Chazzmeister

A decade in the dark

2011-09-18T09:11:00.000-07:00

Nearly ten years ago to the day, I boarded a train from Newark, NJ bound for Seattle, WA. I was in the twilight of my 18th year, and was unable to fly the cross-country distance as a result of a recent disturbance in the scheduling of flights and in the general accessibility and ease of air travel.

The airlines were offering a one-for-one trade-in for Amtrak tickets, for people who needed to get where they needed to go. I wasn't one of those people. I had a hazy deadline to arrive in Seattle within 10 days to begin my second year of college, but I had none of the terror and immediacy that others in the country were feeling in the wake of our Great Shared Tragedy.

The three-day trip across the country was the first time I kept a serious journal of notes, the first time I considered myself engaged in a life of writing (that is, disengaged in a life of financial pursuit) and the first time I felt the escapist thrill of long-distance, open-ended travel. I was young, and the travel was more monotonous than adventurous. To read the notes now is an exercise in cringing in new and horrible ways. And the feeling of "considering myself dedicated" to writing for a life is a troubling pursuit that I've tangled with over the last decade. I can't say the mental switch I flipped on that morning of departure in Sep. 2001 has been purely benevolent, but ten years on, I'm certainly glad that I've done all I have.

I can't escape the truth that the events of Sep. 2001 have shaped my entire adult life. At the very least, the train journey spurred on a radical shift in my trajectory. I spent a couple years fearing a draft. I live now with my wife in Germany, a result of a heightened military presence that's allowed to continue because of U.S. war that's lasted as long as my fruitless pursuit of a writer's life. I earn money now by writing for the U.S. Army, and it's a world I may not have been able to enter if not for the violent events that unfolded.

So armed with my convenient European living location, a multi-day furlough from my current job and the weight of history (and a backpack) on my shoulders, I set out into the Šumava mountains of the Czech Republic. It's along the border of the former West Germany and still bears signs of nations once at war.

The trip turned out to be less beautiful and carefree than I imagined. The park, while one of the largest forests in all of Europe, is passable only by asphalt tracks, largely trafficked by pudgy Germans in spandex chugging along on mountain bikes.

I stranded myself between towns the first night and despite a strict no-camping order within the park, I found a quiet turnoff and pitched a tent for the night. After firing up my camping stove for a packet noodle dinner, I caught a few fitful hours of sleep (awfully cold at 3,000 feet above sea level in September) and feeling restless, packed up camp at 4 a.m. so I could cover a few miles before dawn.

Admittedly, I had more than one nightmare about wild boar (real inhabitants of the forest there) tusking me in my sleep, so it was with jangled nerves that I trudged by the light of a full moon that illuminated the spruce plantations like a spotlight. In the distant valleys, to the left and the right, male deer in their rutting season bellowed throaty shrieks that echoed off the hillsides. When you haven't slept and are all alone in a vast expanse of forest, the (imagined) possibility of surprising one of these randy, antlered ruminants is truly terrifying. I stepped gingerly and thanked the pagan gods of Bohemian Woodland Sprites when the sun came up.

A day spent laboring over a couple lowly peaks, all the time along the paved asphalt track I was relegated to left me ultimately disappointed, and after 25 miles with a 35 lb pack on my shoulders, sore and cranky, I relented in Modrava. The plethora of German tourists shut me out of the four hotels in the small town I had reached and not feeling agreeable to more illegal camping, I took a bus back to my starting point, the border town of Železná Ruda, slept in a cheap hotel and got on a series of trains back home to Würzburg in the morning.

My will to explore has not been sapped, but my youthful sense of pleasant aimlessness has surely gone. Maybe it's a result of a decade under the caul of a nation at war, running from the impending necessity of having to grow up, of working jobs that ground my mind and/or body to dust, leaving me to regrow and recoup in extended periods of travel, education or simply general, listless languor.

In researching my European heritage, I learned that my paternal great-great-grandfather left Bremen, Germany in 1880 to avoid conscripted military service to the Prussian Empire. His son, the first-born in America, registered for the WWI draft as law dictates, but the number was never called. My paternal grandfather missed service in the Korean War because he was attending medical school in Switzerland. My father was too young for the Vietnam draft by only a year or two. Though the selective service isn't angling for my generation, I come from a long line of men who avoided fighting through one way or another, and it's a lineage I couldn't be prouder of.

The great warmaking cultures of history (Rome, Greece, Persia, Japan, China, England, France, Russia, on and on) have never included America. Until the second half of the 20th Century, we could have been viewed as a culture of conflict-avoiders who left tumultuous homelands. I'm not from people who can handle war. Wanderers, malcontents, aspirationalists, but not warriors.

As I literally skirted the minefields this past weekend, I felt disappointed. The once battle-scarred forest was now but a playground for the overindulged offspring of a broken generation. Their pleasure-seeking, middle-aged hordes crowded me out of the 'wilderness' and sent me packing. But the journey I began ten years ago in Newark, NJ's Penn Station is still lumbering down the tracks at a healthy, enjoyable pace. Wherever I go, if I'm not content I can simply pack up and keep on moving. It's the heritage of what built America, and something I'll cling to until my dying day. The hours before sunrise are those which light me up the most, because I've already gotten a running start on the day when the first rays crest the ridgeline.

Same old place

2009-09-16T02:38:00.000-07:00

Howdy,

as always, real quick and sans photographs. We had a lovely crossing of Le Manche and St. George's strait from Cherbourg to Rosslare,Ireland and are two days into our counterclockwise journey around the country. I've never seen most of what we're about to visit, so this is all new to me as well. Due to the Irish rolling hillsides and ocean-winds, we are renting a car from Cork airport in a couple days to properly blitz through the wild western reaches of the Islands. The weather is getting less summery by the hour and the prospect of biting face-on breezes and rocky roads going up and down the seafront cliffs is less and less palatable for us. We did roll over the 1,000 mile mark on our cycle-computers yesterday (en route from Tramore to Dungarvan), so our journey by pedal power has not amounted to chump change. We are owed!

Lovely stuff continues to come our way, and despite the physical toll we both are feeling, we have no true complaints, other than our mutual mourning of the loss of French bakeries. *sniff*

Like, Oui

2009-09-10T07:59:00.000-07:00

Whoa. Been awhile, and I still must be quick. Also, am in France where the keyboard is absolutely screwy, so excuse the typos.

SO, since I last updated, we have circumveloed the Bodensee in Souther Germany, spent three days in Basel, Switzerland (incidentally the most expensive country in the solar system), Cycled the lovely length of the Rhine from Basel to Strasbourg, France (stunning!), then took the futuristic TGV train to Le Havre (a city which I could not pronounce to the ticket agent).

From Le Havre, we have been cycling along the Normandy coast, a cold and windy affair this time of year. There have been dunes and surf, seaside towns and Seine-spanning megabridges, touching war monuments to the D-Day invasions, punishing days of riding head-on into 30 mph winds, a real-live French restaurant (another humiliating ordeal of mispronounciation and gaffes), and overall bliss on both of our parts. We sail from Cherbourg on Sunday, headed for Ireland, where we hope to rent a place to while away our remaining days in Europe. All cylinders are firing and we are loving our time here (hence the lack of blogging...no time for internet nonsense when you are enjoying yourself).

So, thanks for the comments and hopefully i can post some pictures, till then!

Photo Roundup

2009-08-30T00:48:00.000-07:00

Hello All,

We are on the hyper-expensive Lake Constance in Southwestern Germany, after having ridden a train across much of the country yesterday. We are about to hightail it to France in hopes of new adventures, but I thought I would take this opportunity to upload some longe-delayed photographs from the last 2 weeks, which are presented here in reverse chronology. I don't feel like reordering!

Jenni making the border crossing across the Danube from Austria into Germany, near the city of Passau. We had just blasted through over 400 km of riding (250 miles) in 3 and a half days, with our longest day covering 85 miles. We reached our weekend deadline for a cheap train ticket, and the girl was all smiles.

Goats grazing a hillside underneath a church in a picturesque Bavarian village on the Danube.

Jenni watching the sunset over the Austrian Danube.

Us plus a swanky riverboat cruise in the city of Linz, Austria. The river is lousy with these cruises, and we cycled faster than most of them!

Me in the Wachau wine region showing off my stellar tanlines. A currently 'hot' wine from this region is called Grüner Veltliner, which my mother may be able to tell you more about. The knotted kercheif achieves two functions simultaneously: neck sunburn protection and maximum style.

Crossing from Slovakia into Austria on the Danube near Bratislava.

Bratislava Old city. Really beautiful and welcoming place if you ever get the chance to visit. It's a polished and gleaming European capital at a steal of a price (relatively speaking).

Jenni powering up a mountain in the Slovak Tatras, looking forward to the upcoming pass.

Crossing into Slovakia from Poland. There was no border control since they are both members of the Schengen agreement (wiki it for more info!) which is a great thing for making good neighbors and trade and all, but seriously deprives us of brag-worthy passport stamps.

For VW aficianados out there, this was a Netherlands-plated early 50s pristine bus (judging by the taillight assembly) that had driven all the way to Zakopane, Poland. Totally sweet if you are into these things, totally boring if you are not.

The public market in Krakow, Poland. We made such purchases as : a pound of plums for 15 cents, a vegetable knife for 1 dollar, a loaf of smoked sheep's cheese for 2 dollars, and a bag of cookies for 30 cents. Steal of a deal!
People hanging out of the stuffy Polish train as we waited for a delay to end. Stiflingly hot.

America has great cred in Poland!

Message from the West

2009-08-26T09:45:00.000-07:00

After slogging through the beginnings of Eastern Europe and feeling awfully out of sorts for most of the time, we seem to have lost our resolve in a sense and retreated towards the western comforts of other countries.
Though we enjoyed Slovakia, decidedly more than Poland, the road system there wasn't entirely conducive to pleasant cycle touring. With a bit of rejigging, we could have made our way towards somewhere, but it wasn't exactly where we wanted to be. From Liptovsky Mikulas, we hopped a train all the way to the capital, Bratislava, in hopes of finding respite on the well-trod Danube cycle path, heading eastwards towards Hungary and beyond. However, after only a couple of hours riding east, it soon became clear that the planning, route-signage, and general basic route-making wasn't quite finished. After having spent the last ten days scratching our heads at every turn, the thought of entering two solid months of uneasy bushwhacking through unfamiliar territory and unfriendly roads seemed like...well, a sort of purgatory compared to the indulgent honeymoon this trip was meant to be. After a lunch break only a couple dozen miles east of Bratislava, we turned tail for good and headed west!
We're now blitzing across the Austrian Danube by bicycle, sixty miles or more per day, in hopes of getting to Germany in time for a discount weekend train ticket. Yesterday we came through Vienna, touching two capital cities in one day of riding. We rode through the breathtaking Wachau wine region today, lovely terraced vineyards and old villages with crumbling stonework walls and narrow cobbled streets. Storybook stuff all around.
Hopefully by this time next week, we'll be in France, where we plan on cycling around for a couple weeks before catching a long-distance ferry to Ireland, where I have roots, friends and history to share with Jenni. It's also terribly cheap to stay in Ireland right now, as the bust of housing construction has left a surplus of vacation rentals that can now be got for freaking PEANUTS! Check out www.daft.ie if you don't believe me.
Call us lazy, call us scared, call us sensible, just don't call us intrepid, because the expedition-conquer-explore-enlighten ideals we had out the outset of this trip quickly eroded like piles of Bulgarian Black Sea beach sand. Still though, we're following our hearts and having a ball every minute.

She is a soldier.

2009-08-22T10:51:00.000-07:00

I am posting from an archaic computer in Liptovsky Mikulaš, Slovakia. I do not know how to use the apostrophe key, so I cannot use any contractions. Also, I do not know how to use exclamations or question marks. Finallz, some of my ys and zs may be switched. Sorrz for that.Enjoz.

No sooner did I say that we would be unable to ride over the High Tatras, than we did that very thing today. Faced with 22 hours on an inhospitable Polish train system just to get from Zakopane to Slovakia, we opted to just blast our way over a really challenging day of riding. We are all the better for it. The rest days were good for my nagging knee pain and Jenni kept her head down and really showed mettle getting over these peaks.

For map tracers out there, we rode from Zakopane to the Polish-Slovak border at Chochołow, over a minor mountain to Oravice, to Zuberec, then over a fucking slamdance kickass pass of 3,700 feet followed by a celebratory white-knuckle descent into Liptovsky Mikulaš. We are going to kick it here for two nights and plan our next move. We are penned in by major highways with no real friendly roads to get us further south into Slovenska republika, so we will probably get on a train for a few stops just to get south, but we should be on the Danube within a week.

Slovakia so far is far more welcoming than Poland, even evidenced by the care cars take when passing a bicycle. We have gotten many more friendly waves, the roadside is less littered with trash, there is less open burning and coal-haze, and the cities have less of a logging camp-carnival midway feel. It is hard to judge based on twelve hours in a country, but we already think we are going to like it here. Jenni wants to add that the pizza is weird, but in a good way. In other oddball food news, I bought condensed milk in a metal toothpaste-style tube, for squeezing into coffee.

From then until now...

2009-08-21T01:43:00.000-07:00

So it's been awhile since I posted with pictures, namely photographic evidence of our time in Poland, which has been up and down so far. Here's a shot of Jenni as we were strolling along the Szczecin waterfront. It was a city in the ring of Hanseatic trading some centuries ago, and displays a grandeur of wealth gone by: Tremendous buildings, once-busy ports, opulent churches, and a fetching city plan of concentric rings of tree lined streets that meet in hubs of grassy plazas. As in most places in Poland, there is a park to commemorate Karol Wojtyła, aka John Paul II, who was born in Poland.

After our marathon train ride south, we spent a couple days in Krakow, which upon second thought, I retract my earlier negative comments. I wholeheartedly reccomend you visit this jewel of a city. It's what other European cities aspire to be as far as authenticity and history, it's really inexpensive, and has tons of spirit and beauty. Krakow.

We cycled out of the city in a day that would prove to be really challenging. In true eastern Europe fashion, the signed bike paths take advantage of little used farm roads that go up and down the steepest terrain again and again. We were pushed past our physical limits, and I nearly injured my knee. We managed to clock a 50 mile day into the Tatra foothills to the town of Sucha Beskidzka, and stayed in a castle that was converted to a hotel for a really good price. We treated ourselves to a gigantic pizza that was under five dollars (Polish prices!) and recalculated our game plan.

It's clear that we won't be able to continue cycling through the Polish mountains. There are horrendous roads roaring with negligent trucks, garbage fires in most yards, a thick black haze on the horizon from rampant coal burning, vicious dogs just waiting to chase down a bike, and a general lack of friendliness that we aren't really enjoying. Here's Jenni in front of the highway that leads to Slovakia, and then resting at the top of a punishing climb (next to one of the many roadside chapels here), then a picturesque stack of hay.

Here's the converted castle we stayed in. It was a rewarding end to a really taxing day.

We then hopped a train to Zakopane, a resort town in the mountains, and have been camping for a few days across the street from a ski-jumping practice facility. Kind of a hoot. We went on a hike to the top of a mountain called Giewont (almost 6,000 feet tall), which we though would be a solitudinous trek to lonely heights, but turned out to be some sort of a pilgrimage that thousands of people do every day. I've never seen a protected area (the Tatra National Park) that is so trashed. The heavy hiking traffic results in litter every few steps (plastic soda bottles, hundreds of cigarette butts, feminine napkins, candy bar wrappers) and stinking piles of feces and toilet paper every few hundred feet. Awful stuff. It's shocking how disrespectful the visitors here are to what's supposed to be wilderness, but hey, it's not my country.

The Ski Jump. We woke up to the sounds of *ssssssssss..............................................whump!* from people rolling down the wheeled summer practice ramp and landing on astroturf.

The entrance to the Tatra national park.
Some beautiful climbing walls on the way up to Giewont.
The throng of people on the summit. Most ascended the rocky scramble in flat soled fashion sneakers, and the rocks were all polished smooth by excessive wear. I'm surprised there wasn't more of a fatality count, but again, it's not my country. Do what you want, Poland.

Where we're off to next is a bit of a mystery. We have some maps and a lot of discussion in front of us. Hopefully we can make our way over the mountains somehow towards inland Slovakia, and then get down to the Danube, where we hope a hospitable and flat cycle-path awaits. Despite Poland's flaws, we've been having fun and look forward to further adventures. We do have the gift of time, which we're grateful for, so we'll continue floating around, trying to find places that peak our interest and satisfy our wanderlust. Thanks for all the supportive comments and well wishes from back home. It means a lot us to hear from you.

Until the next posting, we'll keep our chins up and our eyes open.

Crack-Off

2009-08-17T06:16:00.001-07:00

In the midst of conflicted feelings about lingering in Poland's flat, industrial north for the next two weeks, Jenni and I decided yesterday to bail on the coastal jaunt to Gdansk and to simply hop a train from Szczecin to Krakow directly. This was also to get us into the mountain roads of the high Tatras as soon as possible, fearing that it might be getting cold at 3,000 feet in early/mid September.

So we boarded a cattle-car type conveyance at the back of the train for people toting bicycles (dusty wooden floors, no seats, you get the idea) and endured a 10 1/2 hour ride to Krakow. It's in the foothills of the tatras and a jewel of old-world Europe, but is also a tourist hub and crawling with 20-something backpackers, unruly groups of young Italian men, and capri pants/sandal-wearing German couples elbowing their way into line to see the many cathedrals, castles, Jewish landmarks and other beautiful sights Krakow has to offer. There was a Jewish ghetto here, and the remnants of the former population there is especially moving.

I, for one, have a really hard time in cities, as I feel like a sheep being corralled into a series of things that I'm 'supposed to' see, whether I want to or not. Also, in the middle of what is supposed to be a bicycle tour, schlepping a fully loaded touring bike on and off of trains and through busy city streets get's to be a real pain in my tuchus. Kvetching aside, it's a beautiful place, this Krakow. It's relatively cheap and aside from Hostels, kebab shops and internet cafes, looks much like it would have a hundred years ago. Put it on the list!

Tomorrow, we're back off on our bicycles, attemping to ride over the Tatras into Slovakia. Supposed to be seven or eight days riding to the Danube river, which is on the southern border of Slovakia, where it meets Hungary. It will be nice to get back into the saddle after four days of trains and cities. There's a certain peace I get out off determing the course of my own days on a bicycle in the countryside that always eludes me in the cities. The day's contents become a ritual. Get up and ride for a bit, munch on some baked goods from the first Cukiernia or Piekarnia I find, ride until the sun starts to get low and golden, then find the most comfortable place to pitch a tent for the night. Over and over, the rhythm grows comfortable. We'll see if Jenni and I can find it.

They're off...

2009-08-14T07:28:00.000-07:00

So! Here I am, writing from the lovely city of Szczecin (try and say it out loud...just try!) in Northwest Poland. We've been roughing it for a few days, paying upwards of $20 to pitch a tent in the corner of a grass RV parking lot in the ever-diminishing suburbs on our way out of Berlin.

We landed at 11AM on Monday, and then there were a horrific couple of hours trying assemble the bikes on the sidewalk outside of the airport, but after a few scraped knuckles and grease under the nails, I managed to put it all together. I had forgotten how heavily laden a touring bicycle can be, but we managed to steer these two elephants away from Berlin Tegel airport by about 3, having spent a night on a plane and feeling jetlagged and shattered.
We camped with the familiar class of caravan-driving German retirees, who love nothing more than to park a wohnwagen next to a body of water (it can be anything, lake, canal, sluice, slough, fen, march, mudflat, etc), set up a folding chair and just sit and look at the water. I don't know who's the bigger sucker, them for paying €1.40/litre for gasoline to haul a camper just to temporarily have a different backyard, or me for paying €8 per person to sleep in a tent next to them. We'll call it a draw.
All in all, the last three days have been highly uninteresting. There were some beautiful rides through dry, fragrant pine plantations, then lots of riding along the extensive, picturesque canals leading in all directions around here. I suppose flat country with a history of lots and people and industry demands such transport. Luckily, the bygone towpaths for these waterways have largely been paved over to serve as bike lanes, an idea that's useful, efficient....and very German! Here's Jenni waiting for a ride across the canal from the little yellow-canopied ferry which, in turn, is waiting for the hundred-foot long gravel barge from Wrocław, Poland to pass. The barge took the right of way.

Once we fully broke free of Berlin's orbit, the flat country actually was quite serene and accomodating. We spent last night camping a few feet away from the Finow Canal, near Eberswalde. Wolves stalk the nearby woods, chugging little houseboats traverse the canals and go up and down the centuries-old system of locks, cranes wade in the canals vegetation. Fantastic.So as much as we love Germany, we've been there and done that. Not to mention, it is exorbitantly expensive to merely live a hobo's lifestyle here. The noteworthy diligence and efficiency of the Germans is antithetical to actual wilderness and the ability to camp for free, so we hopped on a train this morning. We rode just over the Polish border to Szczecin, where we are paying 24 Złoty (about $8) each to stay in our own room in a pretty nice hostel. Everything here is half of what it would cost over the border, and life is basically the same. Language barrier is minor, and we're making our way through with no real issue.
So tomorrow, we're cycling north towards the Baltic coast and eventually eastwards towards Gdansk. From there, I foresee another train in our future, just so we aren't burning precious August days slogging through the Central Polish countryside. Larger adventures await! Tatra Mountains! The Danube's Iron Gates! Transylvania!

Aside from an attempted currency scam (deftly thwarted!) at the train station today and a gypsy child that was pawing at Jenni's bicycle bags, we are secure, safe and sound.

The things we carry

2009-08-09T17:36:00.000-07:00

Marathon weekend of packing, bicycle repair, last-minute loose ends, etc. I have the telltales of cycle-touring preparation: black fingernails, sweaty clothes, piles of sorted luggage. Aside from the normal business of lightweight tent, sleeping bags, repair kit, and so on, Jenni and I have a primo chess set, reading material of appropriate doorstop-thickness (Moby Dick for her, Tale of Two Cities for me, then we can switch!), a big fuck-off first aid kit, writing notebooks, cans of mace to repel attacking dogs (2 per, cocked and ready, clipped to handlebar bags), the often-praised substance known as Chamois Butter, and photocopies of handy travel phrases from at least five countries (still looking for Serbian!).

This is boring to you, I know, but the cataloging is a necessary step in the mind of someone soon departing. In the modern world, I feel defined by the material things I'm able to call my own. The supplies I'll have on my person will control my comfort, my safety, and my level of enjoyment. Also, they'll be my only link to Jenni's and my stable life back home in the States. Balled-up t-shirts, dog-eared paperbacks, a bottle of sunscreen with measurements in Ounces instead of milliliters, a weatherbeaten bandana, and scratched sunglasses. These are the things that keep me going when I feel far from home. It's stuff that matters, believe me!

So we leave tomorrow. We'll be laying over in the infamous Terminal 5 in HeathRow, basically a feedlot/shopping palace/place for prodigious Mediterranean families to nap across all the seats, thereby forcing you to stagger around in a vague, formless oval for two hours until your connection leaves, all the while entrusting the handling of an ungainly bicycle box to baggage-sorting team whose sorting ethic can charitably be described as blasé. Then we'll be in Berlin by Tuesday morning, at which point I can break my 48-hour streak of having clean hands as I assemble bicycles in an airport parking lot. We'll make a break out of the conurbation and find the first campground we can, play chess, drink tea, and sleep off the jetlag. But the upside for the blog will be that I can start posting pictures of new and exciting places instead of improvising piss & moan free jazz in a pretty tiresome and well-worn key signature. Until Berlin, faithful.

