North west through Uttar Pradesh

Considering Goa as first part and Nepal as second moving north west through Indias Uttar Pradesh state is the beginning of the third part of this trip. Roads are good and headwind has calmed down. Like on last years ride through Rajasthan I once again felt that the Indian Highways are good cycle ground. They are moderately populated and have good infrastructure with restaurants and petrol stations which offer free filtered water, toilets and most of the time you can have a shower there. You immediately miss all that when you try to take a short cut on smaller roads. 

Camping brought the usual surprises in that sense that you only realize after you pinched up your tent that the spot you considered descrete is spotted shortly after. Once I camped close to a small village on a field two people recommeded me. After an hour around fourty people stood around me and as night felt in I had my food in shine of several mobile phone torches. When I opened the zipper of my tent in the morning I had a group of twenty people around me and it was clear some already had spent the night close to my tent to be the first ones to see the stranger in the morning. They were so kind and had tea and samosas with them and its so sad no communication was possible due to me not beeing able to speak Hindi and they not speaking English. 

The area is pretty much intensive cultivated farmland with very few distraction for the eyes. Temperatures went up daily in the late thirties and on half of the 900 km stretch to my first milestone Rishikesh I catched a diarrea which was likely not only caused by food but also by the intense heat and the ongoing dehydration which you barely can avoid when cycling for days in a baking oven. 

So I was really longing for reaching the city of Haridwar where the Ganges flows out from the Himalayas as I was told it will bring some relief from the heat. And it really did! I was just deeply happy to see the massive flow of water and went to one of the Ghats to have a bath. The water had a massive flow and the bathing areas had been gated to avoid people beeing flushed away. It was amazing cold so it took a bit of time until I could fully immerse and feel the deep cooling this had on my heat wounded body. The Ganges is considered as the most holy river, still pure when it streams out from the mountains and bathing in there is supposed to clean from all evels. On this day I went swimming several times so lets hope all sins are flushed away. 

Cycling in Nepal – not for Sissies

Like last year I approached Kathmandu valley from the western side. You need to climb up for around 1200 height meters. Not a big deal would most fellow cyclists say but the main door to Kathmandu is a building site for many years. So you rumble up for hours between hauling lorries, crazy busdrivers and an abundant amount of tourist vans each looking for their space on a surface which would be even uncomfortable for walking before you reach the pass and can comfortably roll down into the valley. 

I spent two weeks in the central part of Kathamandu called Thamel which feels like a second home after so many weeks I already lived there. As some of you might now I have helped out the operator of  my hotel  in the lock down crisis and it was time now to regulate our affairs and step out of my moderate investment which took some time to be legally completed.

For leaving I opted to take a route south on F120 which was a brilliant decision as the way down in the lowlands was a sparsley frequented road meandering up and down the hills to reach the lower areas of Nepal called the Terai. 

I got really pissed when flowing into another of those eternal road development sites. This time you could really see that the first thing they do is to remove the existing termac and then they start with the layout of the 2nd line instead of keeping the old road operational as long as possible. The contractor is China State Construction and you can guess that they dont worry about broken suspensions, eroded tyres and frustrated commuters on this 120km long hell ride. 

My plan was to ride until Nepali west border. As I got mixed feedback about the possibility to cross the border from Nepal to Uttarakhand in India I decided to travel to Sonauli checkpoint which is about half way and ask there. Directly at the border they could not answer but with some negotiation they did let me touch Indian ground without visa activation to reach their 1km inbound department of immigration. Sadly there is only two checkpoints where tourist can enter from Nepal into India. One is in the east into Bihar and the other is at my place around midway into Uttar Pradesh. 

Smashed from the hell ride which was garnished with a constant head wind I decided to take minimum one full rest day at the border village in Nepal before entering India for the long ride in western direction as my physical preparation for the final venture on this trip. 

Gorkha town and Baseri

Guess everybody has a bit of association with the Gorkha territory. Their soldiers are renowned by the British for their loyalty, professionalism and bravery and even now some of them do their duty on either side of the Ukrainian war. All Nepal tourists know Gorkha anyway as the most selling beer uses their name. Gorkha town itself is a 25km detour from Pokhara to Kathmandu Highway in northern direction up in the hills. 

The city was nice to see but for me it was just a waypoint in the direction to a village called Baseri where many people from my usually visited hotel in Kathmandu come from. My navigation App told me 50km to go but on this day I learned again how painful even small distances can be in Nepal. The road went up and down and the surface was once again gravel with big stones which slowed me down to walking speed on many sections. Luckily on the final climb I got a lift from a tractor where I could put my bicycle on the trailer but still – I did arrive only well after sunset at my friends homestay.

A bit scary ride in Nepal

“You can’t sleep here” a farmer told me when I was setting up my tent on a terraced field a bit above Nepals HW 10. I asked him why and he said “because of the tiger”. Obviously you consider many dangers on a cycle trip from crashing because of a pothole on Nepals underfinanced streets or getting involved in a traffic accident or any other nuisances. In India I was already warned not to camp under palmtrees because of coconuts falling down so I did plan for that. But I never thought about tigers in Nepal.

Well I continued my campsite there beeing without much options this night but even my Nepali friend was seriously concerned about the tiger thing and I felt more alerted as usual this night on any noise around my tent. I also did avoid to go for peeing during the night beeing afraid of getting a tiger’s hunting deer. 

I did some web research and the numbers are varying from 10 per year up to 104 casualties due to tigers in the year 2022 in Nepal. I consider this as an enourmous number and I would tend to say – its not acceptable.

Highway number 10 called the Siddharta Highway leads from the border of India up north to Nepals touristic focal point Pokhara nestled beside the serene Phewa Lake and surrounded by the Annapurna mountain range. With its diverse topography its a challanging route for cyclists but a true delight to ride up its winding ascents. You see construction going on to prepare the road for the future but at this point in time the road is still with sparse traffic. You have lots of opportunities to look into houses and gardens of the people who allways greet you with a friendly Namaste and a bright smile when they see you working up along their road.

I must say my lazy weeks on Goan beaches has drained a bit on my fitness and I am a bit grateful that on the day of my planned departure from Pokhara it is raining which gives me a perfect excuse to have an additional day of rest before starting the next venture into the Gorkha region. In no way you want to cycle on Nepali roads when its raining but the coming week is again forecasted with 23 deg C and sunny weather so good to go!

Making friends

On half way to Goa and four nights beach camping I allowed myself a two days hotel break close to Ratnagiri. My navigator showed it close to the city but it was quite remote at the end of a street a bit up on a hill immersed in lush greenery. I got a really nice and well furnished bungalow with all amenities and access to the swimming pool. I was the only guest at that time.

