Chester - and a brief burst of sunshine! (And all is not as it seems, whilst Chester has some genuine Tudor timber framed buildings, most, including these, are Victorian pastiches - however it makes for a charming city centre)

The beachfront promenadeat Rhyl (North Wales). Damp is the word that comes to mind - once a thriving tourist town. December perhaps wasn't the best time to appreciate its charms.

Snowdonia National Park - beautiful but again damp (however since snow was scheduled for the next night I considered this a reasonable weather option)

Brecon Beacons an area of glorious hills and mountains in mid-wales (and even better the suns out)

Swansea Bay and The Mumbles Pier- the scene of most of my childhood. (Swansea has the second highest tidal rise and fall in the world - between 9 and 12 metres; this is low water, at high water all the foreground becomes sea.)

Christmas dinner - with all the trimmings.

Suddenly the trip is all over and its kind of depressing. Its great to see family and friends for Christmas but I’ve had such independence and such a fantastic time over the last five months and experienced so much friendship from people that it is a flat feeling now that its finished.

The question  always asked at the end of a trip like this is “what have you learnt?” and perhaps more insight-fully (as was done by one of my friends) “what have you learnt about yourself”.  Neither are an easy  answer.  To the first I’d say more than anything it has taught me (or more truthfully reminded me of) just how good people are and how friendly and interesting the world is.  It is so easy to get caught up in your day to day to existence to forget this and to believe the world is a frightening place that has to be somehow controlled and corralled.  The reality is so different; the world is out there is waiting to welcome you with open arms and to give far so much more than it takes.  The second question is even harder to answer and I need more time to reflect on it than I have yet given it – but I do know it has reminded me how much I usually set my own limitations when in reality if I just get going there are very few things that can’t be achieved.

The bike - now cleaned, soaked in WD-40, wrapped and parked in my dad's garden. Ready for the next trip? (Alaska to Argentina sounds interesting)

In my last post I was just coming to grips with snow when I saw it for the first time in Edinburgh – well it won the first round.  First thing I did after leaving my friends house was find a filling station and fill the bikes tank – second thing was to move off and promptly fall over.  Turned out the car park at the filling station was like an ice rink; it hadn’t been gritted and the first vehicles moving over the snow had melted it and then it had simply re-frozen as ice.  Needless to say this didn’t do my confidence much good – especially knowing I was currently near sea-level and had the Cairngorms , which rise to over 1200m (4000 feet), to cross that day.

Typical scenery that day. This was down in the lowlands - I didn't take any on the Cairngorms because I was too busy trying to simultaneously keep upright, stay on the road and not get run over by the trucks who seemed to be experiencing little difficulty in the snow.

Anyway after an entertaining days riding I made it over the mountains and back down the otherside to Inverness and thankfully stopped for the night.

and the next morning awoke to this.

More snow fell overnight – but the forecast was the next couple of days should be snow free before then turning very nasty for a week.  So I had to decide whether to turn round now and skip John O’Groats (which probably would have been the sensible option) or do the quick dash now and hope for the best.  Being an optimist (or stupid, or more likely a combination of both) I decided on the latter and set off again.  It was now about 200 km to John O’Groats and part of me thought with luck I could get there and back in the day.

It wasn’t to be – initially progress was fast, the roads close to Inverness were well gritted and had seen a fair amount of traffic – but as I moved north it got worse with the road clear 90% of the time but then when you least expected fresh snow was drifting across the road.  This was not fun (well maybe not too bad – I actually found riding on snow OK – its the ice that brings you undone and causes those muscle clenching moments).  The fun really ended though when up on one of the high headlands only about 60 kilometres from John O’Groats I stopped to survey a drift and let some traffic through and stalled the bike and it decided it didn’t want to restart.  Oh b….

In the end I pushed the bike into someones drive and attempted in amongst the snow flurries to find out what was wrong.  No spark was easy enough to diagnose – the cause was less obvious and by the end of the afternoon little progress had been made.  Throughout this my host Gladys, who was a sprightly 86 year old living 5 miles from the nearest village fed me cups of coffee and sandwiches and didn’t seem at all perturbed by my presence.

Gladys - sorry about the out of focus picture.

With me not being able to fix things Gladys set her network in action; she phoned the local Bed and Breakfast to get me accommodation for the night and arranged for the school bus to pick me up and take me there.  She also spoke to her daughter who coincidentally was involved with bikes who said “So that’s where he is – someone told me they had seen someone mad enough to be riding north today, we wondered if he had got through”  proving once again what a small world it is.

Later that night whilst having tea at the local pub I met Robbie a local mechanic who offered to fetch the bike on a trailer to his shed – so the next day that what happened.

Robbies shed

Anyway in the peace of Robbies shed I was able to work out the problem was simply salt and water-logged electrics and so after a bit of cleaning up the bike was soon up and running again.

