Airbus fri 11 july

Air travel days are a bit time conscious but I was determined to fit in one last musee before enslaving myself to airbus time.

It was to be the Musee du Post but being closed became the Musee Jean Moulins. I also accessed a strange place which is a forested garden tennis centre with no less than two musee on the top of the Montparnasse station and shops. A funny place ive wondered about. The large  treetops are its only sign from the street. Yet the half acre complex is a visible oddity from the top of the 200 metre tour de montparnasse. All wet with the pock of  tennis mixed with stetorian world war voices and bombs exploding.

Woke to steady rain and almost dry smalls. Packed for aero travel and organised with Clancy the well spoken and nattily dressed concierge baggage storage for several hours. The tramline immediate to the hotel us closed for  repairs. Decide to engage the Cameroonian cabbie Jules Armand who gave me such a good hoy when I first regained this elegant wet city.

He has a new child Nolan and  has a time of it getting me through the pre bastille day practice traffic jam. He is a true spirit and philosopge driving very carefully through rain and others frustration, so even though the price is agreed I give him a bit more to ensure he is not out of pocket.

At the airport nice to talk to fellow aussies. The line is long. The bike must be flown with a triple  signed waiver. I am told to put it (in its well travelled sac) and the two other ortlieb bags into oversize storage. I trust the system to ensure all the pressies and my dirty sox make it to Melbourne where I must take it through customs and transfer.

Now the timelessness sets in and I will soon be on the plane. So see you all at the end of,as Sheila puts it, the time tunnel.

Paris Thurs 10 July

Rain again forcing the early TdeF exit of Chris Froome. Paris is good raining. Today the D'Orsay, la magazin Lafayette, Henri IV's place des vosges. and the musee Canavalet sheltered me while opening my eyes to ancient and modern glories.

A dark morning late start with the bike bag court-yarded. Disguised last nights hand wash in the cupboard to finish drying. After a more friendly petit dejeuner the metro bore me dry to the wonderful old train station doubling as La D'Orsay.

Familliar pics. The nga had some of their cherries once in my time. And unfamiliar. Les geants Courbet Delacroix, Rodin are always a surprise. Then Carpeaux. What wonderful sculptures he made and an absolutely impassioned painting of the royal exit prior to the seige of Paris. Really very much enjoyed this exhibition. Bought the catalogue to maintain ma francais.

Then home via Galleries Lafayette. A very big shop on top of an equally magnificent rumbling train station.

Then off to a lovely garden just behind the rue de Rivoli. Only to find its founder the great Henri quartre superceded in the sculpture stakes by Louis 13th on his tree groined horse towering above the youngsters chorusing at his pivotal pedestal.

Then up the rue to a museum celebrating the history of Paris itself. Great Palais filled with some of this city's greats along with their intricate furniture. Paul Keating now I understand. Here are fine clocks.

Home to bread, tabouli and cheese with a guiness en chambre for dinner, to get a glimpse of la tour en francais. Long sleep tonight for the flying home blur.

Will try to blog tomorrow which will extend as I regain my lost time, however not totally sure if it will be possible.

Auvoir Paris G'day Australie.

Paris Wed 9 July

The Trek bagged after a last ride in search of packing materials to soften the blows en avion. Then the actual bagging before the rain started and forced me to hide in Saint Chapelle and the rather grim Conciergerie. Bike dans sac can only mean one thing. Home to wonderful down under.

I awoke to Brazilians crying at their Bayern Munchen defeat and Simon Gerrans upset with Cavendish's brutish shouldering to the Yorkshire pavement Then a subterranean petit dejeuner and off on the bike for an early morning last ride en Paris. The long way via Des Invalides and the Bastille meant I could arrive at the Pont Sully Geant magazin as they opened at 10.

They sent me empty handed to BHV a huge shop on Rue de Rivoli with bricolage for les cles allen.  Then the last long way home on the faithful bici. Still limping with  the front wheel bearing loose , never completely fixed in Orleans and  last cleaned in Carnia. Bagged as best I can. I will enfold her with a golden net to protect her from further damage on the way home in meditation. Such a willing and faithful steed. She now sits in a courtyard awaiting me to carry her to the metro and thence the airport on friday.

