We had an early start today, setting off alongside l’Oise under a clear sky with a slight chill still in the air. A few kilometres out of the suburbs the cycle path – gravel at the time – passed alongside some étangs (small lakes) surrounded by rushes and trees. It was calm and quiet and beautiful, and I dawdled along taking it all in.

l’Oise at Pont-Ste-Maxence

We slipped past the village of Verberie on the riverbank, heading for the morning break I’d planned at Pont-Sainte-Maxence. This village and its bridge of the same name marked the point where we parted company with major rivers, although we would briefly join le Thérain as we approached Beauvais. We were also leaving the well-signposted cycle routes we had enjoyed for the past three days; the EV3 Scandibérique continued south while our route turned north and then east on the much less-frequented V16a.

But more importantly Pont-Sainte-Maxence had a bakery where we could buy good things for lunch. Even better there was a tabac next door and a small park where a few market stalls were set up. We each bought pastries and tarts for lunch, and Teresa and I bought take-away coffees from the tabac which we carried to our bikes parked under a tree in the park. I had a wander round the market stalls; one was run by an older lady selling honey and strawberries from her strawberry farm, each different variety labelled and displayed in its own section.

The Strawberry Lady

For the rest of the day we were cycling on minor roads with very little traffic and passing through a succession of small villages, mostly pleasant but unremarkable. Except for Clermont. Clermont has A HILL!

I should explain. When the route I’m following reaches a hill, my handlebar computer/GPS^* switches the display to show the gradient profile, altitude, distance to the top, etc. In the settings you can choose to have this happen on even the gentlest gradients, only the hardest climbs, or an in-between option which is the one I use. At 0.7km, an average grade of 7.7% and a maximum of 11.3% the hill in Clermont was the only hill on our five day ride which triggered the ‘Hill’ setting. I found it a bit of a struggle with a loaded bike, but ground up slowly in my lowest gear and made it without having to stop.

We arrived at our hotel in Beauvais at mid-afternoon, and after showering and changing went to explore. Beauvais Cathedral is another of the seven cathedrals of Picardy; we sat and had beers in the square in front which was being prepared for an event with staging and speaker stacks.

Beauvais cathedral

Old street in Beauvais

The centre of the city is a large square a few minutes walk from the cathedral. Jack and Teresa wanted to have a ‘proper French meal’ (escargots and steak tartare had been mentioned) so we checked out the restaurants for later. The other two headed back to the hotel while I stayed to explore a bit more of Beauvais, finding several streets of old buildings which had survived the wars.

The restaurant we had chosen (le Papotin) didn’t open until 7:00, and when it did the maître (maîtresse?) d’ explained they were only offering a very limited menu; it didn’t include escargots or steak tartare. We politely declined and went instead to the Brasserie of the Hotel Victoire whose menu promised those things and delivered us all an excellent meal.

* Hammerhead Karoo 2

View track on Komoot

Overnight: Hotel de la Cathédrale, Beauvais

Stage 5 – 14 May. Beauvais to Amiens.

The V32 cycle route officially connects Paris to Wervik on the Belgian border near Roubaix, passing through Beuavais and Amiens on the way. In 2025 the Beauvais – Amiens section would best be described as ‘work in progress’.

We soon left Beauvais behind, first through parkland then on quiet rural roads and tracks generally following le Thérain through a succession of small villages as far as Milly-sur-Thérain.

Mill on le Thérain near Herchies

Farmhouse on le Thérain near Herchies

Shortly after Milly-sur-Thérain where our planned route crossed the river (now le Petit Thérain) we rode past a “Route Barrée” sign. A gravel track led down to the river and what had once been a bridge. Now it was just two rusty girders with the remnants of a few iron bolts; any decking had disappeared. Maybe it was flood damage, but whatever the reason there was no way we could get us and our loaded bikes safely across.

Consulting our maps we thought we could follow a track to the next village and cross there so we backtracked slightly and took a rough gravel track uphill for half a kilometre before it ended in a padlocked field gate and continued on the other side as a footpath. Another dead end. Teresa flew back down the hill on the gravel followed more cautiously by Jack and me. More map consultation and we decided our best choice was to go back to Milly and cross there, riding the local roads until we could pick up our planned route again. The deviation only cost us about 5km extra, but probably added about three quarters of an hour to our time.

So we continued onwards. Today’s elevation profile was different from the last four days. We would climb gradually all morning for the first 35 kilometres to reach the day’s highpoint at the slightly disconcertingly-named Crèvecœur-le-Grand (“Big Heartbreak”), then descend equally gently until we were on the outskirts of Amiens. During the morning we were mostly on quiet back roads and gained height slowly on undulating terrain.

I’d counted on us finding a bakery open in Crèvecœur and sure enough there was a fine one on the main square by the church. It was clearly the right choice as there were two other cyclists already there, and a third arrived as were were buying things for lunch. He had a good road bike and had, I discovered, ridden up from Beauvais that morning (but a lot quicker than us). We ate our lunch on a seat in the square.

On la Coulée Verte

As we left Crèvecœur a left turn took us onto a wide gravel track into thick shaded woodland. We didn’t stop to read the information board but I did see a sign that we were on “la Coulée Verte”. It sloped downhill at an easy gradient and it soon dawned on me that we were on an old railway line – confirmed soon after as I passed what was unmistakeably on old iron railway sign half-hidden in the trees at the side of the track.

The track continued downhill for more than 15 kilometres, gradually levelling out. It was easy cycling – a broad track, plenty of shade, dry surface. But lower down it began to change; new developments started to spread over the old railway track and we found ourselves on paved roads or field edges. And our, er, saddle contact areas were getting increasingly sore with the rough surface and jolting on our touring bikes.

