Stuck in Paris and on to Bruge

Nobody will feel sorry for you when you're "stuck" in Paris but it was an odd position I found myself in after deciding due to illness and fatigue to skip ahead by train to Belgium. I arrived in Paris in a torrential downpour, no accomadation and no desire to see the sites as I'll be back there with my parents in a month and didn't want to spoil the surprise of discovering the city with them. To make matters worse, my phone stopped working and wouldn't turn on so I had no way to book a room in a coffee shop. After a miserable hour cycling around in the rain, I dried off in an Internet cafe and booked a nearby hostel before my train to Bruge the next morning.

I know... Poor me, stuck in Paris on my way to Belgium- just an interesting situation that can really only come up in long term travel.

After a few long trains, I arrived in Bruge in yet more pouring rain, this time with a hostel already booked (I'm slowly learning).

Bruge had three of these huge towers.

And some beautiful canals...

Bruge has a lot of intricately detailed and grand buildings to go along with the canals, perhaps that's why they claim to be the most romantic city in Europe.

Or maybe it's the farmer's market and all the flower stands...

Restaurant row had no shortage of tasty food and famous Belgian waffles and fries.

But my favorite part of Belgium is the beer! I have always loved Belgian beer and Belgian style beer so finally being here was a dream come true. Bruge has one brewery in town, De Halve Maan, and I made sure to get some beer straight from the source.

Their most famous beer, Brugse Zot, is available nowhere else in the world but right in the brewery bar. Delicious!

On an unrelated note, this small church is said to house a small vial of JesusChrist's blood, taken at the last supper. Would've been cool to see but I'm guessing it's pretty well locked away...

Out of Bruge, back on the bike, and cycling into beer country!

More on the Loire

Following the Loire, each small area has its own type of wine, differentiated from its neighbors by local microclimate, soil make-up and type of grape. It was pretty interesting to see how much variety could come from such a small area... But to my untrained palate, I can't say I tasted too much difference. Below is a map of the various wines grown along the Loire- each color represents a different wine type.

Turning inland at one point, the bike path goes through a series of tunnels and dug-outs made hundreds of years ago. Riding through there alone was kind of eerie. Not just because of who might be hanging out in there, but it's strange to think about what history might have occurred in those old passages. The French Revolution was extremely violent...

When you're wine tasting along the Loire, you're either in a chateau or what's called a "cave." I never understood "cave" until I realized that the wineries were literally built into a hillside and were in fact caves.

Here some old caves were turned into some really cool boutiques.

And below, is a cave winery and the buildings surrounding it; all built into the hillside!

Signs point the way... Pretty easy to follow compared to the Camino at times...

Despite the well-marked route, you can't know everything along the way and this incredible castle was not on my planned itinerary.

Next to it, was the castle's own private church as well.

And then I got sick... Relegated to a full day in my hotel I left only for lunch and dinner but did manage to stumble upon a small parade in Ginon.

Not sure what the occasion was, but everyone was dressed like the olden days, walking and drinking wine alongside decorated carriages and 1950s tractors.

Ginon was a nice place to rest, though in my haste to keep riding I never really allowed myself to recover and after the full day in bed, found myself riding on towards Tours bright and early the next.

Back in Wine Country: the Loire Valley, France

After crossing the border into France, I hopped a train along the coast and after one transfer and seven hours, arrived in Nantes on the central coast. 

A bridge in Nantes (pronounced Nahnt)... The hardest part about French is that nothing is pronounced the way it looks. So in addition to my five word vocabulary, I also failed to correctly pronounce the name of every single city along the route. Sometimes my guess at a city name was so poor, I couldn't even get directions...

The route along the Loire River is one of the most popular cycling routes in Europe, with miles of dedicated cycle paths and barely-driven roads. So despite my inability to get directions, it was easy to navigate using free tourist maps, well-marked sign posts and when all else failed, just following the river.

It didn't take long to come upon my first castle...

I camped my first night in Savinnieres (no idea how to say that one) and wine tasted at a local chateau. Pretty cool place to wine taste as the building was built in the 1400s and featured huge gardens to stroll around. Below is the winery...

Back on the road early the next morning, I quickly learned I'd never move if I stopped to take a picture of every old church or interesting bulling. 

Churches like the above were everywhere...

One outstanding church was this one commissioned by King Louis XI on Ile Bèhuard. It was literally built into and around a clump of several massive boulders inside a small town of no more than 200 people. This is only island town on the Loire and despite regular flooding, the church has stood the test of time.

One notable change since Spain has been that camping is much more like the camping I know from back home, with a value placed on nature and space. Most of the campgrounds along the river are quite cheap and offer special prices and pitches for touring cyclists.

River front site!

And a crepe truck for dinner at the campground!

Another big difference from Spain is that the Loire follows a big river and riding is basically flat. Great scenery, good food and a flat ride, easy living!

Adios España

Finally, an update! I found an internet cafe that had an adapter for my camera memory card (not easy to find), so hopefully the blog will get caught up a bit. Since my last post, I have crossed through five countries!

