Brittany
As I write these lines I am sitting in the kitchen of Hayleys & Morgans 
place in the scottish capital Edinburgh, trying to remember all the little stories, great people and funny coincidences that happend to me on my way trough Brittany.
Hugues place in Nantes was just to comfortable and so I stayed a couple of nights more than intended but his flatmates managed to "activly motivated" me out of the house and into the saddle eventually.
Riding out of to cycle the beautiful Canal from Nantes to Brest I met Matthew from London.
He was obviously going the same way - on a shiny new SURLY CrossCheck- bicycle.
We took our time to stare at each others bikes for a couple of kilometers and chat our way to the next beergarden where we had some light refreshments. Matthew had taken a couple of days off from his family holiday, was travelling very light and riding much faster than I did, but curiously we met again and again for the next couple of days during the nearly 400km long ride and came to not only share the route but also the same hostel, a room in a french B&B, a couple of meals, several apperitives and loads of laughs on our way towards Brest.
Towards the end of our common ride he invited me to stay with his family in the house of "beau-pere" near Brest and I accepted willingly.
After a hearty dinner, a good nights sleep and a huge breakfast, Matthew finally rode with me to the next village from where I cycled towards Plabenec where I was expected by Catherine whom I had met on the Camino de Santiago in June.
Once again I was received like the "lost son" by people I had never seen in my life,I was given a room, a bed, was watered and fed with delicious foodstuff and aperitives. During the next three days, Catherine took me to a Gaelic festival, treated me to a boat ride including picnic on a beach of tiny but pitoresque island of Batz,
we visited the open-air music festival Fete-du-bruit in Landenau and the Brest aquarium.
Arriving late from visiting Brest, Catherines father willingly loaded me, my bike and the rest of my equipment into his van and drove me the last 40 kms north to the waiting ferry that would take me to Plymouth.
I had crossed France from south to north and the country had
kept its best for last, the ride through Brittany, its people and hospitality and the calm alongside the Canal.
As I settled into my seat on the ferry that would take me to country number four on my ride around the globe, I checked my luggage and found a "good-bye" letter from Catherine - all the family members had signed a postcard for me wishing good luck for my further trip.
place in the scottish capital Edinburgh, trying to remember all the little stories, great people and funny coincidences that happend to me on my way trough Brittany.Hugues place in Nantes was just to comfortable and so I stayed a couple of nights more than intended but his flatmates managed to "activly motivated" me out of the house and into the saddle eventually.
Riding out of to cycle the beautiful Canal from Nantes to Brest I met Matthew from London.
He was obviously going the same way - on a shiny new SURLY CrossCheck- bicycle.We took our time to stare at each others bikes for a couple of kilometers and chat our way to the next beergarden where we had some light refreshments. Matthew had taken a couple of days off from his family holiday, was travelling very light and riding much faster than I did, but curiously we met again and again for the next couple of days during the nearly 400km long ride and came to not only share the route but also the same hostel, a room in a french B&B, a couple of meals, several apperitives and loads of laughs on our way towards Brest.
Towards the end of our common ride he invited me to stay with his family in the house of "beau-pere" near Brest and I accepted willingly.
After a hearty dinner, a good nights sleep and a huge breakfast, Matthew finally rode with me to the next village from where I cycled towards Plabenec where I was expected by Catherine whom I had met on the Camino de Santiago in June.Once again I was received like the "lost son" by people I had never seen in my life,I was given a room, a bed, was watered and fed with delicious foodstuff and aperitives. During the next three days, Catherine took me to a Gaelic festival, treated me to a boat ride including picnic on a beach of tiny but pitoresque island of Batz,
we visited the open-air music festival Fete-du-bruit in Landenau and the Brest aquarium.Arriving late from visiting Brest, Catherines father willingly loaded me, my bike and the rest of my equipment into his van and drove me the last 40 kms north to the waiting ferry that would take me to Plymouth.
I had crossed France from south to north and the country had
kept its best for last, the ride through Brittany, its people and hospitality and the calm alongside the Canal. As I settled into my seat on the ferry that would take me to country number four on my ride around the globe, I checked my luggage and found a "good-bye" letter from Catherine - all the family members had signed a postcard for me wishing good luck for my further trip.
Bonjour la France !
Welcome to France, the home of Baguette, Pain au Chocolat, Pernod, green fields, lovely blonde girls, Bordeux, the Loire River, hundreds of Chateuxs, Fromage, Crepes, Mont St Michel, Cidre and a couple of Velos.
Shortly after leaving Irun I finally cross into France with high expectations and looking forward to discover country number three on my way around the world and so I cycle along the coast through the area known as Les Landes de Gascone, unfortunately the school holidays have started recently
and the roads and campsites fill with cars and campervans, people eager to reach the pre-booked campsites along the coast.
There is lots of cycling tracks criss-crossing the french south-west but I get soon bored of the straight routes and the pine-tree forests to my left and right - all day long. A couple of times I nearly fall asleep because the ride along this seemingly neverchanging landscape has become quite monotonous.