It was while we were riding along the edge of a field on a track with two deep tractor ruts that Teresa lost balance and fell into the undergrowth at the side; luckily she only suffered scratches and nettle stings. But we’d been talking about giving up on the Coulée Verte and taking to the local roads, and this was the point that decided it. So as soon as we could, which turned out to be at the village of Conty, we joined the D8 which took us all the way to the outskirts of Amiens. Cycling mostly on service roads alongside the busy inner ring road wasn’t much fun but we finally made it to our hotel. We ate in the hotel restaurant that evening.

View track on Komoot

Overnight: Novotel, Pôle Jules Verne, Longueau, Amiens

Epilogue – 15 & 16 May. Amiens and home.

In the morning Jack and Teresa left for the station on their bikes, heading for a few days in Bruges before getting back to England for their flight home.

After waving them off I took a bus to the city centre to spend the day as a tourist in a city I had not been to before. I visited the cathedral (another one of the seven), bought Macarons d’Amiens at speciality shop Jean Trogneux, spent more than an hour in the amazing Martelle bookstore/art shop, had a large salad and a crêpe dessert surrounded by Ladies Who Lunch at Crêperie La Mangeoire. I wandered down to the canalside area where there were many restaurants and bars, but it was the wrong time of day and too chilly to linger so I headed back to the bus interchange at the railway station and back to the hotel.

Amiens cathedral south door

Amiens Cathedral interior

Canalside cafés

After breakfast the next morning I loaded my bike back on the car roof, drove to Calais and le Shuttle to Folkestone, and finally reached home towards the end of the afternoon.

Amiens celebrates the upcoming Tour de France stage départ on 8 July

There were three of us on this tour: Jack and Teresa from Oregon USA, and me. I planned the route and booked the accommodation. I used the French IGN map no.924 “Voies vertes et Véloroutes de France” (“Greenways and Cycle Routes of France”) to set the overall plan, then a combination of Komoot, OutdoorActive and my Hammerhead handlebar computer’s software to prepare detailed routes for each day. Apart from the final day the routes mostly followed rivers and canals.

Prologue – 9 May. Home to Amiens.

With my bike on a car roof rack I left home at 0830, drove to Wheatley where Jack and Teresa had been staying, loaded their bikes onto the other two roof racks, and drove to the Shuttle terminal in Folkestone. A delay of 3½ hours and a two hour drive from Calais to Amiens finally got us to our hotel around 2100. We walked to a local all-you-can-eat Japanese restaurant where the food was brought to our table by a robot waiter.

We were offered a storage room in the hotel for our bikes but in the end we left them locked onto the roof rack overnight.

Overnight: Novotel, Pôle Jules Verne, Longueau, Amiens

Stage 1 – 10 May. Amiens to Péronne.

Our first day’s route headed east following the River Somme and its accompanying Véloroute the V30 the whole way. The Somme Valley is broad and flat; the river is mostly controlled as a canal with locks as it meanders westwards. Either side of the main stream and canal marshes (marais) and shallow lakes (étangs) form extensive wetlands.

Standard signage for Véloroute V30 (and V32)

We set off alongside a main road, mostly downhill through the suburbs on a sporadic cycle path featuring parked cars and bollards, stopping on the way at a local bakery to buy sandwiches for lunch. After 2km we crossed the bridge over the railway lines, and turned right to join the V30.

The day passed uneventfully. The weather was sunny and warm, the surfaces we rode on varied between tarmac, concrete and hard-packed gravel. The going was easy apart from a noticeable headwind. Jack made the point – so obvious, but as a naïve cycle tourist it hadn’t occurred to me before – that panniers make a big difference to the wind resistance on the bike.

Approaching the larger town of Corbie where the V30 crossed to the other side of the river we cycled past a ‘Route Barrée‘ (‘Road Closed’) sign and had to backtrack when it turned out to be closed even to a determined cyclist. We got back to the river bridge via a short diversion on the normal roads.

We stopped now and again, often at a lock. At one, the lock at Sailly-Laurette, an explanatory sign mentioned a nearby memorial to the English WW1 war poet Wilfred Owen. It was a small stone pillar inscribed simply with his name and a stylised dove. Owen was a serving soldier; he was killed in action a week before the war ended.

The Somme at Sailly-Laurette lock

Wilfred Owen memorial, Sailly-Laurette lock

Reaching the outskirts of Péronne we left the riverside and rode to our hotel in the town centre. Dinner was Pizza at Pasta’Pizz, a takeway with a few inside tables where despite its unprepossessing exterior we had excellent pizza and excellent service.

View track on Komoot

Overnight: Hotel St Claude, Péronne

Stage 2 – 11 May. Péronne to Tergnier.

It was Sunday, so in case we couldn’t buy food later we bought sandwiches at a bakery close to the hotel. Rejoining the V30 where we left it yesterday I was surprised and puzzled to see we were now riding alongside the Canal du Nord. It took a detailed look at the IGN app on my phone to see that the Canal had joined the Somme just before Péronne and it and the Somme Canalisé were now contiguous almost as far as the village of Voyennes nearly 20km away. From here onwards keeping up with the changes in the rivers and canals we would follow became increasingly challenging.

Barge on the Canal du Nord, Péronne

We duly followed the combined canals through gentle countryside very like yesterday’s; green fields, distant villages, lakes and reedy marshes, locks on the canal. Quiet and peaceful. Except for the fishermen. Crossing a minor road we came across a group of parked cars and a temporary notice announcing a fishing competition was taking place today. Sure enough, down on the towpath there were maybe twenty or more fishermen (they were all men) spaced at regular 20 metre intervals along the bank, each with one or two enormous fishing rods blocking the path. (“I’ve never seen such long poles!” – Teresa.)

The others let me go first. I rode gently towards the first man with his rod blocking the path. He didn’t budge. I rode round on the grass. The same for the second, and the third. By the fourth I’d had enough, nor was there room on the grass to get round. I called out a few choice words in French and the offending rod was grudgingly moved. Further on a few more made the same effort. I politely thanked those that did, and grumbled at those that didn’t.