Cleaned up after the pack up paying special attention to hands. Nails and shoes say so much in Paris. Perhaps tis the nowhere to look thing amongst one another sur le metro where one's status is revealed? How does everyone know I really speak only English?  What body language / clothing/ makes me a tourist?  All this is silently communicated on the metro.

Popped up out of the old ground  across the road from Saint Chapelle.  A grand but small palatial church fillled with the steady hammering of the stone mason repairing behind his discreet advertising screen. A more regal vibe for a church, than anything Italiano I've been in.. The Versailles chapel, grander more Baroque but in the same vein. A prince's kneeling zone. And medieval. A repository for a long since vanished crown of thorns. Anything Isle de la Cite has very old foundations.. Fortified to resist Vikings in the middle of their river. Felt like a regal private chapel. Les fenetres were  glorious and amazing.

Then next door to the Clovis palace. Not much of the 500's remains. Burned twice at least, transformed by various dynastic  egos and then left in the dust of history to become an awful prison and the launching pad i(n the Cour de Mai) for the pitiable victims, their tumbrels bound fof the guillotine in the Place de Concorde. I wonder did Cadel rue the painful heritage of the cobbles as he raced over them to win the finely woven maillot jaune? Thankfully youth in ignorance moves us all along.

Very new and fast jets broke the skies loudly as I splashed across the women's exercise yard with its blankly staring windows above a row of downward pointing bronze spears. Privacy was an expensive luxury in previous times especially when housed at the king's pleasure. Most had only straw between them.

Then a return to the Hotel to hand wash me daks ready for fridays flight. Next doir for the effective wifi and great pizza at the Absolut cafe which has just arrived so I shall down plume.

Paris tue 8 July

Woke up amongst not quite strangers after a relatively painless train trip with my bagged bike dangling above my head overnight, to a knock behind which an official returns me my precious passport.

Julian the Chinese Italian portrait painter with a foldaway Brompton, Gelred the train  experienced Pakistani house painter and the dark stranger who never introduced himself.

The train delayed by storms was 45 minutes before being renewed with another train. Allocated bunks and strict policing. Gelred wisely brought his own 6pack of water as that of the train was non-potable. The too short bunk had clean sheets but I missed the sleeping bag sent ome earlier in the day as the window was broken snd had to remain noisely open.... Arrived Gare de Lyon to reconstruct the bike and ride through the rain to Montparnasse to debaggage, abandon the bike in the clean inner courtyard and breakfast in the Absolut Cafe up the parc. All very friendly to a slightly smelly unshaven aussie in cycling shorts.

Then an attempt to see Bourdelles studio nearby, unfortunately closed for reparations. Did get a pic of le jardine And attendant bronzed fogie. Decided to lash out and go to the movies while I awaited my official checkin at 3pm. Malefique en francais with Lara croft Angelique Jolie. Fun and comprehensible.

Then shower, tooth brush and wash and hang out smalls before departing to Charles de Gaulle to revise the ticket home. Charged a fee, but a lot less than I'd have spent over the next month here.

So I leave Paris on Friday 11th July mit bike en baggage to arrive home on Sun 13 July at 9.40 from melbourne on flight QF814 with a couple of hills in me legs and looking forward tremendously to being home after almost 8 weeks away.

It is raining again en Paris rather romantically. Wish I could some how send thr ambiance to you all in your dreams. Tomorrow more glorious art, ancient edifaces and lovrly things.

Milano train to Paris mon 7 July.

Off the bike I'm less able as a  traveller. Resorting all my things to enable posting home is often for me a final vacation decamping. Today finding the three post offices was the first of many frustrations. A visit to the Sforza castello cheered me somewhat and the Flora hotel management have been friendly offering me a free chair and all important WC while I await the midnight train departure across the awe inspiring piazza.