Robbie doesn't like bikes - he prefers trikes. This one was built by him , is powered by a 2 litre diesel engine . He generously let me have a go riding it and it was much easier to steer and manoeuvre than its size suggests. Great fun but he failed to convert me.

What the breakdown verified is what I’ve always believed, it doesn’t matter where you are in the world 99% of the people are more than kind hearted and will go out of their way to help you.  Thank you Gladys, Robbie and everyone else I met in the village of Dunbeath.

Anyway with the bike running it was off to John O’Groats

John O'Groats. Don't let the sunshine and lack of snow fool you it was cold there. I have not put on weight during the trip - I'm simply wearing virtually my entire wardrobe.

From John O’Groats it was a rapid dash back to Inverness because the weather was due to change that night and if I didn’t get out of far north Scotland then it looked like I might have to stay a week.  I rode into Inverness in the tail end of “the worst hurricane in 10 years’ (well that’s what the news said) as it whipped through the highlands – this certainly added an extra something to the last 20 miles into town – especially over the suspension bridge over the River Ness,  in fact this was some of the scariest riding of the trip.

From Inverness it was back over the Cairngorms – more snow but I was getting less worried by it now and onto the Scottish / English border region where I stopped in a small town of Galashiels.  I was wellout of the snow by here and the overnight forecast was purely frost.

Unfortunately when I opened my curtains in the morning it was snowing steadily and this is what I saw:

Frost - disguised as 6 inches of snow

All in all it took another 3 hours of very slow riding to get safely clear of the snow and get on the clear road south into England.

From here I’ve only got a few more days riding via a few friends and relatives until I make it to my fathers house in Swansea, Wales, which is my final destination – but I’ll make those days a separate post.

This is how Spain looked as I left:

Santander port -15 degrees and sunny.

Portsmouth UK - not 15 degrees and not sunny! Was the UK in December a good decision?

From Portsmouth I took another quick, but quite rough, ferry ride over to the nearby Isle of Wight, which happens to be where I was born, and also was where I mis-spent lots of my early twenties doing far too much sailing and not enough university work.

The house my parents had built and i grew up in - it appeared a lot larger than this when I was 5 years old.

From the Isle of Wight it wqas back to the mainland and west to Lands End.

On the way I stayed Bed and breakfast in various pubs (its tough but someone has to do it!). This one is in Lymington (another place where I sailed when supposedly studying) and dates from 1257.

and to prove I did finally leave the pubs and make it to Lands End

Around about Lands End the weather started to get more “wintry” – all layers and waterproofing now required each day.

Scenery was still stunning though. this is just after my GPS decided to give me a challenge by sending me down a 6 foot wide track covered in farm muck and ending in a 1 in 3 hill. I was still recovering when I took this.

I tried toi stay off the main roads for most of the route north and so by accident rather than any plan went passed a few good tourist sites. This is Tintern Abbey - which was "dissolved" by Henry the Eigth when he decided to get rid of the catholics and create the Church of England.

As I got further north and approached the scottish borders I started to run into sleet – nasty stuff on a bike because its really hard to keep the visor clear enough to see where you are going!

And after sleet came snow.

First stop in Scotland was the “Falkirk Wheel”.  This is a bit of canal engineering built in 2005 (ish) to replace 11 traditional locks.

In its top position loading a boat from the upper section of the canal (and the boats are about 18m long by 2m wide)

And about 4-5 minutes later with the transfer nearly completed. A very impressive, and elegant, piece of engineering.

Falkirk is near Edinburgh which in turn is in the lower middle part of Scotland.  I stayed there for the night with some old university friends.

Bill (another naval architect) and his wife Diane, both who were good friends of mine throughout university.

When I woke up in the morning this is what I saw out the window:

Oh dear - its only 400km further north to John O'groats, storms are forecast, this is the lowlands and I need to pass over the highlands to get there.

There was a bit of serious talking to myself before i set off this morning to convince myself it will be OK once I get on the gritted roads, and that I can always turn around if it gets to bad.  But is it a good idea to continue on to John O’Groats and can I make it?  For the first time in the trip I’m not sure what is the correct answer so I’m going to give it a go anyway.  Wait for the next post to see if i make it!

My trip through Spain has been a bit of an eye-opener because for me the country has always been associated with the Costa Brava (think Gold Coast on steroids for my Australian readers) and cheap package holidays.  As alluded to above it turned out to be much more than that – and i by-passed the Costa Brava for good measure.  My first stop virtually as soon as I crossed the border was the small town of Figueres – today its claim to fame is it was the birthplace and final home of Salvador Dali – he of all the dripping watches and other surrealist paintings that all good students had a poster example of on their wall in the seventies.  Salvador Dali’s house in Figueres was an old theatre which he turned into an exhibition space come surrealist piece of art in its own right an now draws in the crowds – me included.

This is part of the interior - full of odd mannequin statues and other oddities too hard to photo. Great fun to while away an hour or two wandering around.

