A number of dog walkers gave us unusual looks as we started preparing to leave. Lachlan was keen to here the results of the cane experiment, but was disappointed to find out that I had slept with a bottle sticking through the cane into my back. All-in-all the cane wasn’t too bad, except for a few parts that stuck into our ribs.

A car came towards us and the man said something in Italian. I spoke back in French and Simon spoke back in broad Australian. Lachlan was just nodding like he could understand. I roughly understood that the man was asking if we were moving on soon as a truck was coming to pick up the cane. Little did the man know, we had spread his neat bundles of cane out under our tent. After rolling the cane back up and discovering the pesky bottle under the tent we were back on the road, well almost. As I pulled up to the end of the driveway my front brake cable snapped. Although it was an annoying problem I was grateful that it didn’t happen while we were careering through Cinque Terre a few days prior. With no bike shop in sight, we decided to press on with care – Me with loose spokes and no front brake and Lachlan with two and a half gears and a wobbly back wheel. Simon’s bike looked decidedly new in comparison. We fixed my rear brake downed a coffee and pressed on.

We’d done about 20k of pretty normal riding on average roads when it all went pear shaped. I half turned to look at a funny sign name (as we’ve done hundreds of times over this trip) and in the process had a little tyre love tap with Lachlan who was in front of me. Normally this is no drama, you brake a little and continue rolling along. I grabbed the brake, but obviously got a different response from that I was expecting. The next thing I know my handlebars are crossed up and we’ve got the second crash of Euride08. I was on my feet before I’d realised what had happened, then was surprised Simon had avoided crashing into the back of me, and then walked up the road crouching and wondering how bad my knee was going to look. I turned around and saw the boys talking to some class of ambulance. I could have timed the prang worse, we were right across the road from an emergency response centre. Sometimes I feel like my life is one big fluke like that, but still, to have three spokes go, two flat tyres, a brake cable snap and a crash all in about 24 hours I was due for a lucky break! A doctor said my knee should be fine but to stay off the bike for a couple of days. Since my front wheel was now bent in half that wasn’t really an option anyway, so we trained the remaining 40k or so into Florence. We found a funky hostel and Simon introduced us to the lovely Jill, after meeting her at the train station. If you can’t be with family, there are worse places than Florence to spend Christmas. We can’t wait!

It almost seems like every major city in Italy is dedicated to tourism, and that you wouldn’t run into people that actually live there. Massa was no exception, with half the hotels closed for the winter and the rest hors de prix. It was just 40km to Pisa with the road as flat as a tack, with hardly a whisper of wind, and a double kebabie pitstop, perfect. Yes, that’s right, two kebabs each, in less than 15 minutes.

We stumbled upon the piazza del duomo more quickly than we expected to when we pedalled into Pisa. A legion of souvenir vendors detracted somewhat from all four of the beautiful buildings in the square - “Those guys? Yeah, I think they’re allowed to sell that stuff here”. Simon, trying to prop up the tower with his massive quads was an instant hit with the Japanese tourists. We also ran into a surprising number of bicycle tourists. Okay 2 others independent of each other, but we found that’s still a lot in one place at one time in the middle of winter! We enjoyed the warm sun while it lasted, and followed the river east out on the way to Florence.

As the sun set, we tried knocking on a church door hoping to pitch a tent in the back yard but got a shrugging, head shaking move along. We found a spot near the river and set up the tent on a pile of cut cane. It was Lachlan’s idea of DIY insulation from the cold, wet ground. A bastard bloody dog threatened to expose our hiding spot, barking up on the rise for 2 hours, but we got away with the campsite and after cooking the first pack of pasta in the tent we ate the second packet raw, it was just as tasty.

We packed up the tent and headed out of the yard we had stayed in last night. When changing Sam’s front tyre, Simon remarked how dangerously loose 2 of the spokes were. Sam decided not to fix them at the moment as it was another cold morning and we hoped to get going soon. We shared breakfast of pasta left-overs. Sam dug in first, leaning over to eat from the bowl and dripping some fluid from his nose onto the pasta. Simon and Lachlan went hungry.

