A 4 month bike tour thru Europe 2014
Highlights of my day by day journal of a 4 month bike tour thru Europe
Four months is looong time, day by day, so, for easier downloading/reading the journal has been split into months:
May Stuttgart to Děčín ‑ via Paris & Berlin
June Litoměřice to Postjona
July Postjona to Armentières ‑ via Stuttgart & Paris
August Armentières to London ‑ via Brussels & Amsterdam
This journal is also available ‑ with lot's more images & detail ‑ on the really interesting, if somewhat old‑school, idosyncratic Crazy Guy On a Bike collection of bike touring journals
Part 4 of 2014 Europe journal
Armentières to Lens
Distance: 43 km
Total Distance: 3513 km
Lens has to be the most confusing, most difficult place I've ever ridden into! The ride here was (mostly) straight forward, but the last bit into Lens was awful. But here I am, yet again, at the end of the ride before we've seen the start...
By stopping in Armentières I knew that today's ride would be quite short, so I didn't hurry this morning, and armed with a hand drawn map and notes translated from Dutch to English by a French barman I set off on another canal ride. It seemed quite easy, just follow a canal to a right angle bend, cut thru the outlying suburbs of Lille, pick up another canal and voila I'd be in Lens. Well if there's one lesson I should have learnt from my ride so far it's that if something seems too easy, it'll turn out just the opposite. Getting to the villages that surround Lille was easy, the straight forward cut through them wasn't. According to my notes, the dead end road I found myself on should have kept on going, but a massive factory complete with plumes of smoke created a formidable barrier! Still, a bit of seat of the pants guesswork got me to the Canal de la Deûle
A lovely, peaceful ride along a canal side road in pretty good condition got me to Pont-a-Vendin, where as the name suggests I crossed the canal and again struck out through outlying villages on what on a map looks like a straight run into Lens. Well, it's not so... it took some time, and some 8 additional km to find a path through the maze of freeways and highways - no bikes allowed of course - that ring Lens. It was frustrating! Still, I made it.
Lens is part of a belt of ex-coal mining, ex-industrial cities with, it is said, the social disadvantage that goes with such a heritage. Until a couple of years ago, the city's claim to fame was that is the location of the biggest slag heap in Europe. There are no picturesque sights, rather row on row of red brick terrace houses on unusually wide streets. None of this is to say that it's down at heel or not a nice place, there's an obvious buzz about the place and everyone, including the Islamists in their pseudo‑Afghan gear on their way to Friday prayers, is openly welcoming. And the reason for coming here, the Musée Louvre‑Lens.
The Musée Louvre‑Lens consists of a string of low, polished aluminium and glass buildings sitting in a garden setting that was once a pit head and slag dump, housing a relatively small (200 pieces) permanent collection which, apparently, be revamped every five years with other treasures from the 'mothership' in Paris. The permanent collection is arranged chronologically rather than thematically and it's an eclectic collection of statuary, ceramics, paintings, carpets and objects d'art, the arrangment works for me, but some apparently find it incoherent.
Was it worth the trip? Absolutely!
And I have no qualms about finding an easier way out of town tomorrow, on seeing me studying a town map and my larger map, a hijab wearing young lady helped me out by drawing very clear lines on both maps to show me the best way out of town, Rue de Londres to Chemin du Halage and follow my nose. What could possibly go wrong?
Lens to Lille
Distance: 40 km
Total Distance: 3553 km
An overcast morning with a bit of a cool breeze, again I dawdled as the distance to Lille was so short. I took a turn around Lens, taking in the Lens train station ‑ an Art Deco confection meant to evoke a steam engine ‑ and a couple of nearby streets lined with Art Deco buildings before heading off to Rue de Londres. A pretty straight road with a gentle upward slope ‑ absolutely no traffic ‑ took me directly out of Lens and into Pont‑a‑Vendin where I picked up the route I'd cycled into Lens on yesterday. It seemed that I was barely turning the pedals over but I was averaging about 20 km/h, the canal, and hence the tow path, had a perceptible downward slope and yesterday I'd thought I'd been riding on the flat. Of course, at that sort of pace I was in the outlying villages and then the suburbs of Lille before I knew it. Traffic, as you'd expect in one of the largest French cities, was busy ‑ and for the first time ever in France, not particularly bike friendly, nothing untoward tho ‑ and the suburbs seemed to go on forever.
