curse when I am riding in the rain and wind.  "There is this mountain bike trail across the Rocky Mountains from Montana to Mexico, I guess it is the world's longest mountain bike ride. Sounds amazing, you like biking you should do it."
By the time the words were out of his mouth Nate and I already had the article in hand and were working out the details of the trip.
" We could leave the end of next summer and ride it in the fall, we would have to take a year off, but..." We looked at each other with a glow of excitement, we'd found it.
I took that year off, we went out west biking for two months and all I could talk about during my first year at Alfred University was the bike trip and doing another one, and we know of course who I did most of that talking to.

So now it is Adrian's turn, he got me into this mess, and on the 7th of December he is going to help ride me out of it.  We are going to ride the Camino de Santiago, the ancient pilgrimage trail to Santiago, where the devout religious and the devout adventurer alike have been trekking to Santiago, Spain from as far away as St. Petersburg, Russia (and now Vladivostok). He will be the Third Idiot and perhaps the biggest one, having followed all the trials and tribulations he still wants in, you can follow him on the website, www.paneurasianbiketrip.com (shameless promotion I know).

But that of course is jumping ahead first Levi and I had to make it to St. Jean Pied de Port, the traditional starting point of the Camino de Santiago.
The weather for the last month has been so bad that it has transformed the entire structure of the bike trip, where as before we used to stop constantly and hang out, we now don´t stop at all, I see Levi in the morning  we go over the route and then I stop at any point where there is a change in direction or an unclear sign, and we take that segment together and then separate, eventually stopping to hang out and eat at night in the hotel room.
The first day out of Futurscope was no different, weather was crappy and we hopped on the "buses" and started riding.  I stopped at the first turn and waited for Levi to catch up, and waited...and waited, "Must have a flat" I thought. I turned back and retraced my steps eyeing as I went a small road off to the right "he wouldn´t have gone there would he?" I went half way back to Futurscope, and then decided there was nothing I could do, Levi knew the name of the town and the road we were taking, he would get there right, he might even have corrected his mistake and was now ahead of me. 
The weather got worse, the rain turned to driving hail, I was alone and flying fast along the road, our waterproof gear is not what it once was and made for miserable riding, I was just hoping that Levi would be at the town when I got there. He wasn´t of course, and I was shaking, it was freezing on the bus, I think the driver left the door open, it was Sunday too, everything was closed, but I stumbled into a small bar that gave me a good spot to look out for Levi.  You can imagine the looks a soaked shivering cyclist with hail in his beard gets walking into a small town coffee bar on a Sunday afternoon, but everyone was very accommodating and my hot chocolate was delicious (as were the coffee, the next hot chocolate and the final coffee as I waited for Levi to arrive and my core temperature to rise). 
He came in finally soaked and weary as well, we had both ridden almost twice the distance we needed to that day, and we compared notes and had a good laugh, our first separation in 7 months. 
We continued on to Congac, the home of all your favorites that I can´t spell, Hennassy, Courvousier, Martell, etc. We took another bike trouble day off, and for the first time in a month we saw the sun, of course.  But sun and Cognac go well together.
 
Our bike trouble put us behind for the 1 millionth time during this trip and once again the idiots found themselves stepping out of a day off ready to push one more time "the push to end all pushes".  We raced through one of the most interesting parts of France yet, a national park/logging camp.  It is a huge forest, beautiful and partially scarred from logging.  The roads were deserted except for logging trucks and military vehicles, very strange place.  Eventually the forest gave way to the mountains as we climbed for a few days to St. Jean Pied de Port, the beginning of the End.  We exchanged congratulations and enjoyed our last night before Adrian joined us.
ellski

It is much easier and funnier to write about the harshness of the weather or  to tell the stories of missteps and blunders of the bike trip, than to write about the beauty of the country side or the wonders of spending months on a bicycle.  But sometimes I think that you might get the wrong idea of the bicycle trip, and so just for Thanksgiving I will try and give a more positive look to the bike trip. Just as a side note, the weather has in no way improved (don't tell Adrian but we have experienced some hail recently), our radiators are covered with smelly socks and dirty bike shorts every evening).

For thousands of kilometers Levi and I talked about where we are now, it was the dream. Siberia is fascinating an amazingly beautiful place, but there are an awful lot of birch trees for your eyes to scour and things move slowly, 1600km of mountains, then a city, 1000km around Lake Baikal and then a city. Things are different now, you are riding through the heart of Europe, a place where Pilgrims have walked in search of religious fulfillment for centuries. If you are not in a small town then you are in a city, we now avoid cities as too many red lights slow us down.  Everything is closer and more manageable, what you lose in adventure you gain in comfort.  The search for coffee?? Those days are over, there is so much good coffee that I can barely steer the bike my hands shake so much.

