Paris to the Mediterranean

Sept 26, 2021


Paris is a place that holds many memories for me. Remembering the glory days of PBP and trips I had taken with my family. This time, I was planning to meet my American friends for a tour of France and Spain.

My friends, Scott and Gillian from Portland, OR would meet me here in Paris`. We would tour together through France and Spain for three weeks. This was something new for me. I had never led a tour before. I wanted it to run smoothly, so getting to Paris a few days before our meeting allowed me time to scope it out a bit.

The idea was to take a local Paris train west 50km to Rambouillet and from there follow the PBP race course out to Brittany. In Brittany, we would meet my good friends, Joël and Irène, near Rennes. These two have taught me many important lessons of bike touring. They maintain an excellent blog of their adventures:

Joël and Irène had already planned a bike camping tour for us through Brittany and Normandy. This is where they are living. Traveling by bike and staying at campgrounds was something they were quite experienced with. I knew it would be a wonderful tour.

After our tour of Brittany, we would continue on to Barcelona. The total distance for this trip would be too much to cover by bicycle, in the time we had. So we planned to take trains from Rennes to Avignon. This would put us close to the Mediterranean. There we would follow the coast by bicycle to Barcelona, the heart of Catalonia.

At the time of this writing, We are in Aigues-Mortes, very close to the Mediterranean. I take the day off the bike to update the blog and avoid another passing storm. There have been many this summer in Europe.

Details and Highlights

Both Scott and Gillian have experience cycling and backpacking. Gillian however is just recovering from a kidney problem that required her to be in the hospital for a week. She was still regaining her strength. We agreed to keep the cycling to 50km per day.

50km (31 miles) per day is a leisurely pace. We could get a late morning start and stop at interesting places or cafes, bakeries, or grocery stores whenever we liked. We adjusted the planned route as we went. When rain was forecasted, we stayed in Airbnb’s, otherwise we stayed in campgrounds, or bivouacked.

The first day out from Rambouillet, I had Komoot, our navigation app set up to accept more challenging paths. It indeed found a route through the Rambouillet Woods that was very remote, and alluring.

A system of dirt roads in the Rambouillet woods south west of Paris

There we encountered one short descent that was a challenge even for my bike. With both wheels locked up and plowing through the soft earth, studded with fist sized rocks; I managed to make it without spilling the equipment or dumping the bike. Gillian and Scott did not complain. They are good sports.

I set up Komoot to avoid these trails in the future.

With the modifications from our plan to follow the PBP course, we only occasionally came across places that I recognized from years past. One such moment was coming into Mortagne-au-Perche.

This is the first time station in the PBP. A place a contestant would reach in the first 6 hours of that event. We were well into our third day of the journey. But, no matter. We were keeping to our own laidback schedule.

As we were approaching Brittany, we were in continual communication with Irène and Joël. They were returning from a bike trip in Normandy. Irène was planning a dinner party to welcome us.

She was making Boeuf Bourguignon. A very special meal requiring more than a day of preparation. They had also prepared a full tour of Brittany that they were adjusting down to meet our time constraints.

We decided to accelerate our arrival by taking some local trains through Le Mans, and Laval, a total distance of about 60km which put us a day ahead of schedule.

Meet Joël and Irène at their home

I had little doubt that it would be a good meeting. Joël and Irène are exceptional hosts and have a lot of common interests with Scott and Gillian. All were knowledgeable in permaculture, and minimizing our impact on the environment.

Scott and Gillian are planning to build a straw bail house in Washington state. Joël and Irène’s home incorporate innovative ideas like a dry toilet and grey water irrigation. There was a good bonding from the start along with plans for future encounters. We planned a day trip to Rennes, for the next day.

Tour of Rennes

Rennes, France is the capital of Brittany and an easy 30min bike ride from Joël and Irène’s place in the countryside. The five of us biked in. Joël left later and met us in town after his meeting with the roofer.

We were shown the important buildings and the best chocolate shops in town. There, I had to buy a Kouign-amann, to share with the group at dinner. This is a celebrated confection of Brittany. It is said to contain 50% butter, 50% flour, and 50% sugar. With nearly the density of a neutron star, it is allowed to break the laws of Newtonian physics.

Pass Sanitaire

In France there is a straight forward method to show others that you are not at risk of spreading Covid-19. It is called a Pass Sanitare. You get a QPC label you can show on your phone when you have either been vaccinated, or have tested negative within the past three days.

I was lucky to find a Pharmacy in eastern France that created a Pass Sanitare for me from my CDC card and US Passport. When Scott and Gillian showed up in Paris, we could not find a Pharmacy that would do this for us.

Thus they had to get a sticks up their noses every few days until we found a more permanent solution based on their vaccine record. You could say this became a sticking point with Scott and Gillian.

To Mont Saint Michelle

Mont-Saint-Michel is one of the seven wonders of the world. A most impressive place that has its recognition well earned. It was Scott’s first time there and visiting this place is one of his long term goals.

Irène and Joël constructed a tour that could get us all the way to the coast at Mont-Saint_Michel and back in just a five day bike trip. The trick was that Irène was supporting us by taking our gear in the car, and Joël engineered a return to Rennes by train.

We went by way of a small canal, and then the river Rance. Additionally, when we reached the Atlantic coast we had a stiff tailwind pushing us east. This ensured a flat journey that allowed for us to move at a good pace (60 or 70km per day).

Along the coast we encountered a group of Land yachts, three wheeled vehicles powered by the wind. They could easily move at 50km/hr and get up on two wheels, if the pilot was not careful.

Land Yachts

For the entire five day journey we stayed at campgrounds or bivouacked. Irène carried coolers in the car and met us each day. This allowed for some very fancy campground dinners like pasta carbonara, including candelabras.

One morning Gillian reported her air mattress developed a substantial leak. We tried unsuccessfully to patch it. The issue was that there were many tiny holes distributed over an area about the size of a dinner plate. We surmised that Gillian had somehow experienced an episode of added weight and sustained friction during the night.

Scott and Gillian claimed no recollection of this, even after we pressed them on the issue. We all laughed our way through this bit of French humor.

Tim finds the leaks in Gillians air mattress by dunking the inflated mattress in the canal

Mont-Saint-Michel was magnificent. The pictures say it best, and pale in comparison to actually being there. In fact, Scott and I left the camp ground early the next morning to get in a second visit before moving on.

The return to Joël and Irène’s place involved taking our bicycles on the train. Joël taught us that there are many classes of trains in France, each with their own set of rules regarding bicycles.

The TER train we used, had the most lax rules. However, if a TER train was already carrying its limit of bicycles (maybe 6). The conductor could refuse to let you on. So, we made contingency plans should this occur. It was a good training exercise. It was not needed. We arrived back without issue.

Bikes loaded in a French TER train

This gave us time to go shopping in Rennes for an air mattress for Gillian and a new lighter sleeping bag for me. Then of course, another fine meal at Joël and Irène’s place before shoving off the next morning. Their neighbors, Edith and Michel joined us for aperitif and galettes. I had a chance to make my own galette under the tutelage of Irène.

On to southern France

Here is where I encounter new territory. I have never been to southern France. We started out with a three legged train commute from Rennes to Avignon using two types of French trains. Each with its own set of rules regarding bikes.

Though Joël helped set it up for us, it was a good final exam exercise in French trains and the possibility of complicating issues. For instance, the plan required getting up before dawn in Nantes to catch a train to Lyon.

We rehearsed our Nantes plan the night before catching the train. I’m glad we did. It can sometimes be complicated getting the bicycles through the system of elevators and electronic gates in the hotel and train station. But the next morning we did it without issue. Consider us tested voyagers! In France anyway, Spain may be quite different.

Riding the trains for a day and a half is dull compared to riding the bike. The chances to explore new cities where the highlights of that part of our trip.

Lyon has catacombs and UNESCO protected neighborhoods. We didn’t have enough time to find them. Nantes has a well preserved chateau with unusual art exhibited within. Thankfully, we got to see this. Near the end of the day we also found a museum of robotic creations, but we were too late to get in the main exhibit. This put a taste in our mouths for return visits in the future.

Once we got to Avignon, the time pressure was off. There was an city alive with performances, everywhere. I stopped for my weekly zoom meeting with my family. I sought and found a sidewalk cafe with good WiFi, which I needed for zoom.

During the meeting several sound stages were constructed in the street. An animated performance erupted. With the center of attention spontaneously bouncing from one stage to another. I walked around with my cell phone to capture what I could. I hoped it was a good distraction for us.

It was my birthday. Without having any real plan, aimlessly wandering the street offered one special moment after another.

Scott and Gillian found an art exhibit going on in an ancient church. They checked our Pass Sanitaire and let us in.

It was most unusual. The artist was present with large bins of clay. He was offering a chance for the audience to make a facial impression in the clay. I volunteered and the artist instructed me in English what was required.

Basically, I was to hold my breath and then get my face shoved deep into the clay. When instructed, I let out a breath slowly to provide a release layer of air between my face and the deformed clay. It worked well. It didn’t cost me anything to become a work of art.

My face plant impression in the clay
The method is demonstrated here on another person

I got to tell my friends that I got plastered on my birthday. Ron pointed out that I made quite an impression. Reid added that I could say that in the end I appeared quite shit-faced. I count on my friends to tell it as they see it.

Scott and Gillian took me out to dinner at a restaurant of my choosing. At an Italian restaurant, I had fresh pasta with pesto sauce I will not soon forget. Thanks!

Handing over the reins

So, as October approaches, I become aware of time constraints. I need to manuever myself to meet my brother, his son Toshi, and my good friend Jim Kern in Portugal, or possibly Spain. I hope to be there on Oct 10. I also need to get out of the EU Schengen area before my visa waiver expires on Oct 26.

The best plan is to move my bicycle and gear outside of the EU (probably Morocco), then go meet the others. After my visit with my brother, I will return to Morocco in the last days before Oct26.