T-Minus 7 Days.

2009-08-03T06:38:00.000-07:00

Lots of thoughts as the day of departure draws perilously near. This time around (as opposed to my initial bicycle tour...Prague to Dublin, Summer 2007) I've done far less obsessive preparation, map-gazing, and list-making. I can't really decide if this is a good or bad thing. In one sense, I feel like I've grown a lot since (and because of) my initial travels, so I don't really have the same sense of crippling worry about having everything-mentally and physically-that I'll need for three months beforehand. I mean, who can possibly gather in advance every iota necessary for ninety days of existence? Things just don't work like that.

In another sense though, I've been lazy and inattentive for much of the summer, putting off packing and advance research because, hey, I can always do it later. Now it is later. Jenni and I have been packing, cancelling subscriptions (phone, newspaper, netflix), mapping, making language phrase compilations for the countries we'll be in (Polish, Slovak, Hungarian, Romanian, Serbian, Bulgarian, Turkish...). I feel like each day has a to-do list of a hundred things and I'm only able to accomplish one or two, but that's an inevitability. We plug away, restocking the first aid kit, compiling bicycle components, practicing the Cyrillic alphabet, rehearsing my mace-spray technique at imaginary attacking dogs.

I've come to be familiar with the strange necessities of powering down my life for the summer and tying up loose ends...halting all bills, making arrangements for emergencies, storing our things in closets and attics of generous family members, getting backup copies of all necessary identification information, etc. etc. etc. It's not normal to be doing this for the third consecutive summer, I know. There comes a time when you need to put aside indulgences like multi-month vacations, but I don't imagine that Jenni and I have arrived at that time yet. So for another Summer, we shutter our regular lives and strike out again to find whatever it is we're looking for.

Just to clarify our travel intentions: We are landing in Berlin next week and heading southeast on bicycles in the direction of Istanbul. A country ramble through Poland and Slovakia will take us to the Danube River (aka the Cadillac Sunday Cruise of long-distance Bike Touring), which we can follow all the way to Constanta on the Romanian Black Sea coast. We don't know if we'll make it there, or if we will and then be able to cycle all the way back to Berlin, or if we'll get distracted and head off down some Bulgarian calf-path. Everything begins as a plan, and plans exist to be altered, but our Magellanic ideals right now are for a long-haul cycle from Berlin to the Bosphorus and back (that alliteration has good bumper sticker prowess....maybe I can add "...or bust"). I'm anxious to see if our aims will play out. Keep checking in...we have packing to do!

Resurrection

2009-07-18T06:39:00.000-07:00

I'm going to attempt to rekindle readership here. In three weeks, Jenni and I are taking off again on another of our treks, this time hopefully to some really unusual places that will challenge our perceptions and expand our worldviews, etc. etc. etc. We take off for Berlin on August 10th, bicycles in tow, and we're going to be heading east in the direction of the Black Sea.

Exact route isn't determined yet, but nearly all of the countries we're going through will be former Eastern Bloc Communist states. It's a move to save money, as we'll be on the road for nearly three months, but it should also be a thought-provoking journey through a corner of Europe often neglected from an American tourist viewpoint. I'll be posting as often as possible on this blog, but I imagine the frequency of internet cafes will be less than in Germany and the Netherlands. I may be wrong about this. I have been known to be off-target with my pre-trip expectations. We'll see how far off I am in the weeks and months to come.

The Alpha and the Omega

2008-09-16T09:37:00.001-07:00

JUNE, 2007. New York City

SEPTEMBER, 2008. West Orange

Thanks a million, so long. -Charlie

The Final Call

2008-09-16T09:04:00.000-07:00

So I arrived in Seattle two days ago on a train from Newark, NJ. The Odyssey is completely over now, and I'm back where I started. Kind of surreal feeling, as if the last fourteen months never happened, but I guess I know they really did (the pictures and words here, if nothing else, are proof of that). I think this will be my last post, probably ever, as there are truly no more adventures to document. The purpose here was to document everything that had been going on in the big trek, and the trek is done, so the document is done. Thanks to everyone who read, even once or twice. Really, thanks a lot.

Here are some photos from West Orange, NJ; Chicago, IL ; Shelby, MT; and Havre, MT. Godspeed and Godbless!

The latest and the greatest

2008-08-17T04:06:00.000-07:00

Hiya everyone. Again, quick, but this time with images. We finished most of our alpine walk (bailed out one day early due to boredom and bad weather). We made it from Oberstdorf, Germany to Merano, Italy, with only minor help from short bus rides and a couple chair lifts (these were supposed to be used, according to our hiking guide book). Again, for the google-earthers out there....Oberstdorf, Germany...Zams, Austria...Wenns, Austria....Mittelberg, Austria....Sölden, Austria....Moso, Italy....St. Leonhard, Italy...Merano, Italy. Keep in mind, we didnt go on roads, but up and over the mountains, but that itinerary should give you a general idea of what was up. We had a lot of ups and downs, nearly died when I couldn't read a sign in German (walked down a closed trail onto a recent rockslide and glacier...highly treacherous), had amazing weather, shit weather, made friends of our fellow walkers, and still managed to catch Olympic fever from the guesthouses that had TVs (few and far). Here are some pictures to prove it.

This morning, waiting for a train from Gunzenhausen, Bavaria to Munich. My feet, all of Jenni.

In the German speaking part of Italy known as the South Tyrol (Südtirol). The coffee got better as we went south!
Same as above...we switched camera.

The day after going the wrong way over the closed Pitztaler Jöchl, we went the alternate route, shown above. This was about 10,000 feet above sea level. Snow in August!
Lunch at the Braunschweiger Alpine Hütte. Right before the treacherous misstep mentioned above. Imagine getting served a cup of tea at the foot of a remote Alpine glacier, at 9,000 feet.
Looking over the Inntal moutains in Austria. The clearest day we have had yet.
Crossing another mountain pass, always rocky and stormy at these high elevations.

Jenni says HI!

no time

2008-08-05T22:44:00.001-07:00

Howdy everyone.

Cant really talk long, on a short term internet, but Jenni and I are safe and sound, resting in a little hamlet in the Austrian Tyrol. If you want to track our progress on google earth, we walked from Oberstdorf, Germany to the Kemptener Hütte on the Austrian border, to the TINY little village of Madau in Austria, then to Zams, where I write from now. We rest today because the walk from Madau yesterday took us over the Memminger Hütte and the Seescharte Mountain, which involved 4500 ft of ascent and 6000 ft (!) of descent to Zams. Absolutely punishing. Picture will be here someday...otherwise we are doing great.

chazz out.

Wheels are in motion

2008-07-31T05:47:00.001-07:00

Taking off tomorrow night, Jenni and I, fron New York. Back to Europe for a bit. We're headed to Southern Germany, where we're taking in a few weeks of Alpine Hiking. I'll keep this blog updated with our location and pictures as best I can, so stay tuned.

OUCH!

2008-07-21T05:27:00.000-07:00

Roasting alive in Essex County, New Jersey.

2008-07-19T21:26:00.000-07:00

That's all I really wanted to say. It's nearly one A.M. and I can't sleep for how hot it is. How often in one's life should the weather make you feel like you wouldn't be sad if you died?

Down the Shore everything's all right...

2008-07-14T05:30:00.000-07:00

Took Jenni to the New Jersey Shore this weekend. NJ Transit train from New York Penn Station to Point Pleasant, although $25 per person round trip and over two hours, was actually more time and cost-effective than driving. Besides, you can't really put a price tag on the mental debilitation Garden State Parkway traffic can put on you.

Sadly, the water was closed due to riptide and heavy surf caused by Hurricane Bertha, even though I thought that was like two thousand miles away. We still swam up to our knees and got toasted on the sand, and of course played some games (I won a stuffed animal price from the frog-launcher...something I previously didn't think to be possible) and slammed down some boardwalk food (zeppoles, cheesesteak, ice cream. etc...it makes me nauseous to recount it). The Jersey Shore, there's nothing like it.

Dear Ol' Dad

2008-06-16T10:33:00.000-07:00

Went up to visit the father in Trumansburg, New York, nestled amongst the lovely Finger Lakes. Nothing major other than a great weekend up in the country with my dad, his wife Cathy, and her daughter Katy. I learned how to drive a motorcycle, shot cans with a BB gun, floated around in the swimmin' hole, and was an all-around hillbilly for a couple days before getting back here to the big city. It'll be my last week of freedom for the summer, as I'm starting a miniature teaching/camp job next week in New Jersey. Hopefully I'll still have some hijinx and adventure to report on though.

Brooklyn Bound

2008-06-02T14:03:00.000-07:00

A week late in posting this, but I left Dublin and Ireland last Friday, the 23rd of May. Above is the grim scene I saw as my final glimpse of the place, just nasty gray skies covering the scars of the constant construction that seems to be going on in the country.

I landed several hours later at JFK airport and met my long-lost-lover Jenni at the terminal for a happy reunion. We taxied it into lower Manhattan to stay with her brother for a week until we found a place of our own, which is where I write this now. Six blocks off the Lorimer stop of the L train in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, it's a pretty great little summer crash pad. In the meantime, Jenni started her job interning for a judge in Brooklyn, and I've been working on my final portfolio of stories and various other writing project thingies. Super. I saw my mother and brothers a bunch, Jenni and I explored the entire city in the process of apartment-hunting, and now I'm sitting pretty in our new joint. Wheels are turning, and they're turning smoothly. I'll be in touch.

Old Friends/Bookends

2008-05-21T16:16:00.000-07:00

A reunion of sorts. I had one last day with my old and dear friend, my Bianchi Axis bicycle. I rode (though I've tried to start referring to it as 'cycling', as 'riding' is Dublin slang for sexual intercourse) north 25 miles to the small town of Skerries two days ago. I'm storing my bicycle up there in my friend Andrew's house for the summer, to be picked up later on this summer on my way back through town. It was the final final final leg of my bicycle odyssey, and what a day it was. After my final school related meeting, I set out from central Dublin at around noon under sunny skies and with a gentle breeze at my back. Through the neighborhoods of Glasnevin and Ballymun, somehow through the tangle of busy roads circling the airport, past the estuary at Malahide, then over to the coast at Rush, where I traced the Irish Sea north to Skerries.

I had a great little rest up there for a night, chomping down fish & chips and going for a swim in the frigid ocean. I came back today on the train and after listening to a London book agent yak about how I can sell my books to publishers, I watched the UEFA Champions League Soccer final at O'Neill's pub in Dublin before coming home to lay my head for the second to last time here.

Happy Trails.
Some piece of grass in Skerries.

My buddy Andrew showing me around his sweet hometown. I've been there before once, and he's a hell of a tour guide. I like it a lot there, reminds me of good ol' Bloomfield, NJ.
Low tide in the Irish Sea...there's an island with a Martello tower in the background. We went swimming in that frigid ocean shortly thereafter. Hell of a long walk out into the water before it got deep enough to float in.
Goofin' around on the beach.
As the sun sets on the harbor in Skerries, so sets the sun on my time here in Ireland. Tomorrow is my final full day here, and I take off on Friday morning for JFK. I'm meeting Jenni in the airport (she flies in from Seattle and we land at the same time) at about 330 pm, and we'll be staying at her brother's place in downtown Manhattan for a few days until we get our own place. I'm not considering this 'going home' just yet, as my final resting place in Seattle is many months off. New York this summer will be a new adventure, and a welcome one. I'll continue posting about our progress there and any other hijinx we get into.

I'll be back in Ireland for sure in August/September, and most probably at regular intervals for years to come, but my main time here is over. I'm happy to go home, and had my fair share of hardship here, but there's always something inherently melancholy about leaving a life which you've grown accustomed to. I've learned about life, love and finding myself! Not seriously, it's just a catchphrase we throw around in writing workshop to describe the intents of a shitty novel, but I honestly have made lifelong friends here, grew tremendously as a person and as a writer, and accomplished everything I set out to do....and more. One day, with more perspective, I'll be able to do a full rundown of Ireland, pros and cons, but for now, I just want to stress my gratefulness and glee for every day I've spent here, the good ones and the bad ones. Like the man says....Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt.

Oslo....HEISANN!

2008-05-16T08:49:00.000-07:00

Hey folks. Oslo, Norway was the last stop on the European adventure. A week from today I'll be flying to Manhattan for a summer of living in the NY Tristate area. Oslo was a real special place, full of green and impossibly sunny. The thing to do in the warm months is grilling in the park, which most of the city seems to partake in. I had a great visit with my friends John (Irish classmate) and Line (Lean-uh, his Norwegian girlfriend). I walked around, read a bunch (killer book...Underworld by Don DeLillo), wrote a bunch, and generallly hung out hardcore. Here's some visual rundown of the trip.

Infamous RyanAir flight, to Oslo (Torp) Airport. Turns out Torp is 2 hours away by bus, the equivalent of saying that you're flying to New York City (Wildwood, New Jersey). However, this was the first time I've ever gotten to exit the plane via stairs to the runway, so I forgive RyanAir.

John and Line live in a 4-Bedroom converted factory in central Oslo, absolutely humongous and great. Here's a shot of me in the living room, chilling like I chill.

My good friend John, looking very summery in Oslo.

Hi! There's a fjord behind me! Oslo is a very nautical city.

See above.

The famous Oslo grillfest...all of Line's great Norwegian friends.

The happy couple as we were waiting for a train to Line's mother's house in the suburbs for a birthday party.

On the ferry to the island of Hovedøya in the Oslofjord. Very patriotic.

John and I went swimming in the fjord on Hovedøya, was totally freezing and really inhospitable for getting in and out of the water.

Drying in the sun

Norway's favorite food is hot dogs, aka Pølser. In the 9 days I was there, I can honestly say that I ate thirty Pølser

Couple shots just messing around with the camera in the apartment as I was writing. Furious speed!

Leisurely lunch in the kitchen.

Up on the mountain of Ekeberg next to the city. High up view.

Grillfest never dies!

Ping pong, this speaks for itself.

No Pix

2008-04-28T07:35:00.000-07:00

Hey there,

Occurred to me that two things happened worth posting about, but I didn't bother to take out my camera for either of them, and now the time has passed to document them through photographs.

Thursday before last, My mother came over to visit with Sue Wyatt and Sharon Egan in tow, in honor of the book launch for my class anthology, Sixteen After Ten (available in Dublin bookshops now!) and for a general getaway to the party-city of Dublin. The three of them had a great time, I was overjoyed to have visitors, and the long weekend was an overall success. I'm going to be living in New York for the summer (June/July), so I'm looking forward to being near my family again. Seeing my mother here was just a hint of things to come.

The day she left, I hopped a train for the small town of Skerries, in North County Dublin, to hole up out of the city for a few days with my friend/classmate Andrew. Was a productive time of writing, and got to see the sights of the quaint seaside fishing village.

In a week, I'll be headed off to Oslo, Norway to visit with friends there for a week, then back in to Dublin for another week or so before I go home to the east coast of America (first time in 11 months that I'll set foot on those friendly shores). I'll be sure not to forget my camera when I go to Norway!

The Wild West

2008-04-08T17:48:00.001-07:00

So, last week I went on a whirlwind driving tour of Ireland's western country with my Aunt Claudia and her marvellous children Grace and Henry. I saw a hell of a lot of the country, got another well-needed escape from the debilitating Dublin life. I acted like a teenager all week, ate till I couldn't see straight, got back onto a human sleeping schedule, saw some natural wonders, and was all the better for it. Peep it.
Surfing. The Burren is a region in County Clare where the ground is all stone, no real grass or earth. This picture was taken in the Burren. Radical.

Me at the cliffs of Moher, also in County Clare. No actual pictures of the cliffs, which you can find anywhere online. Instead, just a picture of me horsing around, doing stuff I'm not supposed to do.

Walking across the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge in County Antrim. SCAAAARY!
With my lovely cousins Grace (R) and Henry (L). They allowed me to monkey around all week and taught me some awesome new lingo. Like 'beast'. Example...'This trip is going to be a beast, then you'll be sorry you complained about how long it took to get here.'
With the whole gang at the cliffs @ Slieve League in County Donegal. Super Happy.
Sitting atop a mountain somewhere in the Connemara Nat'l Park in County Galway. I feel like this may have been the first pure sunshine to strike my skin in half of a year. I'm much better off after this week away. Be talking to you. Chazz out.

Back on the Move!

2008-03-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

At long last, I have something worth mentioning again, other than slaving away behind a book or behind the bar. Hopefully my faithful readership will still be out there in some form, as it looks like there'll be more to post about in the coming weeks and months.

This midweek, I went for two nights to the village of Ardee in County Louth, north of Dublin by about an hour. My good friend and classmate John Holten invited me up for something of a writerly retreat, and it was well-needed, as I realized when I got there that I hadn't been out of Dublin since October. Far too long to be holed up in a grimy, taxing city. The manure-laced country air did me good, as I got a fair bit of work done on stuff for school, a tad of writing and a hell of a lot of poster design. All in all, was an excellent country getaway. We watched some great films at night in front of a glowing coal-fire, worked in separate rooms all day long, and traded great ideas about art/life/whatnot. Now that my wheels are back in motion, you can't hold me down!

Future Escapades to look forward to :
-Aunt Claudia and cousins Henry and Grace are here next week to take me on a driving tour of the west of the country
-Possible trips to Norway, England, and Spain
-Living in New York tri-state area for a few months this summer with girlfriend Jenni
-Hopefully one more adventure squeezed in at the end of summer
-Minor return to Dublin to submit my final portfolio, and generally tie a ribbon on my whole experience here
-The triumphant reentrance to Seattle....the prodigal son comes home!

Till then, stay tuned.

PS, if you read this post, please post a comment, even if you just say 'check' or 'fuck U'. I want to get an idea of how many people have tuned back in after this long.

Surfin' R.O.I.

2007-10-21T15:45:00.001-07:00

At long last, another thing done that's worth mentioning. For all interested in corollary affairs in my life, school and classes are going fabulously...lots of hard work spent writing and talking about writing, lots of great colleagues and general friends met, lots to be proud of and lots to look forward to.

Anyway! After a week spent slaving behind a keyboard to crank out my first story since starting at Trinity, I rewarded the hard work with a surf trip. Trinity Surf Club went out to the west coast of Ireland, a beach called Banna Strand in County Kerry, and for a steal of a deal I got to surf for two days and stay in these primo holiday cottages with my recent good friends Cian and Michelle. Here are some images from the weekend.

Michelle and I waiting at Trinity Campus for the bus to come pick us up. 5 hour ride across the country, one shopping stop, two side-of-the-road "piss stops" for the fellas to let loose. I thought it all terribly gender discriminatory!

Cian, on the left. Michelle, on the right. Righteous dude and dudette!

Just a landscape shot of the place. The mountains in the background are Macgillicuddy's Reeks on the famed Dingle Peninsula. Nice.

Me playing with a rugby ball in the downtime from surfing. I was horse-playing like mad with rugby, diving in the sand and doing somersaults, etc. I am terribly sore today from it, as I guess my youthful ability to bounce around and heal quickly has left me with my 25th birthday.

Cian and myself. Couple of gnar dudes.

Nice hair.

Cian walking down to the beach...I liked the dramatic effect of the clouds in this area of the world.

Suit up!

Cian took this one, blame him for the out-of-focus.

Here I Am, Yes it's Me

2007-10-08T10:13:00.000-07:00

So I began my studies today in the Oscar Wilde writing center at Trinity, a long day of interesting/draining lecture and workshop pertaining to Anglo-Irish literary thought and general info. for the creative writing program. Very high-level academia, the sort of which I've never encountered before, and feel very privileged and excited to take part in, no matter what levels of energy-sapping hard work and chortle-worthy pretension from classmates I expect to encounter over the next several months. My week of get-to-know-ya nights out and recreation has come to a close, and the real reason I came here has commenced in full, which is both a bitter pill and an exhilarating new frontier to explore. For anyone interested in what sort of courses I'm taking or reading lists I'm encountering, you can read more about the program at http://www.tcd.ie/OWC/ . Otherwise, like I said, I'll post here when I have something to say or some images to show.

This past weekend, I had a blinder of a birthday with my newfound friends in the student housing here, drawing a crowd of about 30 for an impromptu dinner party, even though I only really know about 10 people (and that's being generous to myself). Even with the new faces, it was still a fun time, followed by the obligatory trip to "the local", which is Murphy's Pub just down the road. It was a good place to chat, nice and quiet, and a good place to watch the latest rugby match in the World Cup which is going on right now. For what I expected to be a typical night of internet surfing and casual chat, my birthday turned into an unexpected gathering of many, which is more than I could ask for in this new and bewildering place. On the next morning, a few of us took the DART train out to the end of the line, in the seaside town of Howth, north of Dublin. It's a nice place for walking, with lots of hills and seaside cliffs. A pretty enjoyable weekend for both my birthday and for the last bit of fancyfree freedom I'll have before school kicks into high gear, which judging by the story assignment I need to write for this Thursday, it already has!

Here's me outside of my building on my birthday. I realized this was the first picture I've taken since rolling into the Dublin city limits, so only a bit overdue. Anyway, that's what I look like now!
Some churchyard in Howth. Nice right?
The Whole Crew of American transplants whom I've befriended here. (From Left: Mike, Cian, Caley, Cher)
Just a nice seascape from the cliffs of Howth. That's somebody about to waterski in the Irish Sea way down below us.

In the House

2007-10-03T00:28:00.000-07:00

Not a whole hell of a lot to say, as I've been living the life of a carefree eighteen-year-old in the days since I've arrived here in Dublin. I moved into my school apartment on Friday the 28th of September, but my first class won't be until Monday the 8th of October. One minor day was spent taking care of registration and formality, one maaaaajor day spent waiting in a 6 hour queue for a four minute meeting with an immigration officer to get the necessary passport stamp to remain here for a year, and not too much else in the intervening time, or for the next five days until class #1.

I've been meeting and hanging out with the fellow postgraduates in the building I live in, as we are almost all foreign transplants--lots of Americans, but also people from Turkey, Hungary, France, Ireland--and all don't know anybody else here. A group of us have made fast friends, going out to "the local" for more grown-up style quiet nights out, as opposed to the mental clubbing and toga parties that the undergraduates in the dorms right next to us are partaking in. Amazingly, I've met two people who graduated from the University of Washington, so small world, huh? I guess it's a bit smaller when you get into self-centered, highfalutin graduate school studies, but I was still a bit impressed by the coincidence.

There's not much else to say because I'm not doing much else. Minor shopping, catching up on internet surfing and podcasts after my three-month unplugged session, not reading nearly as much as I should be (just like I always did in school), and systematically eroding the world-champion length attention span I managed to build up during the bike trip. I'm huddling inside the long awaited room of my own for as many hours per day as I am comfortable doing, so once I grow more cosmpolitan here in Dublin, I'll let you know what I've seen, and let you know where I've been.

