Day 11, Lake Garda to Venice 1905KM

Today was the hardest day of all. I underestimated the final day, assuming it would be a gentle stroll from Garda to Venice; on a map it doesn't look far, and it should have been 140KM, no more no less.

Also I let my mental guard slip- the one thing that has sustained me for the whole journey. It's fair to say I'm no athlete, never have been and probably never will be, but what sustained me, through the saddle-sore, the descent from Grd St Bernard, and the long, boring distances in the heat, was the mental endurance that had increased and hardened since leaving the UK.

So, by midday, I was worn out and lazy- couldn't get comfortable on the bike and got frustrated with the traffic near Verona. I ended up on two motorways by accident, got lost in the complex road systems of Verona, Vicenza, and Padova, and found myself swearing, shouting and cursing for most of the afternoon. The route for bicycles between these cities is not marked, and since you aren't allowed on either dual carriageways or motorways, you have to go from village to village, often using the position of the sun as a rough guide of which direction you are headed.

In addition to this, Italian road signs are useless. Twice I read signs that said "Padova 30KM" and "Vicenza 13KM", only to read a kilometre down the road "Padova 45KM" and "Vicenza 30KM". Psychologically that was draining.

However, when I was 30KM from Venice, a cyclist from Senegal called Papi teamed up with me and we cycled on towards the lagoon, and he showed me the short cut through the industrial port of Marghera. Papi- thanks, I got there in half the time thanks to you. The day ended up being 220KM, about 80 over budget.

Cycling down the causeway to Venice in the sunset was spectacular





And arriving in Venice Aunt Marina filmed, and choreographed, the arrival.



A huge sincere thanks goes to everyone who supported and took interest in this adventure, which has so far raised £1,450 for Kalayaan. Thanks go to: Kate and Camilla at Kalayaan for helping organise the fund-raising; thanks to my former colleagues at Linklaters for the encouragement and the hugely generous gift of the pannier set; thanks to Linklaters Community Investment for the generous contribution; thanks to the Garnham family (Claire, Andrew, Sandy) for the support and belief in me; thanks to all the Robbins', mum and dad for the continual support, Seb for the pre-trip training, Con for the superb camera, Jonnie for the essential tips, hints, and belief in me, and Alex for the cycling wisdom and inspiration; Marina, for being there and looking after me when I arrived in Venice; anyone and everyone else who I might have missed out; all the generous people who I met along the way- helping me out with food, showing me the way to bike shops, assisting in map reading.

Until the next time, god speed!
Ollie



PS- the justgiving page stays open for another 40 days or so, so if you'd like to donate to Kalayaan go to www.justgiving.com/oliver-robbins

Day 10, Vercelli to Lake Garda 1682KM

I woke up early in Vercelli, hoping to cover 250KM to reach Lake Garda, leaving 150KM to get to Venice. This would be, I estimated, the longest cycle I'd ever done, and several people had told me that the route was completely flat from here all the way to Venice. Also, there was a slight west-east tailwind, so I reckoned I could cycle at around 30KMH for most of the day.



I arrived at Lake Garda, perhaps the most beautiful lake in Italy, at about 6pm, having done 243KM. The campsite was rubbish though- stuffed to breaking point with tourists who just stared and stared at my ridiculous tan lines on my arms.

Day 9, through the Valle D'Aosta to Vercelli 1439KM

Day 9 took me right into the heart of Italy, into the rice-growing region of the Po Valley. After the mountain I was feeling quite lazy, and ended up in a town called Vercelli, south of Milan. There was no campsite, so I ended up staying in a run-down hotel called 'il croce di Malta' (the cross of Malta). 25 euros a night, broken glass all over the outside area, mangy dogs running around, and drunks leaning against the rusty railings on the pavement.

Because of the rice-growing in the Po Valley there are swarms of mosquitos at particular times of day- one hour in the mornings, and between 8 and 10 every night.

Here's a vid of the cycle down from the mountains into the flat plains of the Po Valley.

Day 8, Col de Grand St Bernard 1292KM

After a blissful sleep in what is called a 'bed' on Friday evening, I spent saturday beside Lac Leman and then found a campsite beyond the eastern side. For a week I have been sleeping in my tent with no camping mat, as there is no room on my panniers. You get used to it, but it is far from comfortable and sleep is never unbroken.

Here's a video I took while cycling alongside Lac Leman on the saturday:



Beautiful scenery.
So, day 8 began late, as per usual. I didn't realise how far I had to go until I reached the foot of the 27KM climb up to the top of the Grand St Bernard. Here's how they do it in the Tour de France:



The climbing wasn't too steep for the first 18KM, until the motorway tunnel which goes through the mountain. Cyclists and walkers take a road that skirts around the tunnel, and then you emerge on the steepest part of the climb. The temperature dropped considerably- every 1000 metres in altitude the temperature drops 6 or 7 degrees, but the weather was still pleasant at this stage. After the tunnel I had to start walking as it became just too steep. I passed a couple from Hungary called Gabriele and Ramsay, who had cycled from Hungary to France and were now on their way back (insane!). They had twice as much stuff as me, too. I think it's fair to say they set the bar much, much higher than me.

Reaching the summit



Brother Alex had insisted that I film the descent into Italy. However the weather was so bad and the road so treacherous that I couldn't film any part of it. The general idea with mountain climbing is that the ascent is the masochistic challenge; the descent is the reward. However, for me, the descent was the worst part. Freezing cold, continually raining, I had my hands on the brakes the whole way down, for about 20KM until I reached Aosta in Italy. The brake pads had almost worn out, leaving a thick grey sludge all over the brake system. The pain in my wrists was intense from the pressure I had to exert on the brakes. It was horrible, truly horrible. My wheels were aqua-planing the whole way down, and the torrent of rain had created streams across the road, strewn with grit and stones.