What I learned there is that Indians have a great concern about their digestion. When I went for dinner with my own fork and spoon combination knowing that sometimes you get just unuseful tools when you ask for it, I was told not to use it as god gave us hands to take the food and its the only way for well disgestion. I did follow the advise but really gave a miserable image when eating my rice and curry with fingers. After the dinner I should have pan which is a green leave where they put in several spicy creams and sugar candies and fold it to a package to be eaten as a big bite. Its also meant to greatly enhance digestion. Despite all the rules my food lay like a stone in the stomach this night and to my believe my dear hosts have not yet understood that it helps tremendously for digestion to take the food not after nine pm so you go from dinner straight to bed but rather a bit earlier! I did not say anything in this regard knowing that it is hard to change an Indians preception when it comes to food and habits.

Next day the resort was full of people which came here for a alumni meeting thirty years after finishing college and it would not be India if this would not be celebrated with all afternoon loud music. The people had been very decent though and showed lots of interest for my cycling. Even more I was impressed as nobody did smoke and no alcohole was involved knowing that such come togethers in my country usually end with everybody completely drunk.

Well recovered I started the second leg of my Goa ride knowing that it will be less intense as there should be less ups and downs. On one day in the morning I bumped into a polish cyclist called Nagz. He purchased a gearless cycle in Mumbai aiming to ride down the complete western coast towars Thiruvananthapuram. We cycled in different pace mainly because his bike was two sizes too small for him and he had to push the bike up the climbs. Though we met again several times on that day and I enjoyed to have his company. In the evening we ended up at different beaches and agreed to meet again in Goa. This concept of getting a bicycle local and selling it at the end gives indeed lots of freedom. Though I think I am too much used to bicycle perfection so I might not enjoy to ride a bike which is not fully tailored to my needs. 

On the last day before reaching Goa I had again an intriguing encounter with a dog. Dogs are not the natural friend for cyclists. It was already late and I found a decent spot to setup my tent and got slightly touched on the legs. As a natural reaction I pushed the dog away as you dont known whats his plan. Like I had it already at the Goderzi Pass in Georgia, this dog had found me and soon after it became clear that he is up to protect me when he was heavily grovling at other dogs who approached. When I went for swimming he did follow me and did lay down at my shoes which I put a bit above the water line. Of course I shared my fried noodles with him and gave him water. He then did lay down with phsical contact to my tent and I knew this night I will be free from any other dogs strolling around. 

Next morning he was following my ride but as I was passing by hostile territory for him he was more occupied with defending himself so soon after he fell behind and likely went back to his own territory.

Mumbai – Goa 2024

Once again I opted for this wonderful route along the Maharashtra coast. As soon as you enter the boat from busy Mumbai’s Gate of India to cross the bay you forget the mindbreaking traffic of the mega city and immerse in India village and countryside. The route becomes popular also in India and its not the first time that I met guided tours of cyclists with luggage, mechanic and even medical support vehicle.

Around hundred kilometer south of Mumbai the route starts ondulating up hill and down to the rivers streaming out from Maharasta Westghats towards the Arabian sea. Partly you can cross them by bridges but several times ferries bring you over the estuaries. As mobile signal fades the beaches become more remote and I enjoy very much camping there. It would not be India though if your good nights sleep gets broken eventually by blasting music regardless how remote the place looked to you in the beginning.

By now I reached more than half way to Goa and stopped for a weekend break in Ratnagiri. After 4 days camping its just nice to enjoy the luxury of a fulll board resort with shower and swimming pool. Funny enough each time I do this stretch it takes me a day longer. This is actually not because I am riding slower but more due to the fact that I make more and longer breaks in between the cycling to explore sights and beaches I may have left aside on the last trip.

Siddhartha Highway Nepal

The train to Lucknow was heavily delayed. Instead of 4pm in the afternoon I reached Lucknow only by 11pm. During the train ride I booked a hotel there and got the usual frustrations when online booking hotels in India. The first one told me that they are already full when I called to tell them about my late arrival. The second said they only accept Indian nationals but the third one was ok then. The recptionist was already sleeping but with some heavy knocking on the door he woke up and let me in. 

I had the intention to look at Uttar Pradeshs capital in the morning after picking up my bike from the station but changed this plan for an immediate leave as I could not really cope with the massive crowd and dense traffic in this city so left towards the Nepali border soon after. Beeing frustrated from hotel bookings and not finding even places at my budget I opted again for camping which was all fine. Especially one night was really touching. Two guys I talked to told me to go to the nearby temple as it would be a safe place. So I went there already in the dark and the couple which guarded the place immediately offered me a place at their shack. 

After three days riding I reached the Sonauli checkpoint to Nepal and with an exit stamp from India I went to Nepal immigration office. Rules have changed a bit the last years so now you have to preregister online. As I was not aware about this but the deputy manager let me in his office to complete the online form on his computer. He said to fill in only name, birth date and Passport number and just put 000 in all the other fields as nobody would ever read that anyway. I really liked this type of Nepali pragmatism which you wont find in India where they beat even German affections for meticulous form filling. 

After another night this time at a Nepali temple I went to see Buddha’s birth place in Lumbini. The site reminds me very much on an exposition site where each member state of the Buddhist society built their own temple like a pavilion at world expo. 

In the afternoon I then hit the scenic Siddhartha highway at Buthwal towards the first hills of the Himalaya. On 6th of March they celebrated Holi festival in Nepal and I had been stopped several times to get my face and body colored while riding along scenic river valleys and over several hill passes. The road really drained my energy levels though and after three days I was really happy to roll down from the last pass into Pokhara. 

Break in Goa

The place at the beach in the northern part of Goa really catched me. I went away from there heading to the south for some days but returned soon after. The south is typically where western tourists go so did I three years ago on my first visit to Goa. Its extremely nice there by nature but you loose the feeling of beeing in India when you meet an international crowd like in Ibiza or Santorin. 

There is a bit of a touristic beating effect as the number of domestic Indian tourists is rising massively. For them Goa is a party place where alcohol is readily available which is a bit in conflict to the western tourists desire for peaceful beach side vacation.

My place was too far off for the crowds and the largest group of foreign tourists came actually from Russia exiling here for longer. I had several really nice encounters with them which gave a bit of confidence that we are not fighting against a nation but against a regime which brutally works against the ones which they are supposed to represent.