Unfortunately, I just learned that the ferry from Spain to Morocco is shut down because of the pandemic. Yikes! Too bad my good friend David Bradley is not still around. He’d have had a plan for me.

While I could fly me and my bike to Africa, I prefer a lower energy solution.

The other thing is that Scott and Gillian need to catch a flight home from Barcelona on October 11. Which is about 450km away. At the pace they have been keeping, they can do this with a few days left over for sight seeing, no problem.

They just need to go self guided. I need to keep a faster pace now.

So, fortunately, Scott and Gillian are eager to learn how Komoot, the navigation app works. They have downloaded it to their phones and on the last few legs of the trip, Scott and Gillian have been practicing. I think they’ve learned it well enough. They just need to keep their phones charged until they reach their destination.

Tune in next time to see how this Gordian knot gets untied. Just around the bend is the Mediterranean coast. My first time in this part of the world.

Blue trace is the planned route. Red trace is the travelled route

Zurich to Paris

September 5, 2021

The total distance from Zurich to Paris is almost 800km by the route I took. This included a visit to Überlingen, Germany and the home of my good friends Henry and Romy.

It’s a flat 85km ride across Switzerland to the border with Germany, then a ferry ride across the lake to Meersburg. A few kilometers further and I was in Ueberlingen, an easy one day trip. Flat rides are fast.

The border crossing by bike was a non-event. I fully expected to have my vaccination status checked, coming into the EU and all. I rode across the border and no one even noticed me doing it.

The route from Zurich to Überlingen am Bodensee

Romy and Henry live near the shore of Bodensee (Lake of Constance). Ueberlingen is a resort town and also was the home of Perkin-Elmer in Germany where Henry and I worked many years ago.

They have a new dog since I’ve seen them two years ago, a good looking and well behaved chocolate Labrador named Mila, just eight months old.

Henry and Romy are good hosts. Like last time, Henry gave me his office with a single bed and an adjacent bathroom to use as my own. Romy prepared breakfast, lunch and dinner with a smile.

Henry and I have a shared interest in investing. He is far more analytical than I, so I am always keen to see what tools he is using. Much of it he puts together himself. He’s an engineer after all.

We are of different minds when it comes to issues like vaccination, and climate change. I guess normally people would carefully avoid these topics, but Henry and I just jump right in.

What I appreciate most is that Henry is smart and we can have a good debate. We don’t argue the facts. We look them up. It leaves me with a better appreciation of the opposing argument. This is something you don’t get if you only speak to people you agree with.

Still, I feel like Henry and I are hammering away at each other’s position with wooden mallets on tool steel. Opinions are hard to change.

Henry’s position stands on the fact that mRNA based vaccines are new, and the long term effects are unknown. We get into long discussions on how many people are actually injured by the virus. It turns out that Germany has handled the pandemic quite well.

Germany flattened the curve far better than the US, and also much of Europe. Henry is not quick to congratulate his government’s response however. He sees it as overbearing and destructive to the economy.

Romy does not speak English and so my German was put to the test here. Frequently Henry would chime in with the needed translation. I clearly need more practice. She introduces me to her friends as ‘Der Weltenbummler’.

But Romy shows real joy in my being there, that transcends language. When the day came to say goodbye, she packed me a big lunch for the road then walked me out to the garage and saw me off with tears in her eyes. I told her I would come back again sometime.

The Klemm family is doing well. I visited the home of their daughter, Jeanine and her husband, Markus. The grandson Benno is now nine and has taken an interest in robotics.

When I was there, Benno burst in the door with a plan to set up a lemonade stand with some friends in the neighborhood. He had a plan written out for his mom to make 4 liters of lemonade and 3 dozen muffins. Clearly a good engineering candidate.

I would’ve liked to visit Henry’s sister, Heike this time. But we could not make it work. She lives in North Germany, near Essen. It gives me another reason to come back to Germany.

My concern was making it to Paris to meet my friends Scott and Gillian on Tuesday Sept 7, and also miss the rain forecasted in Paris on Saturday, Sept 4. Though I am set up to ride in the rain, and have done so a few times on this trip, I like riding on sunny days. Rainy days are good for catching up on my blog or visiting museums.

On toward Paris

Heading north from Ueberlingen through the Black Forest and across the Rhein river into Strasbourg, France
There is a gradual climb in the Black Forest, then a precipitous drop into Hornberg, Germany. Thereafter the course is quite flat into Paris.

The climb up from Bodensee through the Black Forest is gentle and I make good progress under overcast skies. There is a huge descent in this direction. When I did this route two years ago, it was a huge climb, as I was going in the opposite direction.

I wanted to get down into the flatlands before it started raining. Steep gravel roads can be difficult in the rain. I just made it into Hornberg when a light rain started falling. Success!

Though it was only 3pm and more daylight left, I decided to stop for the day in a small village on the Kinzig river. My goal of making it to Paris before the rain on Saturday was at risk. But it was raining now and my rain jacket was starting to have zipper issues. A tall German beer made the decision easier to make.

Arrived in France

National border runs straight down the middle of the Rhein river in Strasbourg

Crossing from Germany into France is all within the EU. The dominant language changes, but it’s all one currency. No one stops me to ask questions, as expected. I do notice one difference as I head deeper into France. The restaurants ask to see a ‘Pass Sanitare’.

Pass Sanitare

A Pass Sanitare is a QR code that says you have either been vaccinated, tested recently, or recovered from Covid. Showing my CDC certificate doesn’t work here. Well OK, I am a cyclist not using trains, nor buses. I am eating outdoors in sidewalk cafes or parks. I can skate by without a Pass Sanitare for a while. As I head into major cities, this becomes harder.

There is an email process for getting a Pass Sanitare where I send an image of my CDC certificate and Passport. I am still waiting for any reply on this.

I was getting worried, until I found a pharmacy clerk that spoke English in the town of Bar-Le-Duc. He scanned my documents and filled out the forms on line for me. It took less than five minutes. He printed out a one page document and said “That’s all you need.” He was right. I photographed the QR code and show that whenever needed. It’s a cool system.

In Paris it is used everywhere. Sidewalk cafes, Bateau Moche, even the Eiffel Tower. I noticed a train load of passengers boarding a regional train (not a subway). They scanned the QR code of every passenger as they came onto the platform. It’s a big job when there are fifty passengers, but with three people scanning it does not create a huge backlog.

OK but I’m getting ahead of my story

Following the la Marne to Paris

Canals are marvelous things. I remember my dad explaining this to me as a boy. They are built to enable ships to move across land. The current in the canal is imperceptible, but not zero. Think of it as a set of stairs. Each stair is flat. Between each stair there is a few meters of elevation difference. There is also a lock (escluse in French).

The lock serves to lift (or drop) the boats a few meters to the next stair in an orderly fashion. Yet there are no pumps or power sources to lift the boats. It all works on gravity. There is an upstream gate and a down stream gate surrounding a space (the lock) which is large enough to contain a ship.

Ships travel up the canal in sequence like this: With the downstream gate open, the ship can move into the lock. The downstream gate closes behind the ship. Slowly the upstream gate is opened to allow water to flood the lock. The incoming water lifts the ship to the elevation of the next stair. When the upstream gate opens completely the ship is free to travel the next stair. Ships traveling down the canal have a similar sequence. They use the same locks.

These locks take about five minutes to execute this sequence. They are unmanned and totally automated. The ships captain can start the sequence by pulling a rope hanging over the canal about 100m upstream and downstream of the lock. There is a lock every kilometer or more depending on how much elevation is to be gained.

La Marne is a 40 or 50m wide canal running 400km from Strasbourg to Paris. It connects the Rhein with the Seine and is a small part of a system of canals that spans Europe.
A network of canals spanning Europe, including canals crossing Switzerland.
Operating the lock part 1
Operating the lock part 2

So, I hoped you enjoyed my explanation of how a canal worked. Maybe someone can figure out this puzzle:

The canal is all gravity driven. Water moves from the higher elevation source to the lower elevation sink. So one would imagine if I left Strasbourg going up the canal (gaining elevation). I would continue to do so for the entire run all the way to Paris. This is not the case. The second half of the journey to Paris is going down the canal (losing elevation). How could this be possible?

Stories from along the canal

So the ride from Strasbourg to Paris goes through Alsace and Lorraine, regions. This is a first time for me. Nearly all of my experience in France has been west of Paris. The people here are wonderful, just like all the people I meet in France.

I make a stop for lunch at the Papar Hasard, a restaurant and bar in Lorraine. I am surprised to find that they have Galette saucisse on the menu, a speciality of Bretagne. I get talking with the owner who is from Bretagne originally.

She likes my story of traveling the world. I almost have her talked into joining me on the spot, except she has this restaurant to run. She gets me to promise to have an oyster and smell the ocean when I get to Bretagne.


In Bar-Le-Duc, I pull off of the canal and cruise the town for some lunch. Just by sheer luck, this place is an important place in the history of bicycles. It is where the Michaux brothers (Ernest, and Pierre) invented the High-Wheeler in the mid 1800’s. The town commemorates this with a large monument, and the town also holds an annual bike race, with teams competing from many nations within Europe. There are even some from Asia.

While sitting at a sidewalk table out in front of the bakery, eating my lunch, I had several conversations with the locals, including the shop owner herself. The conversations were challenging in a fun way. Half in French, half in English. We would pull out a translator when necessary.

I was telling one guy that I am retired and touring for my own entertainment. We talked about bike racing a bit. When I mentioned that I had done the Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) event, he insisted on buying me a pastry named after the event. In fact the shop owner overheard us and insisted on paying for part of the gift.

Then, minutes later a cyclist rode up and stopped at my table. William wanted to know about my bike and my travels. He told me about the monument to the Michaux brothers.