Being a weekend I had pre‑arranged accommodation, I arrived late morning, no problems tho so the bike and bags were safely stored and I headed off to explore what is apparently the most densely populated city (with the youngest demographic) in France. On the strength of the fairly ordinary ride into the city, I wasn't expecting much, but Lille is actually really nice. The old town with it's cobblestone streets, steeply gabled brick and sandstone houses, imposing public buildings, is really nice, without being overpowering. The pedestrianised streets were crowded with Saturday shoppers. A bit of a walk away, the Citadelle, a star shaped military base (still in use), it's ramparts festooned with greenery, is surrounded by trees and is such a peaceful haven that it's hard to believe it's in the middle of a city.
Lille to Ieper
Distance: 58 km
Total Distance: 3611 km
Another day of, sort of, backtracking. I managed to ride to Ieper, via Armentières, without riding any of the roads/paths I rode going in the opposite direction.
Rained last night, the morning started out overcast and cool, I was away by 08:00 and once again I had the roads to myself. An easy ride to the Canal de la Deûle and on to the towpath. And straight off the towpath. Maps show a continuos bike path, but a military base with a million 'do not enter' signs meant a bit of a detour. Back onto the towpath. And back off the towpath. Bridge work meant another detour (no signs). And so it went. Much of the path was gravel, but the good quality meant only a few puddles and even fewer muddy bits, and just as a bit of tarmac appeared so did tram tracks, the bike path ran between the rails for a few km, and while the rails weren't shiny, they did show obvious signs of use, it was a tad disconcerting, checking every blind bend for an oncoming tram!
As the morning wore on and as I neared Armentières and left the canal for the Lys River there were plenty of cyclists, joggers and fishermen about. I crossed back into Belgium on a small back road and as I had plenty of time (check in at my pre‑arranged accommodation was at 16:00, not a minute before) I simply followed the signs from one WW1 site to another thru the hills, such as they are, of the Messines Ridge. Even with such diversions I arrived in Ieper way too early, but as I arrived, so did some very dark clouds and I was permitted to leave bikes and bags in the garage. A stroll around the residential parts of Ieper, a snack ‑ with the ubiquitous frites which come even if you don't order them ‑ a rather nice low alcohol cherry beer and some quiet contemplation time in the park, watching family after family after family ride by on their Sunday arvo bike outing go by as well as a surprising number of people either riding with dogs in a kiddie trailer or pushing small them in strollers/buggies; people watching is an amazing pastime. 16:00 soon came around and as you can imagine there was quite a little crowd all wanting to check in as the cathedral bell rang the hour, and everyone got the same abrupt treatment ‑ "have a nice day" sounds a bit odd when barked out like a drill sergeant would.
It appears that my foot loose and fancy free ways are at an end, no longer will I be able to stop somewhere on a whim as the dreaded 'August holiday' squeeze and high season surcharges have kicked in. It was a bit of a struggle to find a place to stay today and my host has been demonstrating the problem for me on the web, he may be gruff, but his heart is in the right place. I'm going to have to do a little bit of forward planning.
Ieper to Diksmuide
Distance: 35 km
Total Distance: 3646 km
Another short day on the road. Today is the one hundredth anniversary of the outbreak of WW1 so there are official celebrations ‑ if that's the right word ‑ in many places, especially here in Belgium. My being here at this time isn't the outcome of any sort of planning, it's entirely serendipity, but it is kind of apt to be riding thru 'the fields of Flanders' at this time. Obviously the celebrations are having an influence on accommodation as well, so last night I did that forward planning and arranged accommodation for the next few days but all I could get for today in the vague direction of Bruges was something at Diksmuide, a mere 30 km from Ieper.