Figueres was also a pretty little town and a good introduction to Spain.  The difference to France was sharp – a bit noisier, smellier, more cramped feeling; just a bit more life being lived on the streets.

From Figueres it was on to Barcelona where my chief reason for visiting was to see some of the modernist architecture of Antoni Gaudi.

The entrance gates to Park Guere - an early example of his work, but it gives an indication of his style

La Pederera - a more extreme example.

Sagrada Familia - started 1882, estimated completion 2026.

and by night.

The interior is what sets it apart though. Here you can forget about the outrageous decoration of the outside and instead admire the forest of trunks and leaves created in stone. It really was an incredibly beautiful space.

The Sagrada Familia cathedral is an amazing piece of work especially when you consider its a work in progress with currently only 8 of the 18 towers completed.  Whether Spain (or even Barcelona, which already has a beautiful 11-13th century one), needs another cathedral is a moot point though – and in fact this one feels much more like a Disney tourist draw card than any place of worship.

As well as monuments though Barcelona is all about the cafe/bar/restaurant culture:

After a tough day being a tourist...

And as I said earlier:

The motorcycle (okay scooter) is king - every change of the lights is the chance for another grand-prix start.

And the bikes are ridden by everyone, men and women, young and old. For some, safety gear tends to go more for style than practicality - but hey who am I to complain.

From Barcelona the plan was to ride to Bilbao in the North West corner of Spain via the famed 9at least to bike riders) roads in the foothills of the Pyrennees.  The plan did not get off to a good start though – twenty kilometres out of Barcelona whilst still on the autoroute out of town I picked up a screw in the back tyre causing a rapid puncture.

The offending screw - it projected 20-30mm into the tyre which is what did the damage.

The "Oh Bugger" moment - what do I do next?

Now this is normally no drama; but this time because I had to ride on the flat tyre at speed until I got to somewhere I could pull in without being killed by the time I stopped the tube was destroyed – and I had no spare.  In the end I had to ride along the metre wide hard shoulder on the completely flat tyre until I could exit – then I limped into the town of Terrassa. Here I spotted a small hotel/bar with a couple of bikes outside:

And met Vincent - who (rapidly) couriered me up to the local bike shop to buy a new tube.

and Joy and "the boss"

Joy was a waiter at the bar, Taiwanese by birth, who acted as my friend and translator and “the boss” was the hotel owner (sorry never caught his name).  Everyone was incredibly friendly and needless to say I spent the night at the hotel (and a long enjoyable evening in the bar).  the puncture was one of those events that as it first started to unfold was a real annoyance – but as it worked out the friendship of everyone who helped me out will make it one of the great memories of the trip.

Anyway I did finally get away to the Pyrennees and the roads were everything I had been led to believe.  The N260 it was called and it snaked its way over hills and though sheer sided gorges for several hundred kilometres.  Some of the riding was up with the most spectacular I’ve ever done – there was one gorge where you switched sides several times and all the time the road was literally just clinging onto the cliff face with a sheer drop down to a river far below, other times there were rides up through twisting hairpins sometimes in the clouds before suddenly bursting out onto summits with glorious views.

I rode up hills with abandoned villages on the tops

and get summits with views like this

or this.

And when the day warmed up and the clouds disappeared I found myself riding hairpin littered roads past villages like this.

As I got higher it did get cold again though! (This is mid-afternoon)

I knew I was in for a cold night when ice started to form on my damp tent flysheet as soon as I erected it.

But this was the view from the camp site .

A quintessential Spanish village. Find a hill on a flat piece of land then...

A lot had not survived the passing of time.

When I reached the Atlantic coast it was time for lunch – so having learnt the Spanish way, I looked for a restaurant with a reasonably priced “menu du jour” (OK I know that’s French but I can’t remember the Spanish equivalent).  Here I struck gold – a little restaurant in a side street where on learning I was Australian and seeing the bike outside treated me famously – lots of little extra titbits from the chef and an aperitif on the house to wash it down.

My hosts

Onto Bilbao, where the goal was the Guggenheim Museum.

This is a museum where the building is more famous than its contents.

the skin is titanium.

The interior equally spectacular.

The art(?) works sometimes mammoth. This is the centrepiece one by Richard Serri - the skill of the workers who made it impressed me much more than the thoughts of the man who created it.

Well Spain is now nearly over.  I have a 100km ride this morning to Santander where I catch the ferry this afternoon to Portsmouth in the UK.

And for those interested I have done almost exactly 24,000 km getting to this point.

Poland was my first stop after Germany – only a flying visit and only staying overnight in one town – but enough to know its worth coming back.  Looks like an interesting halfway house between Europe and Russia in its attitudes and some of its developments.  In many places it looks like what I think Germany around East Berlin might have looked like 10-15 years ago.

Wrocklow Poland - a gorgeous city square - the finest completely intact one I've seen.