The six weeks on the beach went like on the fly and would I not have my travel plans in mind I likely might have stayed longer until the monsoon kicks in by end of March which marks the end of the season in Goa.

So I boarded my bicycle again in a train which I booked already two month ago and went up north to Mumbai. Upon arrival I was told my bike was not boarded on the train which gave me some worries but I was assured that it should arrive the next day. So next day I spotted it in the parcel office just to fill in a bunch of new forms to get it expedited to my next destination close to the Nepali border at Lucknow. I have preordered some food already so I can endure the 24h train ride that is now awaiting me. 

Mumbai to Goa

Getting a bicycle on an Indian train requires definitely more effort than in Pakistan. You need to check it in at the parcel office several hours ahead of departure and only within the 9am to 5pm opening hours. The forms require detailled filling like when a applying for a visa and you should have your own pen with you as you wont get one borrowed. 

After an hour those formalities had been completed and for an equivalent of 4 Euro I got my bike checked in for the train departing at 9pm to Mumbai.

I got a bit under stress just before departure as I had ordered some food which was supposed to be delivered to my seat short before departure and I also wanted to see that my bike was loaded on the train. The food arrived in time but I only got confirmation from the officer at the rear end luggage coach that the loading papers for my bike are with him but the bike has been loaded on the front end. With India long distance trains beeing quite long I would not have made it back and forth to check personally before the train would leave. But the confirmation gave me peace of mind that all should be fine.

Having finished my dinner I quickly fell asleep in the pleasing sound of railway rhythm. Prepooking food on internet is really a great achievement so at a longer stop in the morning my preordered breakfast was delivered to my position on the train.

After around thirty minutes waiting in Mumbai parcel office I saw my bike beeing wheeled in and again with good amount of paperwork it was handed out to me so I could wheel off. 

The next day in the morning I went to the south end harbour of Mumbai called Gateway of India to get a ship from the peninsula into mainland Maharashtra. The 600km route from Mumbai to Goa is already familiar to me as I did it in 2019. I very much liked this route already at that time but now having pedaled several thousand km in India I like it even more and it is definitively one of the best long distance cycling tours you can do in India. Tempetature is moderate and with low humidity. The road is in reasonable condition and with only few traffic outside urban areas. Considering India to be a densly populated country its just amazing to see the many long and completely lonesome beaches in Maharashtra.

This route is also one of the few occasions in India that I went camping again. In many other areas you dont feel comfortable to do that as you may end up attracting people which want to watch how you setup your campside and prepare your dinner. On the wide beaches here in Maharashtra however you can pretty much enjoy your privacy. 

So after six days riding I crossed police checkpoint into Goa and foubd my hut in the prebooked beach resort. They gave me the first spot to the beach so I can watch the sea even from bed. I will change my location from north to south Goa eventually but for the time beeing I am very happy at the place I am and may end up staying longer than actually planned. The owner is from Kashmir and runs a hotel at Manali for the summer season and knows Manali – Leh Highway by heart. So I will have a contact point alread when I start my circle in Kashmir in May.

Rajasthan

Still a bit sleepy from my night ride on the sleeper bus which dropped me at 5:30am I visited Junagarh Fort in Bikaner. It is very well preserved and gives a good impression of the opulent Raja’s life some hundred years ago. I had a hotel booking voucher for one night stay left which was at the point to expire. So I booked the most expensive suite you could find in Bikaner which still did not meet the vouchers actual nominal value. It was a bit bizarre to have my dirty bike bags carried up to my room and my bicycle valet parked in the garage. I enjoyed very much the afternoon on the pool and in particular the breakfast buffet with lots of continental food the next day.

Climate now is at its best for cycling. Outside temperature rises up to around 25 deg C but allways with a mild breeze from the north with low humidity. After two days ride mainly on highway I reached the blue city of Jodhpur. It got this name as many houses are painted in light blue colour. Again the main sight of the city is a huge fort which I left aside to visit inside this time as it was already late afternoon when I arrived. 

Riding on Indian motorways is better than you might think of. They typically have a broad sideway for slow vehicles, traffic is moderate and you conveniently find restaurants – something which is cumbersome when you take the small roads through the villages. 

Nevertheless I was happy to leave the highway to ride a really scenic mountain road over the Aravali mountain range at Sadri. The road was perfect termac but funny enough on many sections just as wide as a cycle path which was ok as only few cars take this route. 

By the evening I reached Udaipur which is also called “City of lakes” and famous for its Rajput-era palaces. Already in Amristar I booked a train from here to Mumbai and it turned out to be an extremly comfortable place to spend the time until getting my first experience of travelling in a long distance train in India. I will tell you more about that in my next post. 

Amritsar

Every reader of this blog likely has an idea of the golden temple in Amritsar. Me too but we come to that later.

Upon arrival in a new country two things are important for me. Getting local currency and a SIM card. Money was easy from the ATM but the SIM turned out to be more difficult. In Pak this was the other way round. India requires for new SIMs to send a code to an existing mobile from which my SIM can get activated at the shop. First I called my hotel which refused. Then I contacted some numbers of contacts from my last India trip. Two refused but one said ok. Meanwhile I luckily got good contact to another guest in the hotel which helped me out so I finally got my card after the third visit of the shop. A true kafkaesque regulation for tourists! 

The area of the Golden Temple has to be entered with bare feet and then you have to walk through a shallow water basin to clean them. It was a cold day at my visit so I was glad it was at least heated up a bit. Then you enter the lake area with the temple in the midle. Its a stunning architecture and with the thousands of pilgrims it turns you automatically in a bit of a devotional mood though I have very few ideas about Sikhism. As a visitor you start to like the religion even more as they not only let you enjoy their unique architecture but they invite you also for a free lunch. Its simple food but the logistics behind serving a meal for thousands of visitors each day in a hygenice and clean environment is another thing that is well worth to exerience. 

Due to the many pilgrims and visitors there is also high number of food stalls in the city offering exclusively vegetarian dishes. I tried many of these. Some are really good and others are – well it was worth to try them once. Also an interesting thing is that in the complete city center its not allowed to offer any meat nor you can buy cigaretts or alcohol. 

It was a bit too cold for my taste in Amritsar so I was looking at my options to get quicker down south than cycling. With trains I wasted quite some time as its nearly inpossible to book tickets only several days in advance. You need to book them several weeks in advance to get a ticket if you dont want to end up in lowest class which several people warned me to even think about. 

So I booked a sleeper bus ticket for me and my bicycle departing on 31st of December and arriving in Bikaner in Rajasthan the morning of the next day. Immediately after I got my space assigned I felt it makes much more sense to cover longer distances in a horizontal position than to be squeezed into a seat where every position you try allows for just short sleeping periods. 