We started talking about PBP. He told me stuff I didn’t know. For instance in the 50’s, the event was held as a race. There were professional cyclists competing. Eventually this was discontinued because such a long non-stop race is not healthy for professionals.

William and I rode off together to go see the monument to the Michaux inventors. Cool moments!

One thing I noticed following the canal is there are places you get that are far from services, like a hotel. There was one day where my system kinda fell apart.

I use my smart phone to navigate and find services. To navigate, I do not need cell signal. Komoot downloads all the maps I need ahead of time. I just need GPS, which is always there. But near the end of the day, I usually start scouting for a place to buy food and sleep. Campground or hotel, it can all be found on-line. Unless there is no signal.

Komoot says there is a big town coming up but it is out of range for today. I scout around in some small towns and talk to the locals. I get suggestions for towns that are closer but well off my path. I am not interested in that. I’m stuck.

I start looking for good places to pitch my tent. A public park would be perfect except, I don’t know what the rules are. I figure the best thing would be to find a spot where I am not seen. I could stash my bike in the bushes.

While I am setting up my tent under a bridge, I am discovered by a young girl walking her dog. The dog is barking wildly and she is surprised to see me there. She hurries along and we do not speak at all.

My first bivouac in Europe

The next morning, I wake up before 7am, pack my stuff, and leave. I got away with it.

A similar situation comes up a few nights later. I am feeling a little more confident and I find a good spot with a place to take a bath.

My second bivouac in Europe

The next morning I find it had rained during the night. My clothesline was loaded with wet clothes. That and my fly tarp had to be put away wet.

Then as I was organizing it all. I am discovered by a man walking his dog. He asked me if I had slept there the night before. He spoke French mostly, but I could gather his meaning. I admit to it. He walks off with his dog, but returns a few minutes later. He asks me if I would come to his house for breakfast. I accept.

During breakfast, I ask him to tell me about this place in French on video. I will get someone to explain it to me later. I discover that he is the Mayor of this community that encompasses three villages.

His name is Jean-Paul Regnier. The commune is Val-d’Ornain

Caught in the act by the authorities
According to the local paper, he was re-elected mayor in 2020

After this surprising breakfast, I rode onward, looking for someplace where I could replace my rain jacket, dry out my stuff, get a better cellphone connection, etc. I also needed to fix some minor bike mechanical stuff. What I needed was a good old American shopping mall (almost ashamed to admit it).

As luck would have it, I found one in Nancy, France. Unfortunately it was Sunday and the stores were all closed. But the hotels were open for business. I stayed the night, and the following night.

The next morning I went to Decathlon, a major sporting good store. It had a bike mechanic, and a selection of rain jackets on sale. It turns out Eric, my bike mechanic is also a recumbent (velo couche) enthusiast. Though there were other bikes in queue, he immediately put mine on the work stand and told me it would be done at 4pm.

There was also an Orange dealer, the leading cell service provider in France. Everything I needed all within walking distance of my hotel. I was in the mood to celebrate my good luck and walked over to a good restaurant for a meal. I was refused for lack of a Pass Sanitare. Can’t have everything go your way…

One evening as I was setting up my tent at a campground, I met Denis and Brigitte. A cycling couple from France. Denis is a forest ranger, Brigitte is a primary school teacher. She spoke English quite well and was happy to help translate for me.

They live near the Black Forest, but across the border in France. They go out on an extended cycling tour every year and had useful information for me. For instance, pitching a tent for a one night sleep out is called a bivouac. This is legal in France, as long as it is for one night only. The next night you can also camp out but it must be in another location. Good to know!

Arrived in Paris

Just off the bike, my unshaven face still caked with salt

It was a stretch for me to make it by Friday Sept 3. I had to pull a few 100km days back to back. It wasn’t too hard. The course was pretty flat. The rain I was hoping to avoid on Saturday did occur, though not much.

Anyway, I’m here waiting to sync up with my friends Gillian and Scott from Portland, OR. I get to take a week off the bike before our next adventure cycling out to Bretagne and beyond.

Note to the reader

I am aware that the order these stories appear in may not be exactly chronological. The stories are true, but the order is probably wrong in at least one case.

Visit to Jungfraujoch

August 22, 2021

The railroad to Jungfraujoch was completed in 1912. There is now a network of cogwheel trains and cable cars that make it possible to get up there in about 90 minutes from Interlaken. I purposefully took a different route down than up.

I didn’t really know what I would find at Jungfraujoch. I came with my warmest clothes. No problems there. What I found was pretty cool.

Aside from the plentiful tourist traps, I found ice tunnels cut into the glacier, and outside a groomed trail where you could walk up a ~2km hill, a 200m climb to the Monk’s hut. While this may sound easy, I found many folks turning back before reaching half way.

The Monk’s hut is run much like a hostel. For $70 CHF, you can spend the night in a dormitory, dinner included. Many climbers are there preparing for their climb the next day. I was tempted to spend the night, but wasn’t really prepared. The smell of warm food coming from the kitchen was good. Maybe next time.

Alphorn in Interlaken

On toward Zurich

I spent three nights in Interlaken but was hoping to meet up with Roberto in Zurich before the weekend. I needed to cover some ground now.

At the eastern end of Brienzersee there are some hills to climb which I have gotten used to. At the top of the climb, I celebrate with lunch in a cafe. On the long downhill, I discovered an interesting quirk in my brakes.

I discovered a new noise in my front wheel after releasing the brakes. Looking down, I could see that the disc brake rotor had become badly warped and was scraping the pads twice per revolution.

I also noticed that the rotor was quite hot, which makes sense after a long downhill. After stopping and letting things cool down, the warped rotor became flat again and the noise disappeared. I emailed my mechanical engineering friends, Eric Nordman and Dan Blick about this.

They pointed out that a heavily loaded bike on a long downhill in thin air was clearly pushing the limits of my brakes. What was happening was thermal expansion at the braking surface of the rotor which caused the rotor to warp. Fortunately the warping was within the elastic limits of the steel rotor, so no permanent damage was done.

I also traded emails with Dana Liebermann who advised me to get metal brake pads. Apparently they have better thermal conductance.

That day I came across a bike shop with the right parts. I changed out the pads in the campground the next morning. I kinda like having brakes that work well. I have had no problems in the ~200km since.

Meet up with Roberto in Zurich

Roberto is a friend of my Brother. They had worked together on many projects in different companies. He is working for Google now in Zurich. He invited me for dinner in his home with his wife Rufina.

They live in a wonderful two story apartment on the top floor in the middle of Zurich. Roberto has a modified grand piano where he can disable the strings and practice with headphones.

Roberto made great spaghetti carbonara. I got some good tips about travel in Switzerland. Next time I will have to visit Zermatt.

On to Germany

The next morning I set out for Germany to visit my good friends Romy and Henry. It’s almost 90km to Ueberlingen. I want to make it in one day because there is rain in the forecast for the following day.

Wish me luck.

Switzerland Ho!

Monday, Aug 16, 2021

When I landed in Zurich two weeks ago, I was told that the weather this year was unusually rainy. I haven’t really seen anything extreme, but I understand from talking to the locals that a month earlier there had been some dramatic flooding.

So be it. For me, riding in the summer rain is not a problem. The rivers are full, though some are silty. The lakes are still very beautiful. So far the weather has not been much of a problem. The camping gear stays dry through the night. When heavy rains are predicted for the day, I look for a dry place with good WiFi to update the blog.

Trip plan for Switzerland. A= Zurich, B= Geneva

I laid out a rough plan, taking a more direct, flat route from Zurich airport to Geneva. The plan was to meet up with Nicole in Geneva or possibly along the way to Geneva. On the return from Geneva to Zurich, I would take a more scenic route.

The first day out, we met in Aarau, just 50km from Zurich. Nicole drove a few hundred kilometers from Geneva. We had an impromptu picnic of things we bought at the farmer’s market there. Nicole was not excited about spending a rainy night in a tent. We decided to meet later on in Geneva.

On the way to Geneva

Like many countries in europe, Switzerland has an array of bike trails. Komoot, my navigation app has no problem finding interesting ways to go.
There are many Swiss lakes which are all full of crystal clear water.
A large photovoltaic ‘flower’ has a motorized gimbal enabling it to follow the sun throughout the day.
What the? Bob’s Big Boy in Switzerland!!!
A typical small town center
Stopped for lunch
Typical Swiss fire hydrant.
There is actual blue sky and good weather here too

In Geneva


Nicole speaks four languages fluently and is always learning more. She is teaching yoga and permaculture. She has been involved in many housing coops, gardens and farms in Geneva. Long ago she was involved with Swiss television making documentary films. She doesn’t like having her picture taken.

Nicole and I are both homeless, having committed to traveling the world instead. I met her on a beach in Oaxaca, Mexico in July and we have been keeping in touch remotely. Geneva is where she grew up. She has lots of friends and family there.

She was apartment sitting for a friend when I arrived and could host me for nearly a week in Geneva. It was great to get her local perspective of Geneva. With a fully equipped apartment, I was also able to bake an apple pie while I was there.

We had a few days of exploring the city by bike. We visited the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) in Geneva, which I highly recommend. On the way back from the LHC we followed trails through the woods were Nicole rode her horse when she was a teenager.

Geneva street art
Nicole at LHC
UN building
Sparrows are quite bold in Geneva

Road to Interlaken

The planned route from Geneva (A) to Interlaken (red stripe) included a bit of very steep technical single track that I was not prepared for.

Komoot, my navigation app will automatically find off road routes for me. Usually this provides a pleasant roll down farm roads and wooden paths. However, it will occasionally put me in difficult situations.

After a 1000m climb on my 50kg bicycle, which took most of the day. I found myself at what I thought was the top of the pass. I was looking forward to a long downhill roll back into civilization.

What I didn’t figure on is that the gravel road I was taking turned into a poorly marked trail through a vertical cow pasture. I got off my bike to survey the trail before plunging in.