Almost all the ride was along the Kanaal Ieper - IJzer now incredibly tranquil but a hundred years ago it was the front line. The paved path was excellent, plenty of signs too so despite a relatively slow pace I covered the 30 km quickly to arrive in Diksmuide mid‑morning. Today was market day in Diksmuide and the central square was crowded with stalls and shoppers with everything from fresh fish to garden furniture on offer. The girl at the local tourist office was incredibly helpful, I left with an armful of stuff to read and a head full of advice on cycling around the town.
As I approached the town a very large cross shaped tower was visible for ages, the IJzertoren (Yser Tower). At some twenty stories high, no wonder it dominated the skyline. The tower is both a peace monument and a museum of WW 1 and Flemish nationalism. A lift wheezes and rattles you to the top and the viewing platform (complete with a panorama of what the scene looked like in 1917) and you then make your way back down thru a multi media museum that is quite good. Want to know what mustard gas smells like? There's an installation that lets you experience that ‑ smells like mustard... A sound track of artillery fire is a constant companion, some areas are illuminated by using strobe lights making for (an intended) dis‑oriented feeling. The exhibition on Flemish nationalism has no English, or French for that matter, explanation but it seems that the IJzertoren has links with, or at least significance for, right wing Flemish ultra‑nationalists.
I also rode a little way out of town to the Dodengang (Trench of Death), a bit of recreated trench, I certainly wasn't the only cyclist there, bikes way outnumbered cars in the car park. Seems I'm back on a popular cycling route, from about 10 km out of Diksmuide, I encountered literally crowds of cyclists, mostly in small groups, obviously touring cyclists. The cafés near, and in, the town were packed with rows and rows of bikes around them all. Beer ‑ what else? ‑ was the rehydrating agent of choice and on the 'when in Rome' principle, I stopped for a snack and a beer, well, a beer and a snack really.
Diksmuide to Oostende
Distance: 39 km
Total Distance: 3685 km
Another easy start to a very short riding day, it was almost 09:00 before I set off, backtracking to the IJzertoren to pick up the Frontzate, a disused rail line that has been converted into a pedestrian/cyclist/horse riding trail. Mostly gravel ‑ for the horses I guess, where the path is paved, there's often a mown grass track alongside for horses ‑ and straight as and as flat as can be. The 15 or so km took no time at all, I was in Niewpoort before I had warmed up as it were.
Niewpoort ‑ well, the port was new in the Middle Ages when it was created ‑ is a small recreational and fishing port with an impressive array of sluices and levees to control both the river and sea levels. Little wonder that a bit of creative opening and closing of sluices in the early days of WW1 created such a flood and consequent digging in. Niewpoort also seems to be cyclist central, if I thought I saw plenty of cyclists yesterday, well, today I saw many many more today. At Niewpoort I rode off the map, my maps only went as far as there, so the journey to Oostende relied on a comprehensive junction numbering/signage system used here in Belgium. Every junction has a green and white sign with a number on it, and other numbers and arrows too. So navigation is just a matter of riding from one number to the next. There has to be some logic to it all but it's not readily apparent to inexpereinced me ‑ today for example I rode from 9 to 12 to 13 to 19 to 17 to 18 to 51 to 2 and finally 1 which brought me right into the centre of a very busy city along dedicated bike paths and quiet back streets. As long as you know the junction sequence there's no need for a map.
Oostende is relatively large, it's a working port, fishing and ferries, but it also has a beach ‑ with sand rather than pebbles ‑ and a casino, so it is a very popular seaside resort. The beach, the restaurants that line the beach, and also line a series of rather nice squares, were pretty well packed. There's also a quite large recreational port here too, I spent an interesting 30 minutes or so watching a few yachts leave their harbour via a complex mechanical ballet of bridges and lock gates, it was fascinating.