Gabrielle and Ramsay turned up at the same campsite as me an hour and a half later, in complete darkness...

Day 7, Lons-le Saunier to Lausanne 1120KM

Here's where the fun starts- mountains!
The climb out of Lon-le Saunier was impossible, however. It started off at 13%, for two miles, with absolutely no shade whatsoever, so I felt pretty useless at having to walk for the second half. Luckily though the climbing became longer, but easier further along the route.





I did the 7KM climb with three French lads, towing them along behind. They had mountain bikes but were pretty good climbers, and showed me how to get to the Swiss border at the top.



Once I had passed through the border into the secret land of pocket knifes, quartz watches, old-fashioned currency, chocolate, and dodgy banks, I descended to Lac Leman, at times reaching speeds of around 70kmh

Day 6, Avalon to Lons-Le Saunier 968KM

Today took me into the Alps, or at least the foothills near Dijon. As it turned out, the parents were stopping off to see friends in Lausanne, Switzerland, on their way back from Italy. I'd only found this out two days before on the phone, but as I'd planned (vaguely) to pass near Lausanne I thought I'd at least try to meet them their. My progress so far had left me with 350KM to do in two days, and suspecting that the friday would be hillier, if not mountainous, I aimed to do at least 200KM today.

So, I woke up at seven and was on the bike at eight. The road out of the campsite was a 10% climb, perhaps 200 metres in height, winding up to the town where I took breakfast. That was one way of waking yourself up...

Although it wasn't particularly quick cycling, I arrived at a place called Chagny at lunch, having already done 120KM.



215KM later I arrived in Lons-Le Saunier at a great campsite. This was the furthest I had ever cycled, and my legs still felt reasonably supple, so my fitness was definitely improving with each day.

Day 5, on to Avallon 753KM

Today I arrived in the Bourgogne region, which is mainly marked by forests and undulating hills. Saddle sore was really starting to kick in, and it was trying to describe it to a French pharmacist without making lurid hand gestures that seemed to make it worse.

Day 4, on to Montargis 598KM

Today's destination was a place called Montargis, at the start of the Bourgogne region. Today was tougher than the day before, as I was dealing with crosswinds and headwinds.

Day 3, Normandy to Chartres 452KM

Had some distance to do today, the sun was hot, and my legs felt fresh



and then I found somewhere twinned with Stowmarket



Futher down the route one of my panniers partly came off- I hadn't been checking the nuts and bolts and one must have come loose (idiot!). So I looked for the nut and bolt for a good hour, until giving up, doing a botch job with cable ties and cycling to the nearest village. A kind French family in a farmhouse helped me out and replaced the part I needed, and also gave me some water and chocolate. This was the second time in two days that people had helped out with whatever they could, once you told them you were doing a solo tour.

Here's Chartre cathedral from the distance

Day 2, Normandy 313KM

After just a handful of hours sleep in some useless reclining chair, I rode off the ferry in the morning mist with some other cyclists who I met on the ferry. We had breakfast and coffee in Caen, then I set off on the way to, well, Italy. I hadn't planned on staying anywhere in particular that evening, just going on the assumption that any place larger than a small village in France normally has a campsite.

Breakfast in Caen, 213km



I reached a place called Gace that evening- a strange, quiet village, hidden in the Normandy hills, where I could get nothing to eat. France closes down on Sundays, and the backwaters of rural Normandy are even more closed. I was saved by an english couple who kindly sorted me out with a can of lentils and sausages at the campsite, that being the only meal I had eaten since leaving Cirencester the day before (pringles on the ferry don't count)

Day 1, leaving England 193KM

I left England in the pouring rain- everything (everything) was soaked through after the first five miles. To make things worse, I got lost at Somerford Keynes- less than five miles from the parents' place. When you're starting on a 1,100 mile journey, getting lost after five miles is less than pleasing. Once I reached the hills near Marlborough the rain had subsided long enough for me to take a photo.

This is as good as it got all day, honestly



Leaving home at one, only four hours behind schedule, I thought that 10 hours would be enough to reach Portsmouth. Well it would have been had I not underestimated a) the distance b) the speed of my bike fully loaded and c) the complexity of the road network near Portsmouth, in the dark. Oh yeah, and d) punctures - two of them, one my own fault. So I ended up lost, in the dark, arriving twenty minutes before the ferry left at eleven, to find they had already shut the doors. I had to buy a new ticket for a different ferry at some cost.



Not the greatest of starts!

Here's the bike fully loaded for the cyclophilic among you

The Route

Some people have asked me what the planned route is, so here it is:

Leckhampton Hill

This is some hill- rising from the flooplain up to 260-300 metres, it starts off at 10/15%. It was hard enough in my fiesta a few years ago. Part of the training involves climbing hills without standing out of the saddle, as that will be virtually impossible with the extra weight of bags on the back wheel. So, I climbed up there sat in the saddle. I've probably climbed more metres in the last four days than I did in two years in Essex, so this is definitely the right place to train for the Alps.

Steep hills

Thanks to all who have donated so far to Kalayaan. We're up to £100, only £1900 to go to reach the stratospheric target!

Started training this week. Brother Alex came up from London on Sunday and we went off finding some hills. I had forgotten just how steep Chalford hill was.




It was about 1 kilometre long, 25% gradient in some stretches, with a total climb of about 160 metres. Painful, very painful. Much harder than the Alps, I'm guessing.

Welcome!

Thanks for coming to 'pedallingtoitaly.blogspot.com'. Nothing here to speak of yet, but I'll soon be posting maps, pictures, and general chit-chat ahead of the grand departure
Ollie