The first two ufficio postale refused my request to post home three bags. My aunt needs to be warm after all.
This is after deciphering the mini carte di citte often asking passers by....then a 15 minute wait only to be told in Italian the next destination as they have not boxes.
Finally my Kafkaesque search is over as I arrive at the grandest and most beflagged po. in all Milano. Only to find the box lack has spread here too. The postie was trying to help and produced some cardboard. Wielding my rather threatening blade I dressed my three bags and then loudly taped the entire thing into submission. Pathetic according to nga packing standards but all that was possible in the circumstances. I was even reassuringly  provided a tracking number. Now I can physically carry panniers, and bagged bike through the very crowded Milano stazione centrale onto and off the train.

Tomorrow morning after sleeping with 4 people, I must reassemble the bike on the Gare de Lyon platform to ride across town to the Montparnasse hotel. From there I can easily access the airport bus to renegotiate the flight home.

The Sforza dynasty was a very wealthy one. Last seen by me in Verona both there and here magnificently castled. Racing each other to place themselves on the ancient Sforza podium....first Napoleon I and then Victor E. Their calling card on either side of a copied  Roman arch framing the much grander Castello garden vista. Dynastic concerns flamboyantly occupy a great deal of european history.

Milano Sun 6 July

Milano is a grand old dame of a city. Broad cobbles, grand castellos, flamboyant bronze hats, glorious text book artwork, larger than life opera singers, and a very very big dark spidery church.

Started the day lining up to be asked 'would I like to sleep with 4 or 6 people?' I waved my ring and asked to per favore sleep by myself....only €278 for that singular pleasure. However to sleep with 4 (challenging perhaps at my age) was only €104 ...so 4 tis on this occasion.....bici is free in a bag....

The sleepfest starts at 11:39pm and delivers me to the Gare de Lyon at 9.30 on Tuesday 8th. I fear the bici will, despite being compressed into its bag, be sleeping better than I. I'm told bunks are de rigeur akin to a youth hostel on tracks. I will have 15 minutes to bag the trusty trek and board the correct  carrozza on the correct binario (usually no 9) would that be one of those little so meaningful asides.? Perhaps.

Tomorrow being monday galleries close. Today was therefore reserved for ancient glorious art. First light-biked it over broad red cobbles to the gallery Brera. The busker outside was making a good fist of great reggae. Inside for free (first sunday of the month) was the great Mantegna  christ corpse...meant to be observed on ones knees. Displayed in a suitably austere setting.

Raphaels wedding. 6 men with sprouting (or not as it may be) sticks and 6 women with saint Joseph (when did Mary's guardian gain saintliness?) in the middle.....glorious symmetry. ..followed by J Smart's great hero Pierra della Francesca and the suspended egg symbolising the immaculate conception. Amidst hundreds of equally powerful and demanding wall to ceiling paintings.

Then off through a big park..opposite the castle ...to an immense design gallery. Some very beautiful photography including a photographic Rothko by Silvio Wolf which I very much enjoyed.
A fine display of many many objects in excellent triangular showcases. Followed by Paulo Mendes De Rocha a South american architect who clearly influenced Col Madigan's choice of concrete. Had a great horizontal line through a house. And for once comfortable chairs in which we were invited to rest.

Then off to the huge Duomo which really rivals anything like it. Immense dark stone columns with priest models laying in golden cases.....has anyone noticed that priests often have halos now?
Anyway very very wealthy cathedral. Found it dark and over powering...which I guess is inherent in its design and purpose.

Then magic ICOM card gets me past 300 waiters in the hot sun to see Gustav Klimt and his influencers.. I enjoyed the way he made flowers into women and women into flowers. Lived at home all his life like wonderful Marcel Proust. And saw landscape with a great eye.

Lastly before tired legs home and 16ks round town cobbles ridden....La Scala...now I've to tell you I've explored every meter of La Scala digitally behind Lara Croft's khaki clad butt.....and to gain entry to the real thing was splendiferously confirming. Massive chandeliers and equally so bronze Pucinni's  along with painted Maria Callas' s. A resounding cream and red velvet spectacle worthy of my entire journey. There is a gloriousness but also a soft pillowed sensation to sounds in there and I would have loved to attend an opening with Hector B or Sarah B to soak up the bygone vocals and the pauvres in the crushed orchestra pit.