Riding around was fun quiet but interesting roads and lots of small villages

Typical village scene

- and many with a huge church or castle or something interesting.

A small village somewhere in southern Poland - with a massive castle on a hill top (looked more impressive in reality than the photo seems)

Poland does however win the prize for the country with the most sign posts - the roads were massively lined with them -most of course telling you the obvious and of course with the critical direction one usually missing.

From Poland it was on to the Czech Republic and Prague.

All day it looked like this and struggled to get to 2 degrees.

The main reason to visit Prague was to get a taste of the changes that happened there since 1983 when I hitch hiked there as part of my trip that eventually finished in Australia.  I remember Prague as a beautiful, uncrowded city.  Well its still beautiful but the uncrowded has gone – even in what is the low season you could hardly move in the old city (and some of the beauty is now well hidden under the selling of universal tourist tat).  A worthwhile experience but after a few days I was ready to move on.

Night, the old Townhall - and crowds

There were still some quiet spots - if you got there early enough in the day.

Near Prague is Kutna Hora what is now a smallish town but 500 years ago apparently outshone Prague.  Because of that it has more than its fair share of huge churches and the like.

Pretty and quiet - much more relaxing if less dramatic than Prague

But what draws people there are not the cathederals – but a bone ossurary (place where the bones which are removed from graves when they are re-cycled are stored).  Ossuraries are apparently reasonably common in Europe – but what is special about Kutna Hora’s is the way its bones have been used to decorate the crypt of a small church:

A general view

The church's sponsors coat of arms - and a very large pile of bones behind (one of 6 pyramids of them)

And if you think the above looks familiar – yes this place featured in the “Long way round” video.

After several weeks of being cold I decided it was now time to get warm – so decided to go to Spain.  Eighteen hundred kilometres in 3 days and that was achieved.  The first part of the trip was German motorways very efficient, straight and boring and lots of fog then onto the French equivalent which were lots more scenic (and enlivened by sometimes being beside the TGV train track – and when comes past at 250km hour its worth seeing).

The only flaw in the plan is almost as I reached the Spanish border I kept seeing electronic warning signs saying something I couldn’t  - but was obviously to do with the weather – I found out as I was enveloped in a massive thunderstorm – thunder and lightning crashing around, rain at the “where’s the road” level etc..

Fortunately a hotel appeared out of the murk - so bike and I hid there for a night.

And then next day it was on to sunshine and Spain – but that will be my next post.

One of the joys of Europe is the bits of history just lying around the place, almost unnoticed and unloved.  Here on a back road with no warning or marking of any kind I came across this marker.  No idea of its significance – but a lot must of passed it by since its erection in 1666.

Just before the border with denmark was the little city of Lund.  In many ways it is nothing particularly special now, just a university and rural town of quite small size – but in the 1200′s it was a bit more important; the largest “Bishopric” in Europe with a cathedral to match.  Now the cathedral, whilst impressive enough, doesn’t have the size and majesty to compare with some of the later ones in Europe but it was still worth a side trip to see.

Lund Cathedral

As I mentioned earlier Lund is now primarily a university city and the buzz of students everywhere combined with a lot of old buildings and streets gave it a lovely feel.  Definitely my favourite Swedish town (albeit out of a very small sample).

Bikes everywhere - what strikes you throughout Scandinavia (and also now here in Germany) is how much the bike is used and how well the road systems are set up to allow this the occur safely. There's a lot we could do well to copy.

A minor repair to the bike was required just before i left Sweden.

Coming down the motorway I felt vibration which I traced to a failing rear wheel bearing. This fortunately was one of the few spares I'm carrying so an hours work at the roadside had it changed and on our way again.

From Sweden, after a nights camping near the border it was a quick run through Denmark to get to Germany.  in fact the run was so quick it was a case of breakfast in Sweden, lunch in Denmark and afternoon tea in Germany.  The ride wasn’t without interest though – for a start the crossing between the two countries is a 16 km long bridge (with a $30 toll – ouch), then continuing the theme there was a 23 km bridge (with a similar toll) between the first part of Denmark and the next.

Part of the second bridge. This was scary riding crossing it as there was a howling gale blowing in from the side.

So on into Germany where my first target was Berlin, about 500 km from the border.  Why Berlin? Well really because it and East Germany were one of two European communist country I didn’t get to when I hitch-hiked towards Australia in ’83.  Also because it is so wrapped up with the Soviet communist era history that I’ve been intrigued by over the last few months.

First stop on the way into Berlin was the town of Oranienburg, not that noteworthy in its own right but just outside it was located one of the first of the Nazi concentration camps – in fact their one which became the model for all future camps.  I walked around it for a few hours and there’s not much I can say other than as I read the text on some of the museum pieces and looked at the photographs I was as near to be physically sick as I’ve been in a long time.  The ability of man to murder, torture and exterminate fellow man and justify it by demonising groups is truly frightening.  Germany is at least facing this part of its history in a way I think future other nations have attempted.