At the far end, past more parked cars, I stopped and looked back. Jack and Teresa were out of sight; I waited for them to catch up. They too had been hindered but no harm had been done to bikes, riders, fishermen or equipment. They then turned back to take photos, but I was still in grumpy mode and stayed where I was.

Typical of the scenery – a view of Pargny village.

We temporarily parted company with the Somme at Rouy-le-Grand, near Nesle and continued on the Canal du Nord for a short while before heading cross-country to Hombleux, where we stopped by the church for a break (there was no café), and then on to the small town of Ham. Here there was a convenience store open; we bought cans of cold drinks and stopped soon after for a roadside sandwich lunch. We were now back following the Somme, though at times at some distance from the river/canal and its surrounding wetlands.

We reached our hotel on the road before the centre of Tergnier early in the afternoon. I stayed for a rest while Teresa and Jack went to explore the centre; they reported there wasn’t much to see and on this Sunday evening nowhere that looked both open and a better bet for dinner than our hotel. The Royal Haveli’s restaurant only offers an Indian menu, and happily the food was good. There were only a few other customers and after eating we ended the evening chatting to three other travellers – a Dutch pilgrim walking to Rome, and two friends, Dutch and Swiss, also on a long-distance walk.

View track on Komoot

Overnight: Hotel Royal Haveli, Tergnier

Stage 3 – 12 May. Tergnier to Compiègne.

Having followed the Somme upstream for two days, today we turned south-west and followed another of France’s major rivers, l’Oise, downstream. We also said farewell to the V30 and joined the EV3 – one of the major cycle routes of Europe, named the Scandibérique, which runs 5650km (3510 miles) from Trondheim in the north of Norway to Santiago de Compostela in the north-west of Spain.

On the EV3 Scandibérique

Scenically, our third day was much the same as the first two. Hydrographically we generally followed the valley of l’Oise, cycling alongside the Canal St Quentin, the Canal Latéral de l’Oise then, after some forest riding through the Forêt Domaniale de Laigue, joining l’Aisne which we followed a short distance to its confluence with l’Oise itself just on the edge of Compiègne.

We didn’t do this.

Approaching the day’s halfway point we diverted from the canal into the town of Noyon. It has a busy, compact centre with a maze of one-way streets which we frequently ignored to avoid getting hopelessly lost. We rode slowly and carefully and no-one really seemed to mind!

Noyon has one of the seven much-admired Gothic cathedrals^* of Picardy. Equally interesting is the astonishing medieval half-timbered “Bishop’s Library” next to the cathedral which has somehow survived the devastation of two world wars as well as all the other turmoil in the centuries before. The links have more information.

The Bishop’s Library

Inside Noyon Cathedral

Back on the Oise after several kilometres of forest tracks we rode through the centre of Compiègne to our hotel on a commercial development about 5km further on. One of the B&B Hotels chain, it had no bar or restaurant but the friendly receptionist explained the four-star Kyriad Hotel next door would gladly serve us the beers we were craving, and that there were two restaurants close by for evening meals. She also told us the best way to keep our bikes safe overnight was to take them up to our rooms in the lift, which we did. For our evening meal we chose Léon, a branch of a well-known French chain of fish restaurants.

* Actually six cathedrals and one basilica, but no-one seems to care about the technicality.

View track on Komoot

Overnight: B&B Hotel, Compiègne

Hotel breakfasts were included in the deal.

Getting there

Bike in back of car. Drive to Folkestone, le Shuttle to Calais, overnight in Calais (Holiday Inn, Coquelles), drive to start hotel in Doetinchem. The same in reverse for the return journey.

Day 1: 4 September

Route: Doetinchem to Nijmegen-Lent

Distance: 62km

Hotel: Van der Valk Hotel

Notes: Dull and damp when I set off, shortly turning to rain. Netherlands’ oldest windmill (15th century) in Zeddam; coffee at modern bakery at roundabout outside the town. Crossed seamless border into Germany just south of ‘s-Heerenberg, then crossed over Rhine bridge to follow elevated flood embankment. Rain stopped around 1pm. Continued along embankment, back into Netherlands, into Nijmegen, back over the river (here the Waal) to hotel.

The Netherlands’ oldest windmill, Zeddam

Bike, not far from Nijmegen

Day 2: 5 September

Route: Circular ride south-east of Nijmegen

Distance: 54km

Hotel: Van der Valk Hotel

Notes: Dry but dull at first. Visited National Cycle Museum in Nijmegen. Followed pleasant and varied route through woods, villages and open countryside. Sunny and warm by the time I reached Plasmolen, a water-based recreational centre at the furthest south of the day’s ride, where I had lunch. Passing through Beek late afternoon stopped to visit the Kabouterboom, the Dutch tree with the greatest girth. Temperature now 28°. Arrived hot in Nijmegen centre – stopped for beer before returning to hotel. Evening meal in Osteria Pomodoro opposite the hotel.

Cycle museum

Fietspad (cycle path) alongside disused railway

Kabouterboom

Waal bridge, Nijmegen

Day 3: 6 September

Route: Nijmegen-Lent to Zutphen

Distance: 53km

Hotel: Hampshire Hotel ‘s-Gravenhof

Notes: Another varied and interesting route heading North via Arnhem. Thunder forecast for later so used faster and slightly shorter F325 express cycle route to Arnhem and coffee. Stopped further on at Rozendaal Castle for photos. Route then climbed onto the heathland of the Veluwezoom National Park. Stopped near the far edge of the Park at Coldenhove (a recreational resort) for frites lunch. Funfair had taken over Zutphen town centre. Dinner at De Revolutie restaurant. Thunder didn’t materialise.

Sidenote: Approaching Arnhem through the suburbs with a small canal on my right and a modern housing development on my left I spotted these street names: Bob Marleystraat, Bill Haleystraat and Elvis Presleystraat. I asked a random dog-walker about them but he didn’t know why.