Some wrapping up

2007-09-27T05:29:00.000-07:00

This will certainly not be my last post, as I am not that easy to shut up once I get going. I will try to avoid going on about the mundane details of whatever I'm getting up to now that the bicycle portion of the trip is done. However, this is my page, and I do what I want! Maybe you will be bombarded with pictures of my dorm room, book reviews of obscure Irish poets and playwrights from the early 20th century, ratings of the best and worst fish and chips in a six block range of my apartment, etc. It's your prerogative to stop visiting if it gets dreary and boring. First of all, let's get some long overdue photographs out of the way, then I'll pick up with the rattling on.

The Northern Irish city of Armagh. According to this wikipedia article, there were a number of incidents in the city during the Northern Irish "troubles", the last one resulting in the death of a man named McShane. Relation to whoever used to own this ruined storefront? Who knows? It isn't that big of a place, so I gotta think that most people at least knew a guy who knew a guy who was killed or whatever. Just a typical boarded up street in a small Northern Irish city, I saw a bunch of these. Also of note is the green and gold banner, which is in support for Sinn Fein (the political party in Northern Ireland advocating reunification with the Republic to the South, and more notably in years past, the public and political face of the IRA bomb-squads). Some towns brandished Sinn Fein flags or even the Irish Red, White, and Orange...which is a sign of opposition to the British Crown (and Protestants), while other towns had either the flag of Ulster (including the ominous) Red Hand or even the British Union Jack flying, which declares them as Protestant, pro-crown, and anti-reunification. No more violence, but the feelings obviously run deep.
A prettier side of Armagh. It's the cathedral center of the North, with lots of towering spires. With little else to do, I stood by myself for about an hour with my ear against the wall of St. Patrick's (the real Saint himself physically started this very chapel like, 800 years ago or something) Catholic Cathedral just listening to the organist practice. She or he was just warming up, playing scales, playing parts of pieces, making mistakes, corrections, etc., but it was truly a sublime moment, the stones vibrating with the holy music, nobody but me around on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, and a strange sense of peace and spirituality settled over me. I am much altered from the ADD, urban cynic that I was 3 months ago.

About as road weary as it gets. There was a bit of evening light coming through the window, so I set up the timer for a self-portrait. The facial expression basically sums up my overarching mood for the past few days.
The only time I took out my camera in the city of Drogheda. Note the mall. The whole city looks about as new as the buildings you see here. Sure, there's an old church or two lurking behind the boxy modern architecture, but the whole country of Ireland looks like the future, man!
Sunny morning on the last day of riding. I was fumbling with the camera, trying to snap without stopping. I had to take three shots before I managed to get one with my mouth closed. For all those who have ever spent more than thirty seconds in my presence, you know I have a habit of getting a bit slack-jawed at times. This has come in handy whilst riding my bike, as I get constant nourishment from the swallowing of gnats and flies. For the first week or so in Germany, I made an effort to violently spit out the many, many bugs which flew into my gaping maw, but eventually I just went with the flow, so to speak, and just started chewing and swallowing. WEIRD!
Not a very good picture, again taken without stopping to aim or anything, but my point was to capture the expansive suburban sprawl on the way from Drogheda to Dublin. Much of the way was dotted with these walled in little communities that look about six weeks old. Am I in rural Ireland or Southern California? I just don't know any more.
The last photograph of the journey, about 3 miles from the end of it all in the city centre. Tired, happy, and thankfully with three final hours of fresh sun on my skin. I haven't taken any snaps inside the city itself, because they would just look like very very typical tourist shots. Go to www.google.com/images and search "Dublin photo" and you'll basically see what I would have been able to show you here, just picture my head in the corner of the frame.

So, what now? I have a million checklists in my head in regards to citizenship, accommodation, registration, shopping (clothes, housewares, food, and otherwise), mobile phone set-up, bike storage, and on and on and on. Aside from the nine other snoring males in my hostel room last night, the exhilaration of it all kept me up late, my mind racing with the following feelings and more:

-thanks and pride for having finished the whole bike trip at last

-trepidation at giving up the vacation life and settling back into deadlines and obligations

-relief at being able to give up the vacation life and finally get back to deadlines and obligations

-Whimsical anticipation of what this city will be like, what I will learn this year, what I'll make of myself here and in the years to come based on what I take away from here

-A realization that the trip being over is a reminder that all good (and bad, for that matter) things in life have an end to them, which is not news to anybody, least of all me, but still imparts within me a profound and unexpected sadness

-A confidence for the future that, having been through the physical and emotional lows of the past three months, I am capable of far more than I ever expected of myself.

Just some final facts and figures from the journey. I don't have my cycle computer in front of me, but like I said the total count was about 2,550 miles, which was spaced over 46 days of riding (thus with 89 from landing in Prague until today, gives me almost an even 50/50 split for days rolling and days resting, though it should be noted that this includes 17 days spent doing nothing in Lochranza, Scotland) averages out to about 55 miles per day, which isn't chump change, and above what I estimated from myself (faithful readers can check back to an early post for this) at the outset of the trip, one of the few estimates that I actually erred on the side of caution for.

I started the trip at 182 lbs, and at my leanest and meanest, in right before getting on the ferry to England, I weighed 168 lbs. Once I got into the British Isles, my aggressive riding schedule diminished heavily and my intake of pie and chips, fried fish, Mars Bars, and other such junk food increased ten-fold. I wouldn't say I'm anywhere close to my starting weight, just a bit more doughy than the sinewy freak I was in Northern Germany and Holland, towards the end of my continental leg of the trip. My resting heart rate has dropped ten beats per minute from 60 bpm in June to 50 bpm now. Tour de France cyclists have a resting rate of anywhere from 32-40 bpm (think about how crazy that is...one beat every two seconds), so I have a bit more to go before I am a complete machine. I will have to settle for being a semi-machine, the RoboCop of the cycle touring world, if you will.

Aside from the wheels I replaced in Amsterdam, which were basically the wrong type to start with (more race oriented than sturdy off-road luggage-bearing, and I was lucky to get 1700 miles out of them), I have had very few mechanical issues. Even the tire punctures I've had were almost solely related to hastiness in refitting the tire (or tyre as they say here) after repairing a spoke on the go. My original rear tire went bald after about 1500 miles (not bad at all for any tire), so I replaced that in Bremen, and just for peace of mind paid £45 in Carlisle, England to have a professional with proper gear tune the bike up (I had been doing only in-the-field commando style repairs with little proper calibration or care for detail). Now my biggest worry is trying to keep the bike running as well (and avoid theft!) while I am in a big, crowded city.

Books read en route, in order of reading (* means I liked it, ** means I loved it and highly suggest for you to read as well, and, the lack of any * means you should paper your birdcages with it, or something like that. If you want plot synopses and reviews ,go to G.D. amazon.com...you have a computer, don't you?) :

-**Umberto Eco, Foucalt's Pendulum

-*John Irving, The World According to Garp

-Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell

-*Stanley Stewart, In the Empire of Genghis Khan: A Journey Among the Nomads

-**Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

-John Grisham, Runaway Jury (note: This book is worth reading solely as a master class in audaciously ridiculous character names. Everyone from the main protagonists and villains to the one-off bailiffs and shop stewards have increasingly impossible real world names, each more laughable than the last)

-**Nathaniel Philbrick, In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex

-*Irvine Welsh, The Acid House

-*Dave Eggers, How We are Hungry

-**Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

I saved that final book for last, hauling it with me the entire time, and intentionally began it just outside of Dublin, and finished it last night in the youth hostel. My brother Jack gave that to me with a lovely and caring inscription, and Wilde is a noted Dubliner and Trinity graduate. In fact, when I was reading the book, in the biographical timeline of Oscar Wilde's life, it mentioned that he was born at 21 Westland Row, Dublin. I paused, knowing I had seen that address somewhere. Lo and behold, today in registration, I see it written down as the address of the Creative Writing and Literature program here...the house is on campus, less than a quarter mile from where I type this now. I knew the writing dept. was called the Oscar Wilde Center, but I thought that was just a tribute, not because it is based in the actual house he was born and raised in.

So off I go, ready to joust the future itself, or at least try and lie down for a few months, and see if I can selectively atrophy my thigh and calf muscles. My mailing address for well-wishers or deranged letter-bombers searching the internet at random:

Room 86.02.03

Trinity Hall

Dartry Road

Rathmines

Dublin 6

Ireland

So, once I think of something worth saying, I'll post again. Until then, thanks to everyone who has been with me digitally over the past few months, your readership and emails have really kept me going and given me a reason to stay cheery. Lots of love to both parents for being supportive enough for me to feel confident enough to do this, loving enough for me to feel safe and connected enough to do this, and for whatever you did in raising me that thankfully made me foolish enough to think I could pull something like this off, which I miraculously did!

I'm a man of means, by no means...

2007-09-26T06:30:00.000-07:00

KING OF THE ROAD!

Rolled into Dublin today, safe and sound. The weather was on my side for the last ride, 30 miles or so from Drogheda. Total mileage was just over 2,500.

I'm at a youth hostel for tonight and tomorrow, in which time I have to take care of a ton of stuff, not least of which is waiting in line at immigration for what looks like will be an all day affair to submit a student visa application. But I really couldn't be any more pleased and relieved and a little sad and a million other emotions which I'm sure I will sort out in the next week or so. Bottom line is, mission accomplished.

I will post some pictures in the next couple days when I get more time, as well as some more elaborate pieces of text summing up and stuff. Till then.

Viva Republica

2007-09-24T10:06:00.000-07:00

First day in the Republic of Ireland, as I rode sixty miles from Armagh (in the North) to Drogheda, on the east coast about 30 miles north of Dublin. Awful, awful day weatherwise, and I didn't even take any pictures for the past few days. There were a couple things worthy of images in Armagh, as it seems to be something of a Sinn Fein stronghold with some buildings still ruined from "The Troubles", which resulted in several shootings and explosions there within the last 15 years, but I am too G.D. tired to get out my camera and go through the whole upload hoo-ha right now. Some other time.

So finally in Ireland, the place I chose to live in for a year over 6 months ago never having seen it in person. Tough to make a real opinion right now, as the whole day was spent on rainy backroads, not unlike any other I've been on in the British Isles thus far. The construction boom is not just a rumor, as it seems that the entire country, both rural and urban, is being rebuilt from the ground up. The roads are clogged with trucks (lorries) carrying cement, bricks, wood, etc., and every single little town and village I've been through is in the process of building brand spanking new housing developments. It's a good thing for the country and their economy and all, but boy howdy is it being done in an unsightly way. Of course there's no disgusting housing explosion like we do it in the U.S. of A., but the new buildings here are fairly tacky in their own right, lots of brickface ranch homes with gaudy gated entrances, the lawns crammed with soccer nets, trampolines, and inflatable pools. It's a pretty big change after the manicured and highly regulated antiquity that is the English countryside. What can you do, though? It isn't my country, they can do what they like with it.

Rest day tomorrow here in Drogheda, get a haircut, mail some letters, read the paper, see a flick...then it's onwards to Dublin, where I stay in a hostel for 2 final nights before moving into my new digs on the 28th. Exciting and thought-provoking to be this close to the end, I don't really know what to feel yet, other than physical relief for now. I'll let you know some journey-end thoughts once they come into my head. The next time I post will most likely be from Dublin. Cheers to all of yas!

Emerald Isle Daze

2007-09-21T07:34:00.000-07:00

So I'm finally able to post something proper from the Island of Ireland (I still haven't set foot in the Republic, only the North for now). I landed a few days ago at Larne, just north of Belfast, and basically made a big counter clockwise (or anti clockwise as they say here) loop up the Antrim coast and then south into counties Tyrone and Armagh. Geographical contents were :

-Dizzying seacoasts
-Typical British Isles farm country, lots of sheep and stone walls
-Dreary little villages, you can tell this is the last place in the UK to get the economic upswing
-HORRENDOUSLY tacky new houses being built everywhere.

I'm currently in the city of Armagh for a couple days, and then I make my first and last stop in the Republic of Ireland before Dublin, in the town of Drogheda, County Louth. I know I've said this before, but my road weariness has hit an all time high. It's all I can do to hop on the saddle (ooh but what a comfy one it is) every day and start spinning my legs. Basically two more days of riding left, but interrupted by several days of rest. The carrot is within reach, so I guess that is motivation enough.

I finished reading a couple good books in the past few days. David Copperfield, which I started all the way back in Bremen Germany, is all that it is cracked up to be. A real beautiful growing up tale with riotous scenes, great attention to character, and laughs and tears all the way along it's gentle course. Right after that, I read The Acid House, by Irvine Welsh, which is about the most stomach wrenching piece of gruesome shock writing I've ever encountered. Drug usage, disgusting sexual scenes, foul mouthed Scotsmen, etc. etc. etc. Not bad writing, just a complete jolt to my system after Dickens. Anyway, here are some pictures.
Bobbing around on the Ferry between Troon and Larne. Really seasick. The weather outside (and once I got off and started riding) was horrendous.
Stopping for lunch after the rain quit. First real taste of Ireland.
My first morning, in the remote seacoast location of Whitepark Bay. I can't really call it a village, since there isn't anything there besides the youth hostel. Hell of a view though, right?
Some of the cliffs around the Giant's Causeway area.
More cliffs. It was windy as hell here, so my rapidly growing hair (If you'll remember, I started out the trip by buzzing my head) is all whipped around and funny looking.

It was really windy, and I almost felt like I could leap off that 400 foot cliff behind me and fly away. Almost.
The famous rocks of the causeway. If I knew more about geology, I could explain better, but from what I understand, lava flowing into the sea rapidly cooled into these perfect geometric formations. Looks like man made columns, but they are all mother earth.
Some guy.
The uglier side of Northern Ireland, the footpath leading to the Protestant Housing Estate (not unlike The Projects in America), which had houses flying the Flags of Ulster, basically saying Catholics not welcome. There is a tenuous peace in the country, but it is far from 100% erased, and the towns and cities still retain a grim facade in places, as you can see here.
Just me stopping on a day ride I took yesterday leaving from the village of Gortin in the Sperrin Hills. Nothing much to say, just a perfect representation of how I'm feeling. Rained on, freezing cold, sick of cycling, and in a glazed over state for much of the time.

Despite all that, I must say that finally writing this (as well as other writing I've been doing about the trip recently) is my one saving grace. There's nothing so cheering and liberating as sorting out my thoughts and putting pen to paper. There's something mysteriously therapeutic about it all. Thanks to those who are reading, for it really keeps my spirits up to report home to all of you. Until next time, Chazz out!

Super duper quick

2007-09-18T04:46:00.000-07:00

I'm currently paying £1 (2 buckaroos) per 15 minutes of internet, so sadly no pictures or elaboration on my travels so far. In a few words...

-Stormy last day in Scotland, as I rode along a coastal road, a wave crashed over me, drenching both me and my bike. Ferry trip from Troon, Scotland to Larne, Northern Ireland was 2 hours of queasy rocking. Ugh.

- Hellacious ride right off the ferry. Interesting tidbit to start, as I left the ferry terminal in a line of cars, I had to ride through about 6 inches of sudsy water, which is an anti foot and mouth disease measure. This was followed by 50 miles of up and down coastal cliff roads, stunningly beautiful but punishing cycling. Oh, and the weather didn't get any better.

-Arrived in the dark to the County Antrim location of Whitepark Bay, spent one night in a hostel there. Knockout location. Next day rode a short distance to Bushmills (yes, that Bushmills) where I'll be for tonight as well. Saw the Giant's Causeway cliff area...look it up if you want to see some pictures for now, amazing amazing amazing. I'm about a week away from Dublin now...journey is nearing an end. All is safe and sound, weather is getting colder, Chazz is getting wearier. Here's to the final miles getting done without incident! (Not bloody likely).

Talk to ya'll later on.

Parting Shots

2007-09-13T09:28:00.000-07:00

As requested, here's a couple more images of Lochranza. I start spinning the wheels again on Saturday morning. One night in the ferry port of Troon, then it's off to Larne in Northern Ireland, where I turn right along the coast to hostels in Ballintoy and Bushmills. Talk to ya when I get there!

Oh boy.

2007-09-09T05:22:00.000-07:00

Wow, this grand and sweeping journey is really wrapping up in a wimpy way. I know lots of you might have been expecting a final day that covered 125 miles, me smashing through a finishing tape pulled across the Temple Bar in Dublin, and rose petals and tickertape showered upon me by podium-girls and general adoring fans (maybe you weren't expecting that, but I sure was). The real story is that I haven't budged from Lochranza. I haven't posted in awhile because, hey, there's nothing to tell! I'm shopping at present for ferry tickets from Scotland to N. Ireland, leaving sometime later this week. It's rough to get back in gear, as I'd really like to not pedal through a final few hundred miles, but those are the breaks, I suppose. Only about 2 more weeks until I pull into Dublin...I really can't wait for that. Not only because it's an exciting thing to live in the city and begin some serious writing and all, but because it means no more desperate searching for accomodation in the failing sunlight, no more snapped spokes on a farmroad in the middle of nowhere, no more nightly self-administered thigh massages to assuage the aching lactic acid buildup, no more glove shaped sun tans on my hands, no more knotty red boils on the saddle-area of my body, no more doing laundry in a sink, no more eating pudding and yoghurt with my dirty fingers outside of a supermarket, etc. Enough moaning from me. I'm doing great still, and there's no place like Britain to let you be so content with the humdrum routines of small town life. I feel like I could spend decades here and not even notice the passage of time. I guess it's good that I am making my way out soon. Talk to ya'll later!

Not on the move!

2007-09-03T09:53:00.000-07:00

So, still lingering in Lochranza. I've got at least a few more days of volunteer chores ahead of me, so no set departure in sight. Again, no complaints from me about that. Nothing new to report, just doing a lot of reading and writing, enjoying the beautiful scenery, etc. Two days ago I walked a couple hundred yards down the road to watch the football match between the local squad , The Northend Thistle, based out of Lochranza, and the visiting Carradale FC, from the Mull of Kintye, just a hop across the water. Lochranza lost, but what I didn't know what the full story of the extent of their losing streak. Read more about it here. They haven't won a match in 15 years, and are considered one of the official worst teams in Britain. Kind of an interesting underdog tale. I hope they play again in the next week or two, maybe I can have a shot at seeing them pull out the first victory in a long while. There wasn't exactly a massive crowd there, definitely less than the number of players on the field. That white building in the corner is the Lochranza Whiskey Distillery, home of the Arran Single Malt (can be obtained in America through www.ahardyusa.com), and after the final whistle blew, the sheep slowly made their way onto the field to resume the grazing they do for all the hours of the week that nobody plays football on it. Great little town!

A Wee Slice of Heaven

2007-08-31T09:36:00.001-07:00

So the wanderlust is finally starting to desert me. I've been at the Lochranza Youth Hostel for 4 nights now, and I have at least 2 more in front of me, and hopefully I can stay even longer. After booking 2 nights, I talked to the manager about a flyer they had up about volunteer opportunities at the hostel. Basically the SYHA (Scottish Youth Hostel Assn.) is an underfunded charity, and there's not always enough manpower to maintain the facilities as well as they would like. So, in exchange for free rooming there for as long as I'm working, I've been painting the inside of a small barn-room for the past three days, and will be doing some furniture moving and assembly tomorrow. It sounds a bit unglamourous, but I'm actually really into the idea of doing any form of honest work after figuratively living off of cake and ice cream for the past two months. Also, I really couldn't ask for a more beautiful place to hang around for awhile. Lochranza is a village of only about 150 people, and it's just the perfect combination of being peaceful and quaintly lively. The only downside was having to ride 20 miles each direction to buy groceries in the charmingly named town of Blackwaterfoot, but I can hardly call that a downside when the sunny ride was along the clear blue water running between Arran and the Mull of Kintyre on the other side. I've never really lived a small-town life, and this is just a great opportunity to do it, albeit quite briefly. I don't know exactly when I'll split from this place (reality dictates that they will most likely not have that much stuff to do, and I'll be taking a hike in the next 2 days or so), but I'm going to stretch it out for as long as possible.

The other good news is that as it's just minor volunteer work, I only get down to business for 3 or 4 hours a day, and am free to do what I want the rest of the time. I took a vigourous hike up the glen running inland from the Loch, up to the 2,000 foot peak called Carn Mhor (I think...they are all Gaelic names here, and I had more luck picking out Czech place names on a map than this), overlooking the unspoilt inland valley of the Island. This view is truly like looking back in time 5,000 years...no roads, power lines, railroads, or anything. Families of Red Deer graze the hillside, peaty brown streams drain from mountain lochs and cascade over rocky waterfalls (not to mention contribute to shoe-swallowing peat bogs....unpleasant walking!) and the mountain heather was in purple bloom. Nice, nice place, and I feel lucky to be able to stick around for even just a few days more.

Oh yeah, and this happened about a week ago, but I kept forgetting to mention it in blog. 2,000 mile mark has officially been passed. I don't know how far I'll end up going, as I've slowed my pace considerably, but I'm not about mass mileage, man. I just dig on the vibes the people around me put out. Whatever. Here's some pictures.

The Loch in Lochranza...a gentle cove protected by a sandbar, on which stands an 800 year old castle (just to the left of the frame of this picture...the castle can be viewed in the post below!).
A long shot of the village, the loch, the castle, and the mountains behind. Biblical in its' perfection.
At the base of the glen running up to the hike. My shoes are clean at this stage of the game...NOT FOR LONG!
The summit of the mountain. I kind of chickened out and didn't go the extra 1,000 feet to the real summit of Casteal Abhail (The Castles) just to my right in the picture, but the downside of a secluded little island village is the absence of a lot of portable food to take hiking. I had one salmon sandwich, wrapped in paper, which was largely smashed by the time I got to this low peak. Voraciously hungry, I thought it unwise to venture alone to the more technical summit, without any more food, and with impending cloud (pictured above). Plus, I was hella tired!
More summit photographs.
The SYHA Hostel that has been generous enough to let me hang out. It was an old hotel built in 1880, closed prior to WW2, and reopened in the 70s as a hostel. Quite Nice!

Island Life

2007-08-27T06:08:00.000-07:00

Hey ya'll! I'm on the magnificent Isle of Arran (not to be confused with the Aran Islands off Ireland's west coast), which is nestled in between the Mull of Kintyre and the Scottish Mainland. Just a magnificent place, only a couple thousand residents, very slow pace of life, green, crystal clear water (albeit freezing cold and wind whipped), and lovely little villages. I've read in a couple places that it's known as "Scotland in Miniature", with mountains in the north, lowlands in the south, and harbors all around the perimeter. True! The mountains are no Alps, but they are breathtaking in their own way...largely bare moorland due to centuries of sheep grazing (instead of fenced in pasture for the sheep here, it seems like they've just fenced out people's yards and given almost the entire wilderness of the island to the animals, using the water as a natural boundary), although there are also significant areas of Pine Forest (human planted for logging...hardly any old-growth forests anywhere in Europe) and a healthy population of Red Deer. Throw in picturesque harbors, pristine peaty-brown brooks cascading down the hills, and a clarity of water to rival the most crystal of tropical paradises (hmm, I've never pluralized that word before), and it's just a masterpiece of a place.