Two barrack huts at Sachenhausen Concentration Camp - looking innocuous until you read the stories of the horrors that went on inside the camp.

 

When I got to Be.rlin I also went to the Holocaust memorial and the Jewish Museum which obviously both deal with the same issues and tell similar stories.  Both are impressive pieces of modern architecture; but for me I worry they are too clever for their content, overwhelming it with their feeling of being an event in their own right and from both I went away from them with more memory of the building rather than the events they are meant to be illuminating.

Inside of the Jewish Museum - all sloping corridors at odd angles, dead ends, slit windows - designed to destabilise and disorientate you.

 

Holocaust Memorial - for me more successful but still feeling like it is more about itself than the event it is supposed to remember .

 

Among the other places I wanted to visit in Berlin was obviously part of the infamous wall itself – although now only a few short sections remain of the 161km structure.

The largest remaining section of the wall is about 1 km long. the "West" side was always used for graffiti and this has been preserved.

 

Immediately after the wall came down parts left standing was used for art works commenting on the wall and its effect. The ones on this section have recently been re-painted by the original artists and many were poignant, a few just plain strange and this was my favourite

 

A foot in East and West Berlin. Where the wall is gone its place is now often marked by a double row of bricks on the ground.

The other must visit for me was “Checkpoint Charlie” – the crossing between West and East Berlin in the American sector.  If you’ve ever read any John LeCarre novels its a place that seeps into your memory.  Its now a cheesily commercial re-enactment of the immediate post war crossing point but it good fun – and for a small fee they even use the original tools to stamp your passport.  i also quite like the fact that McDonalds have taken the prime East Berlin real estate just behind the post.

 

 

One interesting fact thats apparent around Berlin is there is a degree of nostalgia for the artefacts of the East.  This is known as “Ostalgia” as East Germans were “Ossies” (Ost = East) and the hostel i’m staying in plays on this theme;

Original communist era housing block - although not the original colour scheme.

Room furnished with communist era furniture.

A "Trabbi" (more correctly a Trabant). Zero to 1ookmh in 21 seconds ( and 110 kmh - never). I actually saw, and smelt one (for they were two strokes) still out on the road as I was driving to Berlin

Well that is probably enough about Berlin.  Hope you enjoyed it.  Tomorrow I’m off to ?.  Actually I haven’t quite decided. I’d like to go briefly in to Poland but the weather forecasts suggest this might not be a wise idea since they are predicting a high of 2 degrees for the next few days  so you’ll have to wait and find out whether I brave this or turn west again.

 

PS – Its late and I’m feeling too tired to proof read this – so you are getting it as written.  Please excuse spelling and grammer mistakes etc.

Somewhere towards the western coast.

Yes that's ice starting to form on the surface

Since hotels seem to cost $200 a night to keep expenses under control, and also because I like and enjoy the freedom of it, I camped all the remaining nights in Norway (plus those in Sweden when I got back there).  All my sites have been attractive, in a forest or by a lake, but the one below was the pick of them all:

The foot of a glacier - I camped in the trees just to the right of the bike. Absolutely no one else around.

A view from further back in the glacier valley - as well as the glacier in front I had snow capped ridges on each side. And that night was also clear and with a full moon - a spectacular site.

Mixed with the scenery though are the roads; which when they are dry are a bikers heaven.

The roads are superb but I'm not so sure about the viewing platform sticking out over the valley - glass front and floor; it tested my nerve.

Launchpad for the road in the shot above.

The roads aren’t always dry though;

Maybe November isn't the best month. (I took this photo mainly for the stick marker behind. Throughout Scandanavia they mark the edges of the road every 100-200m with sticks, usually a metre tall, so you or the snow ploughs can find it after a snow fall - here, which was the top of a pass, they were obviously expecting some more significant snow.)

Whilst I really enjoyed the roads they were harder work for some:

Two lorry drivers I met near the top of one very steep and very winding and tunnel laden pass - thats their truck behind. The one on the right had just driven up it for the first time and when I asked him how he felt he said in perfect English "I was shitting myself".

And this is the truck he was driving - which may help to explain his comment! His more experienced co-driver does the road fully loaded.

You do also sometimes see sobering images though to remind you to take care:

XJR Jaguar - other than the two doors on this side I don't think much remained to be re-used.

Part of the fun of the roads is they are interspersed in many places with ferry trips across the fjiords which add to the variety:

Typical little village at the head of a ferry route.

Obligatory bike picture

A truck driver on one of the ferries (whose name I never got) - who insisted on paying my fare. There are marvelous people everywhere.

The other way of connecting places are tunnels.  These vary from tiddlers only a few 100 metres long to this one:

Yes 24.5km - the longest road tunnel in the world.

Time for a rest break half way through!