The hotel Flora is friendly and will look after my baggage until 11 pm tomorrow. Hotel du Parc has no room for me so am negotiating to stay across the park. Should work out Ok. Then hopefully not too much to pay to change the flight to be 'ome next week looking after our world while workhorse Sheila enables Australia's contribution to World AIDS day in Melbourne.

Today was a very fine day. Now to fix even half of it in my minds eye will be respectable. Did I mention grand old Cavour bronzed with a disrobing adoring female at the base of his podium?....head bepidgeoned......oh glorious Milano....

Milano Sat 5 July

Am now on my way home. The signed cycle paths ran out for me  today. Italian roads are very busy and being bebaggaged makes me slow and fat on the road.

After a lovely early morning chat  on the phone with Sheila, took to the path only to promptly lose it. As it turns out forever lost.  The lovely Alpe Adria so good for so long. Muscles and bike a bit worn out after yesterday's 3 hour climb. 50ks later on ss13 to Udine was the most highway all sojourn. Felt like riding slowly looking lost through Ashfield in Sydney on a Saturday morning with saddlebags.  How was everyone to know I'd made it to the top of the dread Ovaro Zoncolan ascent seemingly only hours before? Arrived in ancient Udine  which reminded me of Avignon withits golden trumpet playing angelic weathervane...to find the signs still absent  despite the earnest protestations of the tourist office person.

At 2pm local trained it to Mestre, thence to Verona and after a train change making Milano by 19.45. Local trains enable me to simply lift the bike up 3 steps into the bike labelled van. Running the length of the train is the only  stress to find the specially marked carriage.

So yesterday forcing my way up the glorious Zoncolan sucking in the verdant cold forest charged air and today in stylish Milano. I hopped off the train in the most Fascist station in the world and crossed the immense empty piazza  in the setting sun to wheel my bike straight into  the Hotel Flora which Sheila and I enjoyed some years ago now. Had it changed?  In any way? No. Green textured wallpaper up three narrow steps, bike is out under the stairs,  the same old grumbling patron....and old world charm. I can't  wait to greet the breakfast Senora who was a real treat last time with her early morning mirth.

I will be here one more night to get a more fulsome Milanese experience and prepare for Paris. Rome will simply have to wait for Sheila and I too visit on our cooking tips tour of Europe.

Zoncolan via Carnia fri 4 july

The hardest and steepest and sweetest cycling of all my life. An 80 k circuit to mercifully be able to complete the second goal of this crazy adventure. It will be hard to repeat today's ride but the memories are gpld.

The Hotel Carnia provides a footpump for use after an excellent breakfast. I knew the day was off to a good start when I saw sunflower seeds for the first time in weeks. Fully pumped I set off to Ovaro 30ks away, the base town for the harder of the two ascent possibilities.

At 1739 meters Zoncolan is not the highest. The Ovaro ascent however is an average of 14% which can rise to 23. There are 10ks of meaningful ascent from a bridge in Ovaro. This delightfully stresses not only manic cyclistes but mechanical vehicles also, making the climb largely motor noise and fume free. The forest is deep dark and the 3 hours I had amongst it kind of enjoyable.

The descent down the less steep 11ks was a case of frequent stops to cool the rims and enjoy the scenery. Thence to a cycle shop to buy the tee and  obligatory neck and the most demanding day of my cycling life is done.

I spray clean the bike, have a very welcome shower in which I hand wash my wick away NZ cycle shorts, socks  and shirt, thence to lay down for an hour to relieve the muscles.

Now this fine old ski 'otel's bar is filled with mostly male travellers absorbing the thrill of 80,000 football fanatics in Brazil. I'm going to celebrate tonight with a fine Italian meal in the restaurant.

I've a better idea now why riding up tall mountains attracts me so much...there are many more mountains but I feet today's was a peak experience after which there are no real competitors. I will now have supreme respect for any and all Giro D'Italia riders. They are exceptionally driven humans and worthy. I cannot believe how fit they are to race up such slopes..taking minutes where I hours.....the older heros on dirt with much less support...simply admirable athletes.