We were heading through Sestri Levante, when we joined up with a group of cyclists who appeared to be racing on their expensive Italian racing bikes. Not one to let a challenge go by we jumped on to the peloton, the group seemed happy to have us there as we chatted with them and kept up with the pace. Soon enough we arrived at a tunnel just out of town. The 15Kms of coastal road was mostly single lane tunnels between 1Km and 2Kms long. It had traffic lights at either end of the tunnel to allow traffic to run at certain times of the hour. We had just missed our green light so we waited with the few cars that were parked. The lights went green on the 5, 25 and 45 minute mark and push bikes were strictly forbidden. Pushbikes are supposed to take a mountainous road around the tunnels. Some of the cyclists that we were following before approached us to tell us, in broken English, of the dangers of riding through the tunnels. Doing some rough calculations we could only spend 8mins (max) in one direction before we needed to find safety and at the start of each tunnel we would have to wait for all the cars to pass us before we set off. It was decided that we were going to take our chances, we just needed to peddle our legs off.

The green light was on and the last car entered the tunnel. With adrenalin pumping we jumped on our bikes and sped after the red tail lights that were slowly shrinking into the distance. We rode flat out to try to keep the red beacons in our sights but, with the tunnel over 2Kms long, they were gone and it was just 3 blokes on bikes riding for their lives in a poorly lit tunnel. As the cars were slow to enter the tunnel at the start it had reduced the amount of time we had to make it to safety and with less than a minute remaining we burst out of the tunnel into beautiful sunshine. From then on we decided to limit the distance in the tunnels to under 2Kms.

After the short sprints through the tunnels we arrived at Levanto. The coastal roads ended here so we had to take a short train ride to the start of the Cinque Terre trail. We had hoped to cycle the trail but they are strictly walking paths with many steps. We had a choice to catch the train to the next village on the Cinque Terra trail or cycle to the top of the range and then drop down into the final two towns. With the thought of adventure we took the challenge to cycle. On the first hill out of Levanto we had to peddle up a 19% grade road. It was a difficult climb, but worth it. The amazing view of the coastal towns was everything we had been told about. Late in the afternoon we rolled into Riomaggiore to watch fisherman at their trade as the sunset into the Mediterranean. It was a beautiful finish to an exciting, but tough day… or so we thought.

We caught a train out of Riomaggiore and arrived in Massa late in the evening. From the train station we headed into the city to find a suitable place to stay, but there was nothing in our price range. A few locals pointed us in the direction of a hostel by the shoreline but it, like most things on this trip, was closed. We were lucky to find an hotelier with a soft spot for Australians. He offered us a great deal on a room for the night and even asked us to share coffee and chocolates with him and his wife. A mixed up pizza order and a sneaky kebab (sorry sambo) later we really were done for the day. A soft warm bed in an old three story mansion really was the grand finish to a grand day.

We were glad we decided to take the caravan last night – gee was it cold! Today, however, is looking a little better. We warmed up pretty quickly as we tried to keep up with “Sunday riders” on their fast road bikes. We climbed up and over each hill dividing small towns with perfect blue skies and a warm sun, it was a wonderful day for riding. Keeping up with fit men on expensive road bikes was taking its toll and it wasn’t long before we had to take off the thermals. There were plenty of riders out today. If you counted up the collective value of the riders bikes – Bianchi, Colnago, DeRosa, Pinarello, etc – it would rival the GDP of some countries.

Considering the hilly terrain we had travelled a good distance in a relatively short period of time so we stopped for a short break to finally fix my gears. The clicking and clunking was annoying and I wanted to fix it up for good! But my skills on the computer keyboard don’t translate as well as I had hoped to bike maintenance. The result of my tinkering ended up breaking the shifters for the rear derailleur. I was now left with the two gears on the front crank – three, if I pull the wire that run underneath the top bar of the frame. It was not quite the desired result I was after.

The hills continued for the rest of the day, including a steep 15% grade hill climb over a mountain that seemed to rise directly out of the Mediterranean. The pass was 300m above sea level and less than a kilometre from the shore. But the effort wasn’t without its rewards. When we came down off the mountain we dropped into a beautiful small fishing village called Rapallo. The temptation to stay was great, but Simon’s long winded synopsis of a B-Grade movie made Sam and I look for any opportunity to leave the area.