Coffee in Arnhem

Rozendaal Castle

Day 4: 7 September

Route: Circular ride north to Deventer and back

Distance: 43km

Hotel: Hampshire Hotel ‘s-Gravenhof

Notes: Another warm sunny day. In the morning I explored Zutphen centre on foot and visited the great church of St Walburga with its chained library of religious manuscripts and early printed books. Set off cycling at 1.30pm. Outward route on the western side of the Ijssel River, return route on the eastern side. Ice cream stop at Café De Kribbe. Visited working sawmill/windmill on outskirts of Zutphen; crossed river on foot-and-bike ferry. Reached village of Gorssel too late to visit the modern art museum MORE which specialises in modern realism. Dinner in hotel Brasserie.

Wind-driven sawmill, Zutphen

Ferry across the Ijssel, Deventer

Dutch landscape with calm water

Day 5: 8 September

Route: Zutphen to Doetinchem

Distance: 50km

Hotel: Villa Ruimzicht

Notes: My last day’s ride was another fine and warm day. It took me first east and then south back to my starting point in Doetinchem. Once again the route was varied and interesting, though today mostly through prosperous-looking farming countryside. I stopped in the small town of Vorden for coffee and applecake. My roadbook particularly mentioned Vorden Castle as being worth a visit and I’d seen a poster for it advertising a “British Weekend” on this day. It turned out to be a very big event: there were fields full of parked cars, exhibition gazebos by the dozen, cycle path diversion signs and security people at the entrance. I tried to pass through on the grounds of being British but I was politely but firmly told to follow the diversion signs which took me round the back of the estate. The castle stayed out of sight.

I didn’t want to get back to the hotel too early so I cycled slower and slower as the day went by. I managed to make the 50km last 3 hours and 18 minutes, and average moving speed of 9.6mph.

Dutch landscape with windmill

Dutch landscape with bike and waterway

Dutch landscape with big sky

Bike and cycling notes

A knooppunt with several other signs

The quality of Dutch cycling infrastructure is legendary. The routes chosen by Dutch Bike Tours used exclusively the network of cycle routes between numbered nodes called ‘knooppunten’; at each knooppunt there are signs to the next accessible nodes in different directions. It’s possible to follow a route just by having a list of knooppunten, and indeed that was part of the road books provided. The signs are sometimes smaller and less comprehensive than the one in the picture and although in theory there are intermediate signs at non-knooppunt junctions this isn’t always the case, though a rule of ‘if in doubt go straight ahead’ is probably the best option. There are interactive websites and apps for smartphones which you can use to plot and follow routes.

I relied firstly on my handlebar gps which I’d loaded beforehand with the routes, and used the knooppunten as backup confirmation.

With almost no exceptions I cycled without interference from motor traffic. Main roads had separate cycle paths alongside. Minor roads in the countryside had either road markings or textured sides for cyclists; motorists respected these. In villages and towns cyclists can generally go where they wish and will be given priority by motor traffic unless road signs and markings say different. Otherwise the routes followed exclusive cycle paths (‘fietspad’) which could be hard surfaced (tarmac, concrete), gravel or hard-packed earth across country or through woods and forest, and very occasionally single-track mud or sand. Given the variety of surfaces I was glad I had taken my gravel bike with 40mm tyres and not my road bike.

The default Dutch bike has a built-in wheel lock and kick-stand and the default Dutch bike parking stand is designed to take one wheel (generally too narrow for a 40mm tyre), so bike parking at the hotels and elsewhere wasn’t always ideal. My advice is to take a good lock, use it whenever you leave your bike and try determinedly to find something solid to lock it to.

I only carried an emergency mini pump to get me going if I had a puncture (I was using inner tube tyres) but each of the three hotels I used had a track pump to lend guests. On one occasion, despite the pump having a dual connector I couldn’t get it to work with my Presta valves and lost a lot of pressure as a result. I topped up as best I could with the mini-pump. Bicycle shops will generally be happy to loan a pump; I didn’t check out whether petrol station pumps would work.

Finally

This tour was mostly in the province of Gelderland which has an official flag of three horizontal stripes of blue, yellow and black. I didn’t see this anywhere, but I did see many examples of another one – the one in the banner picture above. It was flying everywhere – on public buildings, in private gardens, at commercial sites. It is the flag of the Achterhoek, a cultural region covering much of Gelderland but extending into Germany. It even has its own language, Achterhooks, a branch of Lower Saxon. Wikipedia has a short article about it with links to further reading for anyone interested to know more. The flag-flying certainly left me with the impression that people in the region identified much more strongly with the Achterhoek than with Gelderland.

Rather than a diary, this is a few short notes about both areas from a cycling point of view which might be useful for anyone planning to visit.

Otterlo

There is a good-sized and well-stocked Spar supermarket. It has a cash machine and a post office counter.

I recommend Geerts Tweewielers next to the Spar for hiring bikes. There’s another bike hire business on the main road but it’s only a hire shop; Geerts is a bike shop. You know the difference.

Picture: Google StreetView

Eating out choices are limited. De Waldhoorn is the most obvious and popular but we thought the menu was uninspiring. ‘t Smulhuis is an Eastern/Indonesian style restaurant where we had one perfectly satisfactory evening meal but weren’t inspired to go back. We didn’t try the pizza place next to Spar, nor either of the two up-market hotel restaurants out of the town centre.

Hoge Veluwe National Park

Otterlo is one of three places with entry to the Hoge Veluwe National Park. Rather than being open access you have to pay to go into this national park. In August 2022 a day pass cost €11.30 for adults, €5.65 for children between 6 and 13 years, free for children under 6 years.

If you plan to explore the park it’s worth paying a little extra for the map available at the entrance kiosk.