Oostende to Brugge
Distance: 31 km
Total Distance: 3716 km
Turns out the Thursday is market day in Oostende and the market set up (very early) this morning right under my window, didn't bother me at all cos it was an amazing spectacle that had me hanging out the window watching for some considerable time. After the rain of yesterday ‑ which I spent being a tourist in Oostende ‑ this morning was eerie with mist and even tho I dawdled in making a start there was plenty of mist around when I did set out. I rode perhaps 500 metres when I had no option but to stop, the road ahead was vertical, raised to allow yachts to pass. As seems to be usual when something like this happens, it was repeated a couple of times during a very short ride, once when a bridge was under repair and once again, a bridge raised for boats ‑ pleasure craft, I haven't seen a working barge for awhile now.
The actual ride was easy, flat, well signed and mostly off‑road. There were the usual convolutions leaving Oostende, and fewer but similar entering Brugge but without taking these into account, it took just over an hour to ride between the cities. The approach to Brugge was similar to Oostende, thru some very nice, modern 'could be anywhere' suburbs, but once I passed under an arch, I was instantly in a different world, a world of postcard scenes and crowds of tourists. And cobblestones, big rough ones! I didn't fancy too much cobblestone riding with a loaded bike so even tho it was only mid‑morning I headed to the place I'd booked to ask if I could leave my bags until check-in time, but to my amazement they checked me in there and then. Now because the ride was so short, I'd missed out on my 'elevenses' so first things first a coffee, which came on a plate on which was printed a tourist map of central Brugge and something on the map caught my eye. I've been to a paprika museum and a pig museum, but here was something else, a potato museum. I went, and believe it or not, it was really interesting, naturally they claim the bad press the humble spud gets is totally unwarranted, but they kinda undermined themselves cos half of the museum was dedicated to frites, the omnipresent fried chip. Still, it was good, and yes, like every other museum in the universe you had to pass thru a shop to get out, in this case the principal souvenir on sale was hot frites. There's undoubtedly a Disneyland element to Brugge, and so when you buy a ticket for the potato museum you can actually buy 'combo' tickets, for example you could combine the potato museum with the chocolate museum. I opted for the other thing Belgium is famous for ‑ no, not lace ‑ beer.
I went on a brewery tour. Surprised? Saw a bit of a small ‑ only produces 4,000,000 litres a year ‑ modern brewery but most of the tour was of the old (non‑working) brewery, a vertigo inducing scramble up and down steep stairs ‑ Please descend these stairs backwards ‑ including a visit to the roof for a nice vista over the town. In passing, the old brewery was much the same as the current Budweiser brewery in České Budějovice . Yes, of course I got to sample the beer, a nice (6%) 'blond'. And I got some free advice too, in a land of high alcohol beers I suppose they know a thing or two about hangovers, well, the local cure is drinking carbonated water...
Amsterdam
Distance: 5 km
Total Distance: 4021 km
The bike odometer is showing 4021 as we arrive in Amsterdam after another half 'n half day, some cruising on the boat (in both torrential rain and sunshine) and some cruising on the bike (in both rain and sunshine). A pattern repeated over the past week as I cruised along various canals on a 'bike barge' organised tour from Brugge to Amsterdam. Suffice to say the experience was fabulous!
The boat was scheduled to start another cruise (Amsterdam to Brugge) early this afternoon so things on board were busy this morning, with all the buzz and activity I didn't hang about, I hit the road; while it seemed like an early start, in reality it was about 09:00 when I rode off. I had found a place that didn't charge a King's ransom (for either myself and/or for secure parking for my bike ‑ some places wanted as much as 15€ a day for that little service) which, of course, meant that it wasn't central. Obviously central is a relative concept, I rode a fairly direct route from the boat, dictated by canals mostly, and clocked a mere 5 kms. The hotel, with the steepest stairs imaginable, is about 500 metres from the Heineken brewery, which in turn is about the same distance from the Rijksmuseum, both well within walking distance of the centre. And before you say anything, I didn't know about the proximity to the brewery until later this morning!