The sun was setting, we had nowhere to stay, and we had no food. Lavagna was a very small town with barely any open hotels, let alone open grocery stores. We had to find a campsite before nightfall, after that time it would be almost impossible to find a suitable place to sleep. With our minds racing back to the illegal campsite in the construction site a couple of days earlier, we were determined to find somewhere safe and legal. We a small house just out of the middle of town with a large front yard. We knocked on the door, but got no answer from inside. We stood in the yard and debated if we should stay or leave. It was now almost dark so Sam decided to go back down to the house for one last effort to see if the owner was home, if no-one answered we would move on. But on this occasion we were lucky. The owner was home, and better still spoke was able to speak French with Sam. He agreed to let us stay in the front yard for the night. Within 10 minutes we had setup the tent and started cooking some pasta we found earlier in a small local store.

We snuck out of our cheeky camp-site at the earliest moment of daylight and continued along the well maintained bike path until, about 5 Kms later, it ended abruptly and we were forced onto the main road with little-to-no siding for us to cycle on. As the cars whizzed past us on our left, on our right was beautiful Italian coastline of the Riviera di Ponente region. It’s a mixed up area with steep cliffs that drop off into the Mediterranean separating flat areas of coastline where small towns have popped-up to support the summer-time rush of tourists, but this was winter. The summer-time tourists of youthful people and families have been replaced by octogenarians sitting on the seaside benches getting their twelve minutes of sun chatting about who won cards last night. Many of the shuffling characters stopped, stared, and muttered a few words to themselves as they past our bikes leaned up against sea-wall, but they dared not talk to us like they might catch a disease. Maybe it was because we had commandeered one of the precious seats in the sun to eat our breakfast or maybe it was just because they’re old! None-the-less, we enjoyed the beauty of the region. In each cove was a town, a little piece of magic squished in-between hills that pushed out into the sea.

As we peddled on we were starting to realise that we weren’t going to reach our target of Imperia. We stopped for another brilliant Italian espresso to chat about our options. We got talking to the waitress, Flavia, who confirmed that Imperia was too far away from our current location in Savona. The coffee stop turned into a beer stop and we dropped the idea of getting all the way to Imperia. With very little hope at finding a camp-site that was actually open we looked for another area to set up our tent, but the coast-line was sheer cliff. With some amazing luck we ran into a caravan park that promised a shower and a warm bed. We cooked some food, charged our necessary items and got to bed.

It was only on the morning that we left Nice that I realised we were already about to leave France. We were all a little disappointed that the French stint was over, but we got a cool parting gift. We found the bike store owner we’d met the previous afternoon (who was the mechanic for Lance Armstrong apparently), and got some local riding jerseys! We climbed over hills overlooking alcoves with countless multi-million dollar yachts. Before long and almost without realising it we descended into Monaco. Of course there was a heap more yachts, a few Ferraris and (probably) the real Astana team, but apart from more stunning coastal outlooks, we were only mildly impressed with Monaco. With that, another ten km, and an embarrassing crash into a bench, we found ourselves in Italy! The first things we noticed were a lot of bike friendly tunnels, both with traffic and bike only ones! Not all of the old coastal railway has been converted yet, but I imagine the Northern Coast of Italy will be a pleasure to ride in about five years. Accordingly, there are stacks of enthusiastic push-bikers who whistle as us. We haven’t exactly figured out what that means yet… With sunlight fading fast we spotted a half constructed building in between two resorts and a marina, and took turns looking innocent on the bike path while the others ran the gear down inside. You always wonder who or what else you might be sharing your accommodation with when you pitch your tent in something like that, but along the coast we didn’t really have another option. That night we probably got away with our cheekiest campsite yet, right next to a marina that charges god-knows-what per night.