You can pay to park just outside the Otterlo entrance, or pay more to take your car into the park itself. Taking a bicycle into the park is free.

The Park operates an impressive ‘white bicycle‘ scheme. Just inside the entrance you will find a large bicycle park full of white bicycles which are free to use – you just take one and ride it away. Most of them are adult size with step-through frames, but there are smaller sizes, some special machines, even a few tandems. Saddle and handlebar heights can be adjusted by hand. One warning though – the bikes have no brake levers on the handlebars, so no rim or disc brakes. The only brake is a back-pedal brake on  the rear hub, which if you haven’t ridden one before takes a bit of getting used to. The bikes have no gears, but as the Park is virtually flat that isn’t a problem.

If you use a white bike to ride to one of the visitor attractions in the Park you leave your bike in the general bike park you will find there. There’s no reservation system, so when you’re ready to move on you can retrieve the same bike if it’s still there, otherwise you just take another one. At the end of your visit you leave the bike in the bike park by the entrance.

With my own bike and the hired bikes my family were riding we carried locks to secure our bikes when we left them to visit one of the sites in the Park.

Once inside the Park cars, bikes and walkers are effectively separated. The map you can buy at the entrance shows the different roads, tracks and paths for each, and waymarks help you navigate. The cycle paths are hard-surfaced, traffic-free and safe. There’s even an emergency help system designed primarily for the white bikes: every 200 metres on the cycle paths there is a sign on the path, either a metal plaque inset in the surface or a painted sign, with a location code and a phone number to call for assistance.

Cycle path causeway

Here is a Komoot map of a ride I did around the south of the Park after exploring the northern sector with my family earlier in the day. As you can see, it would be easy to cover the whole Park in a short day. The landscape is a mixture of mixed woodland and open heath. In the exceptionally dry summer weather the heath was brown and the ground, which is mostly sand, was bone dry. I found cycling through this landscape monotonous at first, but after a while it became mesmerising. Naturalists visit the Park for its wildlife; I didn’t see much at this time of day apart from a family of three wild boar which crossed the cycle path about 200 metres ahead of me but had disappeared by the time I got there.

Kröller-Müller Art Museum

Inside the National Park this internationally famous art museum is the reason most people come to Otterlo. It has the second-largest Van Gogh collection in the world along with major works by other modern artists. The extensive grounds house a large collection of outdoor modern sculptures. I will just say it is AMAZING! Follow the link if you’re interested, and if you are interested, don’t miss it!

Ede

The four of us took advantage of the legendary Dutch cycle paths to spend a day outside the National Park riding to Ede, the main town in the district. Considerably larger than Otterlo, with a good mix of shops, cafés, open spaces and on the day of our visit a lively market. I show the route here just as a demonstration of what’s possible. The only tricky part was getting out of Ede, as the route wiggles through the residential suburbs for a couple of kilometres before reaching the open countryside. The 7 year old in our group managed the 15 miles happily in the day, even while riding a remarkably heavy small bike with no gears – rather a come-down from the good bike she has at home. The other two adults rode their hired Dutch-style bikes. A coffee/soda stop and lunch in Ede helped keep young spirits and energy levels up, and an afternoon break at Boerderij Mossel on the way back, where various cakes, biscuits and chips were consumed, completed the ride nicely.

Boerderij Mossel is a farm which has expanded into the hospitality business. There is no public road to it so the only motor vehicles permitted are those serving the business or which have booked accommodation. Otherwise the customers are cyclists or hikers. It was busy on this Saturday afternoon.

Geel

Geel is a small town in the Belgian province of Antwerp, with a population a little over 40,000. It has a quietly prosperous feel to it, with a wide range of shops and places to eat and drink. The market square (Markt) is the centre of the town – a car-free wide open space surrounded on two sides by bars and restaurants, some with classy apartments above; the dominant church is on a third side.

It is best known for its association with Saint Dimpna (Dimphna or Dymphna), and through her the town’s hospital founded in the middle ages and which developed innovative approaches to helping people with mental illnesses. There is a church in her name and a hospital museum. Read the stories on the links for more information.

‘Geel’ is the Dutch/Flemish word for ‘yellow’, which Google translates on some of its pages.

Eating and drinking

I only tried places on or just off the main square.

• The Irish Pub. Apart from serving Guinness this pub is about as Irish as a jellied eel stall in Southend-on-Sea. The craic wasn’t there when I was.
• Het Forum. Pleasant place for a beer and to watch whatever’s happening in the square. I wasn’t impressed with the food menu so didn’t eat there.
• De Kruimel. Another good place for a beer, and they do a good pizza.
• Brasserie Flore. This is where the prosperous middle classes of Geel seem to go to eat. I had two good evening meals there; it was busy both times but the service was friendly and smooth. Not the cheapest, but to me it was worth it. The place next door, de Post, looks as if it competes with Flore but my AirBnB hostess shuddered at the thought of going there.
• Bart Bar. An odd little place down a side street, open until late.

Cycling

The key to cycling in Flanders (the northern part of Belgium) is the astonishing network of cycle routes which run between numbered connecting nodes, or ‘knooppunten’. You can plan your ride using the online fietsroute map to connect whatever nodes you choose, download or print a list of the numbers and follow the list using the physical signposts on the ground. Better still, download your chosen route as a gpx file and load it onto your handlebar computer for belt-and-braces navigation.

The cycle paths I used were virtually all completely segregated from motor traffic. Where they weren’t the roads were very quiet back lanes in the countryside, or coloured sections of tarmac through quiet residential areas, or small town streets where cyclists have priority. Otherwise I was riding through open farmland, shady forest (cool on a hot day), or alongside big canals.