Unfortunately, my first night here was in kind of a shite-hole of a bunkhouse in the village of Lamlash (that word sounds brilliant when pronounced by a true Scot), used largely by heavy drinking and smoking temporary construction workers on the island, whose kitchen cleanliness habits leave a lot to be desired. However, I've moved on to the official Scottish Youth Hostel in the northern village of Lochranza for a couple nights now, a magnificent little bay (Loch...they exist in saltwater form as well) flanked by large hills. After this, I'm off on another ferry to the Mull of Kintyre, then back inland to rejoin the Lochs & Glens long distance bicycle route into the Highlands and Inverness. That's all a long way off, however, and it's quite difficult to look past the place I'm in right now. I'd be happy here for months, if not years, of my life.

This was on my ride from Newton-Stewart/Minnigaff to the coast...really desolate forest country with little but timber trucks (that's lorries to the Brits) rattling by me at all too close a distance.
The summit (about 1500 ft) of the coastal range. Quite windy and rainy on this road, which runs through an open sheep pastureland. Makes for an interesting obstacle course of animal dodging on the fast descent.
The big boat from Ardrossan to Isle of Arran. Despite needing a new set of wheels in Amsterdam, the bike is holding up fabulously. It's a little talked about subject on the blog, but the bike has been my nearest and dearest friend along the way. Love her to pieces! Also, the actual dearest friend has been the English-made Brooks B17 leather bicycle saddle. For anyone ever riding on even a moderately long distance tour...THIS IS THE SADDLE TO GET. Mine is marvelously broken in like a comfy old baseball mitt, and there is no more cushy ride to be had on a bike.
The small islet of Holy Island, just in Lamlash Bay, about midway on the Isle of Arran. Sunburned guy, right?
Lochranza Castle. HighFIVE!

In the land of Rabbie Burns

2007-08-24T07:57:00.000-07:00

Since we last spoke, I made the short jump from Carlisle over the border into Southwest Scotland. I took a timid step back into high-mileage mode, as the weather was with me and I wanted to make the most of it. As a I result, I grew a bit too focused to really photograph the scenery in much detail, but there's a shot or 5 worth showing.

The first town over the border was Gretna/Gretna Green, famous for being a historical center of quickie marriages. Apparently Scottish law historically allowed "irregular" marriages...for underaged elopers or disapproved couplings to be joined by a blacksmith with no governmental or religious official needed to seal the deal. Gretna was the closest town to the English border, so lots of couples from the South would make the journey and stop at the first place they came to....Gretna. There is a historical marriage anvil that was struck to signify the forging of the new union, and the tradition of marriages there has carried on to the present day, with a reported 1 in 6 marriages in all of Scotland taking place there. Hmmmm, there's some information for you.

The route from there pretty much followed the Southwest coast of the country, known as the Solway Firth. Every major town along the way (Dumfries, Dalbeattie, Kirkcudbright, Gatehouse of Fleet, Newton Stewart) is a port that lies at the mouth of a river which rapidly opens into a maw of sand and silt that lazily widens as it approaches the ocean. Boats, mostly utilitarian and rusty fishing hulks, sit beached on the shoaly banks as, at low tide, the water only flows through a narrow channel. As I moved further west, the land started to rise up into stark pasture known as the Southern Uplands, with habitation few and far between relative to England.

Since I crossed the border, the weather has been sparklingly sunny, which made for a glittering, rocky seacoast to admire along the way. However, I pulled another move that can be filed under B for Bonehead. After a few days of soaking my t-shirts with sweat and finally finding a place to wash them all, I was too charmed by the pile of sweet smelling laundry. I thought to myself, why not just ride shirtless? There's nobody really around to look at me, I can start to even out my stark and comical tan-lines, it'll keep me cool and aerated, and I won't needlessly soil my freshly washed shirts with sweat. Oooooh boy was that a mistake. I ended up pulling a long, hilly 65 mile day from Dumfries to Minnigaff/Newtown Stewart (where I write from now), toiling up and down sheep-covered hills under the above mentioned sun, and have what must be the worst case of sunburn the British Isles have seen so far this year. I had trouble sleeping last night because every time I rolled over, my burned back woke me up with pain. Oh yeah, and the 60 year old man snoring like a buzzsaw 4 feet away from me didn't help either. I'm taking today off, as a combination of sunburn and muscle healing requirements.

I got some advice from the hostel-keeper here to "avoid the Glasgow drunks and druggies" and to leapfrog around the city as I move up the west coast. The plan next is to ride north to the city of Ayr, take a ferry to the Isle of Arran, spend a couple days there, and then ferry back to the mainland just north of Glasgow and rejoin the big cycle route just north of Loch Lomond, continuing north to the highlands and eventually the city of Inverness. As always, disclaimer necessary! My plans change almost daily, and this is just a sketch for now. We'll see how it goes.

I'm off to grab some dinner in this little seafront town. Absolutely stunning fish and chips to be had here. As I'm still choking myself with food and still wasting away before my eyes, I don't feel in danger of eating too much or too unhealthy food right now. I've had good honest fish and chips (served with mushy peas and wrapped in newsprint) for three days running, with no signs of getting tired of it. Oh, and I had a full Scottish breakfast this morning that could stop a train. Christ, these people love their fatty meats. I got the "small" breakfast, which was eggs, sausages bacon (British style rashers of bacon, not wimpy American strips), the Scottish staple of black pudding (the sort of meat compostion that you don't examine too closely or ask what lies therein), and "tatty scones" or wedges of potato bread fried in the meat greast, just in case you were worried about missing out on the full breadth of fat offered. Yum-O! Here's some pix!

People fishing in the river Nith where it runs through Dumfries
Solway Coast
Nice House!
Nice House!
The Hostel I'm staying at in Minnigaff, was the town school at one point, but was converted by the Scottish Hostel Assn. some years ago. Cool old stone building!

Pictures and Lake District.

2007-08-20T12:15:00.001-07:00

Just like the title says. Here are some long overdue photos from the past week and some thoughts on my trip to the English Lake District today.

Just a shot of myself, sunburned and happy to be finished with my continental Europe journey. I believe this was in the Haarlem youth hostel, just killing time.
The Princess of Norway, which took me across the rough North Sea. She's a mighty fine vessel.
I got to line up with all the motorcyclists, which made me feel extra cool.
Just a shot of my humble cabin on the ship. Seeing it here, I realize that I could have omitted this.
That's England!
Sad as I was to let go of this battered and reliable friend, I had to leave my continental road atlas behind in Newcastle, along with a couple novels and my German English dictionary....save weight, don't ya know.
Newcastle...sunny day. Some bridges over the might Tyne river.
Newcastle, lots of hills and brick and old buildings.
I guess more boring shots of my accommodations. This is the inside of the camping barn. I was particularly enamored with it when I first set up for the night, and couldn't help but snap a shot.
Outside the camping barn, with gathering grey skies behind. I was happy to be sleeping indoors that night and the next.

A shot from the top of Castle Crag over Derwent Water and the town of Keswick in the lake district. The most trees I've ever seen in one place in England.
A rainy day as I walked to a portion of Hadrian's wall near the bunkhouse in Barrasford. Cool wall, right?
Through the wind and rain in Cumbria. I look happy though, and I genuinely was.

Right, so more on the Lake District. The Duncan family was simply spectacular. Tom is a Scot who has lived in England for decades, and a rock climber who has tons of great travel tales from all over Europe and North America. Along with us boys were his wife Kate and daughter Hannah, who is a teacher in Newcastle. They used to live right on the fringes of the Lake District and had tons of great insight into the area, I couldn't have asked for better tour guides.
We went into the town of Keswick, and took an open ferry up to the top of Derwent Water (a lake) where we walked (aka hiked) to the top of a modest mountain , or hill I guess, called Castle Crag. The weather was in rare form, with mixed sun and agreeable temperatures, and it was a simply stunning day spent gazing at the most picturesque part of the entire country. I could tell there's a lot more to see of the area, and I definitely plan on going back as soon as I am able, but they offered an excellent sampler of the area. Loved it. I was incredibly lucky to cross paths with this magnificent family. And finally, proof that despite the weather and the infamous food (false by the way, I had a smashing takeaway fish & chips this evening after I got back from the hike) and the relatively crowded population dispersal, England really is the most beautiful place I've been to so far on this trip. First is the view from the top of Castle Crag over the heavenly Borrowdale valley, I think the village of Rosthwaite. The peaks of the heart of the Lakes disappear into the cloud cover. Second image is the same Cumbrian landscape pictured above (somewhere in the vicinity of Brampton) that was being battered by rain and wind just 12 hours earlier. Once the clouds scatter and the sun shines on it, it looks like the Garden of Eden.

Down, but never out!

2007-08-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

Sorry for not posting in several days...I've been biking through England's emptiest corner, and the youth hostel I'm staying at now is the first place I've come to with internet, and alas, it is too slow to upload anything close to the size of images. One day, you'll get an image post with everything that's happened since I lined up for the boat in IJmuiden, Holland, but until then, you'll just have to settle for my fountain of prose.
Soooo. Starting in the city of Newcastle, where I disembarked from the ferry. I stayed for two nights in the youth hostel, which is in the section of town called Jesmond, next to Northumbrian University. The combination of staying in the college district (with all the things that come with that neighborhood...good cheap food, used book stores, record shops, etc.) and the very autumnal weather (crisp blue skies and fresh chill breezes) made me long to stop my biking and start studying again, but it was not to be. Another city awaits me one month in the offing, and I put on my tourism hat and walked around the magnificently revitalized city of Newcastle for one sunny day, saw the sights and all. A fabulous place, if a bit rough around the edges and not as rich in blatant tourist attractions as some other places. Highly recommended is you are ever city hopping in the UK, as it is often left out of many itineraries due to it's extreme Northern location and checkered history.
The Hadrian's Wall cycle route runs right through the city, westward to the Irish Sea (technically the Solway Firth), along the path of the Roman Ruins of Hadrian's Wall, which was the boundary between the Roman occupied land and the painted barbarians to the north...the Scots. Built in 122 AD and largely disappeared now thanks to local people swiping the masonry over the centuries for use in other construction, there are still several areas intact, which are nothing more than a rubbly looking stone wall, something there is no shortage of in Britain.
I stopped for two nights in a small village called Barrasford, outside of the town of Hexham, and stayed in a camping barn, which was really quite remarkable. There are a handful of these across England, and they are basically old stone barns that lack the necessary luxury and comfort to charge full price for B&B accommodations, but schlubs like me can pay from £5-£10 for a spot in a rustic stone-floored bunkhouse and kitchen. Barrasford's barn had a television (with all four British TV channels) and was completely vacant except for me. There was rain forecasted, and the village had a shop with food and newspapers, so I took a rest day and caught up on my loafing. I am being way more modest in my daily mileages and more generous with my days off in the UK for a couple of reasons:
1. Most importantly, why the hell not? I'm the happiest I've been in any country since I've started, and I'm way more content to just flip through the tube or read a book for some reason than I was in Germany.
2. Bike route system is not as amazing. There are definitely a bunch of large-scale national cycle routes (FAR more than the U.S. of A), but it's not as widely accepted as Germany, and there are less in-your-face accommodations along the way. I need to play things more close to the vest here and stop riding at about 2 pm to make sure I can get some reasonable place to sleep and not be banging on the tourist office door at 5 pm so I can get directions to the youth hostel 10 miles away. This is as much for my own sanity as anything else. Like I've said before, the most difficult part is traveling with no reservations and figuring it out each day. I feel like if I knew I had a reliable bed waiting for me somewhere, I could happily ride 80-100 miles every day and stop at 7 PM with no problems.
3. Weather is way less amazing. It's been, well English since I left Newcastle. The North is the most rugged part of the country, and the lonely roads through the windswept counties of Cumbria and Northumberland have been quite rainy and cold the past few days. I'm apprehensive about going through Scotland, as I've heard reports of overnight frosts there already, but as long as I stay indoors when it's forecasted to be cold, I think I should be alright.
4. I'm realizing that no matter how many miles I ride every day, Sept 28th, opening day for school, is not coming any sooner. Now that I'm relatively close, geographically, to my final destination, I feel more inclined to hover, as I can always make a quick dash if time is running short. When I was on the continent, I felt like I was forever away from anything, so I really had an impetus to crank it every day to bring me closer to the end. Now that I am close to the end, I just feel very much more sedate about it all. I think my He-Man cycling days for this trip are behind me.
Sooo...back to the recount of the past few days. After 2 nights @ Barrasford, the rain was supposed to clear up. False. Hexham is sort of the last outpost of civilization before the west coast, so I rode away into the bleak unknown of England with awful grey skies and cold needles of rain in my face. I stopped at a grocery store for lunch and choked down some sandwiches and pudding in the parking lot (ahem, car park) as I got further soaked, and pressed on to another camping barn on a working sheep and cow farm in the minuscule village of Banks, just outside of Brampton. This one was less plush, and was priced accordingly. Just a warm dry building with wooden platforms to unroll sleeping bags on. But it is still cheaper than pitching a tent in the wet grass, and I got the companionship of a father and his two teenaged children who were hiking the course of Hadrian's wall, in the opposite direction as me. Again, there was a kitchen for endless cups of cream tea, and after reading some pages of David Copperfield (a good book to read whilst in England), I slept quite soundly in the old stone barn with exposed beams, probably 200 years old.
Today, I stopped for two days in Carlisle a gritty and unsightly city just below the Scottish border in the northwest of England. I junked my bicycle wheels in Amsterdam, as they finally gave out (repeatedly breaking spokes) and bought a decent set of proper touring wheels for a fair price. However, once I rode a hundred miles or so on them, the spokes must have needed settling in under a weighted load or something, because they all loosened to the point of wobbling. Quite a scary thing when you're in the middle of nowhere farm country in the wind & rain. I tightened them and trued my wheels by eye in the field, but I've made far too many bosh-job repairs along the way, and I think it's time to shell out a little coin for a proper tune up before I head into the even more remote country of Scotland. Carlisle was the first place that had a bike shop, so it's getting some long needed TLC tomorrow. It's been nearly 2000 difficult, punishing miles, so I reckon it's due.
Lucky for me, whilst I was in the tourist info centre looking for more route planning info, I met a lovely family (the Duncans, of Dalston in Cumbria) who were singing the praises to me of the English Lake District, just south of here. When they heard I was heading north, away from it, they insisted on taking me with them tomorrow, as they were headed there anyway for some hiking (or as it is known in Britain, and much more appropriately titled if you ask me...hill walking). Perfect, I said, I have a wide open schedule for tomorrow anyway. So, they are picking me up first thing in the morning and we're driving the 25 odd miles to what I hear is the most picturesque spot in the whole of England. Hi ho! My conversational skills, or skillz if you will, would never have allowed me to make such fast friends in Germany. I'm quite excited about this outing tomorrow, as I genuinely was sad to miss out on this much-lauded area of the country.
So just to forecast, I'm headed next (after my bike is tuned and I ride again) northward around the Solway Firth, through the Scottish towns of Gretna and Annan into the city of Dumfries, and then plan my next move. My ideal mission would be to head north to Glasgow and then onwards along the Lochs & Glens cycle route through the Highlands to Inverness, but I am still undecided on that (based on bike health and air temperature). I have the time, I just need to work up the inclination (no pun intended....highlands, heh heh). Expect even fewer internet updates as I continue, but just keep your fingers crossed for me. But never fear, I've come this far haven't I?

On friendly shores.

2007-08-15T05:02:00.000-07:00

Super quick post, only 15 minutes to say what I can, but the ferry ride was totally cool. Very large ship, like a proper cruise ship (only with less modern fanfare like swimming pools and running tracks). Had a nice dinner in my room, watched The Simpsons Movie in the ship cinema (totally crap, by the way), and conked out pretty early due to my motion sickness medication. It's a good thing I took that too, because the seas were a bit stormy (5-6 ft. waves and 20 knot winds, I believe) and the boat was swaying all night long. Had it not been for my tablets, I probably would have had some problems. There are little stacks of barf bags all over the ship for handy use if you need it.

I'm in Newcastle now, about to go find a hotel or hostel for a night or two, and plan where I'm off to next. I spoke to some lovely people on the boat from England and Ireland, and have a few ideas of what I'm going to do next. Email me any suggestions, if you've got em'. I basically have to fill up the next 5 weeks or so before arriving in Dublin. Northern England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and the Republic of Ireland are on the menu, I'll of course let you know where I end up along the way. More to follow as more happens.

Across 110th Street

2007-08-13T06:33:00.001-07:00

Ok, Ok. I admit it, I gave the Netherlands a terrible first shot. I think I just came into it through an odd route and my first stop was the equivalent of somebody from France visiting America for the first time and being dropped off at the piers in Newark Bay and being forced to find a hotel and a decent restaurant.

I"m staying tonight in Haarlem, which is about 20 km by bike from Amsterdam and about 10 km from IJmuiden, where my ferry leaves from tomorrow for Newcastle, UK. It was the perfect location for this last night on mainland Europe, as I can pop into the big city for the evening for a whirlwind view of it (sadly, this super short visit is the most I was able to squeeze in) and then also head off to the seaport tomorrow for the big boat ride.

To recount the past few days....

I left Delfzijl bright and early and was in the neighboring city of Groningen by lunch. The ride was along several canals and they are just the most amazing constructions ever. The whole country is covered by them, houses are built on them like streets, people have canal moats instead of fences around their yards and pastureland...just really cool. The houses are all tiny and of really interesting architecture...in fact, "tiny" is the word I would apply to the whole country. Everything is just so, so, .....darling. Cute little streets, cute little houses, cute little canals...all little and adorable. I can't really sum it up with one or even thirty images, so you're going to have to take my word for it and visit yourself some day.

Anyway, Groningen is amazing, very clean and happening and the most bike friendly town I've ever seen. The whole country is built around bicycles, with amazing dedicated paved roads and signs pointing to bike routes everywhere. You don't even really need a map, just the names of the towns you are headed for and...follow the signs! By the end of that day, I made it to the next city of Leeuwarden, which although not as amazing as Groningen, was still pretty great.

NEXT DAY! This was the milestone I had been planning for since last year. The day's ride would take me over the Afsluitdijk, which is basically a 150 foot wide strip of highway and bike lane that runs over 20 miles through open ocean. Read about it on wikipedia why don't you? It's just an amazing and audacious piece of human engineering, basically capping off an enormous saltwater bay and letting the Rhine river fill it up with freshwater, forming a humongous inland fresh lake. Not to mention the dike itself forming a bridge between two parts of the country that would otherwise be very far apart. The road goes on FOREVER, and it just disappears into the horizon of ocean when you are on it. It normally takes about 2 hours to ride your bike over it, but lucky me...I popped one of my front spokes on the way over and had to stop for a harrowing repair job, pretty much smack in the middle of the whole thing. It is really an unsettling feeling to be out there, with nothing but water on all sides of it. It's like being on a desert island with cars whizzing by you at 75 mph the whole time. Having crossed over, I actually was so excited and triumphant feeling that I cheered out loud for myself. It was basically the last big hurdle of my whole journey, and had I not been aching and hungry, I may have shed a tear over the accomplishment. But no! Onward to my next stop, the city of Alkmaar.

This was basically the nicest city I've seen in Europe so far. Nothing spectacular about it, nothing touristy or kitschy, just a nice little modern Dutch town with really narrow streets and canals running through the city. I couldn't find any hotel save for a really expensive one (about triple my usual budget for a room), but I had a really long and difficult day, and decided to treat myself for completing the Afsluitdijk. This morning was just a short hop to the youth hostel in Haarlem, and now I write this from a stinky marijuana bar/internet cafe in Amsterdam. I'm pretty sore and sick of riding, so I'm going to take a quick spin of the city just for the sake of being so close and not missing out, but then just go back to my bed and relax. I didn't know I was going to be appending on the British Isles portion of my trip, so this is basically the end of the original journey that I set out to do in the first place.

Hurrah for that eh? I'm still a long way from finished, but I hope to wrap things up as soon as I am able to (dependent on finding a place to stay near Dublin for a few weeks until I can move into the Trinity dorms on Sep. 28th). My next move from Newcastle is to follow the Hadrian's wall cycle path to the west coast of England, and then ride north into Scotland, eventually taking a ferry from either Stranraer or Troon to the Belfast area, and then riding to Dublin. You know how my plans change though, so we'll see how everything plays out in the end.

I don't know what the frequency of internet cafes in the UK is, but I'll do my best. Here's some pix from the past few days.

Some canals with houses on them. Cool right?
Lots of bikes waiting for a boat to pass in Groningen. With so many canals, drawbridge crossings are a commonplace event.

The dude himself, riding along the beach on the Dutch north sea coast.
Later that day....
This is Alkmaar, I think. I was really tired this evening.
Waiting to take the ferry across the Noord Holland canal into Haarlem. The freeway takes a tunnel but the slow vehicle and bike lanes get to take this ferry for free. Pretty cool.
A string of sailboats making a drawbridge crossing in Haarlem.

I have no pix from Amsterdam (I just got here!) But it looks like the cities pictured above, just busier! Kind of like Greenwich village, I don't know. Visit it yourself if you care what it looks like! Next time you hear from me, I should be in England. I need to go find some seasick tablets for the 15 hour boat ride now.

Country # 5

2007-08-10T09:20:00.000-07:00

Nothing big to report here, just that I've made it into the Netherlands. Saw nothing interesting along the way (althought I would have liked to see something as interesting as a restaurant or grocery store...I was friggin' starving all day). Horrendous ride today. I took a short ferry over the Ems river and struggled to find the one small farm road that crossed the German border into Holland (the only other road in was an autobahn). Ended up riding over 90 km, much of it directly into the wind, which strangley seems even stronger than it was in Germany. I managed to make my way to a small, ugly, port city called Delfzijl, and got an affordable room for the night. There are lots of chemical plants and big shipping piers here. If the Dutch originally settled NY metro area, they definitely created Staten Island and Elizabeth in the image of their homeland. The only other landscape I saw today was feces-smelling farmland. It made me actually grateful to get to the chemical plants, for the metal buildings offered some sort of a windbreak after the open farmland. VERY flat here, naturally, and the most impressive part about the country so far is the way that the people have molded it to serve their purposes. Every rise in elevation is completely man-made, the dikes create farmland and living spaces exactly where people need them, canals crisscross the landscape like scars...waterways dug to be exactly where they are most useful, even every tree seems to have been strategically planted to provide windbreak. The country of what I've seen so far is a testament to engineering and human achievement. Go humans!

If I saw anything worth seeing, I'd post a picture for you. Unfortunately for both of us, I saw nothing. There wasn't even a "WELCOME TO HOLLAND!" sign on the road (Thanks a lot European Union and Schengen Agreement with your crummy open borders....do you know how many passport stamps I've been missing out on!?). Tomorrow I plan to get to the eastern side of the Afsluitdijk, which is a 30+ km dike running east-west through the north sea (well, a gigantic lake, man-made of course, is on one side of it, but it looks like a road running into the ocean). Unless I get there early enough in the day, I don't want to start riding across it, as obviously there will be no turning back in case of awful winds, bike breakdown, or my biggest foe of the day...HUNGER PAINS!

Let's hope tomorrow brings more fun than today. Over and out.

Oh yeah, the five, if you're keeping score....Czech Republic, Austria, Germany, Switzerland, and now the Netherlands. Super duper.

Retreat from the North Sea!

2007-08-09T09:52:00.000-07:00

Ooh, boy, I've been out of internet access for a couple days now, let's get caught up, shall we?

To start with, here's a parting shot of Bremen, looking out of my hostel window across the Weser river at Beck's HQ....its not a pro-beer photo, I just liked the lights and the way the river moved in the 15 second exposure.