Cycling in Amsterdam is a very odd experience, cyclists display the same nasty tendencies as motorists, I can't tell you how many cyclists were texting as they rode, or contesting right of way with other cyclists, and in a city where bikes way out number cars, competition for parking spots is as savage as in any shopping mall car park and as for parking your bike in a 'no bike parking' zone, well, you can imagine,in short, my bike is now safely locked away, I'm not braving this chaos until I have to. In passing, for the first time in Europe, I heard a lot of car horns in the city today, motorists impatient with delays or aggrieved by poor road manners aren't afraid to give vent to long blasts on their horns (or to shout abuse at each other). Walking is also a bit weird. Maybe it's the area, a stone throw from the Albert Cuyp Market, but it's wall‑to‑wall people, the crowds are phenomenal, as is the mix of people, there are, I'm told, 194 nations in the world and the last census in Amsterdam registered residents from 175 nations, that's some mix.
Amsterdam to Den Haag
Distance: 65 km
Total Distance: 4086 km
After a restful day sightseeing in Amsterdam yesterday, today I set of for Den Haag and altho the kms were fairly low, I'm absolutely stuffed!
Today was as tough a day as I've ever had on a bike, the distance was OK, the path was really good, the signage, while spotty in parts was overall pretty good, it rained a lot but at least half the day was sunny, no hills to worry about, the only problem was the wind. An unrelenting slightly off‑centre head wind blew all day.
Getting out of Amsterdam was surprisingly easy, even in peak hour (bike) traffic. It was a peaceful start thru Vondelpark and quiet residential streets when I saw not one but two signs to Den Haag on the same pole, each pointing in a different direction. As always as passing cyclist stopped when he saw me pondering the signs, he quickly explained the choice I had and after telling me that the day would 'bring a big wind' he recommended one of the routes on the basis that it was likely to be less wind effected. I took his advice. The route wasn't pretty, nor was it boring, it took me thru Schipol airport and alongside some major roads as well as alongside rural canals. On a less windy day it would have made an interesting ride. The wind was stirring the trees and crops but it wasn't violent, just continuous, and strong. At one point, on a small slope that I should just rolled down I stopped pedalling, I surely didn't roll, at least downwards, I swear the bike rolled backwards. More than likely just a trick of the mind, but it felt like I was being blown backwards. To make matters worse the wind wasn't coming at me straight on, the bike was being pushed to the left and I had to steer to the right to make forward progress, sort of a crab walk,damn tiring! I was struggling to make 10 km h for much of the day, and when the path turned back on itself (to cross a canal) and I had the wind behind me for a few hundred metres, pedalling was really easy but the wind tugged at the bike, balancing required constant attention.
Coming into Den Haag the path went through a forest area, it was beautiful. Den Haag is unlike any other place I've seen in the Netherlands, it has quite a lot of high rise buildings, lots of steel and glass buildings both high and low rise as well as the traditional type buildings you associate with canals. The residential areas I rode through were obviously up market and the whole town has that sort of aura.
Den Haag to Hoek van Holland
Distance: 35 km
Total Distance: 4121 km
So it's afscheid Europa ‑ goodbye Europe ‑ after more than 3 months of travelling in Europe, tonight I take the overnight ferry to England.
The ride from Den Haag was pretty easy, mostly suburban, lots of neat, low rise, housing estates with a few very obvious immigrant enclaves where every shop had Arabic or Turkish signage, with a bit of semi-rural stuff too. Semi‑rural in that it was market gardens and hot‑houses. I had a map but didn't use it, the signage was superb.