I particularly wanted to visit two features I had read about. Just over the provincial border the Province of Limburg declares itself a ‘cycling paradise’ – see here and here. They hired architects (I think, or artists, or both) to design what have become “Fietsen door de Bomen” (Bikes through the Trees) and “Fietsen door het Water” (Bikes through the Water). In the first, a spiral ramp takes you up from ground level to the tops of the pine trees. In the second you ride on a sunken path below the surface of the surrounding lake. I have put my own pictures below, but the links have more and better.

• Fietsen door de Bomen
• Fietsen door het Water

Knooppunt on Albertkanaal

Forest cycle path

Fietsen door de Bomen

Fietsen door de Bomen

Fietsen door de Bomen

Fietsen door het Water

Fietsen door het Water

I liked the idea of being able to ride where my road bike couldn’t go. I liked too the idea of going for a few days of bike touring, and the Diverge has all the fitting points you’d need to load baggage, either bikepacking style or conventional touring style with front and rear panniers. Some proving rides mixing on- and off-road over the autumn and winter confirmed it was a comfortable ride and coped well with loose surfaces, though the tyres that came with the bike weren’t so good in soft mud. It also confirmed my bike handling has plenty of room for improvement.

So I spent hours reading reviews of bikepacking bags and finally bought a small frame bag and a seatpack. With the help of Komoot I devised a ride from Oxford to Cirencester, outwards on a northerly arc and back taking a southerly route. I waited to find a couple of days with no other commitments and a decent weather forecast and booked a B&B for an overnight stay. And so on a chilly Saturday morning in early April I set off.

I’m glad to say everything went well. The hills in the Cotswolds in the second half of the outward ride were (mostly) short and (always) steep; I found that with the luggage on the bike I could just about struggle up an 11 or 12 percent gradient in bottom gear on tarmac if it wasn’t too long, but I did have to walk the bike up a few hills both on tarmac and gravel. OK, so I’m not as young as I was!

By contrast the return route was mostly flat, but for once Komoot let me down. It was taking me on a bridleway across grassy fields until it came to a river bank – the River Thames, no less! Reverting to the Ordnance Survey map I found I had arrived at Duxford Ford. It’s a genuine ford passable when the river level is low, but this day the river was in full flow and the winter storms had done their damage.

Reluctant to backtrack to the nearest crossing upstream, and with the nearest downstream crossing too far away to make my planned route recoverable, I took the easy option and stayed on the north side of the Thames for the rest of my ride.

Over the two days I covered just over 100 miles and was quite pleased with the whole experience. I think I’ll probably need one more piece of luggage for any longer trips – either that or I could use a small rucksack. I don’t think I’ll be camping; B&B is more my style these days.

A note about Komoot. I’m quite new to this app, but I was impressed by the routes it found for me. I’d specified ‘gravel riding’, and sure enough the route included bridleways as well as quiet back roads that I wouldn’t have bothered navigating using a paper map – too much stopping and checking. Combined with my handlebar mounted Hammerhead Karoo 2 the route was easy to follow and was certainly better than one I might have devised myself from maps alone.

Earlier this year I decided to plan to put my bike in the back of the car and drive to Provence with the aim of riding up Mont Ventoux. I was going to go in May, but the coronavirus pandemic put paid to that idea as France and England went into lockdown.

As restrictions eased in June my family, forced to abandon their own holiday plans, decided to go back to Samoëns in the French Alps where they had holidayed before. They asked if I’d like to join them, and of course I said ‘yes’.

Samoëns is the start point for one of the classic French cycling climbs, the Col de Joux Plane. One of the ski- and bike-hire shops in the village, Antonioz Ski, has road bikes for hire. It was too good an opportunity to miss! So early on Friday evening I collected the Scott bike I’d reserved with its red carbon frame and compact chainset, rode it the few hundred metres back to the apartment and carried it up the stairs.

On Saturday morning I was up at 6.15 for breakfast, and by 7.40 I was ready to set off. I rode a few kilometres along the valley road and back to warm up, then swung round the turn which leads immediately into the climb. There are two or three options for the start from Samoëns. The first kilometre of the one I had chosen – simply because it was nearest our apartment – is the steepest kilometre of the whole climb, with an average gradient of 10.4% and incorporating the steepest 200m of the entire climb at a 12.6% gradient. Right from the start I was in my bottom gear (34 x 32), and after 500m I was seriously doubting if I would be able to keep going. But somehow I made it to the point where the gradient eases a bit and I could carry on a bit more comfortably.

About half way there’s a short section where the road is virtually flat and I took my first break there, refuelling with the best part of a Snickers bar. The it was upwards again: hairpins, steady climbing, steeper heart-pounding lung-gasping sections. A few other cyclists overtook me; I overtook no-one. My family passed me in the car on their way to the top.

At last the helpful countdown signs at the side of the road showed just 2km to go. I ground on until the cars parked at the side of the road told me that the top was just round the next bend. I passed the summit sign to the family’s cheers and rode the last few metres to the actual top before slowing to a careful stop, doubtful if I could get off the bike without falling over (I managed it).

I didn’t want just to go back the way I’d come so after a short rest and a refuelling pain au chocolat I carried on towards Morzine. There’s a short uphill section about 2km further along where tired legs were reluctant to start working again, then the twisty descent which I took rather cautiously on the unfamiliar bike.

The road from Morzine to Les Gets was busy with traffic; an uphill grind at an easy gradient. From Les Gets it’s downhill all the way to Taninges – sweeping bends taken fast where the surface was good, slow and jolting over the broken and potholed sections. And finally the last few level kilometres along the valley back to Samoëns.

And all being well I’ll be doing my Mont Ventoux trip at the end of September!

[Early September update: Mont Ventoux trip Covid-cancelled ]

After the bad winter and cold wet spring I finally abandoned my early season plan to ride the BikeOxford 80-mile sportive in May when I got a bad back about 10 days before. It was the second time this year. My GP thought two vertebrae were rubbing together causing inflammation and pain. Although the problem had nearly cleared up by the time of the sportive I was leaving for my ‘Pedalbania’ holiday five days later and didn’t want to take the risk. All of which is a long-winded way of saying I hadn’t done a longish ride this year.