Brilliant and self confirming day. I'm grateful to have been able to have it.

Carnia thurs 3 July

100 very beautiful ks some brand new rail trail through dramatic and glorious scenery. Three main rivers carved my way: Drau, Geil and Fella. Snow far off grey scree above drier treescapes....akin to the Pyrennees. A simply wonderful days cycling.

Pushed it today although much was descent so as to reach base camp for Monte Zoncolan. I'm still on the Alpe Adria with an 80k circuit tomorrow up the steeper ascent to Zoncolan and down via a gentler descent on an empty bike, returning to Carnia ready to resume the piste cyclable to Grado and thence Roma.

Today's first conversation was with a erudite Italian cyclist as we both emerged from the youth hostel to load up our bikes...he'd met Brian Kennedy via his brother (an art dealer) and had been to the NGA and had participated in the Masters orienteering events in Bendigo.
He predicted my ride today would be very scenic. Travelling light he carried two yoga mats rolled inside each other. He lived near Stelvio and had not attempted it by bike. I liked his simplicity.

The first 20 ks of the ride were Austrian farmyard with wet gravel...it rained hard overnight and railway sidings so you can imagine my dismay.

Then Tarvisio and the piste became consistent painted tar, good signage and lit tunnels for the remaining 80ks. Making for an absolutely brilliant cycle today. Montarsio is one valley too far but I've seen its snow capped teeth.

I met a pair of Hungarians as we were taking photos of  a wasserfall. Along the path she slid off the path and fell overcome by the astounding scenery....no harm done... (although I was preparing to do first aid) and I came across their team waiting for them later down the river to catch a train to Lienz and was able to reassure them they were on their way.

Tonight I'm in a bicycle friendly hotel 3 star for €47 a night with breakfast and will return here tomorrow hopefully with the last mountain trial achieved. 2ks at 14% ascending so I decided to descend via the easier route to keep safe.

A cheering and sunny days ride through some absolutely brilliant scenery on a very well made and designed bike path.

Villach wed 2 july

A humble 8ks today many more by train retracing my tauern radweg ride and diving under the Tauern mountain through a long tunnel.

Leaving Salzburg I crossed the road to pay my respects to Constanze and Leopold her son.

I forgot to include in yesterday's log our visit to an Austrian sacred site...namely the place where in the Sound of Music Julie A and team hide behind tombs while search lights play at increasing the tension somewhat. The place is actually a  very well kept mausoleum with frescoes, wrought iron and fresh flowers. A very very old place still retaining its natural churchyard feel unlike the cimitaires of Paris. And a little hard to place in the S of M context which seemed far more menacing.

While talking WWII I watched today as a small brass plate was inlaid into the pavement. Everyone had gathered around to hear a dignified older gent speak about the details inscribed upon it. The plaque among others in Salzburg  remembers Jewish people taken away during the war outside their previous homes. A noble deed which makes me think very well of the Austrian nation.

Then off to the haupt-banhoff to wait 3 hours for the next train that would be able to carry my bike. A monitor alerted me to the correct end of the train with the cyclists carriage and I was able to sit inside another for 2 hours comfortably talking to a young couple (a psych nurse and a forester turned wardsman) returning home from a sojourn in Iceland where currently the sun sets at 11pm and rises unaturally early.

I've found some Europeans have a strange version of down under.....we have killer creatures....snakes... spiders crocs....or.....everywhere is beach... or.....hot and sunny all the time.....or everyone drives cars there are few cyclists because towns are few and far between. Many people have stories of New Zealand as a holiday destination or Thailand rather than Aus.

Alight at Villach and am guided to a friendly international youth hostel. It's only 4pm so conscious this my only time ever in Villach I tour the old town (commonly cobbled bits) and pay €2 to ascend 239 narrow wooden steps to the top of the local church once obviously a donjon. The splendid panorama is worth it all but my calves are still warm. I am now working to accomplish Zoncolan near Udine on the Alpe Adria trail and then as I'm unsure of pistae cyclable to Rome....might be on the Ferrovia more. If I can be in Rome by 27 July I can have a beeroffee with my friends L and L also from Canberra.