Luckily I came across a hiker who was coming the other way. He did not speak English, but I could get some useful information by speaking German. He said the trail gets quite steep and could be tricky on a bike. Komoot was reporting there were stretches of -20% grade.

The dilemma

Together we walked back towards my bike. When he finally saw my heavily laden bike, it became quite clear he didn’t think it was possible. I told him I might consider it. Then stewed on the question while he walked off behind me.

Fortunately on this hilltop there was signal enough so that I could investigate other possible routes down. I did find other routes but they too involved technical single track. I started walking along some of the alternatives but was not feeling very sure about this.

I had a few hours of daylight left. I had camping equipment enough to spend the night if need be, assuming I could find some level ground to pitch a tent. The one sure bet was to simply surrender much of the elevation I had gained, back up and follow the main road over the pass.

I remembered a story I heard from Charles-Henry who thought he and his wife, Dauphine would take the faster route back to civilization around a volcano crater he had been riding all day in Chile. They decided to forge ahead on scant evidence of a trail continuing the rest of the way around the volcano. They were expecting to get back to civilization before dark. They finally arrived a few days later. On at least one occasion they had to scratch out a level section of ground to set up their tent.

It makes a great story, but I decided to take the safe way out. I kept thinking it might be really hard to set up my tent with a broken leg. Chris Eisenbarth gave me a SPOT device, which would allow me to send an SOS signal via satellite, should things go badly. I decided that owning this fine device, should not make it OK to take unnecessary risks.

I easily rolled back down to the main road and realized I only needed to climb another 400m to the pass. Along the climb back up, I started looking for potential places to set up my tent. Daylight was running out.

I got to the top of Jaunpass as the sun was setting. I set myself up for night riding and headed down the long set of switchbacks toward civilization. I managed to find a hotel in Boltigen that was not on I was very thankful they had a room for me.

That evening in the restaurant I spoke with a Swiss mountain biker named Sam. He also uses Komoot and warned me not to let it pick the route unsupervised.

Swiss mountain biker who also uses Komoot, poses with his son

Interlaken and Jungfraujoch

Interlaken gets its name from the fact that it is nestled between two lakes in a large mountain valley. When I came over the pass, it became clear that I was very much in a different region of Switzerland.

Here there are mountains everywhere, near and far. The daytime sky always has paragliders descending into town from launch points in these mountains. Perhaps pictures say it best.

Popular landing spot just outside of Interlaken
One of many circling over Interlaken

So, here I am still in Interlaken which sits not far from Jungfrau. At 4158m, she is one of the tallest peaks in Europe. Jungfraujoch is a nearby mountain pass. At 3454m it is the highest point in Europe that can be reached by train or cable car. So, sometimes this is refered to as ‘Top of Europe’

This seems like a suitable substitute for the adventure I passed up on Jaunpass earlier. I will head up there tomorrow by train for my top down view. It should be snowing there now and clearing up by morning.

Return to Blogging

May 18, 2021

While I have not yet returned to touring. With the pandemic waning, I know it will not be long now. Meanwhile since December I have been holed up in Chiapas, Mexico preparing myself for the new adventures ahead.

I have learned a bit about the culture here. My Spanish language skills have improved some; but the more I learn, the more I understand how little I actually know.

Why Chiapas?

I chose Chiapas because the Covid level here is extremely low and luckily has been staying that way for the duration of my time here. My plan was to find a temporary home where I could fully return to fitness, continue learning Spanish, and find a partner to join me in my world tour. I really lucked out. Chiapas is a great place to live. It has a low cost of living and it’s a great place to explore.

My first stop was Tuxtla Gutierrez, the capital of Chiapas. It is a city of 200K+ population, with shopping malls, fine hotels and bike shops. In December, the climate is reasonable for a gringo. I stayed for a month, which is long enough. Tuxtla would be quite warm for me in the Summer. I was already using the air conditioner at times in December and January.

In Tuxtla, I met Debora. But because she is a mother of a 3 year old girl, she was not about to join me on a world bike tour. However, she was interested in helping me meet my goals and has proven to be a trustworthy person. She speaks only Spanish, which is a plus for me. She has nicknamed me ‘Gringosaurio’, combination of Gringo and Dinosaurio, the Spanish word for dinosaur. I take no offense at this.

Her three year old daughter, Africa is a fearless ball of energy, who is currently taking English lessons and loves dinosaurs. The three of us have gone on great adventures together, which sometimes include other members of Debora’s family.

One of the first things I needed to get was a car. I tried unsuccessfully to rent one in Tuxtla. Apparently the tourist industry had quite collapsed there. I was able to make a reservation using Expedia, only to find at the address listed for the dealership, an empty store front. This happened twice before I decided it might be better to simply buy a car.

I spoke to my Cousin Rob Woudenberg, an auto mechanic. He convinced me the best vehicle for my needs was a Dodge Caravan or equivalent. With help from Debora, I bought a 2008 Chrysler Town and Country with a 4L engine, with 100,000 km (62,000 miles), for $5000. It has been a great investment. Though it does burn a lot of gas ~7km/L (20 mi/gal). Debora and I call it ‘Cerdo-San’. Cerdo is the Spanish word for pig.

Debora helped me register the car and patiently taught me the Mexican way of driving, which looks quite chaotic until you understand the rules. Some of the roads are quite skinny. One advantage of owning the vehicle is that there is no fee for putting a scratch in it.

I did clobber the right rear view mirror on a telephone pole in the first week. We got a body shop to repair it for under $25. No replacement parts needed. The guy just bent it back into shape using a cold chisel. Almost good as new.

With a minivan at our disposal, we explored. Chiapas has tropical jungles with wild monkeys, jaguars, and crocodiles. It has Mayan ruins. It has limestone caves, underground rivers, volcanoes, and indigenous tribal villages where they speak one of three or four different tribal languages. It has beautiful beaches on the Pacific Ocean with wild coconut palms everywhere.

San Cristobal de las Casas

In January, Debora introduced me to the town of San Cristobal de las Casas which is nestled over 2200m (7300 ft) above sea level. It’s 50km east of Tuxtla. There are several indigenous villages nearby. In fact this place became famous in the 1980s as part of the Zapatista rebellion.

I moved to San Cristobal in January and have been living here ever since. Back in January the weather was quite cool at night <10C (50F), and comfortable 20C (70F) in the day. One of the places I stayed had a fireplace which was a good way to keep it warm at night.

Being ever curious about life in Mexico, Debora lines up an opportunity for me to do some cooking with her mother, Flor. Flor is well known for her ability to make chicheron, deep fried pig skin. You may know this as pork rind, but the homemade stuff is way better than anything you may have had elsewhere.

I figured we’d make a small batch on the kitchen stove, I had no idea what was coming. Flor makes this on a large scale, and sells it to her neighbors.

First we went to the butcher shop and got half a pig skin (20kg). Then Flor lit a wood fire under the caldron and poured many liters of lard into it. She trained me on salting and cutting the skin.

The important thing is to rub salt into the flesh before cooking, and the lard needs to be the right temperature. Freshly made chicharon and beer is wonderful. Flor gave me first dibs on the batch. I took a kilogram home to share with my friends. The parts with some meat clinging to the flesh are clearly the best.

As we were cleaning up, the neighbors began queuing at the door. They could smell chicharon in the making and were wanting to buy some. The cool thing about chicharon is that it will be good for a week or so without any need of refrigeration. Since this, I have bought chicharon in the market a few times. It never comes close to Flor’s.

I think commercial chicharon starts with pig skin which has been meticulously cleaned of any fat or meat. This is a mistake.

Scott and Gillian

Gillian and Scott are from Portland OR. I met them in San Cristobal where they were renting an adjacent apartment to mine. We shared a balcony there. Over time we became friends, we went on expeditions together in Chiapas.

We have plans of meeting up in Paris this September and cycling out to Bretagne (Brittany) along the Paris-Brest Randonneuring route. It will take us a week to cover the same route that the randonneurs would do in the first day.

Once we get to Rennes, we will meet up with my good friends Joël and Irène, who will take us on a tour of Bretagne.


Debora introduced me to her friend Mirjam, who was just returning from Stuttgart Germany where she was working as a physician to fight Covid-19. Together the three of us went to Oaxaca for a long weekend on the Atlantic beach. It gets pretty warm in July at sea level. But the water is cool. While there I met Nicole, a Swiss tourist who was also learning Spanish.

Faustino and Friends

Mirjam introduced me to her friend Faustino in San Cristobal. He teaches Tai Chi, and is also an avid biker. He lead many of us on an expedition to Chiconal, an active volcano in Chiapas.

We hiked down in to the lake in the volcano. There were vents under the lake which heated the water to near body temperature. We were thinking about swimming, but found it difficult to walk in the shallows without stepping on one of the many vents which were hot enough to cook an egg.

Together with Faustino, I have been on three bike trips near San Cristóbal. Each of them very special. Once I took my recumbent on a technical mountain bike trail. By luck, I managed to keep it upright.

My brother Ron

During my last week in Mexico, Ron came to visit. I got to play tour guide. Ron is not really my brother. He and I are Arden’s two grandfathers. It is much easier to just say brother, and it felt good to call him that.

Together with Debora, we went to visit the Mayan ruins and the jungle in Palenque. We visited San Juan Chamula, a town that has its own government, unconnected to Mexico. Ron and I also toured San Cristobal with Orestes, and learned about the Zapatista culture.

We had a bilingual wine and cheese party at Ron’s Airbnb. We sang and told stories. Ron even ate a roasted grasshopper. It was a fitting farewell to Chiapas.

On to Switzerland, and back to touring

August, 2021

Finally after more than a year off from touring, I have returned to the road. It feels good to be back. I am still in shape. The new hip is doing very well.

I started near the western border in Zurich and I am slowly progressing to the eastern border in Geneva. This is where Nicole lives, the woman I met on the beach in Oaxaca.