I had intended to spend much of the day in Den Haag but at breakfast a group of Spanish cyclists told me that bad weather (and high winds) were forecast later in the morning so I opted to ride in the sunshine. Even tho I consciously dawdled, the 19 km didn‑t take very long. Naturally I arrived at the harbour way way to early so I had plenty of time to kill in a small town. The forecast bad weather duly arrived but for the most part skirted around the town, even so, after the afternoon ferry had sailed I cycled to the ferry terminal to ask if I could leave the bike there until check‑in time for the night ferry, a very abrupt negative response, but as I was leaving a taxi driver started a conversation about my bike we chatted for quite some time before his passenger ‑ a ferry company employee ‑ appeared and he too joined in the conversation then as he and the driver were about to leave, he called one of the staff over and told them to open the staff bike park area (covered of course) for me. Thus I spent much of the afternoon at the ferry terminal.
Boarding opened at 19:00 and a queue started building long before then so just after 18:00 I joined the queue, to be quite quickly joined by a few other cyclists, one of whom had been on the ferry before, so on his advice when the gates started to swing open we all jumped on our bikes and rode thru the narrow opening before the cars could and so we were all checked‑in and on‑board before anyone else ‑ probably not popular with everybody else tho!
In passing, the Dutch immigration officer did calculate how many days I'd been in the Schengen zone but on asking how long I'd been in 'Holland', he was satisfied with my airily vague 'oh a coupla weeks'. The Dutch dodge works!
Colchester
Distance: 47 km
Total Distance: 4168 km
An early start today, breakfast was 05:30 and naturally it was the full English disaster; fried egg, fried potato cakes, fried bacon with baked beans blah blah blah. An announcement at 06:30 asked drivers and cyclists to go to their vehicles, as you can imagine the elevators were jam packed and crowds hovered around the doors, waiting, so I lugged my gear from Deck 11 where my cabin was down to Deck 3 where the bike was, via the stairs. Believe it or not, I was one of the first off. The exit route was an elevated road, narrow and steep, but it didn't take long before traffic caught up and being mostly British drivers they squeezed past, forcing me to a stop more than once, but there was a sort of maze at the end designed to slow and sort traffic for immigration control and as there were little gaps in the maze, I simply cut straight across to passport control and arrived well before the first of my tormentors ‑ childish, yes, but worth it!
British passport control is notoriously unfriendly and my initial experience was indeed a gruff and grumpy one, but by the time the stamp went in the passport, things were decidedly better. I passed straight thru customs and into the thick of all the freight vehicles that were streaming off the ferry. Using directions that I downloaded, I hit the road. Apart from about 100 metres of on‑road bike path, the route was entirely on‑road, using mostly B and C class roads ‑ C class are single lane paved roads, mostly thru farms and so‑on. Today motorists seemed to drive faster and come closer than I've experienced of late, as I was told in Germany, 'British drivers are polite but crazy'. Spot on.
The day was lovely, nippy but fine, and the scenery was lovely, like a Constable landscape painting. The villages were also pretty, but what stands out immediately is that every house is individual, none of the uniformity of European villages here. And the other thing that I noticed straight away was hills. Lots of little, rolling hills and one or two short, sharp steep inclines. Quite a lot of the route was fairly flat tho and so I made really good time and by mid‑morning I had reached Colchester. The run into town wasn't very attractive or interesting, but the High Street centre area complete with castle, churches and half‑timbered houses was both interesting and attractive as befitting what they tell me is the oldest continuous settlement in Britain ‑ it's one of those days, I rode thru Manningtree which is said to be the smallest town in England. Anyway, Colchester is where I stopped for the day, in an incredibly atmospheric 'Ye Olde' pub called the Red Lion Inn (trading since late 1480s). It looks just as you expect.
Colchester to London
Distance: 61 km
Total Distance: 4229 km
A lovely morning; clear, cool with a zephyr of breeze. Perfect riding weather.
