bikes

Welcome to the launch of  'cycling to Bohemia'  In the days before 'social media,' authors pleaded with their publishers to host a book launch, usually at a local bookstore. The publishers stumped up a few bottles of wine and some finger food and organised a fellow author to say something encouraging about the newly-released book. It gave old friends a chance to catch up over a glass of wine and perhaps buy the author's book. Everyone was a winner - free grog and book sales! Now, books can be produced and published electronically, without the author ever having to leave his/her study. So many people are omitted in this process - editor, designer, proofreader, publisher, distributor, salesperson.  I'm well aware of the dangers of this new world. There is no wise voice suggesting to the author that perhaps he/she needs to rethink Chapter Ten. No-one to say, 'do you really believe people want to read about you washing your cycling knicks in the hotel sink?'...

In 2010, I drove a car half-way up Col du Tourmalet, in the French Pyrenees. It was a terribly misty and rainy day, with the wind blowing a gale. I parked by the side of the road and opened the car door. The wind nearly blew it from its hinges. I scrambled out and took photos of myself, the fool in the mist. I got back in the car, where my travelling companions all agreed we should head back down the mountain. As I reversed out of the car park, four cyclists rode past us, up the hill, into the tumult. What I was scared to attempt in a car, they were doing on bicycles. I looked up towards the summit, shrouded in cloud and wanted to follow this strange band of hardy lycra-wearing crazies. Today, in Sainte-Marie-de-Campan, I have my chance. I�m about to climb one of the most revered and feared climbs of the Tour de France. Not from the side I�d driven up in 2010, because it�s still closed due to recent flooding. I�m climbing the  equally-difficult east side. It was from this side in 1...

The Col de Peyresourde starts in the spa town of Bagnere-de-Luchon. I arrive in Luchon on a sunny afternoon and go to the first bike shop I can find. It looks more like a cyclo cemetery with bike parts, tubes and tyres scattered around the entrance. There are numerous second-hand bikes for sale. They all look rather creaky and sad. The owner comes out from his workshop and nods hello. I ask to hire a �velo pour le montagnes.� My grammar is like my cycling, shaky at the best of the times. The owner looks around the mess of his workshop and walks across to a black carbon fibre model that looks sturdy yet... well-used. I ask him the price. Usually, daily rental cost is between 30 and 45 Euros. He says, '15 Euros.' I nod blankly, trying to hide my excitement. �Avez vous pump, repair kit,� I say, mixing bad french with lazy English. He shrugs, but I think it means yes. I return an hour later, dressed in serious lycra, and he takes my credit card and 15 Euros. With some sluggishness,...

No sane human would get bored of cycling under the majestic canopy of century-old plane trees. Right? But after 20,000 of the green and mighty blighters, it was nice to arrive in Toulouse where humans outnumbered falling leaves.  This morning, we cycled to the meeting point of the Canal du Garonne and Canal du Midi to say one last farewell to the Garonne and to officially begin the Canal du Midi journey at the correct location.  We share the path with rushing commuters and quite a lot of homeless people sleeping and living under the canal bridges. By mid-morning, we're back in the rural landscape and have the canal path largely to ourselves, save for the occasional couple out cycling, sans panniers.  The scenery is spectacular. Unlike the Garonne, the Canal du Midi feels much more like a slow-flowing river, with regular bends, overgrown trees and creepers and lovely views from the bank to the vineyards and rolling hills planted with wheat.  But, I'm shocked by the st...

Last year, I had the pleasure of cycling from the Atlantic Coast of France to Ulm in Germany, nearly 2,000 kilometres alongside numerous rivers and canals. One of the highlights was staying in the restored barn at the B&B of Jean-Paul and Regine in Saint-Firmin-sur-Loire. They fed me excessive amounts of satisfying French food and allowed me to dry off after my first rainy day of the trip. They also offered to bike-sit my red hybrid, named Craig, at the conclusion of my time in Europe. This year, accompanied by my wife Cathie, our first stop in France is a two-day sojourn with Jean-Paul and Regine. Once again, they are the perfect hosts, offering a five course dinner. I won�t go into the sumptuous detail other than to say Jean-Paul�s cassoulet is premiere-class and the cheese plate of five fromages was perhaps too indulgent! We promised to ride off the calories the next day, if only it would stop raining. Voila! The morning dawned dull and cloudy, but sans pluie, so after a breakfa...

The Col de la Croix de Fer is unlike any other climb in the French Alps. It goes up and down, the road winds through forest then open high meadows, the gradient changes from steep to relatively easy back to steep in the space of a few kilometres... in other words, it�s a temperamental bastard. The Croix de Fer is a 'hors category' climb, thirty-one kilometres of trying to find a rhythm when the road varies so dramatically.  All this is good enough reason to indulge over breakfast. Anita is a willing host, loading the table with croissants and baguettes, home-made jams and local honey, all washed down with as much coffee as any tight fitting lycra-clad bladder can hold. It�ll be my excuse for frequent stops today while climbing. Jean-Louis wishes me �bonne chance� as I cycle down the gravel driveway. The sky is cold blue as I cruise along the valley road, a quick wave to the folk at La Cascade. I�ll be reporting in there tonight for a few recurperative glasses and perhaps some e...

�I will not fail in my work in proclaiming that beside Galibier you are but pale and vulgar beers. There is nothing more to do but tip your hat and salute from well below.�  So said the legendary Tour de France director, Henri Desgranges in 1911, about Col du Galibier. Allowing for the poor translation, I can but only agree with Monsieur Henri, who has a monument in his honour one kilometre from the summit.  The Galibier is an icon of cycling, used by the Tour more times than any other mountain in the Alps. Climbed twice in 2011 to celebrate its one hundredth anniversary of Tour involvement, I�m pleased I�ve left the �Giant of the Alps� until last. The summit is a whopping 2,642 metres elevation, and today I�m climbing it from Valloire, an alpine ski village eighteen kilometres down the valley. I should mention, many riders first climb Col de Telegraphe before dropping down to Valloire and taking on Galibier. One Hors Category mountain is enough for me today. The 1911 Tour win...