Wish me luck.

Burn the Ships

December 15, 2020. Chiapas Mexico

Probably every motivational speaker knows the story of Cortez in the Early 16th century. When he landed in Central America, he intentionally set fire to his ships. Thereby making it clear to his men that there was no going back home to Spain.

I did something like this. I checked out of my one bedroom rent controlled apartment in San Francisco where I have been living for more than a decade. In that decade, I have hosted many touring cyclists, proudly showed off my city, and made friends world wide.

My former bedroom, now ready for the next tenant.

As documented in this blog, in the last year and a half, I have been touring a bit. I have visited some of these friends. I also got a good education in cycle touring from Les Cyclomigrateurs in Asia this spring. Then as we all experienced, the pandemic caused it all to be put on hold.

It was a fine example of American leadership that led the world out of the nightmarish pandemic episode and on to better times. Or maybe not so much. Ugh!

So, while I was waiting for things to resolve, I got my hip replaced. This went amazingly well. Many thanks to my surgeon in San Francisco, Neil Bharucha, and my companion Lucy Rojas. I was on my feet and walking just hours after surgery. Now six months later, I am leading an active life with no issues.

Neil Bharucha M.D.
Lucy Rojas of Santiago Chile
Currently in Chiapas, the daily rate of new COVID-19 cases per 100,000 is 0.3. This is approximately 100 fold less than San Francisco, which is itself lower than the US average.

Eager to get on with the retirement project, I started looking for places in the world which are relatively Covid-19 free. Asia and Australia have many excellent examples. Unfortunately they are not available to American tourists.

The island of Bermuda is quite good, and also available. Unfortunately it is too small for any meaningful bike touring.

Given that I was interested in furthering my Spanish language skills, I looked closely at Latin America. It turns out in southern most Mexico, there is Chiapas. If you believe the New York Times, this is extremely quiet with respect to the pandemic.

After donating or selling almost everything I owned, I boxed up my HP Velotechnik Streetmachine and flew to Chiapas.

Having effectively burned the ship, I am ready to start the next chapter in true nomadic style. However, before I go off exploring, I ought to wait out the pandemic a bit.

Chiapas is thus a temporary nesting spot for me. Mexican Immigration has granted me a half year. Hopefully this is enough time. I will use it to form a good team, improve my Spanish language skills, and learn the culture. Then, I will have to burn the ship again. Hopefully I will not have accumulated so much junk.

The hip replacement is doing fine. Where to next?

July 25, 2020, San Francisco, California

My hip was replaced a little over a month ago. The recuperation has gone better than I expected. I have been riding my bike in the street for over a week now. I have more strength, climbing more challenging hills with no pain at all.

A year ago, my surgeon told me I needed a new hip. My options at that time were; replace it now, or get a cortisone shot and continue to use my original hip for a while longer. He said the shot may give me six months, if I was lucky. (I made it work for ten months, but clearly the last three have been tough.) He told me the success rate on hip replacements were 95% on average. It would be better than that in my case, because I am younger than most people in this predicament.

Then, the idea forming in my head was that there was a small chance that the hip replacement would go badly and I would be spending the rest of my life in a wheel chair. So, In August 2019, I decided to take the cortisone shot and travel the world for as long as I could. When I could no longer, I would get my hip replaced. In the unlikely case of being wheelchair bound. At least I would have some memories of traveling the world by bike.

It is difficult to express my deep appreciation of the technology that exists, and the highly skilled team that has made this technology available to me. My friend Sandy frequently says ” We are the luckiest people on earth”. I am in complete agreement.

Animation Detailing the Anterior (Front) approach. It may look like a large incision would be necessary for such an operation. However in the hands of an experienced surgeon, only a 10 cm incision was necessary. I was in surgery for only ninety minutes.
In the pre surgery image the right hip shows a normal layer of cartilage (at the blue arrow).  The x-ray image shows this as a gap between the bones.  This is completely absent in the left hip. There the cartilage has been abraded away by the arthritic femoral head. As a result the left leg bone had pushed its way up into the hip socket and was bearing bone on bone.  As a result, my left leg had become shorter over time, by more than one centimeter.  Post surgery, the artificial hip holds the left leg bone in its correct position.  As a result, my two legs are once again the same length.  
The horizontal dashed white line shows that the two leg bones are aligned post surgery.  A displacement of one centimeter is seen in the presurgery case (green spacer)

There are a number of variations on this procedure. The one I had did not involve any adhesives. The bones were machined to receive parts that are press fit into the machined features. The way it works is that my body will over time cement the parts in place. There are other healing processes going on that also take time. So, I was told not to rush getting back into shape. It may take a couple months. The best indicator that things are going properly is the absence of pain.

The big failure modes are luxation (movement of the artificial parts relative to the attached bones), and hematoma. There is also a possibility that the artificial hip can come apart, though not very likely. I was given lots of reading material detailing what movements are safe, how to climb stairs properly, etc.

When I awoke in post-op, my legs were still numb from the anesthetics. This wore off over the next hour. Within two hours I was walking under my own power albeit with a walker, and a PT nurse at my side. I took a lap around the hallways and climbed some stairs. I used the men’s room to take a leak, and was told I was ready to go home. Lucy joined me and we took Uber back to my place.

They sent me home with powerful pain killers. They told me that I might need them in a day or so, when the anisthetics are fully cleared. I never did. The biggest problem I had was an accumulation of lyphatic fluid due the healing of the incision. Lucy has some experience with this from work she had done in Santiago, Chile. She was adept at clearing the excess fluid with massage.

In the following weeks I was getting lots of exercise. My friend Tina explained that the lymphatic fluid problem is made worse by more exercise. The PT staff at Kaiser confirmed that more exercise will result in more lymphatic fluid. They also said not to worry much about it unless it is building up. It never did, though I was getting massaged three times a day by Lucy.

After covering some of my favorite training rides near home. I met my riding buddies for the Saturday ride in Woodside. This has yet more climbing which was not a problem on my light weight Carbent Raven.

Getting comfortable on my racing bike was a good step. The real challenge was the Azub recumbent tandem. It’s true that Lucy and I have logged thousands of kilometers on this bike, but it has been five months since we have been riding it at all. I was worried about the learning curve. As you may recall last January Lucy and I spent about a week riding it before we could go a single day without dumping it. With my new hip, I didn’t want to risk serious injury.

At first we were finding non-challenging rides to get our routine back. It was less than a week before we took it across the Golden Gate Bridge and down into Sausalito to explore all the neat places there.

After lunch and a tour of Sausalito, we took the ferry back to San Francisco. We rode the tandem up Market Street through the center of town. It reminded Lucy of riding in Bangkok. I was not at all frazzled as I was in Bangkok. This town is my home. I know the rules.

At this point, I think it’s safe to say there is no wheelchair in my immediate future. Except for some issues with the pandemic, the path forward is clear for me. Now, I need to go out and create more memories. But where?

The Long Road Back to San Francisco

June 27, 2020


The trip back was not at all simple. We said goodbye to Joel and Irene in Pak Soy, Laos. Days later, we crossed the boarder from Laos into VietNam by bicycle. There was hardship and lessons to be learned there. We stayed in big cities Vinh, and Hue in VietNam with luxurious hotels. Our plan was to return to Santiago to see Lucy’s son, Aldo get married. Then to go to California to attend my granddaughter, Arden’s first birthday.

We needed to make up for the time we lost in Laos. We took a bus south along the Vietnam coast to Hue to pack up and fly back to Santiago. This was a good move as it allowed time to deal with some unforeseen issues. Our first flight was on a small Vietnamese airline that just went bankrupt a day or two before we got there. The pandemic was taking a serious toll on the travel industry.

Flying west to Santiago Chile is somehow easier than the reverse trip. It takes about the same amount of time but does not consume as much of the calendar. We fortunately rented a furnished apartment in Santiago the day after we arrived, March 18.

The plan was to stay for the wedding in ten days. Things changed quickly in mid March. The wedding was postponed and the airport was closed, both due to the pandemic. We were going to be stuck in Santiago for a while. But this was not a hardship. I liked the apartment. For much of the time, I could cycle the nearly empty city streets of Santiago and go out into the foothills of the Andes. Lucy was eager to do all the chores and kept us well fed. All that and I was continuing my Spanish language education. The landlord was OK with us renting month to month. It was true that I would miss Arden’s first birthday party. But so did all of us. The party was postponed. The thing about a global pandemic is that everyone everywhere has the same issue.

I figured we were going to be fine until my visa expired in mid June. Then I could plead my case to the Chilean Immigration Bureau. But, I didn’t need to. In early May the airport reopened, there where flights to the US. I heard that Kaiser Permanente was restarting elective surgery and my surgeon was confident I could get my hip replaced in June. So, we packed up and flew to San Francisco on May 22.

Getting back to San Francisco did require a five hour layover in Miami. I was more worried about that than the eight hour flights in a plane only half full of passengers. Don’t ask me to reason through all this. I just felt contaminated when I got home. Lucy and I self quarantined for two weeks without symptoms.

Except for a few days visiting family in Indiana, we’ve been here ever since. Lucy has taken well to keeping my tiny apartment ship shape, and providing meals on a regular schedule. I swear I never told her she must do all the housework. She volunteered. A few days ago I woke to the smell of lemon scented Pledge being applied. Wow, furniture polish. What a concept.

And yes, I also got my hip replaced. On June 23 they did it as if it was an everyday thing. Because for this surgical team, it is practically. My surgeon, Neil Barucha M.D. does three a week on average. It only took ninety minutes in the OR. I took a cab home the same day. When I got home, I walked up the eleven steps to my apartment without assistance. It’s true that Lucy was there to help, if needed.