After two sparkling, sunny days lounging around Bremen, the morning of my departure was overcast. On top of that, the region of Germany I'm in now (Lower Saxony and then East Frisia) is famous for it's wind. Unfortunately, the direction I needed to go was Northwest...directly into that strong, steady wind. It was waaay harder than riding up a mountain. Fortunately, the ride had some beautiful scenery. Tons of these types of thatched roof houses, typical of the North Sea area.
I made it to a small town called Dangast on a large bay called the Jadebusen. There was a campground that was right on the beach (which was actually more of a gigantic mudflat...see below) and was way into the idea of camping right on the North Sea...cool sounding right?
WRONG! There were no buildings around to lean my bike on, let along set up my tent behing, and the wind was blowing in off the sea all night long. At about midnight it started torrentially raining, and I sat inside my tent from 2 Am until it got light (FAR too noisy to sleep with all the wind and rain). My bike, of course, got rained on all night, which I hate to think about. The rain continued all the next morning, and the answer is yes...in case you are wondering if I still was riding face first into the wind. Only now, there was needle-like rain pelting me in the eyes as I rode. Jenni...be glad you left Germany when you did! Here's how I felt, and a pretty typical view of the bleak North Sea. Even though its August, it feels like November here.

Another unending sight. The entire northern coast of the country is lined with a dike about 15 ft tall. The bike path traced the top of this dike. Sheep graze on the grass, so in addition to the foul weather, I was dodging sheep shit on the trail. To while away the misery, I made up a song that I was singing to myself way too loud (there was nobody around). I forget now how it went, but the refrain was SHEEP SHIT WOMAN! It passed the time, oK?
Nothing to explain here, just a view of the flat, gray, bleak landscape. The dike wall runs along the back, and the sea is just over that. This has nothing to do with the picture, but the lack of a caption here allows me to mention how much I love the east Frisian style of drinking tea. You get a nice big pot (big anything is a rarity in Germany when it comes to beverages other than beer) of really strong black tea. They give you these gigantic rock sugar crystals, either brown or white, like giant uncut diamonds, that you drop 5 or 6 of into the pot and don't stir. You then pour cups and flavor it with heavy cream, drinking the whole pot. It gets progressively sweeter as you get to the bottom. The perfect remedy for a rain and wind soaked day.
The happy ending was that I was able to find a cheap B&B in the tiny fishing village of Carolinensiel. I had bags full of wet stuff from the night before, so after turning my single room into an indoor clothesline, I walked around the town to check out some of the amazing old sailboats in the harbor. These are North Sea boats through and through, built short and squat to handle the rough waters. This is only of interest to those who care about boats and sailing, but I thought it was cool that all the boats, from the big to the small, utilize leeboards as opposed to the centerboard-style keels. You can see these large boards lashed to the side of every boat. They are lowered into the water for stability accordingly depending on what tack the boat is on. I know, not really interesting, but I like sailboats and old sailboats, so bully for me.

After Carolinensiel, I headed south from the coast to escape the wind. This was a bit of a change from my original plan of hugging the coast, but a change I am infinitely glad I made. I reside tonight in Emden, Germany, only a few miles from the Dutch border. By tomorrow morning, I will be in the Netherlands. I can't say that I'm sad to leave Germany, good as it's been to me. I'm a little sick of some of the uppity middle-aged people I've been sharing the bike paths with, and having seen about half of the entire country, I do feel like I'm ready to move on. Having said that, I've spent over a month here, and I do feel somewhat comfortable in my ways right now. I've gotten used to the groove I'm in, and a new shakeup will start soon. That's what this is all about though, right? My point from the start was to break down my comfort zone and really feel raw and exposed to where I am and what I'm doing. Despite all it's creature (and cyclist) comforts, Germany has definitely allowed me to step outside of the comfort zone. Vielen Dank, Deutschland.

On a final note, I should give a tally of the things that have gone wrong with my bike since my bragadocious announcement of a repair free first 1000 miles.

- 4 flat tires

- 2 broken spokes (both on the rear, drive side)

- I need to get a new rear wheel tomorrow...both a cause and effect of the broken spokes

- I broke my rear rack...the eyelet where it screws onto the bike near the axle just sheared off. I was able to get a new one relatively easily.

- My fender broke, although this was also a relatively simple repair...it was three days of riding around with packing tape (the only tape I was able to find here) holding the fender off of my wheel.

I've visited a ye olde bike shoppe once every day or two for the past week. So much for superstition huh?

It slips through my fingers!

2007-08-06T06:17:00.000-07:00

For all people not named Stadtlander, you might not find this post as interesting as the others, so consider yourself warned: CONTENTS POSSIBLY BORING!

So...armed with only the knowledge that my great-grandfather, Charles Bruno Stadtlander, was born in Jersey City, USA in 1898, and that his father was named Adolf and was born in Bremen, Germany (this is literally all I know), I waltzed today into the local Standesamt, or hall of records, in search of a birth certificate or other proof of Adolf's existence. The room was empty save for the three employees and dozens of tightly stacked shelves of dusty brown ledger books. I told them why I was there, the name of the man I was looking for and that, "His first son was born in 1898, so he was probably born sometime between 1860 and 1880." They immediately kind of treated me like an American knucklehead (guilty, as charged) and said that 1.) I'm going to have to be more specific than that, and 2.) After finding out I was incapable of being more specific, their records begin in 1874, so lets just start there, shall we? Take a seat out in the hall, we'll call you in when and if we find something.

I went to the bathroom and was sitting no longer than three minutes when I was surprisingly called back into the office. They found a possible match! In a handwritten German birth certificate, the four of us looked at the record of birth of an Adolf Heinrich Stadtlander, born March 1878, in Bremen. Super! As further proof, his father was named Karl Stadtlander, and Karl is the Germanic equivalent of the Anglo forename Charles....THE VERY NAME OF ADOLF'S FIRST-BORN. That's a common occurence, especially days of yore right? Name your son after your father? There are no records in Germany of who immigrated where and when, but I was totally sold on the accuracy of this Adolf Stadtlander....right age, right name, right birth location, supporting father's forename....I was elated, and ready to fork over the measly seven euro necessary for a photocopy. ALL GOOD, right?! WRONG!!!!

Just as the case was about to be deemed closed, a closer examination of this certificate revealed a small stamp on the bottom, saying when Adolf hat gestorben...died. 1951.............

IN BREMERHAVEN (just north of Bremen, here in Germany)! So why would a man move to America at a young age, marry, father four sons (something I found out in earlier genetic research), move back to Germany, and die at the age of 73? He wouldn't, so this is probably the wrong Adolf. There were, of course, no other Adolfs in the Standesamt's records, and I trudged away crestfallen, having come so very close and just to be proved incorrect at the last moment.

However, I am not 100% defeated in my mind. In my earlier research, I found a 1920 census report of the Jersey City Stadtlanders, including 23 year old Charles Bruno living at home with his mother Clara, aged 51, and three younger brothers. No father was listed as being in the household.

Now (bear with me for a second for a behemoth of a run-on, parenthetical sentence), I know the most likely explanation is: If Clara Stadtlander was 51 in 1920, she would have been born in 1869 (nine years older than the Adolf I turned up here in Bremen) and that as a general rule, 100 years ago even more so than now, husbands are generally 3-10 years older than their wives, then Clara's husband Adolf (as opposed to the man whose birth certificate I just looked at) would have been born in 1860 (by the by, completely out of range of the city of Bremen's record-keeping anyway) or so, and (given the life expectancy of men, namely lower class immigrant men living in Jersey City at the turn of the century) was probably dead by the time the census man came-a-knocking in 1920, I am hoping against hope that a young and cocksure Adolf moved to America, married a woman almost ten years his senior, fathered his first child at the age of 20, his last at the age of 27, got in a hell of a knock-down, drag-out fight with the missus, had enough with the debilitating immigrant's life, left America for the friendly shores of Bremerhaven, jewel of the Hanseatic League, and lived the rest of his long life apart from his masculine family, never to be heard from again and leaving no legacy in his native country save for a smudged purple stamp in a brittle, yellowed book on a shelf that sits not a quarter mile from where I type this right now, GESTORBEN 1951.

Probably not the way it all shook down, I'm sure, but it's nice to dream isn't it?

POSTSCRIPT DIRECTED MAINLY TOWARDS ELDER STADTLANDER SIBLINGS (Charlie Sr, Tommy, Erik, Claudia, Joanna, Maarten) :

Shame that neither Kirk nor Jean is alive today to run some of this information by, isn't it? In the name of my shot in the dark, I implore you to search your memories for any trivial tidbits your father may have mentioned about his grandfather (Adolf Stadtlander). Did he ever meet him? Did he die young? Anything helps. My actual next move is going to have to be to pay a bit of cash to order Charles Bruno's NJ birth certificate and see what that contains about his father Adolf.

Even though the final outcome was fruitless, today sure proved to be an adventure!

Bremen, is like, super nice and stuff.

2007-08-05T05:02:00.000-07:00

Quick image post while I'm killing time on this Sunday. I had to leave my hastily-found, overpriced hotel at 11 AM, and while I wait for my far more affordable room at the youth hostel to be ready at 3, I sat around and read for awhile, walked around the old city, poked my head in a few churches, and enjoyed the sunshine in this marvelous, manageable city.

Oh, and upon receiving one vote for Scotland and zero votes for anything else, I have booked myself passage on a ship leaving from IJMuiden (near Amsterdam) headed for Newscastle-upon-Tyne in the north of England (a city I briefly passed through last year), departing on the evening of August 14th and arriving on the morning of the 15th. After that, I don't know precisely where I'm headed, but I will most likely follow the Hadrian's Wall cycle path through England for a bit before banking a right into the south-west of Scotland, into Dumfries and Galloway, Ayrshire, and perhaps some of the western islands. Hopefully that will eat up some time. I'm quite excited about this.

Here are some shots from the ride up here and from the city itself.

Windmills...lots of windmills on the plains leading into the city.

After scrambling through some outlying suburbs, facing a deadline (which I did not exactly meet, hence the one night in an expensive hotel), and not exactly sure which way to head, this sign was like a beacon in the night to me.

Although it wasn't cheap, the view from my hotel was nice. The Hauptbahnhof (main train station) of Bremen.
Historic windmill and pretty marigold garden in the city's central park.
Big-ass church, bad-ass dude.
Rathaus (historic town hall). Very ornate, very tourist-centric.
Look just below the center of the image, and you can notice a familiar name. Inside the evangelical church, on a wall commemorating the local fallen from World War 2, I noticed the name Hans Herbert Stadtlander! Super cool. Perhaps tomorrow, the visit to the Standesamt (records bureau) will prove fruitful in some way.

In Meinem Vaterland

2007-08-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

I got tired of trying to pace myself to arrive at Bremen after the weekend (and thereby making accomodations FAR easier to find) and rode 110 km yesterday and 130 km today to get to the Big City this afternoon. This, from what I`ve researched, is the birthplace of my great-great-grandfather, Adolf Stadtlander. I am going to try and track down a birth certificate or something on Monday, when the city reawakens from the Sabbath Slumber (a problem I`ve faced the whole time in Germany). This is going to be my longest stopover since Munich, which was three weeks ago. Kind of long awaited deep breath and chance to regroup, both mentally and physically.

Ride today was really nice...at a town called Porta Westfalica yesterday, I passed what seems to be the last of the hills of mainland Europe. I came upon this terrain that looked something like the Delaware water gap, for you east coasters, and when I passed through the hills, all of a sudden it was flat for as far as I could see. I kept riding all of that day, and then all of today, and it hasn`t changed a lick. There are TONS of windmills here (both historic and modern electricity generating). I was always impressed at seeing them throughout my travels here, but I had spotted maybe 50 total in the month that I`ve been in Germany...today alone I passed easily 150-200. Pretty cool to see (pictures will follow in the next day or two).

Otherwise, I`m just sort of catching my breath tonight, and I have some planning to do on Sunday and Monday, as well as some bike resupplying. My next move? Dunno yet! I`m certainly going North to Bremerhaven and the Ocean, and then tracing the coast west to the Netherlands. However, I`m undecided as to if I`ll take a ferry from Amsterdam to Newcastle, in the North of England (and then tour Scotland for two weeks before moving on to Ireland) or else continue down the mainland Europe coast to Calais France, and take a ferry to Dover, and then ride across the South of England. The Amsterdam ferry is more alluring right now, even though its about 5 times the price, its a really long boat ride (15 hours or so) and I would get a cabin and everything for the ride, something about that intrigues me. Also, I`m kind of keen on the idea of seeing Scotland, as I didn`t get to last summer whilst driving around Britain. Any thoughts on the subject? I`ll check in later.

See ya`ll

Ohhhh...

2007-08-02T02:56:00.000-07:00

So that's why there are statues of rats everywhere. It turns out the city of Hameln is tranlated into English as Hamelin, and is the home of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. More fairy tale country. Anyway, I'm here until tomorrow morning when my bike will be out of the repair shop, and I've found this internet cafe which allows camera hookup...so here are some of those long awaited images.

Just a sunny day shot somewhere along the Neckar river. I stopped on this bridge and set up my mini tripod hastily (which explains the tilted angle). I think it was during this photo session that I knocked off my cycle computer.

A quiet little village nestled in the green hills of the Neckar Valley. Oh yeah, and one bad ass bicycle.

Heaven on Earth! A phat stack of fresh baked pastries, a steaming mug of strong black tea, and Will Shortz's X-Treme X-Words, tough Saturday puzzles for the "Gutsy, truly bold, and fearless Solver."

Uhhh...some street in some old town somewhere. I'm not sure, but it might be Lohr am Main. All of these small cities look very similar.
A carnival at Lohr, and a long view of some of the steeples and such

The man himself, Main River in the background. I'm happier than I look here. Youth Hostel outside the city of Fulda....just liked the perspective and evening light, so I snapped a pic.
Looming clouds over the Fulda river valley, and me in my short-shorts!

Rathaus (old town hall) in uhh...lets see...these cities all blend together now. I think it was Hannoversch Münden.
Yumm, I like ice cream. I have a cone almost every day!
Pretty much my constant view throughout most of Germany. Wheat fields (for makin' their beer!) low rolling green hills, and adorable little villages nestled among them.

I dont know what you call this pasttime...but its a guy in a little cart with a propeller motor on it, hanging from a parachute. Para-flying? Motorized-falling? Floaty-gliding? I passed right underneath him and it looked scary as hell.

Nuclear plant, Weser river, right outside of Hameln.

Jinx proves true!

2007-08-01T09:37:00.000-07:00

Superstition is no superstition, it's real life. After bragging about my lack of mechanical troubles only yesterday, today I broke a spoke while riding. It curled itself around my hub, resulting in a messy extrication process. I would have taken three flat tires over a broken spoke on the drive (gears) side of my rear wheel. Of all the tools I brought, I didn't bring a cassette (gears) remover, so I couldn't remove the broken spoke let alone install a new one. Luckily I was relatively close (12 miles or so) to my end destination, so I managed to clip off most of the broken spoke and wrap the remainder around a neighboring good spoke so it wouldnt flap in the chain. I trued my wonky wheel as best as possible, undid the rear brake, and hobbled my way to the city of Hameln, where I reside for at least the next two nights until I get my bike fixed proper.

Good day though! I went 140 km (over 85 miles) through the Weser river valley, seeing such sights as wind turbines (at least 20 of them), a running nuclear power plant that I passed within hundreds of feet of, and of course tons of horses, cows, sheep, green hills, wheat fields, blah blah blah.

I had an excellent conversation with my hostel roommate last night, a fifty year old history teacher from Berlin. He spoke excellent English and we talked history and politics for hours, very interesting to get other world views. I'm in another hostel tonight, and it's my first bad experience with them so far. I've had six excellent nights at different hostels so far (Germany has over 600 official youth hostels all over the country, a really affordable and comfortable resource) and tonight I'm sharing a room with 5 other older men (what happened to the youth part of youth hostels?) who produce a body odor that can only be described as flagrant. It's high season for bike touring in Germany, and there are loads of people that show up to these hostels with low hygiene standards and high stench factors. I'm going to kill as much time as possible in the old city tonight, to avoid encountering any of these old reekers. Hopefully they all shove off tomorrow morning.

Oh yeah, one more tidbit I've laughed at here, regarding language quirks. It's customary to wish a fellow cyclist "Good Riding" as you pass or when you set off in the morning. Only the verb for riding is "fahren", which conjugates as "Fahrt" (pronounced how you think it is). Good translates fairly similarly, into the word "Gute" (pronounced kind of like goot-eh) And so the oft-shouted catchphrase between cyclists is GOOD FART!, which nobody laughs at but me, I'm sure.

Talk to ya later!

Hann.Münden

2007-07-31T09:49:00.000-07:00

Is the name of the city I'm in right now. I've moved on to the Fulda river valley, which is gorgeous just the same as the other rivers I've tracked. I'm in the German state of Hesse, which is flatter than Bavaria (where I started), but still hilly enough and full of fertile river valleys just like Baden-Württemberg (the previous state I was in). The towns here are very compact and ancient, usually surrounded by medieval walls (The town I was in last night, Rotenburg an der Fulda, had a wall with a steeple tower that was used to imprison suspected witches until the late 1600s!) and with really stunning half-timbered houses, very very old houses and streets. It's fairy tale country here, home to Little Red Riding Hood (Rottkäpchen), Snow White (Schneewitchen), and the Brothers Grimm (Jakob & Wilhelm...aka Jack and Will, like my own brothers). Rotenburg has a Jakob Grimm elementary school.

Tomorrow, the Fulda river turns into the Weser, and I follow that north to Bremen. Oh yeah! Yesterday I rolled over the 1000 mile mark (I am currently at about 1,071 total). Not too shabby. I really feel like I've gotten into a good groove of riding and living, as I don`t feel anywhere near as daunted by the task as I did, even two weeks ago. It just took me getting confident in 1.) My ability to ride (which I am by now, I was just commenting to Jenni that I took two short riding days, but they were 50 and 65 miles respectively...shows how my perception has changed) and more importantly 2.) My ability to find comfortable and affordable accomodations and keep myself occupied mentally in the off-riding time. Days are flying past me now and I`m really taking in all that`s around me. Unfortunately, you aren`t taking in nearly as much, as I am stymied again by the lack of USB connection on this computer. Im only really taking one or two photographs per day, but some day soon there will be a mass post showing all that you`ve missed so far. Until then, I keep on trucking, as they say. The first thousand miles felt like nothing, and here`s to another thousand, staying as healthy and as breakdown free as the first (I'm setting myself up for the biggest jinx ever here, but can you believe that I haven't had one flat tire in 1000 miles? Even if I get three tomorrow, I think that I've done pretty well in that dept., considering I've ridden through glass strewn city streets, sharp-rocked gravel, farm tractor paths, cobblestoned streets, and everything in between. Job well done, Vittoria Randonneur 700cx28 tires).

Keep the comments coming...I love to hear from all of you (Shout outs this time include....Dad, Mom, Nancy Webb, and Uncle Earache). I sent out my first round of postcards awhile ago and they should have arrived by now...if you didnt receive one and want to receive one, please email your street address to me (ckstadtlander@gmail.com). I'll do my best!

Same old story

2007-07-28T09:56:00.001-07:00

-Another marathon day (65 miles up and over some hillacious hills...but this time in the rain!)
-Another river to river crossing (Main to Fulda)
-Another unspeakably beautiful Medieval City (Fulda)
-Another internet cafe that doesn't allow me to upload images!

There's only so far I can carry this tale on the skills of my written word alone. I'll say more when there's more to say, and when I can show you some images of places I'm seeing. I might just stay here another 2 nights, I really don't mind this system of one super long day of riding, one chilled out day reading, surfing the internet, and eating in a cutesy little city.

Oh yeah, and no sooner did I clean my entire bike from brakes to bottom bracket than today's trail took me through miles of wet sand, splattering everywhere, including my just oiled and formerly smooth-running chain and entire drivetrain system! Oh well, if not for maintenance tasks, I might just go mad with boredom. Also on today's trail was a lot of riding in the should of way too narrow highways. Germans LOVE their automobiles (take your pick...Porsche, BMW, Audi, Mercedes, VW, etc. etc. etc.) and they love to drive way too fast and too near to a hapless cyclist carrying too much weigh struggling to churn his little way up a hill in the pouring rain. Two to You German drivers!

Breaking News

2007-07-27T09:22:00.000-07:00

Actually, something I forgot to mention in my earlier post. Spoke to Jenni in Seattle yesterday and it turns out that the result of our fall waaaay back in Straubing, Germany (seems like forever ago now) was a fractured tailbone. We had previously thought it was just bruised, but maybe the German hospital didn't pick it up in the x rays. Nothing too serious, just a lot longer of a recovery time. And it's all my fault, for swerving in front of her. Sorry babe! I'll let you break one of my bones when I get back to Seattle. No Femurs, Skull, or Pelvis...but anything else is fair game. See you then!

New River, Same Chazz

2007-07-27T02:23:00.000-07:00

Hello Loyal Readership!

Haven't gotten a chance to sit down at a computer in a couple days, so first let me update you on my progress. I sit in a beautiful city named Lohr on the Main river in Central Germany. My basic strategy in riding this entire trip is to follow the large rivers of Germany. They are all relatively flat, are flanked by paved trails, have tourist friendly towns and cities, and most of all, are easy to follow. All I really need to know is which direction the river flows and whether or not I want to ride into the flow or with the flow. This strategy has taken me so far along large chuunks of...
(with Jenni)
-The Vltava River in the Czech Republic
-The Danube in Austria and Germany
(by myself)
-The Isar River, running south from Munich Germany
-The Neckar River, running north from the Bodensee
-The Main (pronounced MINE), running lazily zigzag West to East across the center of Germany.

Next, I will meet the Fulda River, which runs into the Weser, which will take me all the way to the north of the country, to Bremen and Bremerhaven. I'll then have some more planning to do, but that will be a few more hundred miles before I reach that point.

The only deviation from this river plan has been the ride from the Isar to the Bodensee, which I had a very helpful guide book and guide map for. I would have been lost without this, as the trail climbed up and over mountain bike trails and gravelly farm roads, with very few signs and little visual cues. The other deviation from the "rivers only" plan has been whenever I need to jump from river to river, usually across more farmland and general non-bike friendly territory. Being the cheapskate that I am, I figured I could make the last jump from the Neckar to the Main without having to purchase a map (ten euros, for a map that I'll use for one day and then throw out? NO WAY!) However, my other two navigational aids failed me as well that day. I have an integrated bell & bubble-compass on my handlebars, but the dome on the compass leaked out all the mineral oil and leaving the compass out of commission (and some greasy handlebar tape)...and then, I accidentally lost my cycle computer (speedometer/odometer), which is an instrumental instrument to have when you are going long distances...it lets you know what to expect and when to plan for turns and such. I had three strikes against me and could only rely on the occasional roadside bike trail sign and helpful map kiosks. However, I made it all in one piece from Heidelberg (on the Neckar) to the town of Miltenberg (on the Main)...a distance of about 75 or so miles. A gruelling day to say the least.