So the next section of my trip – touring through the various famous places in Rajasthan – started good and I am happy to tell you more about in the next posts. 

Wagah border

From other travellers I knew that crossing Wagah border is someting special and I was told to come late in the afternoon close to the closing ceremony.

As its just three hours of riding from my place in Lahore to the border I had time to look for a place to change my leftover Pak Rupee into Indian Rupee. Though this turned out to be quite difficult. I asked in 5 changing offices but they all sent me to other places as nobody had Indian Rupee on sale. Later it became clear to me – why should they as no Pakistani citizen can actually travel to India. I then decided to change them to USD which also turned out to be difficult. An agent told me that the central bank is not releasing USD amidst the current economical situation. Though they made an exception to me as a foreign tourist and also because the amount was low. 

Traffic became lower the closer I came to the border. When I reached the first border official he said the border is closed already although it was only 3pm by that time. I explained my situtation and then he waved me off to hurry up. 

Getting the exit stamp from Pak was quick and I could walk towards the Iron gate. 

On both sides of the gate you have half of a stadium where people had allready gathered. There was mindblasting music on either side. When I got close to the gate they checked again my passport and visa and then the Pak gate got opened so I could sneak through. The gate closed after me and then the India gate got opened and again closed after me. 

From then on I had a personal officer also on bicycle who escorted me through the various stations for immigration into India. At one desk I was asked for Polio vaccination. I showed my vaccination report and with all the stickers and stamps it seemed to be ok to let me pass.

After an hour or so I finished the last passport check and was let out into India. 

From Wagah border it was then another two hour of ride to come to my prebooked Hotel in Downtown Amritsar and of course I made a stop to purchase two bottles of beer on the way to celebrate completion of leg one of my trip. Something which I did not have the last six weeks in the Islamic republic.

Lahore

After another couple of days in relaxing Islamabad, which I also used to climb the various trails in the nearby hills I set of for the second largest city in Pakistan – Lahore.

It was an awful long drive to leave Islamabad southbound and only after around fifty kilometers I felt that the city might be ending. I saw several giantic new building projects for future towns on the way which give rise to the rapid increase in population this country undergoes. 

The next morning I had a nice encounter with two local journalists which asked me if they can make an interview about my impression of Pakistan and my trip. Of course I agreed and the next days they sent me what they published.

On that day I was again without a plan where to stay and as allways somebody asked me to join for tea. When I mentioned that I was searching for a place  to stay he immediately invited me to come to his house in the next larger city around three cycling hours away from our current position. 

The traffic became really dense when approaching Lahore. When you ride in such traffic the distance between me and other travellers like cars, busses, lorries but mainly motorbikes reduces to centimeters and I am allways wondering that all went so well with just rarely getting a slight bump somewhere. Pakistani are rough drivers but – unlike in Europe – without any agression for traffic misbehavior which is maybe the secret that there is still flow in the streets. 

Lahore has a historic city center with an ancient fort, one of the largest historic mosques and a walled inner city. I allowed myself three lazy days to explore its beauty and made myself a bit of a christmas present in booking a guided food on foot tour to get to know the local specialties. Of course I was the only participant in this tour which did not make me wonder as like with all other places in Pakistan I barely spotted any western tourists. 

Peschawar

After my return from the northern territories back to Islamabad I stayed there much longer as I would generally do before I set off for another trip. 

I wanted to go west and see the capital of KPK (Kyber Pakhtunkhwa) province close to Afghanistan border which is a two days trip on bicycle and should again surprise me.

In the afternoon of the first days ride  I was looking for a hotel in a middle size city. The booking portals I am usually using to pre-book a place did not show any hotel nearby. Google showed three hotels in the area but they all had not been existing when I went there. At a busy road I asked some people about a hotel but they said there is none. One guy then said I should wait five minutes for him to make a call. Another five minutes later a guy showed up and introduced himself as Fawad. He was the owner of one of the central housing blocks and he said he could provide me with a room. We went there and put the bike at his cousins shop. It was useless to insist that I would carry up my bags by myself. Four other people each carrying one of my bags escorted me and Fawad up first floor to my room. I was asked if I like Pizza which of course I do and ten minutes later somebody arrived to bring me a box with Pizza. Of course I asked Fawad to tell me the price of the room but he nearly felt insulted at the thought of compensating his hospitality. Later that evening his brother showed up and invited me for tea at a nearby hotel and we talked longer about his business plan and the difficulties for an entrepreneur to establish a business competing against the establishment which sounded like Mafia but seems to be a sad reality in this country which is ruled by an oligarchy.

Of course I was served breakfast the next day and after best wishes for a farewell I continued my ride to Peschawar. 

To make it short – Peschawar was not pleasing me much. Though it was a sunny day the sun had no chance to break through the smog that lay above the city. The historic market area was huge and colorful though quite exhausting to walk through with the many people and motorbikes trying to find their way through the small streets.

After two days I decided not to stay longer but to see if I can get a train back to Ravalpindi which is the neighboring city to Islamabad which itself does not have a train station. The afternoon prior to departure I went to the train station to buy the ticket and see if they can also take my bike.

So the next day I went to the cargo office to check in my bike around an hour prior to departure and could experience the burocracy which is involved in that. Three different forms with three copies by means of carbon paper had to be filled and the bike was inspected by police and labeled accordingly. I was hundred percent sure it will reach my destination especially after having tea with the manager of the cargo department.

The train left on the exact minute of the planned departure time and was not at all crowded so it was the exact opposite of what travellers experience when taking trains in India. Of course my bike was standing already at the platform in Ravalpindi when I walked to the front where the cargo coach was located.

So should I eventually have again the choice of taking the train or other means of transport – I will definitively use trains in Pakistan. 

Hunza Valley

Hunza Valley gave me a different impression then the Koistan region I came from. Like in Islamabad you could see again some women in public and even as employees in shops. Also I spotted some few people riding bicycles – a thing which seems unthinkable in rest of Pakistan to my experience so far. 

The beginning of the valley is dominated by the nearly 8000m high Rakaposhi mountain. When you see it first you would not think it is much higher than the high peaks in the Alps. You get a feeling though when you ride along for an hour and the perspective does not change much. From the peak down to the valley Rakaposhi measures around 6000m which gives another sense about the magnitude of this mountain which is said to be one of the nicest of the Karakorums. I have to agree to this statement as the huge icy slopes really impressed me the longer I was looking at them. 