This tunnel was fun to drive – wide and well lit.  Some of the other older ones weren’t so good; dark, bumpy, wet two lane roads that wound there way through the mountains with unexpected turns and dips.  A surprise in another was finding a roundabout half way through it and having to instantly work out what exit “road” I needed.  Also some of the tunnels high in the mountains had doors at each end (to prevent ice forming in the tunnels)- you drove up to this oversize garage door and waited whilst it slowley opened and then as soon as it entered it closed behind you.  A slightly eery feeling being shut in and not helped in one case where I got to the far end and the sensor failed to detect the bike so the exit door didn’t open!  (Fortunately inspection revealed a manual operation button for just such occasions so I was able to let myself out).

I really enjoyed myself in Norway but aware of the time of year and the fact that it was supposed to be snow covered already I started to head South before the weather did change.  And I’m glad I did – I found that even in the few days I had been over near the west coast the temperatures in the centre had dropped a few more degrees and ice on the road was becoming a problem.  One particularly long unexpected slide on a road in mid-afternoon told me it was time to leave!

My last camp site in Norway. Buying a decent sleeping bag for this trip was a wise investment.

And a final shot:

Lunch at a fjord-side. No I haven't put on that much weight - it's a lot of clothes I'm wearing.(Top - thermal vest, T shirt, fleece pullover, down waistcoat, bike jacket thermal lining, bike jacket and finally windproof top jacket. Bottom - thermal pants, normal trousers, bike trouser thermal and rain linings and finally heavy bike over trousers. At least my luggage bags are emptier now.) They work well too, other than my toes I don't feel the cold.

If anyone is interested my rough route in Norway is now marked on the google map linked to the site. If you wonder why this is not always up to date it is because it needs a really good internet connection to do the changes so often its just not possible.

OK that it for now – updates on Sweden, Denmark and my first few days in Germany coming soon.

What was impressive was the way the ferry wended its way between islands with only a ships length either side. It was lovely to see by daylight but at night in bad weather it must be nightmarish.

After Moscow, St Petersburg, Tallinn and Riga I really didn’t want to spend much time in  another big city for awhile – but I did give Stockholm one day as I wanted to go and see the Vasa museum.  The Vasa was the pride of the Swedish fleet when built in the 1620′s, their first warship with two gundecks; unfortunately she lasted less than an hour on her maiden voyage when in gentle breezes she heeled over and sank in Stockholm harbour.  She was raised in a remarkably preserved condition in the early1960′s and now sits conserved in a museum here.

If you want a decent picture you'll need to go to the web. The museum is in half light to help preserve the ship and my camera couldn't cope. The claim is 98% of what you see here is original timber.

I was looking for a cheap room for the night in Stockholm and ended up in a jail.

Fortunately a redundant one that had been converted to a hostel.

I was uncertain whether to turn north or south from Stockholm but chats with the locals assured me they were having the mildest autumn on record so I decided to head north with a vague plan to head up to the ski centres in the middle of Sweden and then to cross over to Norway and try and see some fjord scenery.  This was going to be mostly camping as Scandanavian prices are as high as you have heard ($12 for the one and only beer I have bought here, nearly $3 litre for petrol, hotels start at $150 a night etc).

The villages north of Stockholm were postcard pretty.

View from my first campsite - a lakeside 100km north of stockholm. Wild camping on unused land is perfectly legal here.

As I got further north and reached the ski-ing areas around the Swedish – Norwegian borders you could sense how late the snows are arriving this year.  All the towns are set up ready for the ski-ing, some of the pre-booked holiday makers are obviously there and there is zero snow at the resorts.

Ski jumps look a bit ridiculous when not surrounded by snow.

Skidoos are obviously big business - typical price for a new one seems to be about $20,000.

After I crossed into Norway and headed to the west I started to get higher and did start to see some snow on distant peaks.

More desolate feeling as you head west.

And the buildings changed quite a bit.  The Swedes had been very neat and tidy with very little variation in the buildings; the Norwegians somehow seem to throw a lot more character into theirs.

Lots of farms have their own private church(?) next to the house. This was the most colourful I saw - but all were similar size and style.

Also lots of turf roofed houses - both in towns and in the countryside.

After a day the snow on the peaks got closer:

Very pretty and dramatic at this range - but the road was still climbing.

Then it got like this.

I ended up finding myself driving through packed slushy snow with drifts one or two feet deep on either side of the road and minimal visibility.  I hoped that this was just the top of the pass and I’d be quickly through it – but after 5k it was getting no better so I took the cowards way and (very gingerly) turned around and rode back down the hill.  A couple of hikers I met just after I got back below the snowline told me there was about 20km of snow in total and it got no worse than I had seen, in fact they seemed to think it was hardly worthy of note; but I did note their car had snow tyres (which have steel studs on them) and of course it was a car not a bike.  They did however tell me of some other roads slightly further north I could use with no problems.

On the hikers recommended "other route". Fortunately it got no worse than this.