We left St Maxime at the start of a beautiful morning. To our right was the gulf of St Tropez and across the water was the small village that gives the gulf its name. The road we are taking follows the rocky French coastline, not too dissimilar to the coastline we saw in the south of Spain, only slight less mountainous! Still this didn’t stop us from seeing beautiful red cliffs that plunged into the sea and in the background snow capped mountains in the distance behind the cities of Cannes, Antibes and Nice.
For the most part we were wearing just a cycling jersey and a pair of knicks (cycling pants). The sun was wonderful and the wind was relatively calm to the previous few days in this area. On the beaches we could see debris and seaweed washed up from the big swells. The waves were still around every now and then though, as we found out just outside of Cannes. Following the road next to the water we saw some surfers out riding the waves, which occasionally broke up against the barrier on the side of the road, splashing salty water onto the road. Unfortunately for me, I was a victim of one of the waves. Sam riding just ahead of me was lucky enough to duck under a wall of water that saturated me and my bike, twice!
Covered in a crusty layer of salt (well, just me) we peddled through Cannes and then onto the cute town of Antibes where we found a cycle path that led all the way into Nice. However, we didn’t quite make it to Nice. On the road to a bike store we met a local, Jean. After hearing about our dilemma with accommodation, he offered a mattress in his house for the night, and we, of course, accepted gladly! He and his wife, Caroline, were amazingly generous and accommodating. I’m sure it was a bit of a surprise for Caroline to have three Australians sitting in her home when she returned from work, but the entire time they made us feel welcome.
Over some nice wine, biscuits, cheese, olives, and other local food we listened to Jean’s stories. Well travelled and well read I was wondering at how one person can do so much. Inspiration for us to, maybe one day, lead our lives in a similar vein.

The morning’s weather was not kind to us, as we woke to the familiar sound of rain. We hung around inside hoping the rain would clear up, but alas this would prove not to be the case. So we said goodbye to Sammy and Bene, and said a big thanks for all their hospitality and then headed towards the coast. After about 300 metres we were already saturated and were surprised to see the amount of localised flooding. We managed to find a bike track out of Hyeres with the weather conditions this proved to be a good option as it allowed us to relax and talk as we rode. Throughout the day winding in and out along the coast road we realised the flooding was not localised, but widespread up and down the coast. We left the bike path close to Rayol Canadel as it started to become unsealed and washed away in parts due to the weather. We decided to pull over for a late lunch using the excuse for a long lunch to warm up and dry out a little. After a the long lunch the rain looked to have stopped for a while and we headed out to continue riding, the rain had subsided but it was still very cold. With some climbing and winding in and out with the coast we quickly warmed up, just in time for the sun to come out at about three o’clock. We rode into to St Tropez to find that the flooding was worse than we expected. Roads were closed, shopping centres were flooded, and boats that were morred in canals were like river rafts in rapids. We rode through the closed roads as the water was not flowing it was mostly still, but it was very deep at times. All of the camping grounds were closed and most of the places we would set the tent up on the sly were flooded so we pressed on around the bay as the sun set towards Ste- Maxime where the flooding was not so bad. It was good to get out of the wet clothes and tuck in to a warm baguette with brie, tomato and avocado.

Everyone keeps saying around here that we’re unlucky with the weather in this region. From all accounts it is normally warm and dry, but this year it has snowed and rained more than ever. I think we’re still doing ok though, as these are the first few days of set in rain that we’ve encountered, and we’ve been lucky enough to be keeping out of it with Bene and Sami. They took us around to see what we could see in the cyclonic conditions. The same beach of the picture perfect sunset we witnessed on the way in is now buried under about half a metre of seaweed. I saw some real live flamingos for the first time of my life, and we witnessed the best windsurfing spot in Europe. Bene cooked up some great meals and started to understand some of our euride lingo and jokes. Simon and Sammi hit it off, discovering their shared love of surfing and rugby. We watched movies, chatted and read books. All in all it was a great rainy weekend in with good company. Thanks guys, looking forward to catching up soon!

An early wake up to a beautiful day in Marseille, as we rode out of the hostel the sun was warm but the temperature was brisk. We rode past an early morning football game with frost on the grass. As we climbed the hills out of Marseille we were climbing in the shadows of the mountains. The further we rode out of town and up the mountain the fewer houses we saw. The cars that were on the side of the road were covered in frost and there were many cyclists on their way down the Mountain. Once we reached the top of the climb where the morning sun was warm on our knuckles and the crisp mountain air was starting to warm, we descended into the sea side village Cassis where there were even more cyclists. A lady stopped and chatted with us and told us places to visit, and the best roads to ride on the way to Toulon. We were stopped again by two older men cycling in La Ciotat who were keen for a chat and showed us to the local bike shop so we could get a local team jersey.