Leaving Hunza down to Paschtunkhwa Kyber province I was expecting again the supervaillance and escort by police but something must have changed. Police check points had been barely staffed and just occasionally I had a car following me for some kilometers leaving me back alone again after a while. Though again I had been invited by the officers for one night stay and dinner at their camp as the few hotels in the area had been closed already because of season end.

On the last third of my way to Islamabad the KKH is bypassed by a new built motorway. I was curious if I might be able to use it as it would provide a much easier going forward with just a gradual incline and a 3km long tunnel to soften the last bit of the mountain range. At the toll station I asked and they said I can use it so I found myself on likely one of the finest termac sections in Pakistan. And – I did not even have to pay for it.

Attabad Lake

The morning felt quite good as I sensed that my stomach finally came out of the strike mode and doing team playing again in supplying calories. So the 20km up from my Basecamp hotel in Karimabad felt really good which I did not have for nearly a week now.

In Google maps there is still the old road given to reach lake Attabad. This lake was created by an landslide in January 2010 which since then dammed the Hunza river and burried around 20km of KKH. Two years later the Chinese built 4 tunnels so around 4km before the lake you start to enter the first one which spits you out at the south end of the lake around 5km later at 2600 msl. Even if it’s not a bright sunny day today the water is deep turquoise as I had seen it from pictures before and it just looks awesome.

I continued through the other three tunnels and arrived at the Attabad resort with some hotels and bungalow villages. It must be a sizzeling spot in summer. In this time of the year all places are closed and I was happy that one restaurant had open to prepare me some chips and chicken nuggets so I could celebrate my once again working stomach today.

When getting ready for return I got a bit surprised about the not working illumination in the tunnel which was on when I came here but then I did remember a sign about the operational hours. So that was obviously the meaning.

At a police station I tried to ask when the light may turn on again but did not get a real answer. In the further talking the officer gave me an idea though to climb up a 300m peak to have a much better view on the lake which I gladly did to see the lake in Panorama view.

On the way down I suddenly heard my name and I looked over and saw some people cutting the dried out grass up here. I went over and it turned out that it was the guy I had asked maybe 30km away from here about a hotel yesterday. I did feel flattened not so much by the fact that he did remember me but in partulicular that he did remember my name which is so far away from Pakistani name conventions.

Down on the road the tunnel was still dark so I checked the power level of my mobile and with it as a torch I followed the white stripe in the middle in the hope there might not be a stone or something else on the road.

This is now my turning point. With temperatures during the night at this height already well below zero I do not feel comfortable to climb up further on KKH with the pass anyhow not accessible at the moment. For me it was a short winter season up here as now every pedal stroke south should bring me closer to warmer climate with the hope to ride in T-shirt again soon. 

Gilgit

After the Basham dam the steep Indus Valley opens up to a wide valley. It’s a rocky desert place with occasional green only when there are creeks streeming down from the mountains. I passed by at the view point on Nanga Parbat and was glad that the weather was sunny so I could see what’s called the killer mountain. There is a side road turning off from KKH at Ricot bridge which leads to Ferry meadows which is giving the best view on this mountain. If the weather is favorable on my way down I would want to take that road to have an even better impression. 

The going got tough these days as I picked up a food poisoning in Chilas that started to develop further. There is very low energy and beeing short in power I spent a night in an abandoned police station as any larger village with hotel was out of reach in my condition. 

The next day I passed through a bit magic location. North of Joglot the Gilgit River coming from Hindukusch flows into the Indus and this is also called the meeting point of Hindukusch, Karakorum and the Himalaya.

Traffic is very low on KKH for the last two days. I was wondering on this as the KKH is the main trade route between China and Pakistan. I was told that the Kunjerab Pass which forms the border between Pakistan and China at around 4600m height is not passable these days because of snow and with the Covid restrictions in China the traffic is anyhow very low. A bit of a benefit for me though as it allows for a quiet cycling. 

Gilgit is the last larger city in Pakistans northern territory. I had a recommendation to stay at a homestay there and spent two nights to give my stomach some rest before the last climb up along the Hunza River. The weather is supposed to be stable the next days so I should be fine to enjoy the nicest section of KKH which is said to be in Hunza Valley. 

Along Bashar dam building site

On next morning I really could leave the hotel on my own end enjoy some section on the Indus Valley. It’s breathtaking how the Indus cutted here in the Kakakorum mountains with a depth that I would estimate to be easily 2000m.

There were other pick ups though waiting again. One of them was my absolute preferred option – they took my luggage and let me cycle to the next check point. On this day I arrived at the beginning of the Basha damn and hydroplant building site. The Indus will be dammed on a length of around 40km. All villages and also the current route of Karakorum highway will disappear at the end of this decade. In parallel to the damn they are rebuilding the KKH already a couple of hundred meters higher. It’s needless to say that the general contractor of this project is Chinese. This is considered a save area so I could go again my way. 

The day brought an excellent encounter in the way that I met Jeremy and Timo. They are on cycle tour for more than a year now and from their posts I knew that I may meet them eventually in the opposite direction of KKH. We spent a long time together chatting and once we waved good by it was clear I may not make it to the next larger city with hotel. 

Camp sites are difficult to find here and I was happy to find a bit of a hidden spot before sunset to pitch up my tent. While I was eating my dinner I saw a group of people searching up the street with torch lights and soon after it was clear that they are searching for me. When I unhide myself there was no word of blame but you could sense their feeling of relief that they found the lost cyclist. Of course the previous police station had informed them that I should show up and since I did not they had been alerted. They helped me packing up and brought me to their station for spending the night there. It was a wonderful evening around a campfire chatting about life in Germany and Pakistan. When I was already close to sleep on my thermarest they came in the room again to bring a real bed so I could sleep even better. It was utmost comfort with the only drawback of periodic breaks of breaking trucks to roll over the speed bumpers and then to accelerate again. In the morning they brought tea and bread for breakfast. I am looking forward to meet them on the way back! 

Way out of Islamabad

The riding up on Marghalla Hills National Park was a true delightful route through bit subtropical forest on superb termac which reminded me on the landscape I was riding once in Darjeeling. The only drawback was the continuous rain. By the time it got dark I was still far away from any city so I pinched up my tent and tried to dry out my soaking cloths. 

The nice cycling should find an end though the next day and at least I was prepared for what to come from reading blogs and stories from other cyclists in Pakistan. 

In the direction to Abbottabad I was once again stopped by a car but this time not in a friendly way but rather questioned what I am doing here and why I do not have police escort. In a polite way I replied that nobody was there to offer escort.