Then I will consider returning home a bit early as my retirement celebration journey will have reached its peaks and the new life at home beckons. I miss the hot dry days and the happy birds and the newcomer little dog and the multitudinous chooks and the broad accent and everything everyone home sometimes. Then I remember that adventures start and end there but force one in between to become vulnerable to many extraneous things. Growth spiritual and mental only comes through entropy. I need sometimes to be vulnerable to change rather than setting its limits in my life. Hence a cycling holiday is by far the best way in my opinion to embrace new cultures and learn something new.

Salzburg tues 1 july

A wonderfilled day amongst the past glories of this subtle town ostensibly made of salt and yet softened by the leisure that comes with steady spiritual patronage. Mozart, enormous churches filled with treasure, then an equally enormous castle village accessed up an almost vertical slope. My hosts M and H were generous, knowledgeable and thought provoking. A very enjoyable day which I'll not soon forget.

A tremendous walk to start up a precipitous stairway behind my hotel window. Green dewy and steep enough to get me panting...a Christ diorama at every turn (unlike Alpe D'Huez) and a homeless couple in the aerial grafitti free park near the summit. Completely copper roofs greeted me along with the numerous churches built by the archbishops various who ruled here. Nuns float down with a quiet gruss gott.

Mozart's wife Constanze Weber  came to life today and proves to be a real heroine. Six babies to him,only two sons survive and after his premature death she writes his biography and supervises correct score publishing (no easy task according to Hector Berlioz)...marries again and within 18 months is again a widow....extraordinary woman and I enjoyed her portrait. And how incredibly short the keyboard of the Mozart family spinnet. All those perfect melodies pouring forth like an alpine river through the narrow valley of a high pitched and truncated ivory scale set. Genius. Yesterday his ball's, today his fine woman's portrait and her internment literally across the street from my hotel. Histories here are embellished by substance. Wittgenstein would approve.

Then to ramble with my hosts through a cathedral palace. A terrific Breughal, (the fish eats the schooner), shocking amounts of gold leaf, intricate 3d framed wax landscapes, very complicated locks, real and impossibly real faux marble, gold leaf on glass etchings, hidden marble embellished meditation rooms, a portrait of caesar Nero....so many things seen today...a sensitive Cuyp portrait of a weak face with perfect complexion and mouth hung on an impossible to patch concrete panelled wall.

Then after a very big organ with no less than four smaller far off beneath in a gloriously huge  baroque Duomo.....lunch kindly provided (amongst now embarrassing protestations on my behalf) in a 1200 year old cliff face hideaway. Traditional Salzburg Knockle (whipped cones of cooked mountain air  with a spicy jam) preceded by an excellent mango risotto with a genuine al dente riz. Such a tranquil cavern in which Mozart concerts  are sometimes presented complete with 1700's dress, instruments and food. Really old chunky emphatic sculptures of anvil beating smiths decorated the hunting room with its baleful eyed eternally attendant stag trophies.

Then an extremely swift but smooth dual elevator ride up the ancient Castle walls visible from every quarter below and recently restored. A cliff top village complete with an abyss for a well, linden tree (used to sweat the ailing) and the Majolica clay tiled room heater resting on a pride of lions not just paws. An absolutely huge 17 meter roof beam. A whole tree on ornate marble beams. A serious grunt it must have been to get up to the mountain top. Decorated with golden balls and heraldry of quite significant length.

We return down to the old town via hand painted cupboards and my cycle path to share prosecco and beers on a 5 star roof top with lovely evening views over the Salzach.

I wave goodbye to M and H as they board the bus home and earnestly hope to be able to pour them a home brew with their vego wood fired pizza when they return visit Aus.

Now I write this in a smokey bar beneath my hotel watching Belgium vs USA play fussball. The barman has aussie, living there for a few years. Rare in this country so far away from home..

A lovely day. Tomorrow I will begin the trip south to Udine to hopefully top Zoncolan and thence all pistae lead to Roma.