I had mapped out a route of just over 20 miles (32 km) to Chelmsford, via Maldon ‑ yes, that Maldon, the famous salt town ‑ mostly on B and C roads tho there was a small section where there was no alternative to an A road according to the map I bought yesterday in Colchester, so I had a fairly leisurely start.
The route took me through rolling farmland, crops have been harvested so there's just pale yellow stubble or even paler brown direst where the stubble has been ploughed under. Quite a lot of the fields are bordered with hedgerows, so I only caught glimpses as I rode. Like the fields, the hedgerows, and the small stands of trees that dotted them, were pale coloured and a little dull, signs of Autumn are everywhere so perhaps the faded dullness is to be expected.
The roads were good, the signage was poor ‑ I could count on one hand the bike signs I've seen, I was using, or, trying to use, signs for motorists ‑ and while for the most part traffic was light, driving behaviour was abysmal. Way too fast for the conditions, given drivers here seem to have no spatial awareness at all, and again, I could count on one hand the drivers who weren't using their cell phones. The small section of A road was 3 miles of hell, to make it worse, it was all uphill. At least the run into Chelmsford was downhill.
Chelmsford turned out to be an unattractive place with narrow streets and a huge volume of traffic, not made better by roadworks where motorists were left to fend for themselves ‑ no traffic control in place ‑ it was a nasty experience, which I avoided by riding on the footpath (illegal but safer).
I made an on‑the‑spot decision, I took a train to London.
The train arrived at Liverpool Street station, in the financial district, so using a very good map provided (free) by the London bike‑share program, I headed off to a cheaper part of town. Believe it or not, but cycling in London isn't so bad, it sucks compared to Europe, but it's not so bad . As I negotiated the convoluted streets, the black clouds that had been slowly building all morning, opened up, and as I dodged pedestrians and rubbish on dark, grimy pavement, the Paul McCartney song came into my mind:
Silver rain was falling down
Upon the dirty ground of London town
London
Distance: 14 km
Total Distance: 4243 km
Every roads got to end somewhere, and for my bike, the end of the road came today in an Industrial Estate near Heathrow where I left it to be crated and sea freighted to Australia. It was a bitter sweet moment when the warehouse man wheeled the bike into the customs bonded area, so much so, I forgot to take a photo.
But, yet again, I haven't started at the start. British cyclists (unsurprisingly) are a lot like British motorists, they go very fast and on‑road there's a decided 'take no prisoners' attitude, but when not in the saddle as it were, cyclists are very friendly and really welcoming. After (another) 'that's a nice bike' meeting with local cyclists where I took the opportunity to ask about riding to Heathrow this morning, the consensus was that it was do‑able but not enjoyable. In a scene reminiscent of asking for directions in Cairo where a group of three will argue interminably and offer five different versions, the conversation turned into quite a discussion amongst an ever growing group of cyclists, but at least there was consensus. So, following their advice, I rode a bit, took a train for a bit and rode the final bit.
Again, I found riding in central London to be quite easy and relatively painless, and very very scenic as part of the route took me through Hyde Park, amazingly busy with suited gents and well dressed ladies cycling to work. As bus lanes double as bike lanes I was able to ride way faster than the motorists could drive, it was a nice feeling as I scooted past traffic jams. While the London stations aren't quite as well equipped to deal with bikes as in Europe, both station and train staff make up for the lack of infrastructure with good natured patience and pragmatism, a shortish train ride (past the bits the cyclists advised were difficult) was easy ‑ if expensive at around £8 for a few stations. The last section was through a light industrial area with little through traffic but lots of heavy vehicles, amazingly there was an official cycle route in the area and using that (it used a lot of footpaths) it was a very easy ride to the freight depot where there were unbelievably few formalities as I parted with my bike.
And to finish, a few stats of my adventure:
Kilometres: 4243
Punctures: 0
Mechanical problems: 0
Dangerous incidents: 1