With autumn approaching I decided to grab what will almost certainly be the last chance I’ll have for a 100km+ ride before the winter. The route I devised is 64 miles, or 103 km, from Oxford to Charlbury, Chipping Norton, and a succession of Cotswold villages before turning south near Somerton to get back to Oxford on familiar roads.

It turned out to be a good ride on a fine day, though I was slower than I’d expected. I blame this on 1) a headwind over the first, generally uphill, half; 2) stopping too often to check the route (it was the first time I’d ridden it), and 3) spending too long buying and eating lunch at the Londis at the petrol station in Bloxham. Oh the glamour! Road surfaces varied from excellent to downright dangerous.

I’ve shared the route on Viewranger. The distance doesn’t quite tally because I’ve cut out the first and last bits from and to my home.

It was a great holiday and a great experience. Erlis and Vato worked hard to make it all very easy for us. I suspect it was like the proverbial swan – calm and serene on the surface but paddling furiously below the waterline! The places we stayed were among the best available; the two guest houses obviously more basic but still comfortable, and the food was universally good. CycleAlbania were determined to give us a good experience and show us the very best of their country, and they succeeded one hundred percent.

Is there anything I’d like to change? Maybe. These aren’t criticisms, only thoughts and ideas about what would have made it even better for me personally. Others may differ.

I’d have liked to have had time to see a few of the places and buildings suggested by my guidebook which were on or close to our route. Of course even one such visit a day would probably need an extra hour in the day; it wouldn’t have worked on the Gjirokaster or Butrint days, but maybe a shorter lunch on the other days could have worked.

Then the bikes. I must admit to being a little disappointed, probably unfairly, but I did find my bike heavy and hard going. I understand that the bikes need to be robust to cope with the poor roads we encountered especially in the first two or three days, and the hybrid concept is a good compromise. If I was drawing up a specification I’d save weight by not having front suspension – I don’t think it added anything to the ride apart from extra weight – and I’d do without the pannier rack and pannier. Anything that couldn’t be fitted in the pockets of a cycling jersey could be relegated to a small backpack for those who needed it, or carried in the minibus. Handlebars which allowed at least one other riding position would have been good too. But in the end I managed, and for anyone who thinks they might find it too hard the company does offer the option of electric bikes.

One last word about the group. Thanks, guys! You were great company. I enjoyed your friendship and companionship. Thanks for sharing the pictures. I’ll toast you with a Korça the next time I’m in Albania. Come to think of it, I never did get to try a Korça dark beer, so there’s one reason for going back!

Map and guidebook

I thoroughly recommend the Bradt ‘Albania’ guidebook by Gillian Gloyer. I have Edition 5 dated Jan 2015 but there’s a new Edition 6 published in March this year.

I also bought the Vektor map of Southern Albania. It’s at a scale of 1:200,000. This is really only useful as a general location and road map – the scale is too small and the map too difficult to read to give any real impression of what the terrain is like. For this holiday we didn’t need a map at all as we were given a photocopy of each day’s route from a larger scale map. I bought my map from Stanfords, who also stock Albania maps at 1:50,000 but these don’t cover the whole area and you’d need several to cover the route we followed.

31 May 2018

Distance: 56km; total ascent: 1823m

Stayed at: Hotel Picasso 

I was a bit apprehensive about the day ahead. We were about to cross the Llogara Pass, and stack it how you will that meant riding from sea level at the hotel to 1035m at the top of the pass. In between were more not-insignificant climbs and drops. Before the holiday I’d imagined dancing up the climb on the pedals like a slightly aged Alberto Contador or Marco Pantani, but now I realised the reality was a long, slow grind in a very low gear in temperatures of 30° or more. Marcel Kittel on Mont Ventoux was probably a better image, though Marcel would still be a lot faster than me.

There were cop-out options, explained Erlis. Some people just took the minibus to the top. Others took the minibus for the first 17km; this got you over the first few climbs which were, he mentioned, ‘quite steep’. I had a quick word with Peter, but he scoffed (in a polite way) at any suggestion of not riding the full day. And so it was settled.

Before setting off those who had bought cycle jerseys posed for the team photo.

Team CycleAlbania
Pete, Jack, Erlis, Peter, John

Those first 17km have coalesced into a blur in my memory. There was one point when I literally stalled and had to get off and push the bike. Luckily it was only about 100m from a layby where Vato had stopped so I was able to remount and with a push from him get going again. Coming out of a village I slowly overhauled a man on a donkey cart with another donkey following behind. At that point Peter had dropped out of sight so I stopped at the side of the road while man and donkeys passed me with a mildly curious look. I tried to look nonchalant. When Peter caught me up we rode together and slowly passed them again.

There were downs as well as ups on this section – more of the lovely swooping downhills I relished. Peter had dropped behind again, and at one point I saw James a little way ahead. It was arranged that Vato would be waiting at the start of the Llogara climb so I knew we could regroup. Coming round a bend I realised that the road switching back and forth across the opposite hillside was the Pass itself.

The Llogara Pass looms in the mist

Some of the others were still at the foot of the climb as I arrived, but they left after a few minutes. I decided to wait for Peter, and passed the time eating a Snickers and some salty pretzels and filling my water bottle from Vato’s supply. Walking back to the bend I noticed just off the road one of the small bunkers which are one of the iconic images of Albania. They were built during the paranoid Communist era when the real or imaginary threat of invasion was ingrained in the government psyche. It was the first one I’d seen that was easy to reach from the road; there’s a picture in the gallery below.

I mooched about for a few more minutes before Peter rounded the bend and rode straight past the minibus and me. Back on the bike I caught him up in a couple of minutes and we rode together up the beginning of the climb. Five minutes or so later at the first bend Peter said he was stopping for refreshments; I didn’t want to stop so I carried on. We ended up riding the climb separately.