Likely this guy called the police because just ten minutes later two police guys on motorbike showed up and asked me in a very friendly way that I should be so kind to follow them. At the next police check point another guy took me over to the following police check point where myself and the bike had to embark a pickup. At the end with two further changes they brought me directly to the hotel I booked online. A cop escorted me for dinner and stayed in front of my hotel room for the night. 

The next morning I could escape the constant escort for a short time and had at least breakfast on my own before embarking the next pickup. 

Of course I asked them to get an answer why this elevated effort is needed. They said that Pakistan is save but they want to give courtesy to me by putting extra security measures. I suspect an injured foreigner is likely the least they want to have happen in their territory. The atmosphere was allways very friendly and felt more like hitchhiking with occasional stops for having tea and exchanging facebook accounts. 

With seven different escorts I reached the Indus valley for sure quicker than if I would have cycled and finally stayed the night at the intersection to Swat valley in another hotel. Again this was selected by police and I was not allowed to leave the hotel for dinner.

At least they did not ask for appointment on check out for the next morning so I had some hope that I may gain back my freedom to ride Karakorum Highway on my own. 

Arrival in Islamabad

It was a bit of strange feeling to pack the bike in order to take a flight rather than pedalling off from home. The uncertain situation in Iran and also some timing constraints made me taking this option knowing that I once again will miss the option of cover the route from Europe to India fully on land.

In this trip I want to do some things that I had in mind for years and which I could not do on the first journey at the time before Covid.

Once landed in Islamabad I already could experience what is waiting for me in Pakistan. During the time I assembled my bike at the airport I collected two invitations for tea along with good introductory conversations about the country. Let alone that I got phone numbers where to call if any help might be needed. 

Islamabad is a fully planned city of the 60’s of last century with just 1M residents. It’s fairly easy to get oriented as the stringent square concept with letters indicating the vertical position and numbers the horizontal direction immediately tells you where to go when your place is maybe in F-11. When riding through the wealthy residential areas you get more the feeling to be in California. Most roads are of two lines with a green palm tree doted stripe separating the driving directions. Traffic is moderate even in rush hours and cars are at a relatively high standard. 

There is nothing like an old town in Islamabad and the only sights are the giantic Pakistan Monument and the even larger concrete built Faizal Mosque which to me has a flair more like Charles De Gaulle airport than a picturesque worship place. It was clear soon that Islamabad represents reality in Pakistan as similar as if you would arrive in the Principality of Monaco and consider this would be the standard within Europe. 

After three days in the city I started to head off via the first nearby hills of Margalla National Park to reach the sight which attracts me the most to be here – The Karakorum Highway! 

Ciro Trail – Bosnia Herzegowina

Some time ago I read about a cycle track from Dubrovnik to Mostar called the Ciro trail which now was the right time to find out what it’s about.

The Austro-Hungarian monarchy at the end of the 19th centory built a network of narrow gauge railway to link the southern Adriatic harbors on the coast like Kotor and Dubrovnik with the hinterland cities and central Europe. This network had been abandoned in the seventies. With the help of EU funds some parts had been converted into a cycle path in 2016 in order to support tourism. 

Coming from Herceg Novi in Montenegro I started my Ciro Trail in Dubrovnik old town. First I worked up 300hm to a plateau where I joined the actual cycle path just behind the BiH checkpoint. The track is all flat termac and cuts through rocks and leads over damms filling up troughs. The area is completely depopulated here though the station buildings give a little glimpse of the glory times of this era. On an info board at Hum station where the railwayline split up one to Dubrovnik and one to Kotor it said that they had up to 60 trains per day running through this junction. 

After around 60km on this superb path and my night stay at an artificial lake the path changed to heavy gravel where you thought they may have just removed the rails and nothing else. This rattling 20km section included also several unlit tunnels and led finally from the plateau down to the Neretva valley where I felt to come back into civilisation. 

The third 40km section of the trail to Mostar was all along the river and parallel to the new standard gauge electrified railway line which links the harbor in Ploce with Mostar. 

This trail was a true experience and is still an insiders tip for advanced cyclists. I would wish they can further invest in the incompleted sections so eventually it may be part of the Eurovelo network and bring tourism at a much larger scale to this area. 

Along the Albanean coast

From the border between Greece and Albania I was following the Ionean Coast up north. The road is a continuous up and down up to Dermi. The city I stayed before called Saranda took me already in surprise with all its hotels and apartment buildings. Dermi topped this even with a – to my belief – largest building site in Albania. They are converting a several km stretch of untouched sandy beach into what is maybe close to the Albanian version of La Grande Motte. The building boards mention 9 five star hotels, 350 bungalows connected with 2800 free parking spaces. No idea who should purchase all this retort bungalows let alone where the guest may come from to populate the various hotels. 

After Dermi the 1000m high Llogara Pass started which geografically separats the Ionean coast from the Adriatic coast. The sun was shining bright and it was a real joy to work up the six switchbacks with several kilometer of ramp in between to reach the upper plateau. 

The way down went along the Llogara national parc on a much smaller, more sylvan and curvy road than the way up. Fairly at the bottom of the path I saw that they are tunneling the Llogara Pass now with the obvious plan to bring clients from Tirana Airport to their beach resorts much quicker then if they would have to meander over the pass. 

A true cycle path lined up with palm trees lead me into the town of Vlora. Albeit the path would have been significantly more useful if they would have lowered the curbs at intersections. Seems this has simply been forgotton and nobody really cared when it was completed. 

A strong and warm wind from south started when I left Vlora and it was well pushing me for one and a half day on my route north to Shkodra on relatively flat and agricultural land. Once it stopped though heavy rain started and temperature dropped significantly. The last hours before reaching the town I was cycling in torrential rain where it was hard to differentiate the road from the loose shoulder and riding through the flooding rain I simply hoped that I may not fall into an invisible porthole. 

Shkodra is familiar to me and I liked the city with its castle, the lake and its small but nice old town already when I stopped here on the way to India in 2019. With the weather forecast beeing really bad for the next two days I decided to wait here before heading off for Montenegro. 

Along the Ionean Coast

In Patras the Pelopponese is linked with a 2.5 km long bridge to mainland Greece. Completed only in 2004 they seemed to have pretty much forgotten that people on bicycle may want to use it as well. In order to drive on it we had to carry bike and gear up a stair of around three floors to reach the small pedestrian section.

With my temporary cycling companion I seperated in Mytikas where he is helping now to refurbish an old wooden ship. We came along really well so it would have been nice to continue but we all have our plans and routes and who knows when we might be bumping into each other again.