Now Lucy, my PT and I have a project to get my body used to functioning with it. Here I am at day four after surgery, with very little pain, and only minor swelling. I never needed the heavy duty pain meds they sent me home with. I walked a half mile on the street today without any pain, and could have easily done more. Lucy has experience as a nurses’s aid and is very interested in taking care of me. She regularly applies aloe vera, a natural anti-inflammatory to my hip.

She gets it that my plan is to abandon this apartment at some point and become homeless so to speak. Like our good friends Joel and Irene who joyously wander the planet for years at a time, I would like to make my bicycle my home for as long as I can. She would like to join me in this venture. I hope it works for us both.

Meanwhile I need to get this new hip up and running, then get my fitness back. Maybe by the time I am ready, the global pandemic will be running out of gas, or we can find a corner of the world where it has. New Zealand perhaps?


Our complete journey through Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam is shown here. We spent most of this trip traveling as a foursome with Joel and Irene. Our paths diverge in Hue. We left Hue, Vietnam to fly home to Santiago. At this point Joel and Irene continued on to Japan before returning to France.

This Leg

In this chapter we describe our journey from Lak Sao to Hue, then our adventures upon returning home.

Lak Sao is a good place to visit. It’s a small town but there are several hotels and restaurants to serve the tourists. There is also a busy market place in town and nearby mountains which make a picturesque landscape.

Here in the mountains the roads are sketchy and the weather is changable. We used a truck/taxi to bring us here. The roads would have been a challenge on a good day. We arrived in a driving rain storm and made quick decisions on where to stay.

Our first hotel in Lak Sao

The weather was better in the morning, we went to explore the markets and the restaurants.

My big problem was that my process to get a visa to cross into Vietnam had stalled, and I didn’t realize it until the weekend. Chileans and EU citizens get a visa on arrival in Vietnam, meaning it is automatic. As a US citizen, I was the only member of the group struggling with this application process.

The application is made on-line to a private company. That company then presents your case to the Vietnamese government. It takes three business days before you get the visa emailed back as a PDF. If there is something wrong with the application, the company kicks it back. This happened to me and I didn’t catch it early enough.

Lak Sao is the last town before the remote boarder crossing. Joel and Irene rode on. Lucy and I stayed in town for an extra two days. We spent our time playing cards and searching for restaurants that serve western food. I actually like the local food here in Laos. But after some time you start missing the alternatives. Meanwhile Joel and Irene had crossed over into Vietnam, a more civilized country and were sending back images of the foods we missed most.

Lucy and I found a restaurant that advertized pizza. When we asked for this, the staff waved us off it. It was not until we came upon some bilinguals that we learned the pizza was not available because they were out of cheese. We convinced the staff to bring us a pizza without the cheese. This was the change we needed. I think we ordered this two nights in a row.

The boarder with Vietnam is a mountain ridge about 30km from Lak Sao. Joel and Irene reported that the climb was not difficult. However the ride down into Vietnam was on a very bad road surface. Also there are no services near the border. One has to ride some 30km further to find a rather nice hotel in the town of Tay Son. It would be a long day, but we were well rested. It should be no issue we thought.

The emailed visa finally arrived and we got our hotel in Lak Sao to print a copy for us. We left around noon. Normally this would be an issue, but it was not a hot day. We had a headwind that felt refreshing. Off we went with confidence high.

Local water buffalo

I didn’t notice until we were quite close to the border that the mountain ridge we were approaching had a large cloud settled onto it. The pass would be foggy. As we began the climb up, it started raining lightly. I figured we might get pretty wet up there and then have no place to stop and dry out.

As we got closer to the top, I realized that there were many eigthteen wheel trucks lined up waiting at the border. I pedalled around them, no one complained. I found out later that the reason for the back up was because the trucks were not descending due to low visibility.

We made it across the border without much delay, thankfully. I was worried about running out of daylight before we got back into civilization in Vietnam. The road down was errily quite. The large backlog of trucks were waiting up top for the visibility to get better.

We had the whole road to ourselves. We were nearly soaked and cold. The surface was deeply rutted with many switch backs going down. There were not good options here. I chose the least bad one. I convinced myself that we could get down out of this cloud and into warmer weather relatively quickly. We just needed to go slow enough to keep from crashing. We stayed warm by applying the brakes and pedalling at the same time, an old trick Dave Cox taught me years ago.

It worked. We made it down with the wheels underneath the whole way. We got below the cloud line before the truck traffic started coming by. My biggest problem was that I could not discuss this plan with Lucy. My Spanish was not up to the task, and we didn’t have time to waste. She was not happy, but we did make it to Tay Son in daylight.

There was a hotel there that Joel and Irene recommended. We checked in, showered, and put on dry clothes. Vietnam is quite civilized compared to Laos. We walked out onto the street to find someplace to eat.

Here for the first time I encountered significant push back for being a tourist. I didn’t understand it at first. Restaurants were refusing to seat us. Lucy figured it out before I did. The concern was that Western tourists without face masks are a risk for spreading the virus. We walked for some way before we found a restaurant that would take us. They served us in a room all by ourselves.

We ate well and then slept well. It was good to be back in civilization.

On to Vinh

It is ill advised to book your air travel well in advance. It is nearly the same price to book the flight two days before, and you have flexibility in case things change. I learned this the hard way. Here we where a few days behind schedule with a plane to catch in the following week. I either had to make expensive changes to our tickets or find a way to get us back on schedule.

Vinh is a nearby city on the coast. Certainly it would be possible to get a train or a bus south. Joel and Irene were a few days ahead of us and reported back on train service. They said, there are trains going south, but they will not take your bike on board. OK, a bus or a truck then? This is difficult to arrange without some knowledge of the language.

As we pedalled on to Vinh I had time to form a plan.

It turns out that when you are in a city where you do not know the language and have to find solutions to unusual problems, the thing you need is a bilingual person with your best interests at heart. Months ago in Bangkok, KJ did this for me on several occasions. She was amazing. Here in Vietnam, I don’t know anyone. What to do?

The solution is, book a room in a five star hotel. The concierge has your best interests at heart. He speaks English. He also has many local connections. The cost for this in Vietnam is not high. A five star hotel is $25/night. This also allowed me to pamper Lucy a little, after having such a rough border crossing.

Besides it is fun living in a hotel room a dozen stories up. Ordering too much food and eat.

The next day we bought face masks so that we could fit in. After considering our problem, the concierge got us bus tickets to Hue at a reasonable price. He said we had to meet the bus at 7am on a non descript corner. It was necessary that we have the bicycle broken out into two parts so that it would fit in the bus.

I had my doubts while waiting there. But the bus showed up just as planned. Three hours later, it dropped us on a non descript corner in Hue where we reassembled the bike and road off to find a hotel.

Hue, Vietnam

In Hue we had a new puzzle to solve. In three days we would need to ride our tandem to the airport, disassemble and pack it ready to fly. We also need to reduce the total number of bags, as airline per bag fees are exhorbitant. We are already schooled on the technique, however we still need to find the needed goods in a city where we don’t speak the language.

The solution? Simple, stay at a five star hotel. The concierge set us up with a cab driver and carefully explained to him that these things were to be found and purchased. We made many stops, the driver came into the store with us and did all the talking. We just showed the photos when needed.

The same method helped us solve an issue we had with our airline gone bankrupt. The right move is to go to the ticket office downtown and sit with a customer service rep in person. Don’t leave your seat until the problem is fixed.

Once our cab driver figured out where to buy the needed stuff. We passed that information along to Joel and Irene who would be flying out of this same city later in the week.

The coolest thing is creating a spectacle at the airport when you calmly disassemble your bike then wrap it up to take it with you on the plane. We had one Vietnamese guy so fascinated that he was actively working with us on it.

The big surprize was that Joel and Irene met us at the airport. They gave us some pointers on improving the wrap using free cardboard from local vendors in the airport. They have this improv style you will learn to love.

We actually got all the nitty gritty out of the way with enough time left over to enjoy the city of Hue. It is a tourist town. The tourism is way down because China is in quarantine. Lucy and I paid for a ride on a large boat in the Perfume river. We were the only passengers.


I don’t remember which happened first nor when we figured it out. I remember three long flights and landing at Santiago Airport finally. We took a large taxi to the Sheraton hotel. It was late and there is no good bike route to the city from the Airport.

The next morning at breakfast, we noticed that things had changed. Breakfast was no longer at the outdoor buffet. I think we ate in the restaurant. There we planned out our day which involved getting an apartment for the less than two weeks. Lucy was to meet with her son Aldo to get some of the things he was holding for her.

That’s right. Lucy did not keep her apartment in Santiago. When we left in January, she had reduced her belongings down to what would fit in a pannier, and a few suitcases that her son stored for her. The plan was to reunite with that stash and prepare a plan for the next leg of the trip in San Francisco.

We were using a real estate broker in Santiago to line up furnished apartments for us to consider. Lucy was in charge of picking the apartment. She used this same service in December to find the place we used then. It was a good place. The business manager spoke fluent English, so it was easy for me to discuss details of financing.

We got a message that the first apartment on the list fell through. The landlord cancelled the meeting. We patched together a plan to split up and meet at the second choice. It was later in the day. Lucy figured she had time to go see her son, Aldo and take a cab to meet me there.

Lucy was delayed. I met the landlord, letting her know that my Spanish is not really all there. We muddled through the tour. I liked the place. It was a modern two bedroom apartment on the eighteenth floor with a balcony overlooking a nice section of town.

It was getting late. There was some urgency which was cleared up with a phone call to Pia, the bilingual real estate manager we were using. She explained that her business office was closing and we needed to decide to take the deal or wait till Monday when they reopenned. I decided to take it without Lucy there to ask the better questions. It was mostly a good decision.

View from our balcony on the eighteenth floor

We slept there that night with the tandem still in two pieces parked out on the balcony. It sat there for about a month unused. The thing we didn’t figure on, the assembled tandem is too large to fit in the elevator. The only way to get it down to the ground floor was in two pieces. This was a lot of work for a daily bike ride. We were not permitted to store a bicycle in the underground parking unless we had a long term rental agreement.