Shortly after leaving Irun I finally cross into France with high expectations and looking forward to discover country number three on my way around the world and so I cycle along the coast through the area known as Les Landes de Gascone, unfortunately the school holidays have started recently
and the roads and campsites fill with cars and campervans, people eager to reach the pre-booked campsites along the coast. To my surprise, the roads are not very wide (especially in the villages) and the cars often have to que behind me and wait to overtake.
There is lots of cycling tracks criss-crossing the french south-west but I get soon bored of the straight routes and the pine-tree forests to my left and right - all day long. A couple of times I nearly fall asleep because the ride along this seemingly neverchanging landscape has become quite monotonous.
I stay in a couple of pilgrims hostals and private accomodations (thank you to Famille Lamothe!), do some wild camping and spend the night of the 14th of july (the french national holiday) in a small village campsite, enjoy the fireworks and try to speak french to the locals. 
Bordeaux seems to be a nice and rich city with its stone buildings, bars and brasseries and intense student (night)life. A single night in the local youth hostal sets me back 20 € (incl. breakfast) , so I ride on through the winecountry of the Girdonde, along vineyards and past impressive Chateauxs, towards LaRochelle (where I am expected by Warmshowers host ean-Jacques) always tempted by the signs offering winetastings and good food.
Jean-Jaques and his wife welcome me like an old friend, feed me like a king and take me on a ride to La Rochelle harbour on their recumbent bikes. In the beginning I am really tense and can´t find my equilibrium on the strange machine but after 10 minutes I relax my shoulders and roll easily dow the street. It feels like cycling while sitting on a sofa. And you are the centre of attention wherever you go, people turning their heads, making comments, laughing. I am quite sure I will change to a recumbent bicycle soon...
Once in Tours I stay in the pilgrims hostel of St Martins basilica, chat with the nuns, visit the saints tomb and roam the historic city centre with its ancient little houses and small alleys right besides the Loire river. Leaing the city to cycle along the Loire to Nantes I have my first (altough harmless) accident. Somehow I fall sideways off my bike and the plastic hose of my front break rips. For the next 300 kms I cycle with one brake only, fortunately the Loire cycle paths are mostly flat and I do not have to use my break much.
Towards Irun
In Oviedos pilgrims hostel I met several interesting people, one of them Horst, a goodhearted bavarian guy from in his fifties. He traveled all the way from Malaga to Oviedo, mostly walking or hitchhiking (including a solo walk across the Sierra Nevada in early spring!).
Altough he is equipped with good boots, a new backpack and all the other quality gear, he likes to travel the cheap way, sleep in parks (he was attacked three times while in Spain) and saving money where ever he can, but he loves to sit in cafés and spend his money on coffee and the occasional beer.
When he runs out of money, he returns to Germany, gets a job and work for half a year or so before getting fed up with german weather and
nine-to-five job and taking off again. Together we spend the night of San Juan watching the huge bonfire on the cathedral square, having a couple of Sidras and exchanging stories of our travels and our respective plans for the future. For my benefit Horst tells me about a couple of things how to save money on the road, like having lunch for 50 Cents, and so on. Good luck Horst!
After leaving lovely Oviedo I cycle towards Ariondas to rent a Kayak and cruising down the famous river Sella along spectacular scenery towards Ribadesella.
Back on my bike (crossing into Cantabria my cycle computer shows now over the 4.000 kms ) I take the costal route towards Bilbao where I am expected to meet with Leire, an old friend from my times as trainee at BOSCH, and her family and friends. They give me a hearty welcome, take me along to Barbecues and dinner parties and treat me just great.
I feel at home and once again it is hard to leave my friends and head for Irun. Gracias Leire and Jenny ! And I definitely have to come back to northern Spain to explore Galicia and Asturias and cycle the Picos de Europa, which I had seen from far away only.
From Astorga to Oviedo
After two weeks in Astorga I was ready to go on and took public transport to Lugo (Ok, this is cheating, but I REALLY did not feel to climb the Cruz de Ferro and O Cebreiro AGAIN -it would have been the second time in three weeks- so I invested the money in a bus ticket, packed my bike and hopped on the bus) and started cycling the Camino Primitivo that runs from Palas del Rey in Galicia to Asturias capital city, Oviedo.
Soon I found out that cycling in Asturias is great but tough on your legs, entering Asturias from the west it is a steady up and down along steep mountain ranges and the most direct way between remote villages is often a short downhill followed by a long uphill, or so it seemed. After two week sitting at a desk in Astorga my legs felt like jelly, furthermore I had a slight cold and could hardly breathe. So I suffered my way trough to lovely Oviedo and most of the days ended in a tiny pilgrims hostel with only 30-40 kms cycled (which felt like I did 120 kms).
Soon I found out that cycling in Asturias is great but tough on your legs, entering Asturias from the west it is a steady up and down along steep mountain ranges and the most direct way between remote villages is often a short downhill followed by a long uphill, or so it seemed. After two week sitting at a desk in Astorga my legs felt like jelly, furthermore I had a slight cold and could hardly breathe. So I suffered my way trough to lovely Oviedo and most of the days ended in a tiny pilgrims hostel with only 30-40 kms cycled (which felt like I did 120 kms).
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