The next challange was the undersea tunnel which links Aktio and Preveza. It’s a motorway tunnel so forbidden for bicycles. In blogs I read you just may come close and wave into the surveillance camera and then a shuttle from the operator may arrive. I waved for some minutes like the Queen but nobody picked me up. Then I changed strategy to wave for pickup cars passing by and within 15 minutes my bike was on a truck through the tunnel.

Cycling is going really well on fairly quiet roads. My route follows Eurovelo 8 which starts in Athens and ends in Cadiz. In between it spans a long bow along the northern Mediterranean coast and after Igoumenitsa I crossed border into Albania. 

Circle around Peloponnese

It was a venture I had in view for a longer time and in this insecure times it appeared to be the adequate solution to my desire to go on the bike again. I wanted to encircle the Peloponnese and stay as close to the shore as possible.

So I left home round mid of February to reach Mestre via the Tauern Cycle Path and the Alpe Adria Trail which I know quite well by now from other trips south east. I had enough time to get a glimpse of last days of  Carnevale in Venice before boarding the ferry to Greece.

It was an extremely comfortable thirty hour trip on a boat which was fairly empty. Patras had mild sunny weather and I stayed there for two days before hitting the road. Greece is perfect bikepacking ground as it offers plenty of the nicest camp spots and nobody really cares where you pinch up your tent. The first two days I shared campsite on the beach with a German cycling&climbing couple whom I already met on the ship. We did not make an appointment but just ended up fairly much on the same beaches.

In sunny weather I reached the tip of the first finger at Methoni with its stunning castle on the west side and Koroni with its marvelous orthodox monestary on the east side and went for swimming first time in the season somewhere in between.

I spent two days in Kalamata before heading down the second finger called Mani. All the hills where green with flowers everywhere so it gave me a feeling of Ireland in summer rather then Greece which I always visited in autumn when everything was dried out. My plan to stay close to the coast led me to an unpaved road which I estimated to last for about two hours. It turned out to be rather a steep foot trail where I pushed the bike for nearly four hours. The scenery was all worth it though. 

By the time I reached the southern tip of the finger the weather changed though and it felt more like navigating round Cap Horn rather than the Mediterranean with strong wind and rain and temperatures having dropped quite a bit. 

Via Gythio I started the third finger and went down to Neapoli and hoped to have better conditions on the eastern side. At least in the morning when I reached the stunning rock of Monemvasia with its historic city and castle the sun came out for some time. The way further north went over two passes of around 800m height and I was happy that they had snow ploughes here as otherwise the route would have been barely passable for me. 

To be honest the forth finger on the eastern side I only made to complete the venture. It did not really offer fascinating landscape nor particularly fine roads but with the cold wind blasting in now continously from north east it gave me moments of travel where you just focus on reaching your target then really enjoying what you are doing. 

Between Korinth and Patras I met another Belgium cyclist and we teamed up the way further north for some days direction to the Albanian coast.

Yerevan – End of the trip

Question to Radio Yerevan: “Can you cycle from Europe to Yerevan?” 

Answer Radio Yerevan: “In principle you can. There are some mountains in between, a sea, consider you might have snow and be aware to meet many dogs. Apart from that it’s a nice journey.”

The entry to the city of Yerevan was again in rain and I had to focus my full concentration on the riding rather then looking around. I noticed quickly that this city has not even motorbikes let alone bicycles which alerted me even more as the fellow traffic members are simply not used to smaller type objects than cars. Later I asked a local guy why there are no motorbikes and he explained this that it is in a way not appropriate to use an open vehicle. 

From the very beginning I was very much in sympathy with this city. I found good places for food, it has an enormous cultural background and it’s surrounded by mountains. As the sky cleared on the third day after my arrival one could finally see the impressive Ararat which is just around 50km away from downtown.

Getting a bit deeper in the Armenian history it’s indeed a sad position they are in. The country is surrounded by neighbors they never had been friends with and which made them the punching ball between the ones in power with the last culmination just a year ago. The city is full of martial monuments giving reminiscence of this and expressing the Armenian proud to never have surrendered.

Yerevan is a good end of my trip. The unclear situation with the new Omicron Variant and the danger for new waves and in particular the possibility that further countries may shut down borders with airlines cancelling flights convinced me to book a flight home rather now than later. I am sure that I will return here again as there are many more roads and regions which are worth to be explored than I have seen on this trip and furthermore the country is very welcoming to any sorts of travellers.

Crossing to Armenia

The Goderdzi Pass was stressing me more than I thought and I felt that I needed a day longer to recover. The hotel I had chosen in the valley was nice and the owner had been happy to host their only guest a day longer.

Initially it was my plan to go to Tbilisi which would have been two additional days of cycling. Alternatively I could go via another pass to Armenia. The weather forecast was not great but at least it was such that I should have a fair chance to make it.

Early in the morning I started in lumpy rain upstream a river valley which was cultivated like a park from the many small size cows they are grazing there freely like sheeps. Traffic was moderate and by lunchtime the rain even stopped. Then after a steep ascent I came out of the valley at Achalkalaki and I reached a wide plateau that should bring me to the Armenian border.

I was still climping up gradually after I spent the night on this plane until I reached the checkpoint at the highest point well above 2000m. Leaving Georgia was quick and easy. Cycling was no issue in terms of ice on the road so far. However in the nowhere land between Georgian customs and Armenian checkpoint I had to push the bike and take care that I may not slip even when walking. Seems nobody feels responsible for this 500m in between the two countries.

The Armenian checkpoint was massively overstaffed for the five or ten vehicles passing there in an hour to my estimation. The many employees meant that my passport was checked in several stages. The people had been all very friendly but I could not figure out what the next officer may see what the one before may have not already checked. Maybe it was just a thing that several people had an interest to see the passport of this outlandish type of traveller strangely dressed crossing to Armenia at this time of the year on bicycle. 

After another half day of cycling up and down I reached the city of Gjumri. I got Armenian Dirams,  SIM card and a well needed warm place in a guest house to spend the night. The route to Armenians capital Yerewan meant once more to climb up the lesser Caucasus the next day before getting to lower ground in Yerewan over the following 80km. The trip will take an unwanted turn here which I will let you know in the next post. 

Goderdzi Pass

The logistics went well in Batumi and within short time I had SIM, cash and a new pair of winter boots. The weather forecast was not promising with rain coming in and decent snow over the lesser Caucasus. If I want to stick to my route I had to leave Batumi early before snow may make the route via Goderdzi Pass in direction to Tbilisi unpassable. 

