D-day, 16 July 2011

The day dawned grey and overcast (as had been the case for the past 3 weeks).Still, at least it wasn't raining...yet. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the idea that if it were raining as hard as it had the previous Thursday, we could always postpone departure by a day or two. The weather was bound to get better in a couple of days and most certainly the further South we got.

In any case, we met at around 11 and took the fast ferry to Dordrecht. Hmmm, hang on...weren't we supposed to be doing everything by bike?. True, but we'd done the first part so many times and, since we'd be going round the Biesbosch a little, it wasn't really cheating.

It was a great feeling to be leaving all the plans and schedules at home. Going back into the unknown and away from routine....bliss!.

Christian, Eve's brother, waved us off and then we were on our way...albeit not yet cycling

A typical view of Rotterdam. Leaving the big city for the quiet country lanes of Belgium and France, and (hopefully) better weather...

By now we were itching to go... Dordrecht was only another 15 mins...








So we finally arrived in Dordrecht, where it was raining. Not heavily, just that constant light rain that makes sure you get very wet. Out came the rain jackets and suits and it was time to put the famous waterproof Ortliebs to the test.Our first leg of the journey was witha regular map. We wanted to see a bit of the Biesbosch...it is after all one of the nicest parts of Zuid-Holland. Going through the stretches of green I could understand why. Horses and birds everywhere and idyllically quiet. Of course, the drizzle could have something do with that. I imagine that on a real Summer's day it's full of day-trippers and tourists and the beauty is somewhat diminished. But now at least we had acres of space with nothing but green around us. No other cyclists, few cars and the odd tractor for company.

We had to ring the bell to get the gentleman in charge to take us across. " where are you going?" He asked. We told him the South of France/North of Spain. It wasn't an answer he'd expected (and I don't know if he believed us) but he quipped that we were escaping the bad weather...

On the other side we countinued through the countryside...it was green and rural... and getting wetter by the minute. The villages were sparse here and when we decided to stop for a drink, it was not to be had (something that would happen more frequently throughout the trip). We passed through Hank, where the locals were intolerant of other cyclists on the path and/or not used to long distances. Finally we arrived in a small village, Drussen, where there was a bar. And it was there that we had the first beers...some 50km from Rotterdam!

Again, we told the locals we were on the way to the South of France and this was to become our conversation starter (and generator of sympathy and other emotions) along the way. In the case of the Drussonians they were shell-shocked and couldn't imagine such a feat when there was beer to be drunk and darts to be thrown.
Once our whistles had been wet and appetites satiated, we mounted our bikes again and headed off for the next ferry and Tilburg.

The first of many Belgian beers

This was also a look that would become familiar over the next few weeks

This is how we got there...

Ver Tour de France 2011 en un mapa más grande

Countdown has begun

So this is it...with just a little more than a week to go until 'le grand depart', and a couple more things to organise. But we don't want to organise too much ahead; part of the attraction of leaving for France is that there's no tight schedule. No diary, no commitments, no deadlines, no constraints.
Pure unadultered freedom.

typical Dutch countryside seen during last week's test-run

The newly-purchased bike is waiting patiently in the store room. Still gleaming and dust-free even after the test ride last week. It went like a dream. Even with a headwind and climbing a bridge (the Dutch alternative to mountains) the pedals glided easily, with minimum effort and I could enjoy taking in the scenery: the vast expanse of water below; the huge container barges and smaller yachts, wending their way to the sea or port. Downhill was even better.

I'm still not sure how many kilometers we'll be pedalling over the next four weeks. Somewhere in the region of 1500, I guess. But again, that's the beauty of such a loose 'plan'.
Tomorrow I'll pick up my ortliebs and then the real puzzle will start. How much (or little) can I pack in providing minimum weight and drag. The running shoes are going in, that's for sure.