Finally, yesterday, I noticed that my bike was making funny noises and riding a little cock eyed, so this morning I noticed that my rear wheel had some loose spokes. Ive now ridden 885 miles, and have not once tuned up my bike, or even cleaned it. Today was the day to take another break and really get down and dirty with maintenance. I trued both of my wheels (breaking and repairing a front spoke in the process) completely cleaned the whole bike after miles and miles of sand, gravel, mud, etc., installed my new cycle computer, wrapped the bars with new tape, and VOILA! It`s like I have a whole new bike. I should be good to go tomorrow as I make yet another river-to-river leap from Lohr to the city of Fulda, which is...well, on the FULDA river. That will be my last non-river travel until I reach Bremen, which should not be for another week or so. I'll be sure to be careful!

Oh, wow I just realized that I relayed to you my entire dull and obsessive itinerary...perhaps you'd like interesting tidbits from the road? Uhh, well let's see. Picture will have to wait again until I get to a more USB friendly computer. One thing I've noticed along that way is the Germany is an extremely pious country. Every small town has at least one, and sometimes three or four, roadside crucifix mini-altars (usually about 6 feet high, sometimes set inside of a little lean-to type structure, with candles and flowers set out front) I must have passed over a hundred of these so far. At one point, when I as in the Alpine foothils, in the middle of a murderous climb, I reached the summit of a lonely country road to find one of these altars. Feelings sweaty and sore, I couldn't help but feel better than the artist's macabre rendition of the emaciated and crucified J.C. Ever since that climb, out of superstitious habit rather than religious devotion, I've begun crossing myself whenever I pass one of these altars. I don't really know why...I have never and probably will never be very religious...anything to break up the monotony of hours alone one the saddle helps I guess, and I suppose I can feel some alliance with the suffering of Jesus, the fellow human (as opposed to Jesus, the supernatural son of a diety, who I don't believe exists).

Hmm, now that I've weirded you out with the new and wandering paths I've been leading over in Europe, it's time to trudge to the city to try and find a bookstore with an English language shelf (and hopefully a Döner Kebap stand)...I'm down to my last novel, and I don't cherish the though of being stuck in a tent sometime next week with nothing to read. Tomorrow I head out again...wish me godspeed.

Not too shabby

2007-07-23T10:34:00.000-07:00

So much for not having another chance to make a blog post. I hauled ass and clocked 100 miles exactly on the day, making it all the way to Heilbronn, Germany. I might take another day off to finally get around to doing that laundry, plus this is another nice, manageable city. I'm OK in places that are 100,000 people or less...anything bigger is too confusing, not to mention a bad place to have a bicycle that weighs close to 100 lbs.

Great day of riding, partially sunny as I flew north through the Neckar River valley. It's wine country here, so the river valley has terraced sides for miles and miles, big green stairs thick with lush grape vines set against white sandstone cliffs....I really should have slowed down and taken more pictures. But the riding did me good, I feel a nice sense of accomplishment, I feel like I'm getting a handle on this massive journey, and my mood has taken a nice upswing. I'm really feeling more confident and appreciative of where I am and what I'm doing.

Just for those wondering, as of today I've gone somewhere between 750 and 800 miles...I don't know precisely because I left my cyclo computer at the hotel, but I definitely rolled over 1200 km total some time today. Here's to new beginnings and to cheering up! Oh, and to dreaming about hot stone massages and sipping fizzy mineral water with lime slices.

St-St-St-Stuttgart

2007-07-23T03:05:00.000-07:00

Noon and I'm stopping for a quick Döner Kebap in Stuttgart...home to Porsche and Daimler-Chrysler (neé Benz). Big loud smelly industrial city, but I had a nice ride through the park. I am COOKING this morning. I left the campground at 7 and made 80 km (48 miles) by noon.

Nothing else to say, no pictures taken since Tübingen...it's quite an ugly corner of the country that I'm pushing to get out of. I don't believe I'll have internet for a day or two, and I always like to check in when I'm able.

Lots of love to all (except those I hate).

-Chazz OUT!

Lingering in Tübingen

2007-07-22T03:33:00.000-07:00

I've decided to stay here one more night for a couple reasons...
- It started raining last night, and sitting in my tent this morning, groggy and sore from yesterday, listening to the raindrops drum on the tent, I just was not motivated to get up and start moving my legs again.
-This being a college town, it is ripe with internet cafes (my main source of entertainment and connection with home) and cheap and good food...in most small towns, I end up paying over the odds for disgusting German sausage-heavy food.
-There is a laundromat, which I am in dire need of.
-Finally...why the hell not? I'm way ahead of schedule anyway, at this rate, I'll be done with the entire bike trip in 3 weeks or so. I don't have anywhere I need to be. I don't have any deadlines I'm in danger of missing. I just don't feel like riding my bike! I think I'm the only one that needs justification of that fact...most sane people would have taken 3 or 4 rest days by now.

Here are a few more pictures,

The interesting tan lines I've gotten on my hands from a week straight of riding in the blasting sun:

And two shots (right as the sun was coming out this morning after the rain) of the very pretty city of Tübingen. Not a bad place to take a break for a couple days.

Sweet Christ I'm tired.

2007-07-21T11:34:00.000-07:00

Longest day of riding yet...just north of 85 miles from Donaueschingen to the Neckar River college city of Tübingen. I got here too late to find a hotel room, and they were all too expensive anyway, so I'm at a campground that is basically a grass parking lot for motor homes. They wedged me in between a family of 8 and a gigantic mobile home trailer and charged me 12 euros (over 15 bucks!) just to set up my tiny tent and lock up my bicycle. I haven't even gone to the communal shower house yet, but my spidey-senses tell me it's going to cost 2 euros for hot water. GARRRHH I'm so mad.

However, these intenet cafes also have cheap long distance phone calls so I had a nice long chat with my Jenni which cheered me up considerably. I realized it was the first conversation I've had in over a week that lasted longer than 3 minutes. I unleashed a fountain of thought that'd been spinning in my head, not even realizing how fast I was capable of talking. Oh boy...something's gotta give here. I think I need to take a day or two off of riding, I just need to find the right town to do it in.

Tübingen, for what it's worth, is actually a pretty cool and hip town, something similar to Ithaca, NY. Too bad I won't get to see more of it.

Where is he now?

2007-07-20T12:08:00.001-07:00

Just a quick update...I had a hellacious ride today over a minor mountain ridge and miles of gravelly farm road, but I made it safely and I'm in the town of Donaueschingen, in the Southwest of Germany, incidentally the start of the Danube river. My goal tomorrow is to begin the Neckar river cycle path, just to the north, which I will follow for maybe 4 more days after that.

Be sure to look at the image posting below!

Quick answer to a question from my Uncle Bill...I am doing crosswords, of course! They are such a part of my daily ritual that I can't put them out of my life for any length of time. I'm working on Saturday toughies from the XTreem XWords book given out for free at the Puzzle Tournament last year. I look forward to getting back on track with daily NYT puzzles...I feel lost without them.

Otherwise, I fill my time with lots and lots of reading...I just finished a really great novel called Foucalt's Pendulum by Umberto Eco, I'm sure I won't be the first to label it 'The Da Vinci Code' for academics, but I'll do so anyway. Really really good. Jenni was kind enough to motor through The World According to Garp so she could give it to me before she left Germany. English language bookstore are few and far between, and mostly stock only mystery novels, so I'm going to have to be on the lookout for good literature.

REMEMBER..KEEP SCROLLING DOWN...LOOK AT THE PICTURES!

Chazz Out!

Pictorial Evidence!

2007-07-20T11:37:00.001-07:00

Ok, here's a selection of what I've been up to. I realized that I only took about 3 pictures while in Munich, and they were nothing to post here, and I've been so busy with riding that I don't have nearly as many images as I should, for the places I've been to. Even so, here's a decent array of the last week or so.

Jenni and I in the marvelous city of Nürnberg, on a romantic bridge in the old city section.

Jenni wondering why I am taking her picture while we were riding the train. I just liked the light of the setting sun and the scenic farmland whizzing by in the background.

Me as I was following the glacier-blue Isar river away from Munich. Tons of people raft and canoe on it, as well as lots of nude sunbathing (don't get excited...the average age is north of 45 and the average sex is predominantly Fat Male).

Cows. And Mountains. Need I say more? I think I should. It was fairly hazy the whole time I was in Southern Bavaria, so mountainscapes never came out as dazzling in photographs as I would have liked. Still though, pretty, right?

Castle Neuschwanstein, postcard shot.
Me posing with the castle in the background...not sure if you can even see it. I think it's fitting to include the car and highway in the shot, because the ugly reality of beautiful tourist destinations is that almost all of them have a paved pathway for the unwashed throngs to choke.
I left my campground early (630 or so) and rode up a steep hill out of this valley in Southwest Bavaria (near Nesswelwang, if you're interested) first thing in the morning. As I'm going slightly delirious lately, and have taken to talking to myself as I'm riding, I kept repeating a bad-ass catchphrase I made up for myself while riding ..."I like to do my climbing before breakfast!"
Sunburned and sweaty riding on the Swiss (southern) shore of the Bodensee. It is remarkably blue and clear, but there are scads of powerboats, ferries, and the like, and the thick hazy smog you can clearly see here makes you think that it can't be all that clean.

Finally, as I was in Switzerland for the only time on this trip, I couldn't not pay homage to my grandfather, fellow long distance bicycle tourer, and general enthusiast of all things Swiss (not to mention sailing, coincidentally). All fans and admirers of Kirk will recognize this pose, and all who don't will be as bewildered as the people down the road from me watching me run back and forth to my tripod mounted camera to set the self timer and go strike this pose quickly...the shadowy light and not-long-enough timer forced me to attempt the shot 4 or 5 times. Here's to you Grandpa!

Sunburned Daze

2007-07-19T09:48:00.000-07:00

ugh, for no apparent reason, I'm pushing myself to the limit almost every day. I rode 110 km today and yesterday, under blazing sun. I'm toasted to a crisp, and average about 5 liters of water intake per day. I made it to the western end of the Bodensee in one go today, to the town of Radolfzell.

There's nothing else really to my story, except that I went into Switzerland briefly today before ending the day back in Germany. I don't really know where I'm headed next, but hopefully I can figure that out tonight before I go to sleep. The goal now is to head northward, possibly along the Rhine river. I'll tell you more when I know more.

I go now, to trudge of to yet another nasty sausage restaurant, and then back to my guest house room to apply aloe to sunburns. In fact, my days are spent applying a one lotion or ointment after another. Moisturizer and aloe at night, sunblock in the morning, and this incredibly helpful stuff called Chamois butter, which you slather on the inside of your bicycle shorts to prevent--AHEM--chafing to your bicycle-seat area. Oh brother....another day in the books.

Super quick

2007-07-18T02:33:00.000-07:00

Im paying an exorbitant price for internet right now, but I dont know when my next chance will be, so I've got to make this quick...sadly, again, no image uploading.

I'm in the middle of a good day of riding, already done with 50 km (30 mi.) before lunchtime. I hope to make it to Lindau on the Bodensee by this afternoon.

The last two days have been just eye poppingly spectacular, it's hard to form anything into a real narrative while I'm in the midst of it like this, so here's a few highlights and snapshot memories...

-Rode for a whole day at the base of gigantic Alps, just looking up agape at them. It was very sunny, so people were paragliding and flying ultralite airplanes on the currents of warm air.

-Rode past the Castle Neuschwanstein. Search on Google images for it! Its out of a fairytale, and nestled inside these huge mountains.

-Tons of grazing cattle. They all wear cowbells that clang-clang as they walk around. Probably most surprising was while I was on a backcountry road through the low mountain forests, I suddenly came upon a dozen cows grazing in the thick forest. Really scared me, especially as all of my bicycle bags are bright red. TORO!

-Yesterday was the day of talking to people. Either in my stunted German or in halting English from the people I meet. I talked to 4 or 5 people, including a fellow long distance cycle tourer, a retired triathlete from Frankfurt, and a young kid and his grandmother at the guesthouse I stayed in. All were very interested in my journey, I think at least. While he could speak english far better than I could speak german, I had to chuckle at this phrase uttered by the other cyclist I talked to. After a long conversation about our destinations, etc., I started rolling away and called back over my shoulder "Nice talking to you! Have a good ride!" And he must have meant to say that he wishes me the same thing, but since it had been a while since he had spoken english, what came out of his mouth was "SAME TO ME!"

So for all of you who have been so kind in emailing me and cheering me on, I say to you.....SAME TO ME!!

Moving on

2007-07-16T00:33:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone for kind and supportive comments, Im feeling a little bit better this morning. Im just trying to keep my head down and ride as far as possible every day, cover some real ground.

Again , no photo capability, but I'll update you on my progress. After a tearful and pained goodbye at the airport, I rode south from Munich yesterday to the low alpine city of Bad Tölz, racking up over 70km, which is not bad for a half day. I'm now riding due West towards the Bodensee (Lake Constance in English) which is on the border of Germany and Switzerland. That should be about two days ride, on a flat path that allows me to enjoy the views of the Alps, with minor climbing, but lets me skip the torturous passes that I foolishly wanted to conquer earlier. At the Bodensee, I plan on riding north along the Rhine river, and I'll decide then how far I want to go...all the way to Bremen/The North Sea?...duck out early through Belgium for a ferry to the British Isles? Im not really sure. One thing I do know is that Im terrifically ahead of schedule, which is both satisfying and worrying, as I'll have a ton of time to kill once I'm in Ireland before school starts in late September...Oh well, I guess there are worse problems in the world.

One of these days, I promise I'll do a mass photo post, as Ive done an awful lot since I was last able to show you some images of my progress. This leg of the trip is extra lonely, which is hard because the scenery and countryside are the most beautiful yet, but without anyone to share it with, it just isn't the same. Im going to make the best of it though, and will keep you all posted along the way. Till then.

Probably the saddest I've ever been in my life...

2007-07-15T00:42:00.000-07:00

Is how is feel right now. Can't say its surprising, but Jenni just left (I write from Munich airport) and I am incredibly destroyed right now. I won't see her for 9 or 10 months (hopefully I can squeeze in a christmas or thanksgiving holiday), and I'm completely alone in Europe now. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but I feel as I just had my guts ripped out.

No real other point to this post...I'm going to try and ride my bike away from the city today, but it's really hard to think about anything other than Jenni right now. Ouch.

At least the countdown to farewell is over, and I've started the countdown to hello.

Talk to you later.

Big City

2007-07-12T07:52:00.001-07:00

I'm writing this from Munich, Germany. There's been some problems in the Internet Cafe arena, so I apologize for taking so long to update, and again, for not having pictures to include with the post. Anyhow, the pictures wouldn't be much to look at, just your run of the mill tourism shots...smiling and standing in front of something that's supposed to be famous. Not to say we haven't been having a blast and seeing some amazing things, but it probably wouldn't show well in photographs.

After staying in Regensburg for two days, we moved on to Nürnberg by train, and stayed for three nights. One day was just spent on our typical walk-round style of city absorbing, seeing stuff about the Nazi rallies, city history, etc. etc. etc.

One day from Nürnberg, we took a train to the oh-so magnificnet little cutesy village of Rothenburg ob der Tauber, inspiration for Disney movies and a complete, yet enjoyable, tourist trap.

Today, we arrived in Munich by train and are just sort of getting our bearings, two full days in the city to come. Jenni's leaving on Sunday the 15th, and after that, I will return to bike riding through small towns (cities are financially and physically depleting.) Otherwise, nothing big to report...still just moving along and enjoying everything I encounter. We'll be in touch!

2007-07-07T13:43:00.001-07:00

From hotel to hotel...
As Jenni continues to be on the mend, we took a train from Straubing to Regensburg (both in Germany, FYI) and are spending two nights in a hotel here, next to a Mercedes Benz Plant far outside of the city center. Apparently recent Pope Benedict spent part of his life here, and added to the fact that the old city center was recently named a UNESCO world heritage sight...tourism is WAY up for this city and there isn't a room to be had that lowly 20 somethings like us can afford. Still though, we made it here safely and are enjoying things nicely. We need to avoid camping for awhile to let Jenni's coccyx heal properly, which is fine with me. I never complained about plush living and all you can eat breakfast buffets.

We both agree that there isn't a whole hell of a lot to do on the traditional tourist path. In every city we've been to, it's all the same. See the huge cathedral. See the historic town square and Rathaus (town hall). Stagger around the city, eat stuff, buy stuff. Biking for 8 hours a day is, if nothing else, a really good time filler. Jenni is feeling way better today and hopefully we'll be able to hop back on our trusty steeds sometime in the next two or three days. She's a real hell of a trooper and is being tough as nails through this whole ordeal...getting sick or hurt in a foreign country is never pleasant, and she's been great through it all.

Something to mention here which more than one person has asked me about is the food. For the most part, totally nasty. All sausage, potatoes, and kraut. I mistakenly ordered this thing twice called a Berner Wurst which is two fatty sausages boiled, wrapped in strip bacon, and pan-fried. Usually served with fries. After our first two days of biking, and eating this crap for lunch and dinner we realized it was hindrance more than useful fuel. Not to mention, because it's traditional, it' overpriced. Since realizing our errors, our menu has been as follows:
-breakfast, either in our hotel, big spread of rolls, nutella, cold cuts and cheese, yoghurt, fruit. Or baked goods from local Bäckerei. Either way an excellent start to the day.
-lunch, bits and bobs from local grocery store, bought on the way to wherever we're headed for the day. WAY cheap and way tasty compared to the tourist trap garbage on the actual bike path.
-dinner, our new favorite food, apparently the most popular fast food in Germany...DÖNER KEPAP, which is a variation on the Gyro. It's completely ubiquitous, available in vegetarian combinations, really cheap (2-3 euros), quick, delicious....i could go on, but I think you get the point. I relate it to the similar deliciousness of Indian food in the UK compared to the soggy pub fare that it towers over--the migrated cuisine of the oppressed immigrants is always superior to the overfatted and bland indigenous (and coincidentally caucasian) food. Having said that, Germany has amazing baked goods, a fair (but not bragworthy) selection of fresh fruit and veg, from what I'm told, excellent beer, and a healthy outlook on breakfast and on living and eating in general, so credit where it's due and all.

Tomorrow, more tourist time waster stuff, I'll be sure to let you know how it goes. Here are some choice cuts from the photo library since the last post.

The Alpine foothills and cathedrals of Salzburg, Austria.

Train station in Regensburg. SO Many bikes. There are scenes like this all over Europe, but it's just an example of the respect for cycling as a way of getting around. Ever city we've been in has excellent bike paths, tons of awareness and respect, and just all around encouragement to use them. We've even seen more than one bike tube vending machine! Take a hint America.

Towering cathedral at Regensburg, a rare blue sky day. Uhh...the pope was there once or something. I don't really know.

Before the crash. Rain was threatening all day long, we had slept in a tent during a six hour long thunder and lightning tempest the night before, and had been riding into a direct 20 mph headwind for about 6 hours at this point. No pleasant faces here.

Waiting out a rain/hail storm under some tree cover. Still cheeful though!

The nicest day of biking yet, when we covered 100km under bright sun along the Danube. Here we are on a little bike ferry at the Schlögen Schlinge crossing in Schlögen, Austria. A Schlinge is a tight bend in the river, akin to the American English "Ox-Bow." Ahh...this is a memory of a better and more productive day than today. However, I'm not complaining. Every minute so far has been an educational one, and every day with Jenni before I don't see her for many months (school to start soon) is one that I savor. Ups and downs together make for a complex and excellent experience. Good night from Regensburg, Germany.

Double Ouch

2007-07-06T03:29:00.000-07:00

after experiencing some numbness stemming from her tailbone fall, Jenni and I thought it best to get her checked out in the hospital here in Straubing. A few XRays, a few hours of waiting, and some demonstrative bilingual conversations later, the verdict is that she's totally fine. She'll have a tender backside for a few days, so we're taking a detour from cycling for awhile. Not sure what the next move is yet. We'll be sure to keep you posted.

Pictureless for now

2007-07-05T08:16:00.000-07:00

I'm currently in an internet cafe that doesn't allow photo uploading, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Fortunately, there wasn't a heck of a lot to show. Over the last three days, we've just been following the Danube River bike trail, and all we've seen are small towns punctuated by large towns, serene riverside asphalt paths, and TONS of other cyclists.

We took a day off in Linz, Austria to take a train for the day to Salzburg. It is a small city at the foot of the Alps that is basically Disney land except actually old. There were tons of American tourists, tons of narrow and winding cobblestone streets (every city here has this) and some very cool castles, churches, and fortresses. I saw the house Mozart was born in, walked up this mountain to the castle of the town, and got to see a little bit more of Austria, which I really think is a magnificent country (from what I can tell after three days).

The next day, after pigging out on the Hotel's breakfast buffet (breakfast plays a big role in my day to day existence) we rode under the beating sun along the Danube all the way into Germany, to the town of Passau. 100KM day on the exceptionally flat and calm bike path. For google images highlights, check out the Schlögen Schlinge...we took a tiny bike ferry across the Danube at that particularly beautiful spot.

The trail in general seems to be a popular local vacation destination, as the trail runs hundreds of miles down the length of the river from its source in Germany through Austria, Slovakia, and Hungary. There are towns all the way along it, tons of places to eat and stay. We see probably twenty other bikers per hour for the whole day...a hell of a lot for a bike path. Trail surface and surroundings is not unlike the nice parts of the Burke Gilman trail, for the Seattle readers out there.

After Passau, we rode 80 more KM to Deggendorf...hell of a disgusting rainy day. Had to camp since we got there so late and left still soggy the next morning. Today we rode only 40km, since all morning was into a terrible headwind, and not too long after lunch, I turned in front of Jenni without telling her and made her fall down. OUCH! Nothing serious, just a sore backside and a shaken nerve, but after the wet 4th of July and the windy 5th, we were thrilled to have an excuse to stop early for the day, finding a modest hotel in the city of Straubing (where I write this now).

Except for today, we've been consistenly surpassing our daily mileage targets, and have some extra days on our hands. We need to be in Munich on the 12th, and we're getting kind of tired of this same monotonous, flat Danube river trail...so the itinerary is up in the air for now. I'll be sure to keep you all posted. We're both having our first pangs of homesickness, but hopefully some better days of weather and more satisfying exploration will quell that.

Until the next time, all the best. I really appreciate the comments from people...it's good to know this isn't falling on deaf ears.

Next Country, Please.

2007-07-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

WOW, sorry for not posting in forever. Didn't really have a chance to as I've been away from Internet until now. I'll try and recount the events of the last three days.

To start with the day we left Prague (touched briefly upon in my last post). After hearing the bike path out of the city was basically nonexistent and extremely traffic laden, we opted to take a train about 20 km south of the city center, getting off at a place called Cerceny. It was only about $3 each and supposedly would drop us off on a more usable bike route. Turned out the train was mayhem...trying to figure out how to leave Prague without really knowing the Czech language...crammed in an old and rickety train

We got off in Cerceny, and it was basically a post cold war town that never really got off its feet. As our first introduction to European cycle touring and rural Czech Republic, it kind of scared both of us. A kid was leading 8 naggy old horses down the middle of the road. The only cars were Soviet era rust buckets (TATRA, SKODA, etc.) and they all coughed syrupy black diesel smoke. We both wished we never got off the train, and didn't really knew what lay ahead.