From La Ciotat we rode through many sea side towns where the roads were very accommodating to cyclists. We passed many large groups and individuals for the rest of the day. The clouds started to roll in from the ocean as we entered Toulon and the main square was full of Christmas stalls and the streets were covered in decorations. From there we followed the bike track all the way to Hyeres, where we watched the sun setting over the ocean. From the beach we met up with an old friend of Lachlan’s, Benedicte where we going to stay for the night. Benedicte went out to get some salad for dinner, and in that time we got talking to Sammie (Benedicte’s boy friend) and he asked us if we enjoyed rugby because there was a big game on tonight, we all said we loved rugby and he went to see if we could still get tickets. It was the one of the big games of the season, Montpellier V’s Toulon. When we arrived at the stadium, a man gave us three tickets to the outer, it was turning out to be a great day. A game filled with Australian and New Zealand players including Sonny Bill Williams, was very enjoyable, with Toulon winning 30-9.

Jour 34

Un rĂ©veil matinal pour une belle journĂ©e Ă  Marseille; et comme nous quittions l’hĂ´tel, le soleil Ă©tait chaud mais les tempĂ©ratures vivifiantes. Nous avons roulĂ© près d’un match de foot, tĂ´t le matin, oĂą la pelouse Ă©tait gelĂ©e. En grimpant les collines autour de Marseille, nous pĂ©dalions Ă  l’ombre des montagnes. Plus nous nous Ă©loignions de la ville dans les montagnes, moins nous voyions de maisons. Les voitures sur le bord de la route Ă©taient couvertes de givre et nous croisions beaucoup de cyclistes descendant la montagne. Une fois en haut de la cĂ´te, oĂą le soleil rĂ©chauffait nos doigts et oĂą l’air glacial devenait plus doux, nous sommes descendus vers le village cĂ´tier de Cassis, oĂą il y avait encore plus de cyclistes. Une dame s’arrĂŞta pour parler avec nous et nous indiquer des endroits Ă  visiter et les plus jolis routes Ă  prendre pour gagner Toulon. Deux hommes plus vieux nous ont encore arrĂŞtĂ© Ă  La Ciotat pour discuter et nous montrer le magasin de vĂ©lo pour que nous puissions acheter un pull de l’Ă©quipe locale.

Depuis La Ciotat, nous avons traversĂ© beaucoup de villages de bord de mer oĂą les routes Ă©taient adaptĂ©es aux cyclistes. Nous avons vu beaucoup de groupes et d’individuels pendant le reste de la journĂ©e. Les nuages avançaient de la mer alors que nous entrions dans Toulon et la place principale Ă©tait pleine de stands de NoĂ«l et les rues couvertes de dĂ©corations. De lĂ , nous avons suivi la piste cyclable jusqu’Ă  Hyères, oĂą nous avons regardĂ© le coucher de soleil sur la mer. Sur la plage, nous avons retrouvĂ© une ancienne amie de Lachlan, BĂ©nĂ©dicte, chez qui nous allons dormir. BĂ©nĂ©dicte est sortie pour chercher quelques salades pour le dĂ®ner, et pendant ce temps, nous avons parlĂ© avec Sammie (le petit ami de BĂ©nĂ©dicte) qui nous a demandĂ© si nous aimions le rugby parce qu’il y avait un gros match ce soir lĂ ; nous avons tous rĂ©pondu ‘oui’ et il est sorti pour voir s’il restait des tickets. C’Ă©tait l’un des plus gros matchs de la saison, Montpellier-Toulon. Quand nous sommes arrivĂ©s au stade, un homme nous a donnĂ© 3 tickets Ă  l’extĂ©rieur, ça devenait une vraiment bonne journĂ©e. Ce match, plein de joueurs australiens et nĂ©o-zĂ©landais dont Sonny Bill Williams, fut très apprĂ©ciable, avec la victoire de Toulon 30-9.