The tents rest quietly and untouched in their bags on the backs of the bikes, only moved to get to the clothing bags underneath, camping is a thing of the past for us, instead more often than not you will find us in a small bed and breakfast not unlike the ones that you dream of for your own European travels.  We stayed at one the other day, off in the middle of nowhere, it was a small French chateau, for some reason it was incredibly well priced.  It looked distinctly like a place that should not be admitting cyclists, due to smell alone, but they were more than willing, we had  a great breakfast featuring over 50 varieties of home made jam, and as we were leaving (in the rain and wind) the owner came running out with a jar of the jam "a little piece of sunshine for you." I am doing my best to save it as a gift for my mother, who would appreciate it more than me, but any food on my bike is subject to spontaneous Sunday eating, as I usually forget to buy food for Sunday.

I talk all the time of the battle against the wind and rain, but recently there has been a dramatic change in the battle. I stopped fighting. I have pretty much always looked at the days ride as a bike ride, cycling is my favorite past times and I like to push myself, trying to keep up a good pace. But having faced a month of intense headwinds and a go nowhere pace, I stopped.  Now I cruise, and I have discovered that cruising causes me not to notice I am cycling at all. What happens below my torso has no effect on me I just am in my own little world watching the small French towns pass by.  I just get lost in my own thoughts and watching the French country side (the fox hunts, the mushroom pickers and grape vines being tended for winter)
I've taken to referring to my bike as "The Bus".
"Boy it is windy on the bus today, and I think there is a hole in one of the windows, cause I seem to be getting a steady stream of rain on my bus, what about yours Levi?"  So really I don't battle I just kill a bit of time until the next bus stop.

And a bus trip across Europe is really quite interesting, I am often transported into the same mindset I had as when I was a kid traveling with my parents. I always would stare out the window as we cruised through the mountains and hills of Europe and wonder about the little details of the towns, those little caves in the side of the cliff with an ancient padlocked gate in front, "is it a mine or just a little shelter for cattle, a well?" Or perhaps you wonder what that word you keep seeing in French is.  You watch the farmers get the fields ready for winter (we have now gone full cycle with the farming scarily enough).
For me it is a scary test of my history degree (and I seem to fail quite often) as Europe is a place that one cannot go a half inch on the map without finding ones self in the midst of a battlefield you can't quite remember the protagonists of or at the birthplace of a historic figure you can't quite remember why they are important.  In the last weeks we have gone past the battle field of Waterloo, seen Marcel Prousts home town and Cardinal Richelieu's home town (conveniently called Richelieu) and many more that I have failed to recognize.

This is Levi and I have now shared  3 Thanksgivings together disturbingly enough.  The first one was at my parents house about 6 years ago while we were going to school at Alfred University a typical college Thanksgiving where one is so hungover from "meeting up with old friends" that the turkey still tastes like beer.  The last one was on the Camino de Santiago. It was the night before the biggest climb of the trip, Levi and I wound up hitch hiking back 10km to the last town in search of a good party, only to find ourselves quite drunk alone in a town which did not have "a good party" at four in the morning.  We tried desperately to trudge through the muddy cow pastures to the highway in a pathetic attempt at hitch hiking we gave up and started walking home, only to find a couple of teenagers who were game for an adventure, we got in bed by 6 for the hardest day of the trip.
The third Thanksgiving wasn't like that, not even remotely.  It was a long day on the "bus" once again filled with rain and wind.  We had been doing some vague talking about the big Thanksgiving meal, a rotisserie chicken, a heaping pile of yogurt and granola (a bike trip staple) but it seemed like the meal was destined for delay, we just didn't feel the need.  But then we hit Futurscope, France.  Apparently right around the time that Paris was building EuroDisney, Poitiers, France decided it was not to be outdone, they built Futurscope.  It is a rather bizarre futuristic theme park outside the city, when it first was unveiled 20 years ago it must have been quite a site, but just like watching those 1950's "the house of the future" segments on TV it seems a bit dated. It just kind of looked like modern city center, but instead of surrounded by a huge metropolis, it was surrounded by highways and open pasture (and our reason for staying there, cheap hotels).  It was also completely empty, it appears that Futurscope has had a difficult time selling it's formerly state of the art business offices, everything was showing it's age.  We couldn't even find a internet signal in the whole place.  We did stumble across a buffet restaurant though and so Thanksgiving was saved. We hadn't been out to eat in what seems like months, so we put on our suits and went out for perhaps one of the nicest meals of the trip, although the French waiters perhaps didn't see it that way as the two Americans in poorly cut suits helped themselves to an undisclosed number of trips to the buffet line, but hell, we tipped well.
Ellski