Our saving grace was a tourist info center in nearby Tynec nad Sazavou, where an extremely helpful English speaking guide (he worked for a time in Ireland as an engineer) set us on the right track, and made sure we knew all that the Czech Republik had to offer as far as history and tourism. Basically, there's a cultural no mans land south of Prague that we were smack in the middle of. We needed to get to Benesov by bike, and take a train South to Ceske Budejovice, where the true beauty of Southern Bohemia really starts.

Again, a really cheap train ticket and by that night we were in Budejovice. (known as Budweis in German and home to the original Budweiser...which is a different entity than the Anheuser Busch corp. in USA). The train lifted our spirits tremendously. Again, it was a very old train, but all the sitting compartments were full, so for two hours we stood with our heads out of the windows, smiling into the wind as we barrelled south through Bohemia. There were lots of local people, two American tourists (Yanks are quite rare outside of Prague), and the experience was the kind of transportation I didn't know still existed...raw and exposed, really immersing you in the country. It was something I never planned on doing, but am SO glad I got to....kind of put me into the travelling reverie that I had always enviously read about in books, but never thought still existed in the modern world.

On to Budejovice...Fabulous town square, beautiful farmland surroundings, old city...all around dream to arrive in, especially after our hellacious morning. We had both hit a low of fearful homesickness and travelling jitters, and our arrival in Budejovice was the perfect cure to it all. It's difficult to feel that good when you haven't been broken down first.

Next day, the opposite feelings! Fabulous morning, horrendous afternoon. There was a proper bike path from Ceske Budejovice to the Southern Bohemian town of Cesky Krumlov, passing through an ancient Cistercian Monastery called Zlata Koruna. The ride to ZK was amazing...through farmland, beautiful weather, 20 mi. or so of low rolling hills and long flats...everything you could ask for. We continued on to CK, more beauty, finally arriving in the old city, a UNESCO world heritage site for being so gosh darn old and beautiful. We lunched there and planned the second half of our day.

The map showed a bike path south to the town of Rozmberk nad Vltavou, where we could find a campground and be close to the Austrian border for the next day's travel. Turns out the trail was repeated stretches of disused highways, winding up and down small mountains, lots of cracked pavement and gravel, absolutely ZERO in terms of commerce, culture, or any signs of salvation. It buried our spirits again. We were forced to walk up the impossibly steep roads (20% or more grade, gravel or dirt, and loaded with heavy bikes...my loaded ride is over 75 lbs). It took us four hours to cover only about 11km, as half of it involved exasperated route finding and slowly trudging uphill while pushing our bikes. We had to cover serious ground before Rozmberk, and at about 6 pm we found ourselved 10km away and at the top of a road that was seriously 100% SAND. This is completely impassable on a bike, let alone a heavily loaded one. We were across the Vltava River (Czech Rep.s main river) from a campground and snackbar, and the highway. Our wild and rugged bank of the river offered no easy passage to Rozmberk, and the only way to get across was to ford the river on a sunken concrete road. We unloaded the bikes and carried the stuff across in shifts...although it was hard, it was very fun and adventuresome...not to mention it gave us easy access to a paved road which took us to the crowded mayhem of the Rozmberk camp. Camping here is a lot like going to a refugee camp or some sort of outdoor music festival. Tons of people crammed into a huge field, drinking, grilling, singing, playing. As a cloistered American, its very off putting at first, but I eventually grew to appreciate the joy and sense of fun these people have. The camp was right on the banks of the Vltava, and lots of people show up in canoes and pull up on the banks to camp. There were food vendors and a really lively atmosphere. Luckily also, Southern Bohemia gets a lot of Austrian tourism, so my rudimentary German was vital in communicating in situations where I don't really know what else we could have done.

As our last stop in the Czech Republic, it gave me a good sense of the people here. They are FAR poorer than USA, UK, or Germans, but they seemed very happy in their communal recreation. They make do with what they have basically. 15 years out from under the Iron Curtain is not that long, and they are slowly building their tourism. Jenni and I both felt bad about our initial displeasure with the country, writing it off as near third world and unable to offer any real fun or beauty. In the end, its a fabulous place, and just because it doesnt have all the major comforts of ours, doesnt make it inferior at all. Dekuji Ceska Republiky!

Next morning (today)...we were about 15 km from the Austrian border. Woke up at about 430 AM (still not completely free of time change jetlag) and quickly got moving, leaving the campsite at about 6. Austria is COMPLETELY different than the downtrodden Czech Republic. Even the small towns were completely prosperous, freshly paved, impeccable cleanliness. We stopped for coffee in the adorable mountain hamlet of Zwettl (in the Mühlviertel region), and made our way up a semi steep mountain pass (1000m). We were flagged to the side of the road by passing police motorcycles, and watched a semipro bike race go by. It was some sort of international youth class, but they all seemed to be in their late teens or early twenties. It was a proper race, with dozens of support vehicles and all. Very cool to witness in person.

After we summited the pass at Glasau, we had an AWESOME descent (losing about 650 m in elevation) , twisting and turning downhill at an average of 30 mph for about 5 miles, into the city of Linz, Austria (where I write this from). We covered 35 miles by lunch time, and feeling well accomplished and slightly sunburned, decided to call it a day.

After an up and down couple of days, we are riding high right now. Austria and Germany are much more full of creature comforts (albeit at a higher price) and MUCH more well signed bike paths. Tomorrow the plan is to leave our bikes in the hotel here, take a train to the city of Salzburg, spend the night in Linz again, and then on July 3rd begin the Danube trail bike path, which we'll take all the way to Regensburg, Germany, over 5 or 6 days. Things are looking up, and I'm really getting things out of this trip in ways that I never imagined. Sorry about the incoherent narrative, I tried to cram 3 days of action into this post, and I know I sound like a rambling fool. Hope everyone at home is excellent, and if you want a postcard, email me (ckstadtlander@gmail.com) your mailing address. Lots of love to all, Jenni says HI as well. We'll be in touch!

Just czeching in

2007-06-29T03:08:00.000-07:00

Dont know how often Ill be able to post, so Im doing it whenever I have the opportunity. Right now we are in Tynec nad Sazavou, south of Prague a bit. Kind of a hellacious trip on a rickety old train...think Soviet surplus...that let us off in a town that looked like the beginning of the Borat movie, if youre familiar with that.

Things are better now, we have our bearings in the beautiful Bohemian countryside, and are going to make our way through the small towns here, for another day or two. No pix as of yet, but youll hear and see more in the time to come. Just know that both Jenni and I are safe and sound. Love to all, talk to you when I talk to you.

CoolPix

2007-06-28T06:48:00.001-07:00

Completely jumbled array of images...just want to get them out of the way while I'm in this internet cafe...in the future if I have more leisure I'll embed them properly within my posts.

Straight chillin' @ JFK airport...last time my feet set foot on US soil...err concrete for a year.

The Humdinger of a breakfast at Dublin International
Charles Bridge, Prauge Czech Republic

Again, Charles bridgeLarge and twisted Cemetery in Prague
From the heights of Prague castle looking over the city's red, red rooves
Wenceslas Square, Prague still.

Praha

2007-06-28T06:37:00.000-07:00

Writing this at the end of a fruitful day in Prague.

Flight from Dublin to Prague was short and smooth, no problems there. Met Jenni no problem in the not-so-big Prague Airport. Everything was shaping up to be a smooth transition from the airport into our prebooked hotel. THEN! When I left my gate (and terminal wing) to meet Jenni, it turns out that I also left behind my privileges into the appropriate baggage claim. A moderately helpful staff behind a language barrier did not help the problem, and for about an hour of not being able to get to my bag it looked like I was headed for a mini-crisis. Lot's of hair pulling, hand wringing, and out-loud cursing (the plus side of the language barrier) later, I managed to talk my way into getting back to the proper baggage claim.

Taxi into the city centre...Jenni hooked us up with a sweet hotel right in the thick of it. We were both jetlagged and fell asleep immediately, only to simultaneously wake up at about 345 AM...big time zone change, can't really explain it. We started walking the city at about dawn, and by now (roughly 4pm) we've covered almost all of it. Lots of great old European streets, churches, history, inlaid stone, the famous astronomical clock, bridges, Vltava river, Pilsner beers...etc. etc. etc. By and large, I feel like most cities I've been to are the same. There are, of course, the undeniable unique and charming aspects to anywhere, but most places are just a sea of the typical tourist BS amidst a relatively small amount of allure. Overall thumbs up to Prague as a city...definitely visit if you ever get the chance, I'm just lukewarm of the whole idea of urban-based tourism. I live my life in a city, am I really in that much of a rush to see another one?

Plans for tomorrow:
-train out of Prague, southbound to the small town of Tynec nad Sazavou
-ride bicycle from Tynec nad Sazavou to semi-larger town of Tabor, spend the night there (hopefeully another internet update)
-continue southward in the Czech Republic to Ceske Budejovice and Cesky Krumlov...one or two additional days
-Cross the Austrian border and proceed with a new itinerary.

Halfway There

2007-06-27T05:21:00.001-07:00

I'm in the midst of my seven hour layover @ Dublin International. Getting awfully bored. The security must be eyeing me, because I've basically been walking laps around the airport to keep myself busy (the last thing I want to do after the flight here and preceding another one this afternoon is to sit down for seven hours).

My anxiety peaked right before I boarded the plane. The last loved one I saw on American soil was my Aunt Pitsy, and as I sat in the JFK Au Bon Pain with her, I was having a mini freak out about leaving the country for good. Nothing like a nauseating transatlantic flight to quell any fears and trepidations you might have. Now my only worry is getting my air-time completed as quickly as possible.

I snoozed hardcore on the flight over, arrived in Dublin at about 10 Am, and knocked myself silly with a full Irish breakfast (scramby eggs, brown bread toast, baked beans, sauteed mushrooms, fried tom-ah-to, sausage, black pudding, two rashers of bacon, and brown sauce). I won't need to eat for several days now.

Got a newspaper and tried my hand at the always challenging British/Irish cryptic crosswords...got nowhere. Not many of you are fellow puzzlers, but for those who have tried one of these, they are the Holy Grail of difficult solving.

Basically just killing time before my flight leaves in about two and a half more hours, it was just short enough of a layover to not be able to go into the city and back, but long enough to bore me silly. Luckily the flight to Prague is a short one. Digimon is on the television on the wall.

Somewhere out there right now, Jenni is probably equally bored on a long layover in Paris...long distance smooch to her! We'll be reunited this evening. So long from Baile Átha Cliath

Sunrise and Sunset

2007-06-25T17:41:00.000-07:00

Ok, Ok, one more. After snapping a few choice shots, decided to make one farewell post while I'm in New Jersey. First shot is in the grey dawn yesterday in SeaTac Airport, second one is in the sultry sunset over the Watchung Mountains in Passaic County, New Jersey (outside of my Aunt Pitsy's house in Little Falls) Aside from the dense power lines and thick smoggy haze, you can almost mistake Northeastern Jersey for Costa Rica.

So this'll be it for sure. Tomorrow evening, I'm off for good. I'll update as often as I am able, please stay in touch via email and comment on here as often as you like (it'll help me feel less lonesome to know you're out there). Czech Ho!

No More Lovely Locks

2007-06-21T21:44:00.000-07:00

This will probably be the last post made on American soil, as I've packed up pretty much everything I'll need for the next year into either A) Bike trip luggage, to be taken on the plane with me, or B) School clothes and books for Dublin, to be mailed by Jenni to me in September, once I've arrived at my final destination. The computer and digital camera are pretty much the last two items to be sealed up.

I'm leaving on Sunday morning for New Jersey (Newark Liberty!), where I'm staying for just one day and two nights with my Aunt Pitsy. On Tuesday, I fly from NYJFK to Dublin, where I've got an 8-hour layover before continuing on to Prague. It's sure to be one of those hellacious travel extravaganzas, where I'll basically be a jetlagged zombie when I arrive in Prague. Luckily, Jenni's plane lands at almost the exact same time, so the two of us will be able to stagger our way through the foreign speaking city together. Hopefully we can arrive at our hotel without being pickpocketed by gypsies.

As a final preparation, I've gotten my first crew-cut in about twelve years. As much as I enjoyed long hair, it would have been just too much maintenance and hassle to have throughout the trip. This way, I need to bring a lot less shampoo and my helmet can actually fit my head (made FAR larger by an unruly mop).

These days I'm feeling very fluttery, as the excessive planning (exhibited vastly in the posts below) has taken it's toll on me. I'm quite glad that the fated day is almost upon me, so I can stop all of my taxing speculation and worrying.

Just as an experiment to see how my physique will change with three solid months of vigorous exercise, let me just record my vital signs for posterity:
- Weight, 180 lbs.
- Resting heart rate, 60 bpm.
- Body fat....dunno for sure, but I am a little soft around the middle, definite room for improvement!

Here are before/after shots, both goofy hairdos.

Ouchee!

2007-06-14T21:53:00.000-07:00

I got a couple long-overdue immunizations yesterday...tetanus/diptheria booster and Hepatitis A...there's a couple more I could have opted for, but I am not currently covered by insurance, and I paid for these shots out-of-pocket and the Public Health clinic in the city here. I skipped the ones that aren't absolutely vital (Hepatitis B, Meningitis, Rabies, etc.). Sad to risk disease just to save a couple bucks (more like $300), but I suppose that's the state of modern healthcare.

The immunizations are mostly needed just for the Czech Republic, as the food-borne Hep-A rate is a bit higher because it's Eastern Europe, and I think any time that I might risk taking a spill on the asphalt in farm country near piles of horseshit necessitates an up-to-date tetanus status. Otherwise, the countries I'm going to are on the up and up, disease-wise. Side effect of the vaccinations are flulike symptoms for a day or two, so I'm kind of laid up right now, achy and such.

Once I get back on my feet tomorrow, it'll be a mad rush to get everything packed up and ready for the trip. I guess I knew this already, but yesterday was the first time that I truly felt that as of next Tuesday, I won't be setting foot in America for an entire year. Kind of late in the game to be making this realization, eh?

Weekend Shakedown

2007-06-06T09:35:00.000-07:00

Jenni and I went for a test-ride this past weekend, taking along the full arsenal of living and camping supplies, and using them over two days and one night, just to make sure everything would fit properly on the bikes and that we wouldn't be debilitated by the physical demands. The good news is that all equipment worked properly and we were more than capable of holding up our end of the bargain (pushing the pedals). The bad news is that I forgot to bring my camera, so there is no pictorial evidence.

We drove north of Seattle about an hour to the coastal town of Anacortes, at which point we parked our car and took our bikes on the ferry to the San Juan Islands, Puget Sound's equivalent of the Greek Mediterranean Isles: A serene and highly coveted vacation destination. When taking a car across on the ferry, waiting times can sometimes soar over 6 hours (especially on the mainland-bound route), but we could just roll onto the first boat that came with our bikes. We carried basically the entire load we'll have in Europe, save for maybe an extra set or clothes or two.

Day one was a loop ride around San Juan Island, the hub of the island group...highly touristy and more populated than the rest. The circumference route we took covered roughly thirty-five miles over up-and down farmland and cliffside coastal roads...it was absolutely smashing scenery and a vigorous, semi-hilly (supposedly over 2,000 feet of net elevation gain) route. We disembarked from the morning ferry at about 11 AM and were back in the island's main village of Friday Harbor by about 2:30 for lunch and rest. We took another ferry in the late afternoon to the adjacent Lopez Island, much more rural and quiet, where we camped for the night on a geographically fascinating landform named Spencer Spit. In the morning we rode a peaceful loop around the much flatter Lopez Island, roughly 25 more miles, and made the 11 AM ferry back to Anacortes. Not to sound too much like a tourism brochure, but for anyone from out of the area, a visit to the San Juan Islands is another great reason to check out the Pacific Northwest.

Although it was difficult at times, Jenni and I both agreed that our mileage goals and pace-keeping are well within our physical means, and we are both game for the rugged outdoor living. I still plan on finding a hostel/hotel/indoor sleeping arrangement every two days or so, as I'll need a soft bed, hot shave and shower as often as I can find. It is probably the only test-training that we'll get, so next stop after this is the real thing.

No more buying bike supplies!?

2007-05-27T16:52:00.000-07:00

Now I know I've said this before, but this time I honestly think that I've purchased everything I'll need for the bike trip. There will always be some further item I can talk myself into getting, but I can theoretically take off tomorrow on a multi-month bicycle tour, and be fully and safely outfitted for the entire expedition. On second thought, I decided on adding two additional bags on either side of my front wheel. I figured that in living off of this one vehicle for three months, I'll need every square cubic inch of storage space that I can muster.

I did a test run today for a couple miles, using everything that I'll think I will need to take along (give or take). Not too horrible at all. The total bike is heavy as hell (maybe 50 lbs of gear + 20 lbs of bike) and not horribly maneuverable, but once you get going, it's fairly easy to keep up speed on flat ground. The trouble comes in when you ride up a hill, but it won't be a race!

Next step in my normal training regimen is a shakedown tour or two, make sure everything is where it should be and will hold up for as long as possible. Getting close.....errrr!

Take one empty, unloaded, and highly agile bicycle...

Throw in the bare minimum of clothes...roughly three sets each of t-shirts, underwear, and socks (one to wear, one to tote around dirty and wash in the sink at night, and one to have drying from the night before), two pair bicycle shorts and one pair of long cool-weather bicycle tights (similar wash cycle), bicycle shoes, helmet, bicycle hats for scalp sunburn protection and general cool factor while not on a bike, and bicycle gloves (oh snap...I just realized I forgot to pack street shoes. Not a big deal, I had the room in the end and its barely any additional weight...just an example of how many little items I'm going to need to remember)

Equipment. Water bottles, lock, steel cable for heavy duty locking, pump, spare tubes/tire, lights for safety at night, repair kit, lubricants for various parts of the bike.

Informational books. In the end, I'm not going to bring any tour books other than the big orange atlas. Maps will be widely available in Europe, but for now this atlas has been my planning bible.

Other bits and bobs: Novels to pass the time, first aid kid, passport, writing notebooks, headlamp, camping plates/pans (on second thought, I might leave this at home, as I'm most likely not going to be carting around a stove and/or eating at my tent. I plan to eat on the go from local restaurants and markets....no portable dinnerware required)

The tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad (all as lightweight and small-size as I can muster...bike wheel shown for size comparison)

The bags I'm going to stuff it all into. From top going counter clockwise: small front panniers, large rear panniers, rear trunk rack, front handlebar bag, and a lightweight and highly packable (compressed to about the size of a single-serving snack size of Frito's Scoops corn chips...they have maximum dippability!) daypack for use when I'm away from my bike.

The view of my cockpit (a view shown in Tour De France coverage...and far more exciting there). Mine is just a simple cyclocomputer (counting in km/h of course!) and the clear top of my handlebar bag for carrying folded up maps for easy viewing.

The total bike, racked up and fully loaded with everything you see above.

The cool-dude rider and the trusty steed after a long day of packing and assembling things for no particular reason other than to take photographs of it all and then stow it neatly back inside the closet!

any questions?

I'm still here

2007-05-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

Sorry for not posting in some time. The general business of catching up with friends and family has occupied much of my time. I'm currently staying with my father in Trumansburg, NY , where he now lives with his marvelous fiancee, Cathy. They live together on forty+ acres, complete with a river running through it, a proper swimmin' hole, humongous vegetable garden, and a perfectly cozy and rustic farmhouse. I've been here a few days, and it's been splendid so far. Being a mostly lifelong city boy, I feel like Huck Finn out here.

Yesterday we drove north from T-Burg to Chimney Bluffs State Park, on the southern shore of Lake Ontario, where striking clay cliffs rise abruptly from the chilly waters. It was a cold and rainy day, and however unpleasant the weather, we got to enjoy the cliffs all by ourselves. It was also a great road trip north through the lovely small villages of the finger lakes region of New York State.

Over the past few days here, I've been leafing through some books by a noted local author named Arch Merrill. He wrote lots of books about local geography, history, and culture, my two favorite so far being Slim Fingers Beckon and A River Ramble. The former is a colorful portrait of each of the ten bodies of water that comprise the Finger Lakes and the towns surrounding them, including Indian history here (referred to in the book as "The Red Men"), significance in colonial, Revolutionary, and Civil War periods, and the modern (err...at least the 1940s, when he wrote the book) presence of the lakes and towns. In the other book, which takes place during World War 2 when gasoline was being rationed and recreational driving was banned, Arch decides to walk the entire length (130 miles) of the Genessee River from its source at a spring in the Pennsylvania Alleghenies to its outlet into Lake Ontario at Rochester, NY. It's funny, interesting, informative, and engaging to read in a way that a lot of boring travel writing never is. Merrill never really gained notoriety outside of this corner of New York State, but it doesn't really seem like he was trying to.

Although it isn't serious, heavy literature, it really seizes upon the essence of the joy of reading and writing to me. At a time when I'm simultaneously embarking on a massive and colorful journey of my own and attempting a career in writing, these dusty old volumes come as a great inspiration to me. There are so many ways to poorly execute travel and/or adventure writing. Nearly everything that gets published is by people who are too involved with themselves and their personal achievement that they can't relate to their reader at all. For a profession as self-indulgent as sitting at a desk recounting your experiences and thoughts on paper, a writer needs, in the end, to be selfless...always considering the greater work and the reader's involvement with it. Arch Merrill, you can join the ranks of Paul Theroux, Joshua Slocum, Bill Bryson, and Tim Severin...the few travel/adventure nonfiction writers I have thus far felt truly make someone want to read what they have to say about something.

Here are some choice cuts from the Photo Department of the offices of Chazzmeister on the Move.

My father actin' a fool, doing his daily routine of taking care of the chickens.

Jack working hard to snap a shot of the chimney bluffs.

My dad and Cathy starting the day.

Postcard shot of the cliffs in the mist.

Mini Move

2007-05-03T16:53:00.000-07:00

Home today to New Jersey. Hellacious flight (what flight isn't?), almost lost my lunch on the descent...but I pulled through. Thumbs up to the weather in New Jersey...digging on the sunshine and warmth of Spring. This area is far more hospitable in the spring than in the muggy dog days. Three weeks on this coast...brother Jack's graduation from Manhattan's School of Visual Arts, QT with Mom in Essex County and Dad in and around Ithaca, NY, catch up with old friends, generally chill out. I have no real contact other than email (and myspace and blog comments), but you have nothing important to tell me anyway, right?

Here are some choice images...me, completely ragged @ 6 am in Sea-Tac, and my mom and dog-Martha.

Kick it up a notch...BAM!

2007-04-26T10:17:00.000-07:00

So last week Jenni confirmed her attendance with me on the first three weeks of the bike trip. NICE! We won't get to fly to Europe together, but we'll be landing at Prague airport within a few hours of each other. After spending a day or two in the big city doing the sightseeing thing, we're riding to Munich, where Jenni has a departing flight from approximately 2.5 weeks thereafter. Last night was an excellent session of in-detail trip planning...the level of which I haven't really done yet. We budgeted daily mileage (roughly 40/day), figured out which towns to stop in, and even came up with about four extra sightseeing days (i.e. no cycling necessary...or else cycling to off the beaten path attractions). Terribly happy that she's coming with!

Lately, I've been feeling bouts of hesitation about plunging into such a large endeavor. It's definitely something I want to do, and something I'm going to do, but the expected panic attacks from fearing if something goes wrong are coming little by little. What it comes down to is an overlong period of anticipation and planning. I've been obsessing for so long, a form of being a control-freak, trying to account for every possible what-if under the sun. I need to stop thinking and start doing! Soon enough, soon enough.