The recommended route led down to the head of a fjord.  Just after the above photo was taken I found the turn off and a pair of signs, one that said 1:10 hill for 14 km(!), and the other that it was a narrow winding road.

Look carefully you'll see the road hairpinning its way down - the full 14 kms was like this. Bikers heaven.

The view when part way down.

Geiranger Fjord at the bottom. Just visible in this photo is the matching road that winds up out of it on the other side.

I’ve stayed one night at a hotel here at the fjord (at a price I don’t want to dwell on) to do my washing, have a shower, buy one beer and do this blogging- but later today I tackle that road out the other side.

More on Scandinavia soon.

PS:  If you don’t understand the title of this post you obviously haven’t read “Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy’ by Douglas Adams.  Just ask the nearest teenager to explain.

Ever wondered where Estonia and Latvia were and what they were like? So did I. Prior to arriving I had a vague idea they were tucked in somewhere around Finland but that was then the end of my knowledge. They’ve turned out to be a real pleasant surprise – lovely little countries having an intriguing mix of all their neighbours characteristics. Theres a strong dash of their southern neighbours Germany, their northern Scandanavian neighbours and their eastern neighbour Russia.  It’s probably because all three have periodically rolled through and brawled over this part of northern Europe for about 800 years – Estonia and Latvia (and Lithuania which I didn’t visit) didn’t exist as seperate countries until just after the first world war – and then at most lasted 20 years before disappearing again in the German / Russian battles of World War 2.

Just into Estonia - and my first sight of the sea for three months. I was so pleased to see the sea again I decided to camp near it soon after the above photo was mistaken. A mistake - I hadn't put together the connection between a flat landscape and lots of wind generators until I was almost blown away through the night.

My next stop after the border was the capital of Estonia, Tallinn. It is famed for its beautiful and intact old city (UNESCO Listing) but I spent my first couple of days there trawling around the newer and less elegant and more industrial parts trying, eventually successfully, to get a new battery for the bike. The old one was showing a strong aversion to the cold – and I an equal aversion to having to use the bikes kick starter (I had to once in Moscow and that was enough to make me glad I had it and remind me how much easier electric starts are).

Having got the practical job out the way I could now concentrate on being a tourist again – and this time, for the first time on the trip, in company as a friend from the UK came out to visit me for 10 days.  The old town part of Tallinn certainly is pretty – the wall around it is virtually complete and within are all the tall houses and narrow streets of the picture books.  For me it felt a bit characterless and tourist pretty – the latter view reinforced by the crowds (and this is very much the off season) roaming it, usually under the careful watch of an attentive and controlling guide and the various “ye olde shoppe” trying to sell stuff to them.  Having said that it was still well worth the visit and I think my attitude was a bit coloured by just having spent 5 days in St Petersburg and probably having insufficient break between places.

Town walls and towers - all remarkably intact.

View from up on the wall.

and down at street level.

The groups of tourists in town seemed to be mainly from an impressive array of large ferries and small cruise ships that seemed to continually arrive in the port.  Until I got here I’d forgotten how busy European shipping is compared with what we’re used to in Australia.

An average day. There's five ships in shot - and another couple out of view.

This is one of them - it goes twice a day to and from Helsinki, Finland (2 hours 30 minutes away) - and there are three of them plus a fast catamaran doing just this route.

Continuing on the nautical theme I also visited the maritime museum – but found whilst the halls weren’t open (in fact were still under construction) there were a few ships were in the water at the edge of the site.  The majority were old patrol boats in various states of decay and with no access possible but one of them was this ice breaker.

Built 1904 - and in use by the Russians to the 1980's.

Amazingly you were just allowed to wander around it – no guides and precious few off-limit areas – and wonderous it was; well maintained but little changed from when it was built. Three huge quadruple expansion steam engines (two for the aft two propellers and one for the bow propeller!) were the most impressive sight and they looked as though they were ready to run tomorrow.

Another thing done whilst in Tallin was to take a tour out to a local nature reserve / state park etc..  Whilst there I was shown this;

What is it? People from my work maybe able to work it out - think Soviet, the cold war, top secret and allied to our (Newcastle and Waterhen) sphere of work.

From Tallin it was a trip around the countries western coast and then on down the coast to Riga the capital of Latvia.  One of Riga’s claims when trying to attract the tourist dollar, and one of my reasons for going there, is that it has one of the largest and most intact groups of Art Noveau buildings in the world (an economic boom at the turn of the 20th century fueled their building and the frontline in both world wars moved so quickly through Latvia they didn’t get totally destroyed and then the Soviets never spent any money modernizing them).   They were also not what I was expecting – when I read “Art Noveau” in the guidebook I thought this was the same as “Art Deco” – but apparently its not, its the preceding style and is all gargoyles and flowers and Greek god details on the building facades and not the straight lines I was expecting. Irrespective they were fascinating to see and had an amazing variety of detail; but impossible to photograph well– 4 or 5 stories tall and either side of streets it was very hard to get a perspective on them.