The gradient wasn’t horribly steep but it was granny minus two or minus one most of the way. The earlier mist had gone and the sun beat down on the road. There was no shade, and the temperature on the road must have been in the mid- to high thirties. It was just a matter of keeping the pedals turning and grinding onwards and upwards. I realised I needed to stop now and again for a brief rest, and set myself targets – that bend, that bush. There are five major switchbacks and as I rounded each one it was one less to the top.

Roughly half way up there’s a layby next to an old military building where Vato was waiting with the minibus and water. I pulled up, fell off the bike, and sat on the back of the trailer slurping from my waterbottle which Vato kept topped up. It was here I discovered for the first time how refreshing half a bottle of cold water poured over your head (cycle helmet and all) is.

On again, and more of the same but in fully granny gear now, trundling at a snail’s pace around the next switchback … and the next … and the minibus going past … and then arriving at a concrete belvedere, a viewpoint over the coast and a good excuse for another rest. Vato was there of course, and he pointed to a building up to our right. The top! And only a kilometre away! It looked only a little higher than where we were. I’d be there in no time.

Well, not quite. As soon as I was back on the road it took a sharp bend away from the building and carried on in the opposite direction before eventually (it seemed an eternity) turning again and heading back. And at last there was no doubt – I’d made it to the top! Disappointingly there’s no big sign saying “Llogara Pass 1035m” to be photographed under.

The rest of the bikes were parked outside. I went in to a chorus of greetings from the others who were knocking back cold drinks. A young waiter came over and I ordered a celebratory Lemon Soda. Peter came in to cheers and greetings about five minutes later. We all felt justifiably pleased with ourselves..

Llogara summit café/restaurant

Once we were recovered and ready to leave Erlis explained that our lunch stop was a few kilometres down the road. On this side of the pass the road was steeper and shadier; the whole area is a national forest park and very attractive. We had another excellent lunch on the terrace of a modern hotel/restaurant by the side of the road (picture in gallery).

Then it was our last big descent. Having given us a regrouping point at the first petrol station in Orikum (there’s a book title waiting for a book) Erlis took off. I was tracking him 100m behind for a short distance but couldn’t match his pace. I caught him up a little later when he slowed for a lorry and car going the same way; he passed them both and by the time I could safely do the same he’d disappeared.

The gradient eased all the time and I happily rolled along on my own until a few kilometres from Orikum when John caught and passed me with Robert on his wheel. I slotted in behind ready to take my turn, but John just kept going until we reached the petrol station. It was then just a short flat ride along the coast to our hotel, the Albania Riviera’s tribute to modernism the Hotel Picasso, one of a line of low-rise hotels and beach resorts along this stretch of coast south of Vlorë.

In a rather low-key way we surrendered our bikes and disappeared to our various rooms. It was only about 4 o’clock but there was nowhere obvious to gather. The hotel bar was deserted when I looked in around 5.30 and there were no other bars along this stretch of road. Dinner, when the time came, was excellent. I noted that Tirana beer had replaced Elbar. We gave our thanks to Erlis and Vato and settled our individual accounts for the food and drink we’d had over the holiday. There were no other guests, the staff clearly didn’t want to prolong the evening, so it was still early when we quit and retired to our rooms to finish packing.

Hotel view at dusk

Morning briefing

Typical Albanian village

Bunker

On the Llogara Pass climb

View at Llogara summit

Lunch stop

Hotel Picasso

View from the hotel

Viewranger track of the day.

29 May 2018

Distance: 49 km; total ascent: 1282m

Stayed at: Hotel Prinos

Today was billed as just a short ride along the coast of the Albanian Riviera overlooking the Ionian Sea. Easy, apart from the two major climbs and a few little ones along the way. This is not a flat coast; the mountains come down to the sea and the coast road goes down to the villages along the way then back up and over the next headland before dropping down to the next village. We were warned when Erlis mentioned “the two kilometre climb out of Sarandë”. This was just the hors d’oeuvres.

Our first coffee stop was in the village of Shën Vasil at the top of the first climb (not counting the 2km hors d’oeuvres).

Coffee stop with Christian and Communist structures

But it was a fine, warm day with clear skies and wide-open views of the coastline. The road stays high, away from the sea: each village has a road signposted “Plazh” leading down to the coast.

The indispensible Vato (photo: Peter)

We stopped for lunch at Porto Palermo. Set in a bay protected by a peninsula it’s no longer a port, but it is used as a water sports centre. A group of kayakers was preparing to set off as we ate lunch on yet another shady terrace.

Porto Palermo does have important historical connections though. On the peninsula is the Fortress of Palermo, built by Ali Pasha Tepelena who in Napoleonic times played the other European powers against each other to take control of a large swathe of southern Albania and northern Greece. He was a ruthless dictator, and eventually the Ottoman rulers who were notionally his overlords had enough and after besieging his stronghold in Ioannina for 17 months they captured and beheaded him.

Albanian Riviera coast

After Palermo it was only a short ride to our hotel facing the south beach of Himarë. Despite the fine warm weather the beach season hadn’t yet started and everywhere was deserted. With several hours to spare before dinner some went swimming, others walked over to the main beach to the north, others sat in the shade of the hotel terrace drinking an Elbar or two – or any combination of the above. And there was always washing of sweaty cycling clothes to be done.

Himarë waits for the summer season

At dinner Erlis handed out the CycleAlbania cycling jerseys people had ordered at an impromptu fitting session over dinner back in the second guest house on Sunday. These were good value, selling at half price for their advertising value (CycleAlbania is the company contracted by Exodus to deliver this holiday). For unexplained reasons the jerseys were only made in sizes L and upwards so James and I, both M, missed out.

Lunch at Porto Palermo

Corniche

Himarë's Wild West

Waiting for the season to start

Viewranger track of the day.