What the *!%@ ??!!??

2007-04-23T07:56:00.000-07:00

First, let me begin by saying that both me and my bicycle are 100% unscathed. Yesterday, on a beautiful sunny afternoon, I was riding from my house on a loop around the southern tip of Lake Washington, and much to my surprise was hit by a car. I was riding completely in the middle of a painted bike lane, kind of spacing out (but not straying from a straight riding path AT ALL) and riding at a moderate pace when a minivan clipped my left elbow with its mirror. The mirror folded back (luckily it was that type of mirror), and then the van didn't even swerve away from me...I bounced off the side of it a couple times as it kept driving past me. Luckily I was pretty relaxed and could maintain stability as I got sideswiped.

I kind of did a double take, like "Did that just really happen?!" and before I knew what to do the van was already like 10 meters ahead of me (out of license-plate viewing range) and despite my best efforts to sprint ahead to catch up, the car drove away. FUCK THEM! I never even saw who did it, they never even stopped to see if I was ok, and worst of all, they didn't have the clarity of mind to avoid hitting me in the first place. Further evidence of the disenfranchisement cyclists get on the road! Both major routes to get from North seattle to downtown via bicycle right now are severely impaired due to multi-year-long road constructions, even in a supposedly bicycle friendly city like this, bike lanes are sparse and mostly shitty when you can find them. Grrr.....arrrgh. Enough now. Just because somebody has the common sense to choose cycling as transport, both personally and environmentally healthy, they have to be disrespected?? I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!

Even Better!

2007-04-12T09:26:00.000-07:00

Word came in this morning that I got accepted to Trinity College in Dublin, for the same type of one-year Master's degree in Creative Writing. This is a big step up over the original school I was headed for (National University of Ireland in Galway), and a pretty cool change of plans for me. It's a tad more expensive, but from what I've read and heard, an opportunity not to missed if offered (like I was). It's in the big city and it's the oldest (1592) and best university in the country. I think I've gotta go for it.

Canadian T Shirt

2007-04-11T15:12:00.000-07:00

It might be a gross misconception, but more than one person has warned me about anti-American sentiment in Europe. The only travel accounts I've been able to find are by well-to-do middle-aged folks with plenty of money to spend. Travellers like this are everybody's favorite, so ill will probably didn't apply in their trips. I'm beginning to wonder how real it'll be. I think that a lot of the initial Iraq animosity must have faded by now, and if not, people hopefully are starting to realize how disconnected GW Bush is from American people.

I didn't think much, and in trying to purchase the largest water bottles I could find, I bought two of these :

I suppose it isn't as bad as Tasmanian Devil/Screamin' Eagle mudflaps that read BACK OFF, but you never know what sort of signal could set off a particularly passionate, perhaps slightly intoxicated European to acts of theft or vandalism. In the end, I'm sure it won't be a problem, and I can always fall back on my gift of gab to talk my way out of any potential hotspots...even though my contemporary political German vocabulary ends at Die Vogelgrippe...BIRD FLU!

One solution I've read about is for Americans to portray themselves--through stickers, patches, or t-shirts-- as Canadian citizens. Europeans couldn't possibly tell the nuanced accent differences, right? Besides, a Vancouver resident has more in common with a Seattleite than a Los Angelino does with a New Jerseyan. However, I might be kind of annoyed if I were Canadian to hear that chumps from down south were piggybacking on my good name in the international affairs arena. I doubt I'll do this...it's too much of a playful lie to keep up and mostly ridiculous. besides, I don't think I could earnestly wear this:

Buhhhh....

2007-04-05T12:05:00.000-07:00

Another week with nothing significant to report. Time is really starting to fly by now, only three more weeks (or so) until I leave my job and one week after that I go to New Jersey for a sorely-missed long visit with family and friends, from May 3rd-24th. Make sure to clear your calendars. May 24th- June 24th will be spent in Seattle, tying up all necessary loose ends involved in spending a year overseas...securing private health insurance (hopefully less of a hassle in Europe than in the medical Circus of the USA), securing all necessary Irish VISA stuff, training training training, and just generally chilling out for the first time in years. Maybe once we reach a certain age, carefree days are supposed to be gone forever...I don't know.

Minor talk lately of girlfriend Jenni joining me for a short leg of the trip (Prague to Vienna or Prague to Munich)...which would be super stellar. I'm kind of losing the bravado and machismo I originally had surrounding the trip, the notion that I must complete it all, without motor assistance, without companionship from anybody else, etc. I think it'll be a quest no matter what form my itinerary takes. Having Jenni along would be great, especially at the beginning of the trip, to ease me in to the culture shock. Even if she doesn't come with, she's being the absolute best that I could ask for regarding total support at every step of the way, and I can't really thank her enough. Without her prodding, I would never have undertaken either the bike trip or the master's degree...this will be a momentous year in my life and Jenni is largely responsible for sparking it off. Thanks babe!

Bicycling-related : another good long training ride after work this week, doing a small race this afternoon after work ...Seattle is just about the best place to be a cyclist, recreational or otherwise. Jenni and I took a bicycle only path on about a 50 mile round trip past lake, river, farmland, and *ahem* of course lots of suburbia--a trail that passes within a block of our apartment. Also, a great local competitive racing circuit, great for all skill levels (including my level...the lowest one), many frequent races that are either in the city or just outside. For any potential visitors that may be reading, if you are ever in Seattle, a day's bike ride is one of the best things the city has to offer.

Oh Boy

2007-03-30T09:54:00.000-07:00

Haven't really posted here in awhile, but generally not much to say at this stage of the game. Couple points to hit on:

- I'm still wrapping up the final placement of my spot at the college in Ireland (the drawn-out process is making me a little bit nervous). I made an immediate overnight wire transfer of funds for deposit like a week ago and still haven't heard from the school, which I'm sure is fine...but in the heightened state of anticipation I've been in for the past few months, I get thrown whenever an answer isn't given to me immediately. It's not the school's problem, it's mine. Everything will work out, and I've got to let it work itself out without any intervention from me.

- The transmission of this deposit basically means that National University of Ireland in Galway will be my final destination. There's still an off chance...very, very off...that I will get accepted to Trinity College in Dublin, at which point I'll have some thinkin' to do. With an opportunity to study at a prestigious place like that, I'd be a fool to pass it up for the sake of retaining a $300 deposit at Galway. One of many bridges that I'll need to cross if and when I come to them.

- Bicyling...I'm finding that the bike I'm taking on my European trip is growing to be a non-stop tinkerfest. Little add-ons and parts are constantly taken on and off, minor adjustments to the riding position, regular maintenance, etc. I'm going to need to bring a modest little tool-kit, especially for two full months of day to day riding. Human engineering and machinery does provide pretty reliable equipment, but I think I'm going to be taking a middle-of-the-road bicycle on a grueling and mechanically demanding trek. One of many unknown variables!
Otherwise, several continued training rides--including one particularly foolhardy endeavor of riding 45 miles right after work. I sorely lost my way in the ridiculously sprawling suburban Eastside of King County and didn't get home until after the sun set, legs cramped and sore. Despite the pain, I think it's necessary that I continue to develop my physical cycling ability, as I'm going for no ride in the park, and I'll need to be capable and ready for whatever comes along. Onward!

In this lull of activity, I'll try and invent things to say on a semi-regular basis.

The Final Piece of the Puzzle

2007-03-21T14:12:00.000-07:00

My last "if" was finally answered this morning. I received notice of acceptance to the Creative Writing Master's program at the National University of Ireland in Galway, Ireland...commencing in early September, 2007. This, apart from being pretty major to me, is a key component in planning for the bicycle trip. I know that I'm starting in Prague, but until now I didn't know where I was ending. So now, I will head south from Prague Bavaria and Southern Germany, enter Austria and cross into Switzerland (perhaps with a 1-2 day sidetrack into the Italian Alps, to fulfill a visitation to a classic cycling road, the Stelvio Pass)--finally, depending on how fast I've traveled through these countries and how much time I have left, my options will be :

A- If I've got a couple weeks to spare, I'll take the ferry from either Rotterdam, Netherlands or Oostende, Belgium to the eastern coast of England (either Kingston-on-Hull or Ramsgate), add a mini-tour of England to my itinerary, and hop one final ferry from Swansea, Wales to Cork, Ireland

B - If I'm down to the wire, I'll need to ferry from Ste-Pol-de-Leon, France straight to Cork, at which point I'll either ride or take the train the final 130 miles up to Galway.

This is still all the same thing I've been doing...lot's of map-gazing and mental route tracing. Everything is still a long way off, but the course is being laid down, little by little, and things will be coming up quicker than I expect.

Land of the Free

2007-03-20T11:46:00.000-07:00

In planning some of the day-to-day riding in Europe, I noticed something that doesn't really seem to exist in America, something that I noticed to a smaller degree in the UK last summer as well--an overwhelming public desire to have shared paths for long-distance, non-motorized transport.

http://www.bicyclegermany.com
http://www.cycling-in-switzerland.ch
http://www.pragueviennagreenways.org/

These are all resources for the public cycling and walking paths--or at the very least little-used roads ideal for cycling--that cover thousands and thousands of miles, crisscrossing these relatively small countries (For example, Switzerland is 15,940 square miles, only about the size of New Jersey, Connecticut, and Rhode Island put together). Moreover, these roads and trails are publicly funded and endorsed. In Germany, one can get between some cities, often miles and miles apart, on off-highway trails that are completely bicycle dedicated. And in England, Jenni and I encountered public walking trails (admittedly, more recreational than transportational) that covered hundreds of miles, crossing into Wales and Scotland. These trails go through dozens and dozens of small villages with food, farms, and lodgings, cut across privately owned farms (legally) and are used, supported, encouraged, and appreciated. Bicycling across America (or parts of it) right now involves freeways and RV-dodging that are at least unpleasant and at most hazardous.

Although America's size prohibits extensive construction of improved pathways for something like this, there are lots of enclaves of the country that could benefit greatly non-car roads. It would detract from the emphasis on car-centered culture that's both paved over pretty things, and contributed to pollution and Americans' ballooning waistlines. And aside from actually constructing the paths, a huge step would be merely opening the access to the trails. I could never imagine convincing private-land-owning Americans to agree to let public rights of way cross through their property, no matter how thin the trail and no matter how huge their property. I think it's got to have something to do with the Frontier mentality, the notion of finding an expanse of land, fencing it off and then trying your damnedest to make sure no trespassers step foot on it. I know we'll never have the socialist mindset of Europeans, but it's refreshing to know that another school of thought exists for how to accommodate people who choose not to drive cars everywhere they go.

T-O-O-C

2007-03-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

Temporarily out of commission, physically speaking. I think the events unfolded as follows :
- On a lark, I did the bicycle race on Sunday.
- Not being in peak physical condition, the extreme (relatively so) exertion took the wind out of my sails, so to speak, and lowered my immune system as my body recovered.
- My mind did not correspond with my body. On Monday morning, I rode my bike to work, wearing not nearly enough clothing. Having raced, I felt like a bicycling behemoth, incapable of being thrown from my steed.
- I was swiftly and severely dismounted, slipping in a patch of mud and slapping my left side (elbow, shoulder, hip) hard on the cold morning concrete. I was 200 yards away from my front door, and if I acted sensibly, I would have turned around, changed out of the ridiculous spandex, and taken the bus to work.
- My foolishness got the better of me, and I rode on through the damp, gray, chilled Seattle morning.
- By Monday night, I had a full-blown headcold; blowing my nose and hacking up gobs as my throat inflamed and swelled.
- I took Tuesday off of work and I am not better yet. I haven't sat on a bicycle since Monday afternoon.

Summation: Bonehead moves on my part.
Lesson learned: always know my limits, be prepared for inclement weather, and think ahead. If I pull something like this early on in my trip, I could be nursing a cough or a sore hip for a week in one place, not making any headway (yet probably making lots of blog posts about touristy escapades). It's a delicate balance I'm setting my self up on, somewhere between a relaxing vacation and a grueling expedition, halfway between pleasure and torture, indulgence and masochism. I'm realizing lately that there will be nobody to help me if I'm sick, keep me company if I'm lonely in a foreign place, or provide a general character foil/sounding board. Is this wise? I'm not sure. Maybe the unsureness is the answer I'm seeking, maybe it's one step further in the direction of general foolhardiness. I'll be sure to let you know when I find out!

Ouch

2007-03-12T11:08:00.000-07:00

Stupid mistake riding to work this morning. I fiddled with my gears before I left and on the way to work I looked down as I was shifting, stopped paying attention to the road, and got hung up on a little lip of pavement that I was crossing parallel-wise. Bike slid out from under me, Chazz went down. Smacked my elbow and hip pretty good, but no real damage other than a couple of hours of hobbling around this morning. Most of all, I was pretty shaken up at my own ignorance, and it made me realize that I'll really have to be on my A-game in Europe, navigating foreign roads and traffic patterns, searching for proper directions, and riding day-in-day-out for months. I think that just based on the law of averages, I'm going to at least take a spill or three on gravelly turns, hopefully not anything worse than that. Nothing I can do besides stay light and limber, and pay attention.

Racing

2007-03-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

Not direct trip preparation, but general bicycle fitness. Did my first (semi-) long distance bicycle road race today, with my good friends and general activity buddies Pete and his girlfriend Neysa. I've only previously done short-length track and sprint road races. This probably won't be my thing from now on, but I just thought I'd give it a try.

The race was near the Dungeness Spit on the beautiful Olympic Peninsula, a short ferry ride across from Seattle, on empty country roads in the shadow of the snowy Olympic Mountains. As I expected, my performance didn't really keep me in the field of the race...the real racing dudes took me to school in a big way, but it was still fun to get a taste of the competitive spirit, and a day spent biking in interesting places is always a good day*. I wasn't much of a shutterbug, but here are some images from the day. Highlights are the rainbow over the port-a-john, my muddy bike, and the mass of far better bicyclists than I.

*pending favorable weather

The Money Thing

2007-03-10T22:17:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah, that.

It's hard to mention a fancy-free trip across Europe without mentioning finances somehow. Right now, it's the pits of wet and gray Seattle winter, and I feel terribly far away from the actual date of departure. Added to that, spending exorbitant amounts of money now on what seems like a far-off event is hitting me especially hard right now.

The way that I'm planning this is--I'm planning (pending acceptance) to attend graduate school in Ireland, commencing at the end of my bicycle trip. Part of the visa requirements for student entry into Ireland is to possess enough cold, hard, cash on entry to get you through at least half of your school year (the idea being they don't want mooching freeloaders that will somehow end up draining on social services). Therefore, I'm currently hoarding as much liquid cash as possible, and putting all expenses related to the bicycle trip on credit. I basically have (barely) enough money to finance the vacation portion of the journey, but I plan on paying the credit off with cash once I get visa acceptance in Ireland. I know this is all very dry and semantic, but the crux of my current feeling is that it's not dissimilar to getting punched in the stomach...frequent and generous use of credit card, that is. I know it's nothing I can't handle, and handle somewhat adeptly in the near future, but there's a lot of talk lately about avoiding debt at all cost, how it sinks everybody in America now, and I'm just feeling particularly buried lately in the wallet department.

I guess the point of recreation is to not think about workaday things like money, but it's everywhere I turn...costs costs costs. Most of my planning in Europe is related to keeping costs down, stretching out the trip as long as possible. Maybe I shouldn't sweat the credit...it's something that everybody does, and it's not outside of my realm of capability. I don't have a phat bankroll like most of my continent-hopping peers, so I think this is part of the game. I'm trying my best to put it out of my mind...maybe venting here and putting my thoughts about it in order will help me out to some degree

The Wheels Take Shape

2007-03-08T09:17:00.000-08:00

Except for a few minor changes, the bike as it will be ridden (all cargo attachments and long-distance comfort items (i.e. sweet saddle, fenders, etc.) attached) was put together last night. I got a big mail order delivery and stopped by the LBS (local bike shop), and I felt like it was Christmas morning. Within minutes of getting home, I had strewn packaging across the floor of our small apartment in my haste to see all the goodies. Following the initial euphoria of getting new stuff, I embarked on what turned into a long, strained evening of attaching everything to the bike. Sore back from bending over the bike for prolonged periods of time trying to screw things on, grease-caked wounds from scraping my knuckles on the gears, and a fair amount of cursing at the deaf ears of unfeeling machinery. In the end, however, I was able to get it all together and have my bike dressed to the nines and ready to ride across a continent. Now, I suppose, the most important purchase is a sturdy lock to keep all of this stuff from getting nicked.

Pictures are: the bike as I purchased it (nimble, quick, maneuverable) and the pile of add-ons, the bike fully constructed (totally cumbersome and heavy, albeit very utile and sturdy) , and me-first as a downtrodden grease-monkey, and then happy to be done with the labor for the night, back in pschyed-up mode.

Obsession

2007-03-06T10:17:00.000-08:00

My all-consuming focus on planning and preparation has reached a frightening intensity.

First of all, I feel horribly guilty that I can't engage in any conversation with a friend without mentioning the trip in some way, and of course, a mere mention leads to a much greater immersion into full-blown self-indulgent discussion. I need to remind myself that others haven't been caught up in the comparison of the lightness and waterproof properties of various brands of cycling bags, or the tires that provide the longest wear versus the most puncture resistance. Some things are better left as an internal dialogue, for when said out loud, the dia- portion of the word rapidly morphs into mono-, and my comments in conversation are only met with polite Hm's of acknowledgement.

I've also noticed that I can't really look at any product in any store without considering its usefulness in travelling. The other day, I was buying a bottle of liquid bath soap and decided to get the 8 oz. size bottle instead of 32 oz...8 is too small for practical use in your home, but (in my maniacal eyes at the time) just perfect for toting around with me. Once I purchased this three-dollar vial of soap, approximately four months before I would be using it, I knew I had passed the point of no return. All steps I take and all purchases I make between now and June will in some way be feeding my hunger for the lightest, most useful, and most practical devices I can find in the world.

Financial expense aside, gear-getting is an endless string of choices, all made based on my expectations and judgement which are, as of now, completely unfounded.
"Yeah I'll probably only need to bring three pairs of socks. One to wear, one drying after being washed the night before, and one spare in case of emergency."
The truth is, I have zero idea of the accuracy of that statement. Maybe I'll need eight pairs, maybe just two. I'm meticulously reading all that I can about others who've taken similar trips, but in the end, I think the final answer will be to just commit. Maybe I don't need the world's largest first aid kit. Maybe I'll be thankful I brought a pair of sneakers to go on hikes in, maybe I'll rue the extra weight. Maybe I'll pack rain pants only to have them take up space in the bottom of my bag, or maybe I'll be thanking my household gods for telling me to bring them when the perfect storm closes in above me twenty miles from the nearest hotel. Or better yet, thankful because they happen to serve as the perfect makeshift pillow when camping. This trip, like life, is full of too many choices to have control over all of them. At a certain point (thankfully not just yet) I'll just have to let go, throw the checklists into the fire, take off and deal with any problems if and when they occur. Maybe I'm stumbling upon a new and significant reason to go on this expedition.

A fair start

2007-03-04T22:58:00.000-08:00

First official training ride specifically for the big trip. Just on an unloaded road bike for now, not hauling the gear around just yet, but did a 40 mile loop around the southern half of Seattle/King County's Lake Washington. (google maps it if you are unfamiliar)

I did try to push my pace, making it a little more strenuous than usual, but I feel horrific tonight in the aftermath of the ride. Sore legs of course, but more than anything, my neck hurts from holding up my sizeable noggin for the whole time. Definitely have some ground to cover for my physical conditioning. I'm sure if forced to, I could pull it off tomorrow if I had to, but I'm aiming to be a little more comfortable and a little less sore.

The journey of a thousand miles....

Lazy Sunday / Training Day

2007-03-04T09:21:00.000-08:00

Although I don't really plan on a definite itinerary, preferring to live more by the seat of my pants and explore/figure it out along the way, my vague zig-zag route from Prague to Rotterdam traces approximately 1500 miles. Although that's exceedingly easy to plot out out on a map, taking me all of thirty minutes of flipping through my Michelin Road Atlas of Europe, I do realize the severity of actually powering myself with my legs across such a vast distance (not to mention flirting with some ascents of the European Alps). This is going to take a fairly serious regimen of physical conditioning prior to departure.

I've posted a link to my steed of choice earlier, and while it isn't the highest performance machine that money can buy, I do believe it's just about the best mix of rugged cargo-carrying capacity and lightweight, built-for-speed performance. I'm also trying to pare down the amount of gear I'm bringing. My original plan was to tow a small cargo trailer containing every piece of helpful gear I could imagine: backcountry camping equipment (water filtration, portable cooking stove), oversized tent and sleeping bag (for comfort and luxury), extra clothes (for both fashion and function, extra novels to read, etc. etc. etc. I've now moved towards a more lightweight traveling checklist, with a survivalist supply of clothing and minimal portable shelter plans. The way I see it, Europe is a densely populated place, with a small village dotting the road every few miles, a medium-sized town every twenty, and a thick metropolitan conurbation every hundred. I'll never be more than an hour's ride away from civilization (grocery stores, restaurants, warm & indoor beds), and although I'm not bankrolled to an infinite degree, I do have a meager sockfull of bills that can easily carry me through two months of comfortable (albeit strictly budgeted) living in this manner. This upshot of this choice is twofold, I think...not only can I travel lighter, ride faster and ride farther, but I can immerse myself more in the towns and people I visit. Instead of sitting on the ground in a field trying miserably to rehydrate a freeze-dried packet of Chicken Cacciatore and reading an American bestseller by flashlight, I can engage the places I pass through more thoroughly.

I've budgeted myself two months for the 1500 miles . Even at fifty miles per day, which should be not too demanding of a goal for a strapping lad like myself, that's only thirty days of travel. I think doubling the time as a buffer should account for any rainout days, sidetracking journeys, decisions to stay an extra day or two in a particularly fascinating place, gross miscalculations in either map distances or personal physical capability, or any other unforeseen hurdles. I've applied to Master's Degree programs in Ireland, and although I currently have no idea whether or not I'll be accepted to any of them, the start of classes in early September is the only deadline I'll have to meet. I've given notice at my job, I have a passable amount in Savings and of course the ever-present American crash pad of a credit card, and I don't have much of an obligation towards anything that would be rushing me to complete the trip. My perpetual Plan B in case of breakdown, medical problem, weather intervention, boredom, or any catchall catastrophe is to simply hop one of the many European trains (readily accepting of riders with bicycles) to my final destination. So, although physically challenging, I believe the true daringness of the trip is somewhat understated, as I will have several safety nets in place in case of failure. But that's only prudent, don't you think?

As for now, all of the sentences I write must in some way contain a form of the words "I will" or "I plan to", as everything is planning at present. One day, sooner than I am prepared for, I can post with the phrase "I did" and recount a day's events. In the meantime, I am filled with an all-consuming, Ahabesque fervor for endless map-gazing, listmaking, timetabling, and most of all purchasing in preparation for the trip. I should also mention that these planning thoughts will serve as evidence to prove my future self wrong when I actually do encounter things that I vastly underestimated (How many miles per day!?) Until I leave, planning and training rides are all I can do to dampen my buzzing anxiety.