We bought a cheap stationary rental bike from the local department store to fill our short term exercise needs. We made regular use of it until we wore it out.

I found that if it was asked to dissipate over 200W for more than a few minutes, It would start making funny noises until it stopped offering resistance at all. I considered debugging it myself, but Lucy correctly pointed out that I would certainly void the warranty in so doing. She got a full refund from the department store. We considered buying a more substantial model but there was suddenly very few in stock.

Our stationary bike on the balcony.

We found out that Aldo and Pia were putting off their wedding party until it was safe to have a large gathering. We also were notified that all flights out of Santiago were cancelled, and the airport was effectively closed. The landlord was happy to have us extend our stay.

I rented a mountain bike from my friend, Carlos and rode it out into the foothills on days when I could. In April and May the Chilean government was locking things down periodically. I also found that my hip complained a lot more now.

Lucy was getting exercise by walking the city streets. Eventually she figured out that by virtue of our extended stay we were permitted to keep the tandem in the basement garage. We assembled it and test rode it around the apartment on level streets. In the first kilometer, I realized something had changed. This bike was now quite painful for my hip. I was not able to blame this on a misadjustement. The bike was set up exactly as Dana had adjusted it in Bangkok, thousands of kilometers ago. My guess is that it was my hip that was changing.

I got in touch with my surgeon, Neil Barucha in San Francisco. He thought his department would be re-opening up for elective surgery some time in June and that he would like to replace my hip, as we had proposed back in Spring of 2019. I was now motivated to make this happen.

The Santiago airport openned with flights to the US in early May. Fortunately for us, we did Lucy’s visa paperwork months ago, before all the pandemic started along with the closing of borders to the US. We contacted the US Embassy in Chile and in the US. We never got a clear answer on whether Lucy would have trouble getting into the US as a Chilean citizen. All we got was vague references to the Department of Homeland Security website.

I thought maybe no one knows. Maybe it all comes down to the immigration official in the Miami Airport? Maybe if you get the wrong guy on the wrong day, you’re screwed and there is no rules. At every border crossing I have done in the last year, I found it easy to get clear on what is required with a single visit to the Embassy website for that country.

Damn the torpedoes!

We booked flights, we packed up the bikes in our apartment this time, as there are no good bike routes to the airport in Santiago. We could not arrange a truck to the airport. When the sedan taxi showed up Lucy assured me we could strap the bikes on the roof.

“We did this many times in Asia. It also works in Chile”, she assured me. I explained to the driver that at freeway speeds the updraft on the leading edge of the package would be strong. Ok, my Spanish is really not that good. I said something like “With much speed there would be much wind. The bike will be lifted like this” as I pushed up on the packaging to demonstrate.

He understood me and fetched a significant strap system from the trunk. The strap went over the bikes and hooked onto the undercarriage of the car. He winched it taught. I was satisfied it would be stable. It was

It turns out things went smoothly in Miami. US Immigration stamped Lucy’s passport without a second thought. Thus giving her ninety days here in the United States. We will have to form a plan for mid August when her visa expires.

Much will depend on how my hip is doing and the state of the pandemic then. I have already promised to visit my sister and her husband for Thanksgiving. It would be great if Lucy could be there too. I think we can arrange a visa run in August to a foreign country, then return to the US together for another ninety days. There are many possible outcomes with this plan. We hope for the best.

Home again in San Francisco

It really is amazing to be able to cross three continents in three connecting flights and get it all done in less than a day. When we finally arrived at my apartment, I did not recognize the lock on the outside door. I had to call my neighbor to let me in. Apparently we got a new landlord recently. No problem, I have friends amongst my neighbors.

Here in San Francisco, I want to show Lucy so many things without risking exposure to the virus.

Exploring San Francisco Bay Area

Lucy meets my cycling group in Woodside, CA
GoCar is a guided tour conducted by a computer with GPS. It gives real time audio description of the surroundings
Lucy’s Birthday party at the home of Robin and Phil in Montara
Driving south on the Penninsula
Visit with my granddaughter Arden; her parents, Carina and Mark; and their parents Ron and Nancy

Visiting Mom in Lafayette, Indiana

Hip Replacement Surgery, San Francisco, June 23,2020

This is how I used to walk
This is how I walk now
Now I need to get this hip up to speed and lose the 15 pounds (7Kg) that I gained since March.
Emily’s happily ever after moment at Nancee’s farm in Massachusetts

Oh Laos!

March 2, 2020 Pak San, Laos


Time flies. We have been in Laos for two weeks now. A lot has happened since the last post. We took a two day trip down the MeKong river with a package tour. We were shown a cameo of Laos and wound up in Luang Prabang, a big city by Laos standards with good services for tourists.

We said good bye to Christian and Caroline, the Brompton contingent. They took a plane to Vietnam. The Azub four were better prepared for the rough backroads of Laos that followed.

We then headed into the mountains. Here the roads are sketchy and steep. We recruited a local taxi (truck) to haul us through some of the worst part of the road up to Chou Koun. Here at 1400m altitude we stayed warm in our tents through the windy cold night. There were beautiful mountains and many small villages as we proceeded down through the heavily traveled road. Vieng Vang was another tourist town we stayed in on the way to the Nam Ngum Reservoir. The roads in between have many unpaved dirt roads with a lot of large trucks moving through stirring up the dust, to the extent that the trees nearest the road are no longer green. They are the color of dust. These roads have long stretches between villages.

Nam Ngum Reservoir is formed by a large dam across the MeKong river. This is a large inland sea forty kilometers across. We stayed at classy resort on the west side. There we found a boat that would take us across to the other side of the lake. This was not a tour package boat. It was basic transportation for the locals and their chattels. A very different experience from our earlier river tour package.

A Newcomers Perspective

Laos is a communist country of seven million people. Twenty percent of the population are illiterate. Forty percent of the population are indigenous tribes, of which there are many. The GDP per person is about $2700. Yet it is one of the fastest growing economies in the region. We have seen a large new rail line construction project, involving Chinese contractors.

The currency is the kip. There exchange rate is approximately 9,000 kip to the dollar. All of the money is paper notes. There are no coins. The largest note I have seen is the 100,000 kip note, worth about $10 USD. In many of the small village shops this note is not readily accepted, because the shop owner is not able to make change.

Tourism is the fastest growing segment of the economy according to Wikipedia. While we are here in Thailand, the tourism is sharply down because of the Corona Virus (CoVid 19) currently shutting down tourism from China.

Much of the transactions are without any paper receipts, and only a sketchy understanding from both sides. This could be troublesome, except for the fact that Laos people are honest even when dealing with us, foreigners on weird bikes.

We stopped at a guest house recently. The shop keeper wrote out the price for the rooms in the dirt with his finger in the parking lot. We accepted and moved our many bags into the two rooms. Later I saw the shop keeper in the parking lot. I was unsure if Joël had paid for my room, or if I should pay directly. With a complete language barrier, I asked the shop keeper by pulling out a 100,000 kip note and offered it to the man. He simply shrugged his shoulders and refused to take the money, as if to say ‘buddy you don’t owe me anything’.

We like to stop in the small shops in small villages. These places are family run in an unusual way. The dividing line between business and home are not at all distinct. Some have a few tables and a menu, others are more free form. For example, this morning I had breakfast at a place where we sat at a table that set up on a concrete slab front porch. On this slab there was also a fellow working on a motorbike. During breakfast there were people dropping off motorbikes for service.

The Lao People

Later this morning, we met up with Joël and Irène. They were in the midst of breakfast in the home of a family along the Mekong River. One thing you learn about Irène, she can make language barriers disappear. Maybe this is because she works with deaf people. If you watch her face while she talks, you mostly understand what she is saying, even if you don’t speak the language she is using.

Maybe this isn’t a restaurant

Irène speaks with her whole face

Before we got there she was on a first name basis with many of the family members. They had already been on the phone with relatives living in Idaho. Ok, so the relatives provided good English to Lao translation momentarily.

By the time we got there. There was a huge spread of food on the table; many containers of rice of different types, a whole roasted fish, and a variety of spiced sauces. We were immediately invited in. Seats were vacated so that Lucy and I could be seated. There was an abundance of food on the table. New plates were readied for us. We wondered if we were in a restaurant, or in a family home. We could see they had a fish farm 25 meters below in the river. The rooms were separated by woven bamboo walls and curtains instead of doors.

In the front room there was a barber’s chair. I needed a shave and signaled my interest by stroking my stubble covered face. I was invited to sit down in the chair while one of the family members shaved me.

In the middle of breakfast a motorbike arrived. We made more room at the table for the newcomer. Instead some of the food was moved out to the motorbike. It was explained to us that the newcomer was taking food elsewhere for his father.

We asked if there was any coffee. The immediate answer was no. We had begun our departure, but without realizing it, one of the family members took a motorbike to a local store and came back with coffee powder. He made coffee. We sat down and continued our language barrier breach while we finished our coffee.

Finally when we got up to go, we wanted to know how much to pay. We got confused shrugs. We did not accept the first answer, which was ‘free’. We got them to accept the equivalent of $4 total, for breakfast for four and a shave for me.

It left me scratching my head about the experience. This family clearly understands the way things work in business. They run a good size fish farm. Yet they simply open their arms for us without any interest in compensation.

Tour Packages

When we first arrived in Laos, we booked a river tour on the MeKong river with Smile Tours. This was very worthwhile. The boat is called a ‘slow boat’. It is 35m long and is powered by a six cylinder turbo diesel. It has more than enough room for 30 people to ride in comfort, even some beds for those who want to sleep. There is a galley which provided fresh cooked meals and snacks along the way. You see many boats of this kind.