I left early in the morning after the day of my arrival to move up the Adschariszqali Valley in eastern direction . There was a nice warm southern wind like we have it in the Alps coming over the mountains but as we well know you need to be careful once it stops.

 
It was peaceful riding with mainly Ford Transit shared taxis moving up and down from time to time on the nice termac road. About lunchtime I made a break to take sandwiches from the market as no restaurants had open. When I went back on the bike a dog was escorting me out of the village. Knowing that this might be critical I tried to convince him to return – first verbally and then throwing some small wood sticks after him. He did not care but kept a bit of a larger distance but still running in front of me as if he wanted to show me the way. 

When I made another afternoon stop he waited at my bike while I was in the shop and when I returned you could see that he was defending my kit from other dogs that showed up. I had not much other choice then to let him come with me.

The street bacame a rough gravel road at the village called Chulo so the going became very slow. I went for the night in a bus stop shack as there was no way to come up to the pass on that day. I babtisted my new travel companion after the name of this village. He slept at the entrance and several times that night I heard him growling likely because another dog was approaching. 

I got up before daylight the next day and it was clear that the rain will turn into snow as I climb up higher. I was in the mood to try it anyhow and the fact that some cars came in my direction gave me security that I am gonna make it. On the way working up I had several offers for a lift which I turned down mainly because I wanted to do it by own forces but also I did not want to leave Chulo in the snow. At least I felt responsible to bring him back down in moderate temperature. 

By pushing the bike through snow over the last twelve kilometers I reached the Goderdzi Pass. Though soaked from rain on lower ground and now snow-covered I felt great to have made it likely as the last cyclist in this year up this pass. I already read that the pass is a climatic devide which blocks humidity from the west so I was in good hope that the way down will be better than the way up. 

After some kilometers which I made in a mixture of riding and gliding I realized that my breaks gave up. I well did remember  that I should have changed the rubbers before. There was no other way than to do it now in the snow, with completely dirty rimms and wheels and pretty cold fingers.

 
The other issue to solve was how to continue with Chulo. I knew that I would turn into a more busy road which would be by far to dangerous to let him run with me. In the first little market where the termac road started I purchased some sausages to pay him for the calories he lost over the pass. While he was enjoying his meal I was quickly pedaling off knowing that he had no chance to follow on downhill termac. I wish him all the best in his new habitat. He will have plenty of other dogs around and pretty sure the climate in the dry east is favorable to the west where he picked me up. 

Black Sea Cruise

The Black Sea ferry is indeed different to the ferry trips I made in the past. I was wondering why they were fixing the lorries with chains as I never saw this in other places. With a very calm sea the ship was already gradually rolling left and right so the chain fixing is surely needed if the going would have gone tough. From my cabinmate I was told the ship left only by around 4am in the morning so it seems they waited until every slot was occupied to get the profits right.

The days on sea passed quickly with the breaks for meals giving it a good structure. Food was basic but I liked it especially as I did not have to do grocery and cooking by myself. Staff was extremely friendly and I sensed this to be a friendliness coming rather from beeing a larger family on board than a trained customer politeness.

 
Also it was quite ok to be without internet for more than two days. A thing which I only had two years ago in Iran when they switched off the network because of the riots. I spent the time sleeping, reading and drinking beer having some basic conversation with people on board. I already got aware that speaking Russian would be much more valuable here than English.

Payment was asked on the last day when we approached Georgia. They kept my passport which gave them some security though. It very much reminded me on Chris de Burg’s song not to pay the ferryman until he brings you to the other side. I would very much appreciate such payment terms when dealing with airlines.

Now I am in Batumi and will stay here one or two days to get adjusted. I need to get Georgian SIM card, enough cash and better winter shoes. My cycling shoes likely will not be enough to cross the lower Caucasus mountains where the road meanders up to well above 2000m with sections where I will likely have to push the bike rather than riding it.

Sunny Beach and Burgas

The hot sulfur springs in Varna had been absolutely fabulous. The pool was hot and directly at the sea so with just some steps you could cool down in the Black Sea. I spent there more then three hours oscillating between the pool and the open sea.

After Varna I turned south towards Burgas. With my cautious daily milage calculation because of the headwind I planned more than one day for this. At the end I could have done it in one day as with the absence of the wind from the front my pace came back as I was used to in the past. 

Would I have done this I may have missed though the spooky stay at Sunny Beach. This is a city like the catalogue booking tourist sites in Spain where large hotel complexes are chaining up along the sandy beach for kilometers. The hotel room was fairly priced in the booking portal so I went for this. From the operator I got informed that a backdoor of the hotel is open and my keys are on the open room door. Literally I spent the night as the only person in this complex. I did not mind having no breakfast buffet as I carry everything needed with me anyhow and also it was ok to carry bike and bags up to the room as elevators had been switched off. 

It was a short ride to Burgas from there. The city seems well organized and I could use even some bike lanes in the city. Also it has a stunning cycle track along the beach which gave me some feeling of California with the sun shining and mild temperatures. 

This is the endpoint of my Bulgarian section as from here the ferry starts to Batumi in Georgia. From other cyclists I was told that the route along the Black Sea in Turkey is less favorable for cycling and I love ferry cruises. So I am looking forward for spending the weekend on the boat just resting and enjoying full board. I went for mandatory PCR test in the morning and got the result just after lunch. Now I am waiting at the ferry point for the next leg of this trip to begin. 

Through Bulgaria

There is this cycling theory of the prevailing western wind in Europe which I was very much a believer of it but only until now. Since Vienna I was riding with wind from the east and this only stopped during the days it was raining. I payed for that with minimum two additional travel days but have reached the Black Sea at Varna by now. 

The country is sparsely populated. I had sections with village to village distances of more than 20km. The good thing is that in each village you find a shop where to get refuelled. Remarkable already when arriving in Bulgaria is the huge amount of coffee machines. In the smallest towns you will find minimum one. They seem to be all displaced from Italy as Italian is their operating language and the money slots are labeled in Euro though they acccet only Lew. I tried with all coins which I collected over this trip but they are well calibrated on Bulgarian currency. Those machines must be discarded in Italy as it’s hard to believe they can generate enough revenue to pay off new if the cup of coffee is priced less than the equivalent of 25 Euro Cents.

It’s very nice to spend some rest days here in Varna with mild temperatures and sunshine. They have hot sulfur springs here open freely to the public and I am looking to go for one of these when there are less people around than today on a Sunday. 

It’s only around one and a half days riding south the coast to reach Burgas from Varna so I am well on schedule to reach the Ferry on Friday.