This is the best photo I managed and is was also the "Museum of Art Noveau" where I learnt the error of my assumption.

Another of Riga’s tourist icon’s was the “Freedom Monument” erected to celebrate their first batch of independence. Its a genuinely impressive bit of statuatory.

Freedom monument - but, for awhile, it was also a touch ironic for almost as soon as they finished it in 1936 the Soviets had marched back marched in.

Like all good old towns Riga also had its church spires and their best was St Peters.  The original was burnt down during the war – but in an amazing bit of far sightedness when it was rebuilt in the 50′s and 60′s they included a lift up the centre. Now for a few dollars you can ride 2/3 way up it.

Without a lift it would be a long climb.

And what you can see from the spire - lots of roof's

and also the old Zepplin sheds from WW1 (which are now the city markets)

Whilst in Latvia I also had a cultural moment by going to both the opera one night and the ballet the next. They were probably the bargains of the trip – the best seats in the national opera house to see the national opera company cost just $30 each and lesser seats (because all the best were sold) for the ballet just $6. (As an aside – when in Moscow I looked at going to the Bolshoi – but at $681 for the cheapest seat to see Swan Lake I decided I could live without that experience).

From here I was in two minds which way to go next – south into Poland or north into Scandanavia.

And the decision was!

(Answer to the photo question: It’s a submarine de-perming range – from which the Russians stripped out all the equipment and walked away in 1992.  You can now just wander through the abandoned ruins.)

Before leaving my last major stop was Saint Petersburg.  It turned out to be a spectacular city and certainly the most “beautiful” of the big Russian cities I’ve been – I can see why it is the tourist icon it is.

When you get to St Petersburg you realise how different it is to Moscow – its an “old money” versus “new money feel”.  St Petersburg has a continuous array of beautiful old buildings, virtually no new buildings (at least in the centre) and the people seem to have blended in – traffic is less, flash cars are minimal, the whole place whilst very busy seems more relaxed and enjoying itself rather than desperately making and spending money.

The prime Saint Petersburg tourist attraction has to be the Hermitage art gallery located in the Winter Palace.  I knew this place was big – I hadn’t realised how big; I spent a full day, opening to closing time in it, and only saw half of the rooms and galleries.  The Tsars (and later the Communist party) were serious art collectors – want to see a Rembrandt, a Titian, a Rubens, a Van Goch, a Da Vinci, a Monet, a Picasso etc etc – they are all there and usually half or dozen or more – also ancient Egyptian mummies, Greek sculpture, Scythian gold, Roman ornaments, the list is endless.  It is dazzling in its enormity with the art works being only half the display because the palace itself is an extravaganza.  You also get a chance to really appreciate it all because the crowds are huge and your allowed to just wander around freely, none of the art works are behind glass and only a few of the most valuable gold and jewel items have any form of intrusive security.  I couldn’t imagine any major European museum or palace feeling as open – not feeling you expect to get in Russia.  Any way here are a few of the mandatory photo’s to whet your appetite to visit yourselves.

The Hermitage from the outside.

and by night. (My hostel was only a hundred metres from where this was taken - it was like staying next door to Buckingham palace - but it was only $30 night)

A random room

And another.

And being a palace it had to have a real throne - this is one of several scattered around.

Continuing on the cultural theme I also visited a few more churches.

Church of the Spilled Blood (so called because it marks where Alexander II got blown up in the 1870's)

The interior is a mass of spectacular mosaics - spectacular because they have just spent 27 years restoring them.

Kazan Cathederal

with a more traditional guilded icon interior ( in St P, unlike the rest of Russia, they seem to be unworried about you taking photo's inside the churches)

And because I am who I am also spent a fair amount of time in a car and bike museum  I found.

A 350cc Jawa - maybe for the next tour - plenty of luggage room.

Also a military engineering museum;

Why we rightly scared in the 70's.

and more reasons.

And of course a ship;

The cruiser Aurora - which is preserved because the mutiny of the crew in 1917 was one of the important turning points in the October revolution.

Another museum was where they did a lot of the original rocket research;

Recognise this? (its a Sputnik satellite for my younger readers - when they launched the first they built a few spares)

and what was inside - not a computer chip in sight (and precious few transistors even)

And a rocket motor from the manned space program (4 of these were on the first stage of the Vostok rocket)

And finally a few general street scenes.

St P has a large network of canals which give it real character - and boat trips are a lovely way to see the city.

I said in an earlier post that Ufa felt like it was closing down for winter. By contrast people in St P seemed to be dertermined to make the most of reasonable weather and celebrate until the snows really started to fall.

Anyway it was finally time to move on to cross the border and Russia laid on one final present for me:

On my way to the border this cold white stuff started pouring out of the sky!

and it continued most of the way to the border.

Not a spetacular photo - but my last shot of Russia as I entered the border post. Farewell.