The six of us, Caroline, Christian, Joël, Irène, Lucy and I boarded in Housei Sai. We stopped for short visits to villages along the way. We stayed overnight in a hotel in Pak Beng. On the second day we reached our destination in Luang Prabang.

Bikes go on the roof
Lots of room
Playing Bush Rummy
A typical Slow Boat on the Mekong

In the small villages along the Mekong, animals roam free. Dogs, cattle, chickens, goats, Buffalo. The gardens have fences.

Plenty of room for our recumbent bikes on the roof of the Slow Boat

A temple is within the cave on the vertical wall rising above the Mekong

We traveled south with the swiftly moving current through mostly uninhabited land. The sandy beaches and massive rocks protruding from the water provided great scenery. There was some white water in places. Occasionally there were villages of sizes ranging from a few primitive structures and cattle

Far right is Kat, our tour guide. Children are pressing hard to sell their wares to the tour members.

The tour guide, Kat took us to tiny villages of indigent tribes. He explained that he grew up in a remote village like this, and left to find his way in the world. He still speaks the local dialect. Children of the village wear mass produced clothing.

It made Joël and Irène a little uncomfortable to have humanity on display like some kind of petting zoo. I did not understand this until later in the trip.

I think everyone of the 30 or so guests on the tour were from Europe, except Lucy and I. It was a great opportunity to meet new people. Lucy found Luz, a Spanish woman from Barcelona. Lucy got to speak Spanish at full speed with all cylinders firing. I think she needed this.

Left to Right. Luz, Lucy

In fact Luz is fluent in at least four languages (English, French, Spanish, and German). Her husband Sasha, grew up in Germany and is currently learning Russian. After the tour we were all staying in Luang Prabang. The four of us met for dinner there.

Left to Right; Me, Sasha, Luz having dinner at the Riverside Barbecue in Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang is the second largest city in Laos. It is a tourist hot spot. It has a an open air market place with food, clothing, it is well equipped to handle the needs of the western tourist. We rented motorbikes and visited many of the local attractions, including a spectacular waterfall, an Asian bear preserve, a butterfly hatchery. We even found a place that serves civet coffee.

Joël tells me that there is also elephant coffee. Hmmm.

Laos Butterfly
Waterfall near Luang Prabang
One of several species of Asian bear native to Laos

Barbecued Chicken Feet
Do we know how to ride a scooter? It is way easier than a tandem bent

Civet Poop. Hey this is hard work for the poor civet!
Tiny fish that eat the dead skin off of your feet. Not for the ticklish!
Joël about to bite into a delicious Durien. Be careful!

Joël pointed out that the road headed east from Luang Prabang to Phon Koun would be steep and rugged in places. We decided to load the bikes onto a truck (taxi) for this leg of the trip. Though the route is rural, it is the only road headed this way and so there is lots of traffic, including large trucks, busses, etc.

Mister Pryon. Our taxi driver to Phoun Khan

In the few days during and following our visit to Luang Prabang each of us experienced a little disorder in our digestive track. This added to our struggles through the rural mountains. We all survived it.

In the mountains east of Phoun Koun, The road points mostly downhill, but there are points along the way where the road surface is dust churned up by heavy trucks rolling through with regularity. We did our best to laugh our way through it. We slept in villages where the trees near the road were all reddish brown with a layer of dust covering the green leaves. The rough roads bounced my fender off of its mounts causing an annoying rattle. It happened often enough that I gave up stopping to fix it.

Irène did her level best to keep the esprit du corps. It was a relief when we finally made it to Vieng Vieng. It is definitely a tourist town. This was welcomed. Lucy and I rented a motorbike to scoot around on. $8/day. Irène and Joël found the Parisien Cafe which was also the Pizza King. OK, we needed a vacation from Thai food. Lucy was able to eat bread, something she had been longing for for days. On leaving Vieng Ven we carried two baguettes which she coddled until we got to Nan Ngum Reservoir, days later.

Some of the many hot air balloons that frequent the skies above Vieng Vang.

A balloon looking for a good place to land before sunset.

Nam Ngum Reservoir

The Nam Ngum Reservoir is formed by a large dam on the Mekong River. It forms the largest body of water in Laos. The dam is equipped with hydroelectric system that provides one of the biggest export of Laos, electricity. It also provides a market for dried fish.

Near this damn there is a high end resort where we stayed. This was the most expensive hotel we found in Laos. ($36/night/room). We also found an entrepreneur that said he could get us across the lake in his boat. It would take $150 USD. We told him we were interested but were looking for a better price. We found one.

Classy resort at the Nan Ngum Reservoir

We found there was a regularly scheduled boat that crosses the lake. We lacked complete information on where to meet this boat and only a rough idea of what it would cost $24 USD.

We eventually found it and loaded our bikes on the roof. Along with us was a crowd of locals looking to cross with motorbikes, farm produce, including a rooster. We four were the only western people on the boat. What a contrast with our Smile Tours ride down the Mekong!

As this boat was loading, I was thinking when does the captain call it full? It got very full. I was thankful that the lake was flat with no wind. To my untrained eye, we were overloaded and no life preservers to be seen. I rehearsed in my mind that if we started taking on water, I would hurl one or two of the Ortlieb panniers overboard and Lucy and I could jump for it. There were many islands in this lake. It would be a short swim to safety.

The ride was gentle. I stopped worrying. I noticed that Irène and Joël really enjoyed interacting with the families there. Working their magic across the language barrier. I believe this is the sweet spot of the journey for them. To engage the locals in a meaningful interplay.

The boat arrived on the far shore. We had anticipated that it would dock close to the town of Long San. We were not even close. We were in a tiny village with 40km of mountainous road between us and our expected destination. We were under the false assumption that the boat would take us to the furthest point in the lake. Now we had to scramble for a solution late in the day.

Joël found one person on the boat that spoke French. He knew this tiny village and the people in it. Joël and he disappeared on a motor bike. We waited. Joël returned about 30 minutes later with a truck that could take us all to our Long San.

The destination on the far shore of Nan Ngum.

Along the way

On the way to Pak Seng we found a process for making tapioca. Here the locals have harvested a root that must be sliced up. It is a crude process that generates a material that can be used to make tapioca. It is also used for other purposes, including animal feed.

Some of the most educated people that you can find living in Laos, are the monks. They typically speak English. They know a lot about the area in which they live. They are generally pretty good about being approached but there are some rules to follow: Be respectful, Be male (women do not speak nor even approach monks), Listen well.

Younger folks in monk clothing are called Novices

New sidewalks are appearing in Pak Sen. Safeguards in the construction site are lax.

Kmart name shows up in some towns. I don’t know how Laos government enforces trademarks

Adios Thailand

February 16, 2020. ~1000km since Bangkok


This write up brings us up to date at the border of Laos. We will board a boat and travel down the Mee Kong river for the next two days without WiFi. I am writing this in reverse chronological order, which works better when reading across to the next most recent post.

We have been joined by two more cyclists from Brittany France. Caroline and Christian are riding small folding bikes (Brampton). Christian likes to take pictures of the group, which complements Joël and Irène who like to take pictures of the native people and landscapes. I am using pictures from all sources.

Black line is cycled route. Brown line is train. Blue line is planned route

We crossed into Laos yesterday. The border is the Mee Kong river. There is a shuttle bus to take pedestrians and bicyclists across the bridge. This is mandatory. One is not permitted to simply walk over the bridge. However, when they saw the size of our tandem and realized it would not be possible to load it onto the bus, we were asked to ride the bike across behind the bus. Then they saw we had more bikes. I am guessing that since the precedent for riding behind was already established, it was easy to give the go ahead for all three Azubs in our group to ride behind the bus.

This was my first formal crossing into a communist country. A visa is required which was issued to us at the border. This process costs a reasonable $40 which is payable in US currency. I produced a $100 bill which was immediately rejected because it was folded. I was then forced to find an ATM which could produce Laos currency which was accepted. You see it wasn’t folded because it was fresh from the ATM. Anyway, after a tedious process with lots of paper, photographs, and finger prints, we are finally here.

Stranger still, about 10km before the border, we passed through a local checkpoint. Christian opined that they were probably looking for drugs. I noticed that the commercial traffic was permitted through, but the pickup trucks were diverted down a side road, probably for closer inspection.

I was surprised when we too were diverted down this road. A few hundred meters later, we were directed into a Buddhist temple where a celebration of some kind was going on. Here I thought I would be asked to empty all my luggage onto an inspection table. Instead we parked our bikes and joined the party involving monks and temple members, with dancing and eating. All of which was free.

Irène joined the locals in some sort of line dance. She was immediately accepted, then later given a tour of all the local foods. We ate a good meal there, which included some sort of ice cream made with coconuts. Joël took out his flying camera and made some videos of women doing a ritualistic dance of some kind.

No one came away with an understanding of why we were directed there, but we didn’t complain at all. Afterward we mounted our bikes and road on toward Laos.

Team Photos

Left to Right: Joël, Christian, Lucy, Tim, Caroline, Irène

Places of Interest

In the city of Chaingrai there is a cafe which has many cats there for the enjoyment of the customers. Lucy had treats to share. She was very popular with the cats.

We found a temple with a giant Buddha like statue, built in the 1990s. We learned that the figure is not Buddha. It is a Chinese goddess wearing lipstick. We took the elevator to the 26th floor where we took many photos of the sculptures within.

Temples in Thailand are a place to go and hangout. They are open every day and people are just milling about taking pictures. In some ways this is similar to the landmark cathedrals of Europe, Notre Dame for example. However the newly made temples seem to have the big draw.

We went to a few of these near Chaingrai. The White temple was a campus of many buildings that had an impressive array of sculptures and architecture. It seemed to me that the place was designed to maximize the number of photo ops. Inside the main temple chamber, where photos are not permitted, one could find statues of Harry Potter and other superheros of western culture.

In the Blue temple the decor was more traditional