bikes

After five hundred kilometres of cycling alongside the Danube River from Ulm, Germany to Linz, Austria, I thought I'd compile a list of 'typical' stages. A Tour de Danube for we slow wanderers. 1. The floating pathway:   Perhaps my favourite stage of the journey so far has been the section from  Haibach an der Donau to Aschach an der Donau in Austria  as it's so close to the river, you feel as if the path is floating downstream with you. For fifteen magical kilometres, there's only the river and steep sided densely forested hills echoing with birdsong. The exit from this pathway is no less spectacular with a view across river to a castle partially hidden in the mist enveloping the hill. 2. The Romantic Road :  The road from  Donauworth to Neuburg an der Donau  is only a short section of the famed Romantic Road, of course, but it's easily accessible for cyclists and closely follows the Danube. There are lots of small hills as the path leads through numerous ...

I don't want to keep raving about the German breakfast, but I�m easily swayed by copious amounts of good food arrayed in front of me. This morning I�m even given five bottles of different juices to choose from.  �I�ll take the 100% apple, danke.�  The host has also sliced fresh kiwi-fruit, strawberries, apples and pears into a delicious salad. And if that�s not enough natural sweetness, she�s added a berry compote and natural yoghurt.  After we�ve scoffed this delight, she brings a cute wicker basket of eggs to our table and says something in German. Cathie wisely nods yes.  I shake my head. I�ve never been a fan of hard-boiled eggs. The woman walks off with the basket and returns a few minutes later with a plate of scrambled eggs, cooked to perfection. As she offers Cathie the plate, I make a sound similar to the whining of a hungry dog. Three minutes later, I am also indulging in scrambled eggs. Cathie says, simply, �Never refuse food.�  Substantially heavier ...

Day One: Ulm to Lauingen, Germany We begin our twelve day, 800 kilometre cycle from Ulm, Germany to Bratislava, Slovakia on a cold May morning. It's two weeks until the European summer begins, but no-one has told the weather gods. It's the first time Cathie, my wife has been on a long cycle and I'd hoped for Spring, not five degrees and occasional showers. No matter. The Danube flows gently, the birds are singing and we're both already contemplating what cake to choose for our morning tea stop. Cathie favours the traditional apple strudel. I choose a round nutty danish whose name I can't pronounce but it has lots of the letters N and S. Both are delicious. So begins twelve days of excessive eating.  Leipheim is an attractive town on the right side of the Danube, with a white-washed church, a  museum that looks as if it could have been designed by a child, houses with abundant gardens and a van dispensing grilled chicken at a reasonable price. We restrain ourselves, ...

Today�s ride is a 92 kilometre circuit to Noto, a historic Sicilian town, famous for having more churches per square kilometre than anywhere in Italy. It begins in the cool early morning at our B&B outside Ispica in south-western Sicily. We take a quiet back lane two kilometres through olive groves to the beach road, turn left and cycle with the Mediterranean on our right and pastel-painted Casas on our left. There�s a gentle breeze and the Council workers are out whippersnipping the undergrowth. For a few kilometres, we feel back home in Australia with frangapani blooming and eucalypt trees dusty and tall by the roadside. A plant that looks suspiciously like wattle crowds the footpath. At any moment, I�m expecting to see a flattened cane toad on the road.  No, just a hedgehog. In one village, a enterprising local is cultivating a small vineyard in sand. The plants looks green and robust. Cathie and I enter into a debate as to which country is directly to our right, across the ...

I can think of no better way to finish the perfect day than with a cycle up a Category One mountain in Sicily. We started today with a swim in the chilly Mediterranean of clear water and rocky headlands at Scorpello.  For lunch, we tried the local workers meal of Pane Cunzato - a doorstop-sized sandwich of olive oil, salt, tomato, cheese and sardines. After that, I needed a bike ride. Beginning at the fishing port of Trapani on the north coast of Sicily, I cycle up what must be one of the widest main roads in Italy. For a country of Fiat Bambini and Piaggios, here was a road fit for Hummers. Consequently, Italians drive three abreast down the Via. I wobble into the gutter and take the first right-hand turn and find myself confronting a 13% gradient out of town.  Craig, my bicycle, is a staid hybrid with twenty-one gears and is not suited to climbing. He prefers a slow wander on a bike path beside a river. But, we both have no alternative, so I press on and soon join the main r...

There�s a haze over the Piedmont hills as we begin our cycle from the B&B to Casale Monferrato. As the crow flies, it�s perhaps twelve kilometres. As the cyclist wanders between hilltop towns, it�s thirty kilometres one way. It�s the early morning of May Day, so the roads are quiet.  Every time I see the church at Camagna, I shake my head in disbelief that a village of less than 600 residents should have such a crowning glory towering above the town. As we cycle through, a bunch of teenagers are playing a curious game in the main square. It reminds me of royal tennis, where a number of players stand each end of a court, sometimes measuring up to eighty metres and hit a hard tennis ball with a racket that looks like a tamborine with a skin stretched tight over the circular frame. When the teenagers hit the ball, it shoots off the racket with a sound akin to a rifle shot.  There�s a full-size court in Vignale, the neighbouring village. A few years ago here, I watched a tourn...