Leaving the Spanish countryside, the road follows literally right along the coast through a series of long boardwalks and a few more small towns all bustling with tourists.

And eventually arrives in San Sebastián, Spain's most famous beach city. Below is Playa de la Concha, the most crowded beach I have ever seen!

After staying the night in a nice hotel in San Sebastián, I rode the final 30 or so likes to the French border but not before climbing one of the longest inclines of the trip. One last look back at Spain!

Well, not exactly, Hondarriba is still in Spain on the other side of the mountain. A charming town, it was a good place to enjoy one last night in the comfort of a Spanish speaking country.

Spain was amazing and cycling along across the country was a great way to see some off the beaten path towns and meet some incredible people. Gracias España, for the good times!

Coste Norte: Más Fotos

Trippy statues in Santander... These were everywhere; not sure what theme they were going for there.

Parque de la Magdeleina is the highlight of Santander as it juts out on a 66 acre peninsula complete with a small zoo and mansion now used for state ceremonies.

Several river crossings are much easier to take a ferry as the nearest bridge is way inland. Lugging my heavy bike onboard the bobbing boat (no ramps) is often very difficult and definitely a laugh for the other passengers.

Safely onboard...

Crossing from the city of Portugualete to Bilbao was the craziest bridge/ferry I've ever seen! This gondola type thing gets loaded with cars and people and zips across, still allowing large ships to pass through. It makes a cross about every 5 minutes and cost 1.5 euros with my bike!

The Guggenheim in Bilbao... Every hostel and affordable lodging in town was full so at the end of a 70 mile ride, I had to take the train another 30 minutes outside town and then ride to the nearest campground. Never made it back to the city after that long day...

Leaving the outskirts of Bilbao, I decided to cut cross inland rather than follow the coast. I didn't realize there's a huge mountain range with a maze of country roads that would mark my route.

Hours of climbing and getting quasi-lost...

My route above... You can see around mile 22 I missed the shortcut which would've gone around a 1,200 foot elevation gain.... 

Still a beautiful ride though completely exhausting ride. The same holiday completely filled the town I hoped to stay in that night, forcing me to ride anther several miles at the end of an excruciatingly long and difficult day.... All part of the fun!

Costa Norte

I'm way behind on the blog and feeling a bit lazy about doing my typical long winded write-up so I'm jut going to post some photos to bring it up to current (almost).

After Luarca, I continued along the coast with a quick detour to Cudillero, another picturesque port town. Lots of tourist eating on one of the many cafés.

And it was market day so there were all kinds of interesting things on offer.

Another further detour brought me to the lookout Espiritu de Santo where you could see the rugged coast line for miles each way...

"Camping" on the Spanish coast is very different than camping as I'm used to it. No solitude at all and time-share like mobile homes filled with overweight, beer drinking weekend warriors. Felt more like a trailer parking than camping...

Santander was a pretty cool coastal city you don't hear too much about. This dude below took his idea of camping a little too far...

When you get outside the city, it doesn't take long to be back in cow country...

Chilling in the woods that bordered one of the beaches I camped at. Traveling solo you get pretty shameless with the 10 second timer mode on the camera...

This part of Europe has major tidal swings. What is a port at noon, is totally dry at sunset...

Surf, Finally!

Until today, it had been a little over six weeks since I last surfed. Between new towns, new foods, new friends and long days on the bike, it had taken a back seat, somewhere in the back of mind I knew I could always come back to it... That was until two days ago when I arrived at one of Spain's best breaks hoping to rent a board and enjoy the waves peeling off its sandy river mouth but could not find a place offering surfboards. And then it hit me, completely lost without my first passion, thousands of miles from my beloved Scripps Pier and Blacks Beach, watching waves roll in without me. I felt homesick for the first time since I stepped onto my foreign-bound plane in April.

Though in need of a rest day, I decided to make a big push to Santander, the nearest major coastal city, certain there would be someplace with a board to ride whatever quality of surf might be on offer. But fortune has a way of giving to those who want something most. After a long day in the saddle, I rounded one last bend before I knew I needed to find somewhere to camp and saw a beautiful bay below, with a church perched atop a large island in the middle.

Riding into town, trendy cafés and bustling bars lined the main drag and I decided this would be my rest-day spot, surf or not (65 miles on the bike had clouded my memory that I was dying for waves. At that point I was mostly dying for food and place to sleep). 

But fortune was on my side. The tourist office directed me to a beachfront campground across the harbor and the first thing I noticed was a surf shop renting real fiberglass boards! Despite being dog tired, I literally set my bike in the campground and ran to the shop as they were closing.

Surf!

Ready to crack it early the next morning, it was windy and rainy all night and when I awoke the waves were pretty poor despite the promising forecast. That feeling I've known too many times, of high hopes leading to meager surf! Ah, to be a surfer again! 

No amount of wind, rain or gutless surf could've wiped the grin off my face as I trudged into the cold water... Bliss!